Ever since you can remember, you've dreamt of being a hero like in your favourite fantasy adventure books - literally. Ever since you were a child your dreams have been full of fighting monsters, casting spells, and saving the helpless citizenry in many different settings and scenarios. Very vivid and realistic dreams, maybe, but you've never really thought anything of them. I mean, it's odd that remember every single second of these dreams so clearly- almost as if they were real memories - and that sometimes they seem to last for days or even weeks, but it's not like you're special or anything, is it? Maybe you're a little daydreamy, a little too fond of your fantasy and fairy tales, a little too into your D+D and your Bloodborne and your Dark Souls and whatever. But that doesn't make you anything but a common-or-garden, run-off-the-mill nerd, right?

Who am I kidding? Of course they're special. Of course you're special. It's a Fantasy RP after all, duh.

Unbeknownst to you, you're a Dream Walker. When you sleep your soul travels to other places - places where magic and monsters are real - usually summoned by those who are in desperate need of a hero. Only a few in your world and the others are aware of Dream Walkers, and those who do know tend to keep their mouths shut. No need to frighten the horses, after all. They usually summon up a brace of heroes, unleash them on the monsters, then let them wake up and vanish from their world without a fuss.

And tonight it's Godric Whitelock, the king's sorcerer in a dinky little generic medieval fantasy land, who summoned a brace of heroes to defend his land and people. There are horrific, shadowy monsters praying on the people and none of the kingdom's warriors can hope to match them. Will you help the people and be a hero, or will you turn against them and be a villain?

Remember: as far as you know, it's just a dream. None of these people are real. So it's not like anyone's actually getting hurt, is it?

Plot TL;DR You're a Dream Walker who travels to fantasy worlds in their sleep, becoming a typical fantasy hero when they do so. A sorcerer has summoned you to fight monsters in a generic fantasy medieval kingdom but, as far as you know, it's just a dream. So you're here to attack people and are having such a good time right now. Whitelock is in despair.

Setting Kaymru, a little kingdom that doesn't seem to have left the 14th century yet. It resembles a bargain basement Wales with little villages full of hearty, apple-cheeked peasants dotted here and there, lorded over by your typical snooty nobles with their furs and feasting halls and awful attitudes. There is literally one city (called 'the city') and that's where the royal family lives. Everyone gets around by horse and cart and is constantly dropping dead from one plague or another. The king is wise and bearded and lives in a palace; his daughter the princess is young and pretty. There are mountains and forests all over, which swarming with monsters and bandits. You know the type.

But unlike most fantasy worlds, Kaymru is surprisingly cosmopolitan. The people are of all races and colours, all mixing and mingling happily; there doesn't seem to be any prejudice against LGBTQIA+ folks, either. Same sex relationships and marriage is perfectly normal here. Everyone is treated like scum by the nobles regardless of sexuality and gender.

Rules

• The usual: no godmodding, no powerplaying, no Mary-Sues/Gary Stues, sing along if you know the words.
• This is a semi-lit RP. Please try your best with spelling and grammar, but my tpying is awful anyway so I can forghive any sinly typoes that you might acidently miss.
• More than three lines in each post is recommended.
• Keep PG13, please. There will be death and gore but don't post detailed descriptions.
• Well-rounded characters are a must! Give them strengths and weaknesses, good characteristics and flaws.
• Only two characters per person, thank you.
• If you have to go away for a while or want to duck out of the RP, ping or message me.
• If you have any questions, ping or message me. I won't bite!
• Most importantly: HAVE FUN. HAPPINESS IS MANDATORY.

Character Form Username: Name: Age: [13+] Preferred Pronouns: [Better than gender, imo.] Archetype: [Fighter, cleric, bard, rogue, wizard? Go crazy.] Looks: [LINK to pictures only, thank you!] Personality: [What are they like?] Skills: History: [Just a line or two will do.] Equipment/Weapons: [No guns or electronics.]

