1: What a strange view

This isn't Waterdeep!?
That is your first thought when you look out the window. Your head hurts and you are hungry. You awoke a minute ago with some strange headband on your head and covered in a thin linen sheet, a Shroud. This looks like the cabin of a ship, but the view is very wrong. On the wall next to your bed is painted a blue line.



You can see 6 other people in the 2x 3 high bunk beds. Each of them holds a person underneath a similar shroud as yours. Through them, you see a blue glow from a headband, similar to yours. In the wooden planks next to the beds are carved glowing blue lines. These lines are fading and as they do, the person starts to wake up.

The top bunk to the left of the door does not have any blue line. The person under the shroud does have a bronze disk device on its chest.

Nirion rises holding his head
. He remembered the spell hitting him, remembered the people talking. But he was also worried his magic did this.
The cabin was wrong. He'd taken a boat to get to Waterdeep. It didn't look like THIS

Eyes fluttering, Turner halted the natural movements associated with waking as the unfamiliar room came into focus. Thought would be easier without the throbbing above the right orbital cavity currently drumming through her head. Louder than that pounding was the feeling that something was horrendously wrong. Gauzy fabric did not obscured details of other prone forms similarly attached to??? Laying motionless, Turner realized by the difference in breathing that she was not the only one awake!

The old elf blinked away the unnatural sense of unconsciousness. He assessed the situation, rose to inspect his person and clothes, and remarks sternly to Nirion, "Is this your doing?"

He clutched the bunk side to steady himself. He had cottonmouth and rumble in his gut that announced he missed his midday meal. He rubbed his temples and attempted to recall what occurred before he arrived here.

Lopeiros rises slowly, sneezing and coughing out the powder that he was dusted with, even if it's long gone by now. He blinks awake and smiles at the other people in the room. He thinks his current situation is strange, but doesn't think too much about it at first until he sees the window. He instantly shoots up in curiosity to sprint towards the window, but smacks his forehead loudly on the bed frame above him. The whole bed shakes as he falls back down into a lying position. "Ah crap, my apologies." he says mostly to the other people but also towards the bed frame.

He raises a hand to rub the spot he just likely bruised. Then he slowly ducks out the side of the bed and runs over to the window. He stands with his mouth ajar as he takes in the beautiful sights. "Wow. I don't know where we are, but sure is cool." The view reminds him of the starry sky he would lay awake staring at during the night, wondering what's out there. He begins searching himself for his notebooks so he can start writing and drawing what he sees.

Nirion looks at Takeshi. I don't know. someone held me with magic...then all was blackNess

"There is much more than just blackness out there sir, look at all those bright stars and colorful nebulas.

Khezzik has been staying motionless, even when the firbolg smacked its head into the frame of his bed. He's heard enough to deduce that the others in the room are in a similar state of disorientation and are not the people responsible for his abduction, and is intrigued by the description of the view from the window.

But first things first. Carefully, moving very slowly under the shroud so as not to alert the others, he reaches up to the headband and tries to remove it.

Smiles at Loperios. I see the colors. Was trying to say I passed out.

The older elf noted the satchels at the end of the bed. He collected his meager remaining possessions. He summons a quill, then dismisses the creation. That works. He summons a spectral hand. He then sends it to the door, attempting to open the aperture. While the the hand does so, he reaches out with his mind to his shiki-no-kami to draw it forth from its pocket dimension. He wondered if the creature would answer his summons here. Turning toward the porthole, he glanced toward the subtly shifting shroud before he mused on the nature of the plane they currently resided within.

Stroking his gray beard, he remarks dryly, "It seems all five of us and the unmoving sixth share a fate of uncertain familiarity. What do you all recall prior to arriving here?"

One by one the blue lights faded as each person seemed to awake and arise. No need to pretend to be anything but conscious when a lack of a glowing blue light gave you away. The white film that had covered her tumbled around her form as she rose. A furrow marred the wizard's forehead as she patted the bunk she had been laying. A bit of panic laced her voice, Has anyone seen a pair of glasses? I need them to read...

Kidnapped? One could escape. On another plane? One could simply travel back. But not being able to read? Without reading nothing could ever be solved and she NEEDED THOSE GLASSES! Wide blue eyes moved from one form to another as desperation built with every intake of breath until the elder elf started retrieving some personal effects from the hanging satchels. Possible they were stored in the canvas.

Oh, I found them! Turner announced to the room in general in a pleased voice while settling the spectacles on the bridge of her nose. Blinking owlishly, Did I just see you summon a quill? Really? The wizard a twist of a smile at the corner of her lips as she too produced a quill out of thin air. Pointing the feathered end at various occupants, Turner questioned, Are all present from the Order of Scribes?

Eyes widened further as Turner remembered Miss Post Book of Manners stated the most trying of times could be eased with the proper set of manners. Excuse me, let me introduce myself. Wizard Paige Turner Buch, at your service. My memory, I am afraid is not complete but I have a hypothesis that maybe from the unfortunate result of a powder I inhaled. A woman I thought to be a victim of a pack of flying creatures seem to repay my kindness with... Turner waves her hand in the air.

I am scholar, but my magic comes from within me. And is not always ...reliable. he runs a hand through his hair. You can call me Nirion, for it is my name, of the clan Revelore, student of the scholarium on Bayrock Island

Lopeiros finally tears his attention away from the mesmerizing patterns and shapes of the worlds outside the window to search for his notebooks so he could document them. He speaks to the group as he searches the bag on his bunk,

"I'm somewhat of a scholar myself. At least, have been the past couple weeks. My name is Lopeiros of the Fyfolong clan, but you can call me Leo. I like to learn about portals and fairytales and other planes and stuff like that."

"And I don't know about you guys, but I suspect a portal of some sort may have been involved here. Those stars outside look awfully like stars we have back in Toril, but in the wrong direction. And unless gravity is weird here, the sky is sideways here not up. Which is a little funky. Could perhaps be a side effect of being on another plane. It's a working theory."

"I was investigating reports of a portal in the Trader's Ward before I fell asleep. Oh, is everyone okay by the way?"

The bald elf stroked his flowing white beard which he constrained with a thick golden ring. He trained his almond eyes on each speaker, listening. Paige would plainly see his gold-upon-cobalt robes espoused his arcanist nature, though none of the decorations declared him a member of her chapter of the scribal tradition. His gaze seemed to assess and way each person with a glance, though his face did not reflect whether he approved or disapproved of his newfound cohort.

After patiently listening to the conjectures and revelations of the others, the scholar replied, "I am of the Order of the Obsidian Scribe of the Nine Immortal Dragons. What Order do you serve under, adept Turner?"

"Based on these testimonies, if they have any credence to what actually occurred, I have some observations: Someone targeted us for some similar quality. They abducted us to this vessel in some unknown plane or strange portion of the material. Since we have our faculties and a limited freedom, the abductors desire something more than to harvest our essences. We do not have, however, our tools or even a cup of tea, so these advanced travelers left us hampered to effect our escape or even brew a cup of chai."

"As to the mechanism that whisked us away, the captors likely subdued us with the powder. These, then, conveyed us through a conjuration of significant magnitude. Whether teleportation or true planar portal, we cannot say. If a portal, as our firbolg conjectures, then they rallied our unconscious bodies to a single location and ferried us to this vessel. If so, then we may find a gate onboard that will return us to wherever in Waterdeep our 'hosts' escorted us off of Faerun."