Snippet #1523701

Sebastian rose with groggy vision and a splitting headache. The rush of the events of the night before into his consciousness was almost overpowering and he could feel his mind once more attempting to reject it all as a fabrication. Unfortunately the evidence was stacked against him and the only alternative was the most likely option. So far he was able to find no evidence that this world was anything other than completely real and that should have been the most depressing thing to have ever come his way. But instead of that he felt something else bubbling away deep withing himself, something he could attribute only to basic human drives. He was curious. More than simply curious, he wanted, no he needed, to solve this 'puzzle'. Which was not to say he was not angry or upset about the predicament, far from it, he was devastated to be without the life he had built for himself. But through all that he felt an uncontrollable desire to find out where he was, how he'd got here and how to get back home again. For the first time since waking up in the street he entertained the idea of getting back to London with the knowledge of how to break whatever boundaries he had crossed. It would be the biggest thing to happen to science since Pythagoras suggested the notion of a round Earth!

And it was with this new found mission of gathering any and all information relevant to his cause that he pushed himself up from the floor he had fallen on, with every intention of striding forward and collecting some clothes from the chest. A plan that really couldn't have gone wrong for many people. However most people weren't recovering from severe concussion and the slamming of the door behind the Captain was like a fist to the back of the head for the teacher, giving him a new need - The need to lean on the bed he had claimed for the night and regain his composure.

Thirty seconds passed, then a minute more before he could walk to the centre of the room and start rummaging around in the chest. An everyday wardrobe of a smart shirt and tie really didn't leave him with much desire for what lay here and as he pulled various garments from within he couldn't help but laugh inwardly at those he threw aside for himself.

While everyone else had set about changing, he did the same, throwing his longjohns and shirt, complete with bloodstained collar, into a heap beside his bed. What happened to them after that was no concern of his. From what he could gather they were all heading out of the city and it seemed unlikely they would return any time soon.


Five minutes later and he was changed into a very loose fitting black shirt with a ruffled collar and reasonably smart black dress trousers that were tucked into what seemed to be a variant of cowboy boots he'd seen in old westerns, except they were missing the spurs. Deep brown spiralling stitches adorned the surface of the faded hazel colour and they stood out starkly against the rest of his attire, save the belt that held his trousers to his waist. Over this outfit he threw a heavy, wool cloack, also black, that draped about his knees and was easily wide enough to wrap around himself in times he needed warmth.

Looking down at himself, Sebastian could not quite grasp that it was him beneath the clothes. He reminded himself of a costume party he had gone to, dressed as a highwayman, in his youth and out of sheer nostalgia picked up a black neckscarf, which he tied in a knot at the base of his skull, letting it hang below his chin with distant satisfaction that was so very close to creeping onto his face.

His only other possesion in the world was the final touch to his new look. With surprise, although he kept thinking that nothing now could possibly shock him, he found that the 'stolen' gloves fit like... Well, they fit like a glove. They allowed for full flexibility of his joints but tightened to a tough skin around his knuckles when he clenched his fist. His fingertips were free to perform dextrous tasks if needed and the majority of his hands was given some degree of protection. Why he hadn't tried them on before eluded him for only a moment. Because I have no idea what kind of person may have used them before me he explained in his own head. Somehow this didn't seem to matter anymore as he was dressed head to toe in someone elses clothes.


After observing the chosen outfits and accessories of the other people in the group, they all soon found themselves in the stables faced with a choice of steed. The method of travel had occured to him only as they were moving down the stairs and from what he could remember (Mostly from films and books), horses were the preffered vehicle of these times. And he had not been wrong. There were at least half a dozen lined up in a paddock inside, pawing the ground with their hooves or trotting as far as their tether would allow. Immediately his eyes were drawn to a chestnut mare that seemed to pull at it's rope to get closer to him. He had no difficulty remembering now that he was awake and even though it had been dark and everything was rushed the night before he identified the beast as the one that had turned tail and run from it's owners with him astride. He took a few tentative steps towards her and she seemed to calm as her got closer. It was a surreal experience for him. Though he'd never been particularly bad with animals, he had never really had the time for them. he had ridden once, during one of the summer camps he had been shipped off to by his parents, but his knowledge of horses went no further. He had been lifted into the saddle and the horse had been guided by someone walking in front of it. Why he seemed to draw this one was yet another mystery within the greater conundrum that was this world.

"You saved my life" he whispered, face frowning, as he got steadily nearer and nearer to the equine. "Why?" As if in answer the mare let a heavy breath of air through her nostrils at his hand, which he had raised to touch her nose. The glittering gems set into his palms dimmed as the condensation misted them over for a few seconds and he let his hand glide down her nose. Instantly she calmed completely, bowing her head and breathing deeply. He took this as a good sign and moved to her side, where he unhooked the rope that tied her in place and gave a slight tug to guide her along. She was already saddled up and looked about ready to head out, following him steadily and calmly outside where he tethered her once more. And up behind him came a lumbering creature that was utterly terrifying to behold. Resembling a giant bird with an extra leg and eye, it was easily the most ugly animal he had every come face to face with. He didn't know what he had expected in terms of wildlife here but this was just monstrous! He couldn't tear his gaze away for a number of seconds, just staring incredulously at the strangely created creature until he saw the Lieutenant walking away, at which point he forced himself to walk away quickly without a single glance back over his shoulder. He considered asking anyone else what they thought but the idea of trying to hold a conversation with a series of explosions being set off inside his head was not an appealing one.