Characters:

I haven't been active for quite a while, but I guess I guess I'll start RP'ing again :)

Username: Vintage888 Name: Damian Riel Age: 19 Preferred Pronouns: He Archetype: Magic Archer. As a magic archer, Damian is able to focus spells through his bow, that can then be fired similar to an arrow. He may also focus spells into a pair of daggers as well, to less of a degree. Looks: Damian looks a bit like this. Damian has shaggy, dark brown hair along with sapphire blue eyes. He stands at 5'10" and has an athletic yet slender build, with a fair skin tone. Damian's face is a bit angular, and he owns a faint crescent scar on the left side of his upper lip. In Kaymru, much of Damian's clothing is embellished, wearing a detailed white and blue tunic over a chestplate made of black, treated leather as well as a blue cloth sash. Over that, he has a short, white shoulder cape. Covering his bottom half, he wears a pair of black hosen underneath white leg coverings and a pair of sturdy black leather boots. Underneath his mess of hair, he also wears a bronze circlet, adorned with a single sapphire. He also wears a pair of ornate bronze bracers and greaves. Personality: As a person, Damian is very laid back and enthusiastic, readily able to crack off a joke at any given moment. Although he's usually very charismatic amongst friends, Damian is fairly awkward around new individuals, usually leaving off with a bad first impression. Despite this awkwardness at first, he's also known to flirt with people as well. While he does adhere to the basic rules of society, Damian usually blows off what others think about him. In battle, Damian turns very serious, taking more time to focus on his spells than to make unnecessary chat. He is also known to love fantasy video games, particularly one known as Dragon's Dogma. Skills: Wood carving, acrobatics, singing, undivided concentration, and playing pool. History: Damian was born into a middle-high class family between an American mother and a half-Thai father. He was raised with his sister, who is nine years older than he is. He took fencing classes and singing lessons, while enrolling into early college to become a robotics engineer. Damian split his time between high school and college classes, whilst fitting video games in any free time he had. He currently lives in the dorm room of a university known for their engineering classes. Equipment/Weapons: Bronze spellbow, two daggers made out of steel bardiche blades, a flint & steel, lantern, flask of oil, waterskin, and a pouch of silver coins.

Name: David Lief Age: 26 Preferred Pronouns: He Archetype: Guardian of nature. As a guardian of nature, David is a stalwart defender of the natural world and as such, can use a variety of spells in tune with nature, in addition to being able to shape change into nearly any animal in Kaymru. He can only, however, limit his abilities to a short period of twenty-thirty minutes at a time, or otherwise suffer possible long-term effects. Looks: David looks a bit like this. Outside of Kaymru, David has short-cut, warm black hair and deep green eyes. He stands at 6' even, and has a relatively tanned skin from days outside on beaches, hikes, and nature walks. Due to this constant outdoor activity, David is quite a bit more fit than most men in their mid twenties. His face is very masculine, with hard yet curved edges, and stubble along his face that has the potential of a beard. In Kaymru, David wears a wooden mask in the form of a deer's head. He also wears a half-plate set of armor made from ironwood, a type of wood that acts nearly identical to steel. Over much of this armor is a layer of leaves and moss, that don't seem to serve any purpose other than to hide places where the armor is weak. Under his ironwood armor, David wears a simple green tunic and a pair of light brown hosen. Personality: In a word, David is quiet. He doesn't usually feel the need to speak up in any matter other than when it's necessary. This does not mean, however, he doesn't give anyone his two cents from time to time. More often than not, David is most likely found to care more for the environment around him than any actual conversation. Skills: Herbalism, hunting, foraging, and listening. History: David was born as a handsome young boy to a lawyer and a biologist. He grew up in the outdoors, playing with the family dog and sometimes the animals in a nearby pond such as frogs and the like. He wasn't that great at math class or history, but he was great in science and physical education. He eventually chose to follow in his father's footsteps and become a biologist. Equipment/Weapons: Spear, bow and arrow, mortar and pestle, literally no cash whatsoever.

He's in! :)

Here goes lmao. It ended up really long and I'm sorry, but Ariel's weird healing mojo takes a long time to describe. It's 3 AM and I'm sure this isn't very good so I might want to come back and refine it tomorrow morning if that's okay!!

Accepted! :)

I added another character up above if you wanna check him out.

He's in, too. :3

(I see your sneaky UN change ;) )

Alright. Seeing as it's been... oh, ages since I made this topic and there hasn't been all that much interest outside of us, how's about I get things moving and see how it goes? I'm thinking of posting the RP start at 12:00 Subeta Time by editing it into this post - just a general 'starter post' to get the characters into Kaymru and give them something to react to?

Sounds good to me! I need to go to work soon but I can write a starter when I get back.

"Mae angen yn arwr i mi..."

Godric Whitelock waved his dragon-headed staff in complex runic shapes as he cast his spell, the other hand making impressive motions through the air. A wooden lectern stood in front of him that held the thick and obviously aged book he read his incantation from. At his feet a complex pentacle had been drawn in chalk on the castle's flagstones; multicoloured crystals glittered and candles guttered at all four points of the compass. The room itself was small, dark, and rather cold, the tapestries that hung on the walls doing little to keep out the drafts or remove the chill from the air. In fact, the whole castle was rather cold and damp at this time of year.

