D1 EM: Well, That Happened...

[Overseer Bakuriel]

Yesterday's events seem to be something of a blur. There are definite memories of waking up in a strange room, followed by a very confusing interaction with several other patients, and the sudden interruption by a squad of orderlies and security guards. Then there was a fight. Like, a seriously epic fight. The kind that Peter Jackson would struggle to adapt to film. Trust me on this one.

Ultimately you found yourself locked inside this room, surrounded by walls with thick padding and little buzzing lights set onto the ceiling. You can surmise that you've been here overnight, as the lights shut off for quite some time before coming back on unceremoniously just a short while ago. There's a door in the corner of the room, heavily reinforced, with a thick plexiglass window set into the top that can be used for observation.

(Players with the nightmares Flaw, please roll for this in your opening post.)

[Alonso Hidalgo]

Blinking against the harsh, cold lights, neither rhadhamaerl nor lillianrill. Squinting to try to see.

"What?"

The voice is still nasal, grating, too high.

Hands rove over the body. It is still wrong. They are still wrong.

Soreness. Bruising.

Oh, for some hurtloam, the taste of aliantha!

"Where now?"

[Sally-Anne Williams]

Sally-Anne came to, drenched in sweat and possibly still hearing the lingering echoes of her own screams.

Nightmare Willpower roll (TN15): 3d10o10k3 21

[Morgan]

Morgan wakes up sore, lingering like one of Dad's beatings. They crack open an eye blearily, trying to shake off that memory.

"Still here?" The voice. The voice is off again.

Day 1 nightmare - Composure/Willpower: 4d10o10k3 24

[Alonso Hidalgo]

"Not sure where here is."

Rhinal. Shrill and discordant. Perhaps Gadarene, depending on outcomes.

"I remember being assailed, though I raised no hand. I did not study the Sword at the Loresraat, but the Staff."

[Morgan]

"Huh?" Morgan replies. "You were on staff at...where?" Things were slowly coming back together.

[Sally-Anne Williams]

Oh, the others were here as well. She supposed they might not be delusions after all. They wouldn't persist like that through the night, surely?

"I think... we're in the asylum," she said, softly, as she huddled up in a corner. "I don't know which of you said it, but it might be in Lakeshore after all."

At least, the padded room would make her lean toward *a* asylum. And the old one in lakeshore was the only proper one she knew about. Any other facility was just... well... not *this*.

[Alonso Hidalgo]

Eyes squint, trying to bring the other speakers into focus.

"Asylum? But I was not persecuted. The hordes of the Despiser were all undone, the bane driving them unmade by the ur-Lord. And though it would be sense to flee to a Stonedown against such things, they are no more--unless there was some small part of the ravening spawn that broke off to maraud and continue in that wise.

"Yet even that offers no explanation for why I have a woman's form when scant days ago I was in the body of my birth, and that a man's. I can only think that some eldritch theurgy has been effected upon me, some unwholesome machination that can only be founded in despite."

[Sally-Anne Williams]

"I..." she didn't really know what to say to half of what the woman was saying. It all just sounded like fiction. Which admittedly, was something that Sally-Anne knew a thing or two about.

"...I don't know about any of-- I mean... anyway... I *do*, I mean I *think* I'm also in the wrong body. Pretty sure. But, it's not as drastic as that. But... it is. It's not possible, of course. It can't be. I've never heard of... there's *weird* stories about Lakeshore but nothing like *this*."

The more she talked the more she started mumbling; which was only natural given that the more she was thinking about things the less sense they made.

[Reisija Ridder]

The conversation is broken by a holler that would likely wake the dead. A clear indicator of a night poorly slept due to nightmares that are simultaneously created by and horrifying to the awakening man's mind. Bags have formed under his eyes, but that doesn't stop them from making his anger at the current situation any less apparent.

"Shit..." he pants as he catches his breath.

"Shit, shit, shit. Still stuck, nightmares in nightmares. I hate when this shit happens."

He moves to the door. "It's usually confusing but sometimes other people in the dreams have answers. Anyone know what's going on?" He moves to the door and kicks it a few times. "ANYONE OUT THERE? IF THERE'S A PURPOSE FOR THIS WEIRD ASS SHIT YOU BETTER COME IN HERE AND ANSWER. I'LL MURDER YOUR THE OTHER FOLKS HERE IF YOU DON'T. FUCK AROUND AND FIND OUT!"

He looks at the other figments of his current nightmare and shrugs. Despite his angry bravado, he looks totally exhausted and just slumps against the wall.

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D1 EM, Nightmares, Composure / Willpower, TN 15: 3d10o10k2 8