They were led across a courtyard, shadowed by the high walls, through another oak door and down a small flight of stone steps. Inside, waiting for them, was Captain Loger Kronis.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Held in one hand was a list, in his other was a drawstring leather pouch about two palms in size. It was closed and bulged in the middle, clearly holding a few items ready to be emptied on to the table in front of him, which already held a small assortment of items. The area was well enough lit, oil lamps glowing at regular intervals along the walls and high up in the corners. There were no windows here and the air was even cooler than outside. The vast variety of brutal weaponry on display completed the effect of a dungeon. He waited for everyone to arrive and for the door to close behind them before he spoke, calmly and quietly enough to convey that he was not quite as irritable as he had been a few minutes earlier.

"You all are aware by now that someone out there had every intention of kidnapping you last night. And in the path of that two guards lost their lives. It is therefore grudgingly that I am giving you access to whichever weapons here you feel most comfortable with before sending you out with Lieutenant Reshma in the hopes of keeping you safe, as well as anyone else who may get caught up in this storm." He slammed the bag he was holding down on the table. "These people knew where you were, so we cannot assume you will be safe where you are going, at least not permanently. I expect you will be spending many nights on the road, which is why each of you will be supplied with one of these pre-prepared kits."

He upended the pouch and let the items fall out to scatter across the table.

"Basic field equipment, you shouldn't need it but it's there just in case."

Across the table now was a small knife, a flint, tinder, a compass, a roll of rawhide lace and a few other small, potentially useful things for if they found themselves in a tight jam. He then picked up what looked to be a small telescope. And that was almost exactly what it turned out to be, but with one profitable difference.

"You." He pointed at Sebastian. "The medical staff said you were poor of sight, they sent this." He threw it underarm at the teacher. "You." He pointed at both Leander and Flin and picked up a small bottle of pale yellow liquid. "For your wounds." He then picked up a ball of clay. "Golem. Spread this in the crack of your damaged limb and sear it shut with fire, it's the best we can do here, the engineers are baffled by you and would not risk further damage by attempting repairs. In the East you will find specialists who will be of more use." He threw her the clay and turned to address the whole group again. "If any of you can write, scribe your names on this piece of paper. Those of you who can't, get someone else to do it for you." For his last act he placed the paper down beside an inkwell and quill and folded his arms across his chest.

"As for your weapons, I suggest you choose quickly, the gates open in ten minutes and I expect you to be among the first out of this city when they do. Any questions?"

Whether the question was rhetorical or not was a subjective opinion, his steely gaze was close to impossible to read. But he said nothing further on the matter, only standing watch.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Sebastian listened intently, remebering vividly the gruesome deaths of the mounted soldiers the previous night, and he said nothing as he caught the telescopic object in both hands, examining it quickly before stuffing it a pocket. He had no further questions, not one, and he only wanted to be gone from this city and it's dangers, not realising what horrors may await him in the wilderness between towns outside. He cast his eyes around and his mind back, trying to make some kind of a connection with any one weapon. Again he found himself remembering summer camp, where he had achieved a basic, and probably nothing more than novel, award for fencing. His skills at swordplay had been demonstrated already and he absently rubbed his shoulder, which he had noticed was badly bruised while changing. He then remembered another activity, one he had enjoyed immensely but not had much of a chance to show any potential skill in: Archery.

It was with this in mind that he wandered into the section of the armoury that housed the ranged weapons. There were so many of them and he had no idea what the differences were between most. The bows ranged in size, some short enough to hide in his cloak while others were taller than him. Then there were crossbows, of many different descriptions also. Arrows and bolts too lay on countless shelves and in unseen alcoves, taunting him with their unknown appeal.

In the end he chose a bow that he estimated stood at a little under five foot and had very little curve. To go with it he took a quiver of arrows over each shoulder and two slung across his left arm while his right held the bow. It was made of a tough but light wood that he couldn't recognise and was an ashy grey. The bowstring was thin and created an almost melodic twang when he tested it for tension. It would do very well he thought, without really knowing what constituted a decent bow and arrow. On his way out he scribbled his name down on the paper, wondering just how much good it would do the soldier to know the names of a group of people who had never set foot in this strange land before.

And then they were moving again, each member of the group with their chosen weapon and clothes. They were led back to their mounts and had to strap their new gear on board. Sebastian kept himself very clear of the golem's apparently flightless bird-like triped as he worked.