"Dal allan am arwr tan ddiwedd y noson..."

Smoke in all colours of the rainbow rose from the candles. A sourceless wind blew through the room. The torches on the walls burned white. Whitelock sighed mentally, scowling as he chanted. This was all so unnecessary. He could have had this spell done within a fraction of the time, without all these bells and whistles, but no - the king didn't believe magic was magic if it didn't have flash. Spells, said the king who has as much magic as a soft cheese, needed sparkly crystals and dribbly candles and impressive chants in dead languages. Maybe even some skulls, if you had any.

It was just typical of the king, really. He was more concerned with looking impressive and impressing others than actual practical results, which put Whitelock in a real bind. As the king's sorcerer he was in charge of all magical affairs in the kingdom - a position of great privilege and power - but he was as much a slave to his majesty's whims as the lowliest serf in Kaymru. A foot out of line could end up with Whitelock losing his head.

Whitelock wasn't even his family name. It was a nickname thanks to his premature, stress-induced aging. He was only 28 and his hair was almost completely white around the temples.

"Mae ganddo i fod yn gyflym, mae'n rhaid iddo fod yn gryf, mae'n rhaid iddo fod yn gyflymach na golau."

As the spell ended, there was a flash of light, a sound like frying bacon, and five figures appeared in the center of the pentacle. Looking around they would be able to see a small stone room, a lot of candles, and a tall aquiline man with black robes and very tired expression.

Madison blinked rapidly and owlishly at their sudden appearance in this strange room, looking around curiously; but they didn't seem confused for long, a cheeky grin appearing on their face as they surveyed their fellow newcomers. They lent their staff on one shoulder, winking at Whitelock as if they'd been friends for life. "Wotcha!"

Abeni, on the other hand, was more cautious - as was her nature. Hefting her halberd, she took in the other's faces one by one, ready to defend herself at any sign of danger. She gave Whitelock a piercing look, frowning at him. "Who are you? Where are we?"

(baconsizzling.com)

Damian opened his eyes with a start. One minute he was having a nightmare about being in the middle of the ocean, the next he was on his hands and knees. He quickly gathered himself, standing up and looking at the people around him. There was an unfamiliar weight on his back, to which he reached over his shoulder and found an ornate piece of curved bronze that had multiple protrusions on it, as well as tapering at each end. Damian's puzzled face soon shifted to an expression of curiosity.

"No way..." Damian muttered to himself. Expiramentally, he placed his middle and ring finger together, with the index finger just above those. He then wrapped his fingers around where a bowstring would be, and sure enough a fiery white line connected the two tapered ends, a white bolt lingering between the arrow rest and the young man's fingers. Damian's eyes widened as he watched how effortless the draw weight was. As soon as he released the tension on the bow and guided the 'string' back to the center of the bronze bow, both the white bolt and string disappearing. A pair of runic steel blades also rested on his hips, seemingly held up by nothing at all.

He then took this time to look around at the others. There was a man in a wooden deer mask who was a bit intimidating, a woman brandishing a halberd with a jumpy look on her face, a teenage girl who looked like they had lost a few marbles, and another young man who was wearing a light gray cloak. Finally, Damian's eyes came to rest on the one who seemed to have brought them to this place, a tall, almost elven man who didn't look quite that old despite his nigh-entirely white head of hair.

|~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~|

David opened his eyes to a host of multiple individuals. He looked down at himself to find gauntleted hands and a half set of armor made up of wooden plates. Despite his mask covering his whole face and seemingly having no slits for breathing and only very small, angular holes for eyes, David could see and breath with only the slightest minor hinderence. He still, however, decided to take off his mask to survey the room easier. The room was ill-lit the only source of light being a multitude of multi-colored candles and a few torches on the cold, slightly damp walls. He followed the rock wall up to the ceiling, where it met in a circular curve.

He proceeded to bring his attention back to the people around him. Any one of them could be a threat, although he didn't let his caution show, keeping his face as stoic as it had been as when he first arrived in this claustrophobic, dark room. Small vines grew from the stone around his feet as his grip tightened around one of the wooden horn of his mask. His tension was only released when the boy in the white tunic decided to speak up and say,

"Umm... does anyone know where the restroom is?"

