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Day 2 (Nighttime) - Tag Dean
Dungeons and Dragons-Forgotten Realms

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Mike

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#1
There was one very dangerous risk to being stuck in a world with no (well, very little) magic while he was injured: Arjay was bored. Arjay was very bored. The pain in his shoulder made it difficult to take part in most of the activities that he would usually occupy himself with, the lack of magic kept him from taking care of the pain (among other things), and the sheer lack of information about how to fix either of those things left the elf very frustrated. As such, he fell to the only real solace from the pain and frustration that he had: The little bag of dried herbs that the previous owners of the van had sold him.

He’d been warned that partaking of this particular remedy inside their hotel room would cause them problems, so Arjay had gone out to the van, the great broken thing at least providing a bit of refuge behind their hotel. Settled inside it, Arjay turned his attention to the one problem that he thought he could do something about: The disturbingly limited amount that he had. Opening the pouch, he rooted around until he found a small twig, bypassing the buds altogether as he plucked it out. Most wizards and sorcerers would have just accepted their fate to run out of smoking-weed, but he wasn’t most sorcerers. One of the many facets of his diverse education had been very attentive listening to the druids of his mother’s circle. He was, by no means, a druid himself, but he had managed to pick up a few useful little spells from them, spells that were certainly small enough in power to function here. Focusing on the twig, he murmured the spell, pushing the magic into the little twig (barely an inch long, if that). It was slow going, but as he watched, the little stem lengthened, then began to bud. “Perfect,” he said, smiling mischievously as he watched the plant grow. Oh, he’d have to use the spell several times, and it would by no means bring an immediate reprieve to the finite nature of the supply, but it was a start.

Setting it on the seat, he pulled a pipe out of his pack, packed it with some of the Hippies’ stash, and lit it, watching the little stem continue to bud and grow, casting the spell again whenever it seemed to be losing steam.
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Supernatural-N/A

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#2
Dean was awake. The no sleeping with a concussion thing might have been a myth, but the lingering pain and nausea were real enough. Worse, he didn’t have any of the usual things to distract him. He hadn’t thought to pack his MP3 player, since it wasn’t supposed to have worked, and the light from the TV was only making his head pound harder. Annoying Sam was always good for a distraction back home, but the idea of going out and spending any length of time in a large group of still unfamiliar faces (without the help of alcohol, anyway) just made him tired.

He was staring out the window idly when he noticed a flicker of light in the van in the parking lot. Immediately he was on edge. There was enough work to be done on the damn thing without someone fucking around with it.

Not sure what to expect he grabbed his gun and stuck it in his belt, then padded out into the parking lot. He approached the van carefully, staying out of view of the windows...then stopped.

A very familiar smell was wafting from the van out into the cool night air. Dean laughed, shaking his head slightly, and relaxed. He’d been planning to throw the door open violently but instead he just hooked a few fingers in the latch and slid it open.

Inside was Arjay, a pipe in his good hand, apparently making good use of the weed he’d bought along with the van. Because of course he was.

Dean grinned at him, genuinely amused. At least someone around here had the right idea. “Hey there,” he said. “Any chance you’ve got enough to share?”
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Dungeons and Dragons-Forgotten Realms

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#3
Well, wasn’t this a pleasant development? Smoking alone wasn’t a very enjoyable time, no matter how much it helped the throbbing in your shoulder, but with company? Yes, yes this was much preferable, and with one of those in the group that he hadn’t really gotten to know yet, no less. “By all means,” Arjay said, his voice somewhat dreamier than usual as he waved Dean toward one of the seats. He set the guitar he’d been plucking at aside, then handed Dean the pipe. “Help yourself. It’s good, even by the standards I’m used to.” He hesitated a moment, looking around him. “I’m not sure what you’ll light with, though, unless you have a flame spell that works here too.” He could just keep reaching over and touching a flame from his fingers to the pipe for Dean, but that would probably just be tiresome to both of them after a while.

Once they were settled in and Arjay was acquainted with the fact that the little silver thing the hippies had left in the pouch of weed was for lighting the pipe, he picked up the guitar, idly picking out a tune he’d heard on the radio while they were driving. Music always helped to lighten any mood, even one that didn’t need lightening. “I haven’t had a chance to say it,” he mused, “But I was impressed back there. Brief though the fight was, opponents that don’t die when they should tend to be much more disorienting for people from the various Earth-worlds.” He accepted the pipe back, stopping the music while he took a hit. “Exceptions apply, of course, but usually anything supernatural puts them off of their footing a bit, possibly longer if they want to deny what they see. You didn’t even hesitate, you just adapted and started taking them out.”
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Supernatural-N/A

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#4
Dean chuckled as Arjay handed him the pipe, apparently very concerned with how on earth Dean might be able to light it without a “flame spell.”

