[X] A strange new world, one that cries out for a hero.
You see a stranger, a young woman clad in blue and silver, armed with a sword in one hand and what seems to be a bell in the other. A grey fog swirls up beneath her feet, and, even as she stands alone in the darkness, frozen, a thin layer of frost gathers on her skin, slowly expanding across her clothing and growing thicker and thicker until her entire body is covered in a thin layer of ice.
And then, with a loud splash, you fall into water. It's lukewarm, warm enough that lying in the current feels vaguely comforting, yet cold enough that it saps your strength. For a while, you lie there, content to simply rest there, waiting for where this river will bring you.
But as the sound of rapids grows ever louder, a strange fear grips your heart, and, despite your tiredness, you slowly try to struggle to your feet against the rushing water. Despite your best efforts, though, you're unable to find any traction against the stream bed, and slowly, inexorably, you find yourself sliding backwards, towards an unknown fate.
Just as you feel that you are about to slip through some unknown boundary, the current slackens, and you stumble forward, almost falling from the sudden lack of resistance. Slowly, step by step, you claw your way upstream, where a veil of grey fog blocks your vision of anything further.
After what seems to be an eternity, you find yourself standing in front of the fog. You stick your hand forward, and the mist lets it pass forward without resistance. You turn around to take one last look downstream, where the river you're standing in placidly flows to unknown places, and step forwards, into darkness.
Consciousness returns to you slowly, in fits and starts. The light you see when you first open your eyes is far too bright for you to do much more than squint, and even after you slowly become accustomed to the lighting, you still end up staring dumbly at the ground.
From where you're lying, face pressed to the ground, you have an excellent view of a muddy sandbar, a few blades of grass wavering in and out of vision as they flap back and forth from the slight breeze. From behind you, you hear a stream, quietly burbling as the water it carries travels towards unknown destinations.
You let out a quiet groan and try to roll over, rocking yourself back and forth, finally gaining the momentum to flop over in a boneless heap. The place where Mo-... no, where Grima stabbed you doesn't seem to be bleeding, but it still throbs with an intense, dull pain that drives your breath away.
When you draw your hand across your chest, though, wincing at the sharp burst of pain that accompanies the movement, your fingers meet whole cloth instead of torn flesh and shredded skin. For that matter, even the mail hauberk under your jacket seems to be untouched, missing the torn metal that by all rights should be there.
It takes you a while to muster up the strength to prop yourself up, and when you finally manage to force yourself to a sitting position, the wave of dizziness that washes across you almost makes you crumple back to the ground. You sit there for a moment, fighting your way through the nausea, and look down.
Falchion lies on the ground by your side. It slides easily out of its sheath when you pick it up, the weight in your hand a comforting presence. Still holding it in one hand, you crawl your way over to the stream you head before. It's a small thing, shallow and clear, with a bed of silt and pebbles of all sizes, but it's deep enough for you to cup your hands and wipe the accumulated grime off of your face and hair.
And with that you finally stand, leaning on Falchion for support, and take a look at your surroundings. Forest surrounds you in all directions, with only the small brook as a distinguishing landmark of any sort. Pristine wilderness, in all of its glory. Beautiful, but not particularly conducive for finding your bearings.
You're stuck here, in an unknown place with nothing but the clothes on your back and the sword in your hand. And obviously, you can't stay here. And so, with nothing better to do, you slowly head downstream in search of civilization.
The stream steadily grows as you walk, meeting up with its compatriots, flowing ever swifter and deeper. Before long, it meets up with a mighty river, rushing downstream to the sea. The forest has thinned out here, the shores on both sides devoid of heavy vegetation - a sure mark of past flooding. You stop here, take one last drink from the clear waters of the stream, and turn and head upriver.
It's getting late by the time that you find the first signs of human inhabitation. An old millhouse sits besides the river. As you approach, it quickly becomes clear that the place is abandoned, the waterwheel sitting idle and the wooden walls beginning to crumble from lack of maintenance.
While it won't be dark for several hours yet, there's no guarantee that you'll find any shelter further ahead. On the other hand, you've no real way to find food of any sort on your own, and if you want to avoid starving in the wilderness, it may be best to try to find civilization as soon as you can.
[ ] Forge onwards.
[ ] Investigate, and stay for the night if you can.