For as long as he could remember, Ariel had been a vivid dreamer. He rarely remembered his dreams exactly, but he knew they were full of mysterious animals and interesting figures, set in rich landscapes that he barely had time to explore before waking up into a life that seemed completely dull, almost painfully so, by comparison. At least, those were the good dreams. The bad ones were just as vivid, but left him sweating and shaking as he lurched awake. It was understandable, therefore, that he had learned to be a little wary of his dreams.

When the smoke cleared, Ariel found himself stumbling on his feet. He had the odd sensation of momentum, as if he had been on a bus that had just lurched to a stop. It was immediately clear to him that he was dreaming. Things like this just didn't happen in real life. It felt just as real as anything ever had, of course, but didn't all dreams? He could've been floating upside down in a purple cloud surrounded by sheep and feeling completely normal. This was nothing in comparison.

As soon as he'd gotten used to standing on his own two feet, Ariel became aware first of the other people in the room, reacting with comical mixtures of surprise, wariness, and confusion, and then of a cool breeze on his chest. He looked down and his heart lurched in shock as he realized that his chest was practically bare for all to see. Even more surprising was the realization that it was flat. He ran a hand down his chest wonderingly, marveling at how light he felt, but after another noise he realized he was still surrounded by people. With a cringe, he pulled his loose-fitting shirt closed and buttoned it, pulling his cloak (A cloak? What was up with that?) over his shoulders and peering up at his surroundings from under the hood.

The white-haired sorcerer gave the bowman an odd look, not quite understanding the question. He heard from his fellow summoners that heroes spoke of places and objects that he wasn't familiar with or could understand. Their advice had been to simply accept it and move them on to more important things. That, of course, didn't help when they actually started spouting their otherworldly gibberish. "Rest... Room? A room for resting? A bedchamber? You can't be tired already!" he exclaimed incredulously.

Madison tittered, always enjoying a good toilet joke. "I think he means the little boy's room." Still no comprehension. "The porcelain throne."

"The throne is made of wood and no, you can't have it! The king would have your head on a silver platter for that!" replied Whitelock, regretting this more and more by the second. Perhaps the monsters would be better than... whatever this was. He could feel this control of the situation slipping away even as he spoke.

"Noooo, I mean the WC. The comfort station. The crapper. Can? John? Commode? Privy?" added Madison helpfully, counting them off on their fingers. The last one they listed seemed to stick, as sudden understanding - mixed with more than a little embarrassment - dawned on Whitelock's face.

"Oh, yes, privy! Why didn't you say?" Whitelock gave the boy a flustered this-is-all-your-fault look and cleared his throat. "Well, ah. There will be time enough for that later."

Abeni continued glaring at Whitelock all through the rather comic exchange, sparing only the briefest of glances to her fellow newcomers. She hadn't shown even a flicker of a ghost of a smile the whole time. "I said - who are you and what is your purpose for bringing us here?"

Whitelock sighed deeply - audibly this time - and pinched the top of his nose with forefinger and thumb. "Very well. I suppose now is the time for introductions. My name is Gregor Whitelock, chief sorcerer to King Ethelred of Kaymru. I have summoned you here today because the kingdom is in great danger. Monsters lurk in the untamed forests, attacking and killing all those who dare step into their shadows. Dozens have died thus far and more deaths are expected. Our armies are helpless against them. We - the kingdom - desperate need your help."

Abeni considered this for a second and then nodded, seemingly satisfied with Whitelock's answer. "I see. If the people are in danger, I will help."

Whitelock beamed in relief. "Thank God. Thank you."

Picking their nose industriously, Madison looked around the gathered ranks of faces with an eyebrow raised. They flicked a booger into the corner and grinned wickedly. "We're all gonna die!"

"Well I'm definitely not in Seattle anymore." Damian thought to himself. He suppose he didn't have to use the 'privy' right now anyways. He scratched the back of his head, trying to find out how he even got here. The last thing he could remember was that he was back in his dorm, typing in some forum on his tablet before going to sleep. This must be a dream then! That would most likely explain the monsters and magic. For now, Damian decided to just roll with it, as he does with most of these kind of dreams. It's been a while since he's had a good dream that somewhat made sense.

The young man's attention turned to the woman who was previously making a fuss, but seemed to have calmed down by now. For someone asking a lot of questions, she seemed completely fine with suddenly saving a kingdom and face army-slaying monsters. Damian didn't know why, but the person in the patchy dress's morbid exclamation made him snicker under his breath. People were weird in this dream.