“Uh, don’t worry, Gandalf, I think I’ll manage,” he said, pulling his lighter out of his pocket, lighting the bowl and taking a long drag. It turned out there was a lighter in the bag too, and damn was this potent stuff because it wasn’t long before just looking at the lighter had him laughing about flame spells all over again.

It was nice. He hadn’t relaxed—REALLY relaxed—in a long time, and Sam was such a prude about this kind of thing. Even the discomfort of the headache and nausea faded into the background. He didn’t have to worry about anything.

“You know Kansas?” Dean grinned as Arjay started playing Dust in the Wind. “Man, and I thought you were a cool dude before. I mean, the whole—“ he gestured vaguely at the elf, “medieval elf warrior thing was already—awesome. And a bar in a tree. That’s like a Keebler elf, man.” This made him laugh again. “And you bought a hippie van and a huge bag of weed, and now you’re playing Kansas. You’re just—you’re awesome.”

Dean’s expression grew thoughtful, of still relatively placid, as Arjay complimented his conduct in the fight. “Believe me. Those were not the first dudes I’ve stabbed who haven’t stayed dead. I’ve been hunting evil sons of bitches in all supernatural flavors since before I hit puberty.” He took another hit, then gestured vaguely in Arjay’s direction again. “I take it that wasn’t your first rodeo either.”
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Dungeons and Dragons-Forgotten Realms

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#5
Arjay added ‘Gandalf’ to his list of words that he desperately needed to find context on so that he knew how badly he was being mocked in the future. He gave Dean a joking, dismissive wave, sitting back in the seat in mock petulance. “Well, I’ll just remember that the next time I try to be accommodating,” he huffed, though the grin never really seemed to leave his face as he did. This was good stuff, after all, who could be in a bad mood smoking it?

The song, in truth, had resonated with the elf on levels that he was choosing very deliberately to not ponder in mixed company, because he very much disliked being a bore. Dean gave him a good way to divert his attention from the lyrics even as he kept strumming, though, which was good. “It played while we were driving yesterday. On my world, being able to remember songs you’ve only heard once is the difference between scraping for bread and water on the road and eating for free with an innkeeper’s thanks, assuming you have the talent to repeat it.” And, naturally, the elf did, but he wasn’t going to praise his own playing. The notes were a bit slower than they could have been, he was still accustoming his fingers to this much larger instrument than what he generally played, but the notes were all right on.

A seemingly-immortal sorcerer, scholar and swordsman he might be, but Arjay wasn’t immune to flattery. “You should come see my world some time. The inn… it reminds me quite decidedly of home. My people build in the trees like that, sometimes that literally sometimes not. My mother’s tribe were simpler folk… I’m sure you can imagine, your world has many stories with dancing elves living in the woods, think of that and add quite a bit more war and revelry.” He chuckled, pausing to tweak the tuning of the guitar. “How are you with a bow? You could come for the autumn harvest feasts. Hunt by day, feast at dusk, to bed by moonrise, and probably get to sleep somewhere around dawn.”

Arjay cast his mind back to some of the battles he’d had, particularly with things that didn’t die normally like these things today. “No, it wasn’t even close to my first… Music is just my calling. By profession, I’ve been trained as a soldier since I was just two decades old, and it’s felt like one constant string of wars and battles for… gods, two centuries now.” He self-consciously gave his shoulder a very careful roll, testing how the healing was going and shuddering at the throb of pain that shot through him. “Not that my showing today really gave any indication of that. The magic on this world is so thin that it’s nearly impossible to work with, like trying to make a torch out of twigs and bark. Unfortunately, if you actually take the time to gather enough together, we all know that you can do just that. I wasn’t expecting that anything would be carrying something potent enough to keep them moving through fatal wounds, and it made me careless. I’ll be ready the next time we see… whatever those were that we came up against. I still haven’t decided that… at first I thought some form of undead, but I don’t think that’s the case.”
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Emberverse-Main

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#6
Luthien knew that it was "shutting the barn door after the horse had run out", but when she'd taken to peeking out from the window now and then, to make sure that no one was attempting to damage the van further. So when she saw movement nearby, she slipped out to investigate, only to discover that it wasn't anything more nefarious than Arjay and Dean enjoying a pipe of maryjane, which would probably do as well as anything else to ease the pain that they were both in after the fight.

