(no subject)
Characters: Stoneface (stonyfaced), Paladin (mythgravenblade) and Lezard (flenceburgsbest)
Date/Time: August 20th/midday
Location: Wellspring
Rating: G, unless Lezard decides to bump it up.
Summary: Stoneface has been turned into a troll, and a kindly NPC has directed him to Wellspring so he can receive some measure of clarity.
When he woke up, Stoneface was sure something was wrong. This was not a difficult assumption to make as the thing that happened to wake him up was his bedframe splitting in half and falling to the ground with an almighty thump. And Nobby was hiding under his desk.
He lumbered to his feet, feeling far heavier than normal and gazed blearily in the mirror only to see two small, red eyes staring back at him. His eyes were often laced with red, but rarely pure red and they were never embedded in a face of literal stone. He stared for quite a long time, not feeling the panic that he ought to and dragged himself over to the desk and awkwardly thumbed his journal open. It appeared that other people were complaining about being in other bodies as well. That explained it.
A synapse fizzled. Ten minutes passed.
Ah. He ought to complain too. With an unpracticed hand - if you could call these massive weapons hanging off of his arms hands - he picked up a pen, then crushed it. He looked unhappily at the page and accidentally knocked half of the paperwork from off his desk as he attempted to find another pen.
All right, so maybe not. He rubbed his head and then felt something he could understand. He was hungry. With food in mind, he drifted towards his kitchen, but even the meat in the icebox looked horribly unappealing. He'd have to go out to find... something.
He stood in the doorway and contemplated this before beginning the actual movement out, impeded by the fact that the entirety of his closet was made for a man a great deal shorter and quite a bit skinnier than he was now. Eventually, he clumsily fashioned a toga out of his bedsheet and went out the door, knuckles dragging on the ground beside him. Taking off the doorframe while he was at it was simply an unfortunate side effect.
Stoneface had been standing in the middle of the Bazaar wondering exactly what he was supposed to eat for exactly twenty-seven minutes when a kind young woman who had no idea who he was tapped him on the shoulder and gently directed him in the direction of Wellspring. The medics would know what to do with him, she had said.
It was with horror that Stoneface crossed the suddenly too-skinny bridge on the way and entered the waiting room. Most of the chairs appeared to be human sized, so he stationed himself against a wall and waited.
At this point, he belatedly realized that he had effectively missed his patrol and that it wasn't only his body that wasn't right--it was his brain.
Date/Time: August 20th/midday
Location: Wellspring
Rating: G, unless Lezard decides to bump it up.
Summary: Stoneface has been turned into a troll, and a kindly NPC has directed him to Wellspring so he can receive some measure of clarity.
When he woke up, Stoneface was sure something was wrong. This was not a difficult assumption to make as the thing that happened to wake him up was his bedframe splitting in half and falling to the ground with an almighty thump. And Nobby was hiding under his desk.
He lumbered to his feet, feeling far heavier than normal and gazed blearily in the mirror only to see two small, red eyes staring back at him. His eyes were often laced with red, but rarely pure red and they were never embedded in a face of literal stone. He stared for quite a long time, not feeling the panic that he ought to and dragged himself over to the desk and awkwardly thumbed his journal open. It appeared that other people were complaining about being in other bodies as well. That explained it.
A synapse fizzled. Ten minutes passed.
Ah. He ought to complain too. With an unpracticed hand - if you could call these massive weapons hanging off of his arms hands - he picked up a pen, then crushed it. He looked unhappily at the page and accidentally knocked half of the paperwork from off his desk as he attempted to find another pen.
All right, so maybe not. He rubbed his head and then felt something he could understand. He was hungry. With food in mind, he drifted towards his kitchen, but even the meat in the icebox looked horribly unappealing. He'd have to go out to find... something.
He stood in the doorway and contemplated this before beginning the actual movement out, impeded by the fact that the entirety of his closet was made for a man a great deal shorter and quite a bit skinnier than he was now. Eventually, he clumsily fashioned a toga out of his bedsheet and went out the door, knuckles dragging on the ground beside him. Taking off the doorframe while he was at it was simply an unfortunate side effect.
Stoneface had been standing in the middle of the Bazaar wondering exactly what he was supposed to eat for exactly twenty-seven minutes when a kind young woman who had no idea who he was tapped him on the shoulder and gently directed him in the direction of Wellspring. The medics would know what to do with him, she had said.
It was with horror that Stoneface crossed the suddenly too-skinny bridge on the way and entered the waiting room. Most of the chairs appeared to be human sized, so he stationed himself against a wall and waited.
At this point, he belatedly realized that he had effectively missed his patrol and that it wasn't only his body that wasn't right--it was his brain.