Lugubrious — Roleplayer Guild

Kaghad blinked several times, trying to clear his head and piece together exactly what had happened. A few strokes of some stringed instrument, followed by darkness. Then, just like that, he was back. Judging from the aching spot on the back of his head, he had gone unconscious, or perhaps fallen asleep. Hopefully not too long--though it was embarrassing regardless. Perhaps he had had more beer than he had thought. Having recovered his senses for the most part, he was able to catch the final few snippets of what an elf was saying. As he was doing so, Kaghad cast his mind back to the moments before everything had suddenly gone dark. The purple-haired woman had rejected the advances of a thin, long-haired man garbed in immaculate black. There had been a little one also, who Kaghad remembered as having been mistaken for a moth. In truth, it was a fairy, and the first he had ever seen. Before leaving Beghladuhr, he hadn't know such a thing existed, and even as he heard about them on his travels he had been skeptical. Now it seemed that the rumors were true. The marvel he had felt at the sight remained in him still. There had been others too. A female elf in green, whose grammar was possibly the least perplexing of her quirks. A quick look around confirmed the presence of the big man, whose presence said just as much about him than his words, if not more. After them, there were quite a few more people around, but if he had made impressions of them, they must have been lost in his momentary stupor. Ah, well...couldn't be helped. They would likely give themselves a much more accurate account than could the dwarf's wizened eyes, but that would have to wait. It was time for Kaghad to make himself known. He cleared his throat very audibly. While hard to miss, he knew that his height would make him less visible to some, so he figured it was best to be sure of everyone's attention. "I am Kaghad Norm, mastah dwarf. Any one o ya warriors been ta tha capital mighta seen me forge and can attest ta me work. I am a craftman. I kin make tools, arma, and otha stoff, or mend tha ones ya have. I kin also drill through any rock or lock ya put in fronta me. I kin fight, too..." a look of uncertainty entered his eyes but quickly passed. "...I guess. Best leave that stoff ta ya tall folks."

"Baaaaaaaaah!" A bellow, full of surprise and confusion, echoed across the meadow. If either John or Wheatley glanced at the area from where it had resounded, they would find a huge man sprawled on the ground. For a few moments, he floundered about, until he seemed to get a hold of his senses. Rubbing his broad forehead enthusiastically, Ivan sat up and took a look around. Immediately he noticed all of his stuff scattered around him, and with a short cry he rushed to reclaim his things. As he gathered his weapons and accessories, he tried to figure out what had happened. There had been a blinding flash, just like traveling through one of the Engineer's teleporters, but instead of the opposite side of Cactus Canyon he had appeared...here. His confusion continued as he surveyed the surrounding landscape with wide eyes. This wasn't any place he recognized; he had not fought here before. The grass was novel enough in itself. Ivan could not bring himself to remember the last time he was anywhere aside from dusty badlands, endless pine forest, or freezing snow. His wonderment quickly vanished. His team needed him. What was he doing here? He needed to return to the battlefield, and kill his foes. The unintelligible murmur of conversation not too far off drew his attention, and when he looked that way he spotted two men talking. Ivan tipped his hat, hoisted his Tomislav, and set off toward them. "Here I come!" He roared in a thick Russian accent as he approached. "Which one of you babies can tell where canyon is? Must get back to team!"

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