"Those were men, that we fought." Luthien said, silently climbing into the van silently "Men who were possessed by a great and terrible evil that was using their bodies as one might use a glove. That was why they took so much killing-they were unable to feel pain, or to care about the hurt done to their bodies until their heads were parted from their bodies, or their brains destroyed. I hadn't realized that their like existed here and now."
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Supernatural-N/A

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#7
Dean laughed--not giggled, because giggling was girly and Dean did not giggle--at Arjay's attempt at a huffy tone. As the elf explained how he could play songs from memory, Dean stared in unabashed amazement, then added, "Dude. If I could do that... I mean, man. You must pick up so many chicks that way. I mean. That is so fucking cool."

He thought distantly of his own teenage dreams to become a rock star, and contemplated the fact that there was in fact a teenaged version of him somewhere out there, having those dreams. Which was...weird. Exactly how long he spent contemplating that fact he wasn't sure, as time flickered by in the indescribable way that was a sign of really good weed. Thank God for hippies.

Arjay interrupted his reverie by describing his people. Dean snorted. "So you're like... my kind of Keebler elves. I mean, hunting and feasting? Sign me up. I mean, dude. I learned bowhunting when I was like, eight."

Dean raised his eyebrows at the rest. "Man, and I thought I was getting too old for this shit. But hey. It's not like I'm gonna do anything else with my life." He paused, vaguely aware that Arjay had only the barest idea of what he did with his life, before adding, "We got plenty of magic in our world. It's mostly witches, and they're kind of disgusting, but you might like it. I could take you to see Dust in the Wind live, they still tour sometimes."

When Luthien appeared, explaining exactly what the guys from the van had been, Dean stared at her for what was probably too long, processing what she'd just said. It wasn't funny at all, really, but something about her showing up out of nowhere talking about possession like it was something out of the ordinary just seemed... hilarious. Dean burst out laughing before he could stop himself. "They're possessed?" he said when he could breathe again. "Oh, man. That sucks. Hey. You want to join us?"
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Dungeons and Dragons-Forgotten Realms

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#8
Arjay tried to be dignified… most of the time. Right now? He was high as a kite, which meant that he wasn’t above being a little good-naturedly smug. “Yes. Yes, I do,” he confirmed. When a famous thief was in town, you hid your local treasures. When a famous bard was in town? You hid your local virgins. Not that he could really claim to be a famous bard… although would that have been such a bad life? Probably not… but then, there were so many things he’d accomplished otherwise that he couldn’t often bring himself to regret his choices.

‘Keebler’ was another word that he was going to have to look up when they were back at the Hub so that he’d know if he was being mocked or not… for now, he just let it go. “Well, there are other religious aspects to take into consideration, but as long as you don’t disrespect them, you can mostly just nod your way through them,” Arjay admitted. Thus far on the Hub, he hadn’t come across many Earth-worlders who’d showed the least interest in (or respect for) the faiths of his world, but keeping their mouths shut on his world should be possible… right? “Aside from that… well, if you can bring down dinner for the feast, there are always a fair amount of the women who like that in a human.” Granted… those girls were looked at as somewhat foolish or short-sighted, but he wouldn’t mention that now.

Dean’s world, at least, seemed more palatable than his own. “Witches? Hm. Hardly descriptive. I’m not sure what magic of mine would work there, but I suppose I could adapt.” On his world, ‘witch’ could mean anything from sorcerors and wizards of the female variety to druids and faith healers. He supposed that, if he were there, he’d just have to see.

Luthien’s appearance was a surprise, but Arjay was too mellow to jump or anything. He just offered her the pipe and mulled over her words. “That makes sense. My sword might be powerful, but it doesn’t make many things burn from the inside out like that poor fool I ran through with it. A demon would do it, yes.” He considered this, which wasn’t that easy with how high he was at the moment. “Does it… have a name? All the biggest demons on my world have names.”
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Emberverse-Main

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#9
Luthien accepted the pipe and took a long hit of the potent herb. After she'd exhaled she said "No, it doesn't have a name. Some of the Christians call it The Adversary, as though it was the same as Satan-their personification of evil, but I don't think that is what it is. Usually we just call both sides The Powers, because they are working on a level and with goals that we can't understand, as though we're ants, trying to understand the workings of a human family. What we do know is that on one side, the Powers love order and cleanliness, and hate humanity, because we are....messy and disorderly and behave in unpredictable ways. On the other, there are Powers that love Life, with all the chaos that comes with it, and that makes them...well, less likely to set the anthill on fire, lets say." she shook her head. "We knew that this conflict was what caused The Change to happen in this world. But we'd thought that the Powers didn't start working directly through people until after the Change had happened. I suppose I shouldn't be surprised, the history of what happened just before and just after the change is muddy, in many places. So much was lost." she sighed "So much. This world-before this, before I came here, it wasn't quite real to me."
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