"So, I suppose this is were you uh... introduce us to his grace?"

|~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~|

David sighed through his nostrils, slightly shaking his head. Of course this wasn't real. Although he was still young, David hasn't had a dream like this in years, which all stopped when he came about the age twenty-someodd, and instead began to dream more... well, that was beside the point. His stress must be getting to him. Between the white-haired wizard not much older than he is, a boy asking for the restroom in a castle, and some guy caressing his own chest, David came to terms that this was, in fact, a dream. The wood-clad man donned his deer mask and waited for things to move along, just as they do in any dream. As David relaxed, the small vines retreated back into the stone, not leaving a single trace of plant life behind, other than the moss that already grew between the damp stone tiles.

"His majesty. 'His grace' is how you address a duke. King Ethelred is to be addressed as 'your majesty' and thereafter sir or sire." chided Whitelock. "The proper address of royals and nobles is a serious business. People have been stripped of their rank and imprisoned for treason for that sort of mistake."

"So Ethel is right out, then?" piped up Madison, one finger once again up their nose.

"...Yes."

Abeni looked deeply troubled by the mention of people being imprisoned for such a simple and minor mistake; the law student in her was muttering about due process and juries of peers. "Did any of these people receive a fair trial? Or the right to appeal the king's decision?"

Whitelock blinked. The idea of someone going against the king's decision confused and slightly troubled him; in his mind, they may as well lay their heads on the chopping block and be done with it. "The king is the law. The only word more powerful than the royal word is the word of God."

"He is a tyrant, then." stated Abeni firmly.

"Well. Um. Yes. Aren't all kings?" Whitelock wondered how wherever-she-was-from was run to give her such odd ideas. Maybe it was like one of those democracies he'd read about in his history books. He sighed yet again. "Look. Perhaps it would be best if I did the talking, child."

Abeni made a noise that clearly stated her dislike of being called a child but said nothing; Madison raised an eyebrow.

This was quite a lot to take in. There was someone who looked a little younger than any of them picking their nose and joking with the wizard as if they'd known him all their life, and as his gaze traveled around, Ariel was sure he saw vines growing out of the stone floor before retreating back into it again. When the serious-looking woman asked about a fair trial, Ariel scoffed audibly; he was more than aware that, in medieval times, there was no such thing as a fair trial. While Ariel enjoyed his high fantasy as much as anyone, he saw no sense in romanticizing the period. People died left and right from illness and injury; hygiene was practically nonexistent; peasants were enslaved with no hope of equal rights. Hopefully this dream wouldn't include those parts of it. There certainly wasn't as much of a stink as he'd expected.

The conversation about the king was interesting. Ariel stepped a little closer to listen in. It seemed like nobody was a fan of him, then; Ariel didn't blame them. He sounded awful. But that left him with one question— Well, more than one, but one pressing question. "Why us?" he said suddenly, and was pleased by how deep his voice sounded. He hesitated, glancing around at the others again, then cleared his throat and tried again. "I— I don't know about the others, but I'm not much of a fighter. So why us?"

"To be perfectly honest, the spell I used merely summons a 'hero' - or five heroes, as it so happens. I have no control over who ends up in the summoning circle. What you, I, and the inventor of the spell define as 'heroic' may vary greatly. In the ancient heathen countries, before civilisation as we know it, 'heroic' merely meant owning a weapon and using said weapon to get what you wanted from the world." Whitelock sniffed, wrinkling his nose in disgust. "Not that many here who attend church every Sunday and profess themselves to be chivalrous act any better."

"In any case, I advise you to try your best to adjust. The price of failure is steep indeed - any consequences won't only be resting on your neck but mine as well." he added, unconsciously rubbing the body part in question with his free hand.

"No pressure, then?" This, predictable enough, was from Madison.

"None whatsoever." The sorcerer laughed bitterly. Then he crossed to the door, opening it to reveal a long and rather ominous corridor, lit by yet more guttering torches. "I'll be presenting you to his majesty now. He'll be impatient to see the results of my spell. Follow me now and try not to get lost."

((OOC: I'm going to be gone camping a couple of days. Feel free to post without me while I'm gone :)))

Damian rolled these strict rules around in his head. "I suppose you'd be right." He said aloud, slightly frowning. Many of his dreams consisted of being held in a duchy rather than a kingdom. Many of those times the duke would be jovial and happy, but were usually corrupt in one way or another. Damian's head turned to the young man who didn't look that much older than he was.

