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Of the group, the one to answer him was a woman that looked about his own age.  His brow quirked slightly when she spoke in a French accent, and her response was even more of a mystery.  She was on a plane, then blank. And she ended up here.  It felt eerily similar to his own experience.  Zell sighed, at a loss for words.  He looked at the others and saw that no one really had any answers.  Not how they got here.  Not what country this was.  Nada.

Half of the group, including himself, looked like they were dressed for a medieval battlefield.  Zell drew the sword off his back.  A longsword.  Of decent make.  He gave it a few swings.  Well balanced.

"???" he grunted in confusion.

[i]Wait a minute,[/i] he thought to himself. [i]How do I know this stuff?[/i]  He gave the sword another swing.  Somehow he knew that his technique was expertly polished.  "Wow," he said breathlessly as he appraised his sword with a trained eye.  It was frightning how comfortable he was with all this.  He'd never touched a sword in his life!

"What is the meaning of this!?"

Everything was interupted when a squad of police turned up.  Trouble.  The officer in charge took one look at the smashed up house... [i]Crap![/i] ...and angrily started demanding answers.

One woman spoke up for them, claiming their innocence.  She was European too, though not English or French, Zell couldn't quite place her accent.  She spoke level-headedly and (hopefully) convincing enough.  Zell sheathed his sword and opened his arms to the police surrounding them, then carefully moved in towards the rest of the group, taking up position next to the French girl.  Another younger guy was bullied off the bench he was sat on and ushered to the group.  Zell felt like they were being rounded up for a slaughter.  Funnily enough, he wasn't at all scared.  For some reason, he was confident they would all get out of this situation.  Even if they had to fight their way out.

Eyes still on the guards, he tilted his head slightly to the left, where the French girl was stood next to him.  "Bit of a cutey pie, aren't ya," he said quietly.

"[color=F1B338]Mister, I ain't even sure where in gods name I am.[/color]" Well that was an American accent if ever Zell had heard one!  Seemed as though there were a bunch of different people gathered here.  [i]Curiouser and curiouser.[/i]  "[color=F1B338]Listen sir, I ain't nothin' but a simple farm man this is all confusing as...Pardon my language but it's confusing as heck.[/color]"

"Ha.  I like that guy," was another comment from the smart-mouth Undergrad.

The American helped the European woman try to quell the officer's inquiries.  Zell decided to stay out of it, partly because he would likely only make things worse, (He didn't get on too well with police,) but partly because he was the one who'd smashed up the house!  Hopefully they'd resolve this before Ol' Lilian and Edric came out of the building fingered him for the crime.