Vote Results:
Gender: Male
Name: Vaxus (Tie broken by Yays)
Location: Elsewhere (QM Choice)
Species: Harefolk (Tie broken by Yays)
Age: 21
Awareness returns… slowly.
It feels like wading through mud. Like trying to think after a hard night of drinking. Like… like…
You can't think of another simile. Your brain is too sluggish.
Still, dimly you become aware of the fact that you're shivering, your fur plastered to your skin by what feels like liquid ice, despite the rough jostling of someone rubbing you down with a cloth and the warm crackle of a fire nearby.
Your eyes won't focus, but somehow, the panic that that thought should set off is a far distant thing.
"Ridiculous." Someone mutters, sounding irritated. "Can't be bothered to throw a cloak on over the poor thing, just drag him down in his altogether because they're too busy panicking over a new dungeon born. Like chickens with their heads cut off, I swear…"
"It has been a while." Someone says, slightly reprovingly, and the sharp, bitter scent of herbs hits your nose, carried by the warm humidity of steam. "Grandmother Eyari was the last, wasn't she? And that was nearly a hundred and fifty years ago."
"And the old bat's still around and kicking." The person rubbing you down says waspishly. "They're the dungeon guards. They shouldn't react this badly to a dungeon born. It's unprofessional!"
"Old bat, huh? I'll just tell her you said that, shall I?"
"Don't you dare!"
The yelp, so close to your sensitive ears, makes you flinch, and both people pause in their conversation.
"Oh he's coming around much faster than I'd thought…"
"Better than not coming around at all. I'm just hoping he doesn't get sick from the cold…"
"That's what I'm here for."
Someone touches your hands gently, lifting them, and then pressing something warm and cylindrical between them.
A mug.
The same sharp, bitter, herbal scent as before tickles your nose again, and the person nudges your hands gently upwards.
"Drink. Carefully, it's a little hot, but the warmth will do you good."
You don't think about it. You can't. Your mind still isn't quite… there.
Your hands come up, and the drink, hot and bitter as it is, slides down your throat to spread warmth from your core outward.
"Wow… He's quick." The first voice comments, and the cloth moves to your ears, pressing water out of the fur on them gently, without any of the roughness that had been evident on your limbs. "Think he'll be a caster, then? I heard that the faster a dungeon born wakes up, the more powerful they are with magic."
"Maybe." The other voice says, but there's a hint of doubt. "He's rabbitfolk, though. You know how most of them feel about combat."
That elicits something from you. A flicker of annoyance. Irritation at a common mistake, and your brow furrows.
"Oh, true." The first voice says from behind you, sounding disappointed, and your eyes are able to focus just enough to make the blur of colors in front of you resolve into a slightly plump elven woman with pale pink hair and fuchsia eyes.
"Well, whether he'd like to fight or not, I'm sure we can find a place for him here. Riona will be happy to see another rabbitfolk, at least."
That…
The furrow between your brows deepens.
"N-not…" Your voice comes out as a hoarse rasp, and both people yelp, the elven woman's head snapping up so she can stare at you, her eyes wide.
"Oh um… Not… what?"
Your tongue feels heavy in your mouth, but you force it to move. You're a hare, godsdammit, not some namby-pamby wussy rabbit.
"N-not… rabbit. Hare."
The cloth on your ear is drawn away, and someone else steps into view, tall and dark and androgynous enough that even with scent you can't tell if they're male or female.
They examine you carefully, then nod. "So you are. Well then, how are you feeling, Master Hare?"
"C-cold." You rasp, "Slow."
"That happens." They nod, and the elven woman grimaces sympathetically.
"Not much can be done about the slowness, unfortunately. It'll take some time for the blurriness to fully fade, but according to Grandmother Eyari talking helps. Let me get you a blanket, and then you can tell us about yourself."
Slowly you nod and the woman bustles away, coming back a moment later with a thick quilt which she flings around your shoulders.
Cudgeling your brain to try to make it work, you stiltedly begin to speak.
"My name is Vaxus…"
You are from:
[] The trading city of Vraka, a place where four trade routes intersect, and almost anything can be bought and sold, if you know where to look.
[] The port city of Midnes, on the Gulf of Trealve. A melting pot of cultures from three continents. While Midnes is well known as a merchant port, its main attraction is actually its food. The seafood in Midnes is cultivated, grown, and fished with near religious attention to detail and care for the creatures and plants harvested.
[] A small village in the south of Aspari called Bacon. No, no one knows why it's called that. The village doesn't even have an abnormal amount of pigs!
[] A midsized town called Keltin, on the continent of Anselterre. There is nothing particularly special or amazing about Keltin, but you lived there, and it was comfortable and familiar.
You are:
[] The son of a merchant, and learning that trade.
[] The son of a craftsman, and learning that trade. (write in)
[] The son of a guard, and were expecting to enter guard training soon.
[] A scholar, learning the mysteries of the arcane
[] A scholar, searching for understanding of chemistry and the world around you (Alchemy).
[] Other (Write in)
Your family is:
[] Large. You have many brothers, sisters, aunts, uncles, and cousins. (You tend to get lost in the throng. Your one desire is to stand out and be seen as more than just another one of your parents' children.)
[] Medium. You have one or two siblings, and a couple of cousins. (You are eager to stand out, but not desperate.)
[] Small. You are an only child, and have no extended family. (There is pressure on you to succeed, and to carry on the family name.)
[] None. You've been on your own for as long as you can remember. (It's so very lonely, by yourself…)
[] Other (Write in)