Something didn't seem right. These other characters in his dream seemed almost too real. It wasn't possible to share a dream, was it? Damian pushed the idea aside for later. What was important right now is that he didn't spend the rest of this dream in a dungeon cell for speaking out of term. He thought about the basics of royal etiquette he learned from previous dreams, muttering a few crucial points under his breath before frowning and looking back up at the white-haired man, who just recently opened the twin wooden doors.

"Shouldn't we present a gift to his majesty before speaking to him?"

What could be the worst thing that happened? Ariel's vivid dreams often ended in painful deaths, but apart from a few minutes of discomfort, they usually ended quickly, with him waking up with a jolt. He assumed this would be no different. The wizard's words didn't scare him; if he made some wrong move and was assassinated or something, he would probably just wake up. Still, that would mean the dream would be over, and he didn't want that. Not yet, anyway; not when he was just getting started.

Still, even though he knew that there wasn't much to worry about, Ariel's stomach still flipped when he learned that he would be meeting the king soon. Of course there was nothing to worry about, his rational mind said; that still didn't stop him from worrying. He glanced at the others, tightened his grip on the staff he'd only just realized he was holding, and fell into step behind one of the other men. He seemed to be mumbling some tips on how to behave around royalty, and Ariel strained his ears to listen. The question gave him pause as he realized that the man was probably right; still, the answer came to him in a jolt.

With a deep breath, Ariel answered in his quiet, almost hesitant new voice. "We are his majesty's gift."

"Presents, huh? I could do some yo-yo tricks. I'm good at yo-yo tricks!" declared Madison cheerfully, reaching for a pouch in their belt and pulling out a wooden disc attached to a string. They yo-yo'ed it up and down a few times as they spoke, flipping it into the air. Whitelock's eyes followed the yo-yo as it moved but he didn't look all that impressed. He raised an eyebrow at the mage's antics.

"I suppose it might amuse the young princess." he grumbled before turning away and making his way down the corridor. "Still, there isn't much you need to do. You merely need to look honoured, allow me to present you, bow and scrape, make your introductions, and then the king will send you on your way. The whole ordeal shouldn't take more than a minute or two."

Abeni barely resisted the urge to roll her eyes. This dream was becoming rather strange but also rather dull at the same time. She had accepted the so-called sorcerer's explanation about the kingdom and the monsters so easily as she had already accepted the fact that none of this was real. Real or not and hero or not, however, Abeni still knew it was her duty to help the people she now knew were in deadly trouble - now that she could. It would be cruel and neglectful not to. As she walked behind the sorcerer and the odd-eyed stranger, she turned to the others.

"Speaking of introductions, I don't know any of your names. We will be working together for a while, it seems, so we should get to know each other." she said, her voice carrying over the sound of footsteps and the sound of wood against stone. Not only did the sorcerer and two of her fellow 'heroes' have their staffs, so she had her halberd. "My name is Abeni Evans. I'm currently studying Law at the University of Westminster in London."

Madison recovered from their little rejection-triggered sulk at the sound of introductions. They beamed widely as they turned around to walk backwards, still fiddling with their yo-yo. "Madison Hathner, but everyone calls me Maddy - or just plain Mad! Suits me, huh? I'm from Liverpool, I'm in high school, and I'm not a girl!" They winked broadly at the last exclamation, knowing from experience it would stun. "Madison was originally a guy's name, y'know, until that damned mermaid movie... Not that I'm a boy, either."

"Pleased to meet you, Madison." replied Abeni, completely unruffled by the revelation - much to Madison's disappointment.

((Crap, sorry D:))

This was it, then. They were going to meet the king. Ariel sucked in a breath and tried to make himself seem presentable as he followed behind the others. Large staffs seemed to be a theme in their group, although none were quite as exciting as that of the regal-looking woman with what looked like an axe at the top. He listened to the introductions, acknowledging each with a simple nod. G-d, Maddy wasn't even in college yet. How was she supposed to be a hero? How were any of them, for that matter? He tried to swallow down the anxiety that was starting to rise in him and took a deep breath.

"I'm Ariel Simon, from New Jersey. I'm studying contemporary art theory at Swarthmore College, near Philadelphia. And I— I'm a boy," he added, shooting Maddy a little smile. This dream kept getting weirder and weirder, he thought. Now he was part of a team of modern-day heroes in a medieval land? It occurred to him that it was a little odd how fleshed-out all of the characters in his dream were; he didn't think he had ever heard of the University of Westminster (Although he must've, he thought, otherwise how could it be in his dream?). Maybe that was just part of the, for lack of a better word, dreaminess of it all.