INTRO

[voidedman]

A graveyard. To be honest? He's not quite sure what to make of it. Monsters don't really have graveyards. Not when their dust is sprinkled over items, or carried with someone. He'd not even know what it was, if it wasn't for his... condition.

It was oddly fitting though, from what he'd learned from humans, during the war, after his sundering into a million parts, scattered through space and time. It almost hurt, to be yanked back together again, and the entity sways a bit, unsteady on his feet. Did he even have feet again, or was that just his imagination? He'd not been solid in so long, he rested a spindly, bony hand on a stone to assure himself-

This was real.

He was real.

He was real.

The entity wavers again, his edges glitching violently and hazing as he tries to focus on that. On being, and staying, real. Where was this? Where had he gone now? This was not the underground, oh no. Not anymore.

Anyone could find the strange, ghost like void creature wandering through the castle throne room later on, or perhaps still wandering the graveyard, like he was so sure he belonged there, confused and alone, unaware of anyone else being present in this world because...

Well...

He was so used to being everywhere and no where, and always knowing when there was someone else. Not feeling anything at all in that respect must mean he was alone... right?

Arrival [Open]

[shadowsangel]

While waking up in strange locations has been a staple of his life for as long as he can remember, it certainly wasn't something Ryou had experienced in several months. And for a few, brief, far too fleeting moments, there was a twisted spark of hope and fear in his chest that this time would be like all the rest.

But, logically, he knew what a rudiculous notion that was. The spirit was gone, the item he had cherished for so long destroyed and lost beneath a forgotten tomb. No, this was something different, yet no less intriguing. Life had gotten rather dull without surprising moments like these, so far be it from him to let such an opportunity go to waste.

The seventeen year old boy could be found wandering aimlessly wherever his feet may lead him, curiously poking and prodding at unfamiliat surroundings while trying to decide if this is something actually happening to him, or merely just a dream.

If not lost in his own thoughts, likely to accidentally bump into someone in a hall, he can be found exploring the graveyard, or perhaps simply sitting near the nameless headstones as he tries to get his bearings.

INTRODUCTION

[acheat]

He didn't expect to wake up in a castle. No, actually he fell asleep in an inn. After drinking. And a small bevy of women. No he remembered that clearly, pretending to be drunk was the best part of drinking in public.

The second best part of drinking in public and just pretending to be drunk was knowing damn well where he was going to wake up in the morning. No one could really shift him without his knowledge after all, not unless there'd been something special in those drinks.

That he missed with one of his eighteen thousand poison detection spells woven into and embedded in at least seven different pieces of clothing and jewelry.

So he was, and rightfully so, a touch annoyed to find himself coming to in a throne room. With no women.

Because he had three when he went to sleep and now there are none, which meant significantly less soft, warm bodies to lean into and look nonchalant around.

To be fair, he probably wasn't nearly as alarmed as he should have been, the drow getting up and fixing his hat neatly. Right. Well. Time to think of who did this and where he was, because this sure as hell wasn't his fault.

Anyone can find Jarlaxle having taken a seat in a throne comfortably, looking thoughtful, sprawled out across the arms of the chair like a great, elegant black cat.

In the worlds most fantastic hat.