When the madness began back at Craig's house, Theresa was less concerned than would seem appropriate. Her initial thoughts were that Craig had spent an obnoxious sum of money trying to put together a little show to impress them or something. After all, if he was tasteless enough to eat junk food from precious finery, then he must have been batty enough to organise this mess just to create "ambience". Perhaps they were starting their campaign in the midst of an earthquake? It became less easy for Theresa to write off what was happening as the manual began to float and flip pages autonomously. As light engulfed the room, Theresa had well and truly begun to panic.

She awoke to the distinct sensation of feeling heavy. She initially chalked it up to a groggy sensation. They appeared to have been taken somewhere. Theresa's immediate instinct was to wonder if Craig had drugged them all to drag them off. She had always suspected he had something of a rapist/kidnapper vibe to him. How could she be sure they all hadn't been violated while they were out cold? As much as her thoughts raced with wild possibilities, the more worrying prospect was their surroundings. Being in some sort of medieval tavern was one thing, but she it was painfully clear that some of the people around her were not at all human. She wanted to say they were all in costume, but their "costumes" were too elaborate and realistic to be artificial. 

As Theresa continued to take everything in, an even more insane fact became apparent. The people closest to her appeared to be the characters of the others from her group. Given the way they were talking, Theresa was quite convinced they actually were the others from her group. They all seemed equally confused with what was happening, too. [color=fff79a][b]"So then..."[/b][/color] Theresa began, swiftly halting her speech at the sound of her own voice. Only, she would not describe it as her own voice. It was much deeper, masculine even. Looking at herself, her hypothesis was confirmed; she was dressed in platemail befitting a knightly paladin. It was almost assuredly Alistair's platemail. Patting herself over, the feel of every masculine feature of her body further confirmed her fears. Her solid muscles, her square jawline, it was nothing like the pasty nerd of a woman she was supposed to be. Lastly, her hands reached for her crotch, and a final conclusion was reached. [color=fff79a][b]"That's a penis."[/b][/color] She whispered to herself as faintly as possible. It was like a final admission that she was very much no longer Theresa Albern, at least not on the physical level.

As the others puzzled over their dilemma, Theresa, or Alistair as it were, sat still and internally fretted over what was going on. She was not the type to take charge in a crisis, and even if she were, what on earth could she possibly suggest in this fantastical scenario?