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[x] Underground, Old Hell
[x] Urist Flinthill
[x] 3 feet above the Hakurei Shrine
On the one hand, your head is attached to your body.
On the other hand, your head is on your body, facedown in the dirt.
On the third hand, at least it doesn’t feel like the sun is beating down on you. So that’s a bonus. You’d never admit it, out of sheer spite to your family, but you always do feel a little more comfortable out of the sun.
On the fourth hand that you just thought of because it felt strange, you’re facedown in the dirt. Not on the stone floor of your tower. In the dirt.
You groan, and roll onto your back. Dirt below you, cave to your sides, softly glowing ceiling above you. Fuuuuuuuuuuck. You lost your apprentice and your tower.
You startle, and pat yourself down. Your spellbook was in your tower. This just gets worse and worse. Your warhammer’s in the tower, too, of course. Because that was dumb.
You’re never going to bed unarmed again.
In happier news, at least you didn’t get yourself transported to the Elemental Plane of Fire again. Though… you feel pretty good.
As in, your headache from the hangover has gone away. It should not be gone without some hair of the warg. Which means something bad has possibly happened. You’ve heard stories of people who’ve gone to the Positive Energy Plane.
People explode from too much energy there.
As if to punctuate your thought, you hear a loud shriek of laughter off in the distance, and your head snaps towards a distant cluster of buildings that you can just barely make out. Suddenly, a sound you’ve never heard echoes off the walls.
This is punctuated by a colorful explosion, and silence. Just the way people are said to die in the Positive Energy Plane. Your guts turn to ice as you realize you don’t have a good way to get rid of the energy that’s flowing into you.
You, Urist Flinthill, son of a mason and a warrioress, are going to die here, and it’s going to be absolutely fabulous.
[ ] PANIC
[ ] DRINK
[ ] RAGE