Boos, hisses, and cries for justice filled the air. The player drew back his staff, sighted aim, and- A red player slammed into the man in blue, sending them both crashing into the ice. "Watch." Just at that moment, a bearded figure in blue broke from the line of red guarding the opposite box. "What?" "Don't you see? It's a game!" Anjey said. "Oh! It's a game," Anjey said under her breath. They seemed to be locked in a vicious albeit graceful struggle for a small black object, which each color tried to steer toward the net-draped boxes at each end of the arena. Half wore the familiar blue-and-yellow surcoats with the crest of crossed swords the others wore red.
"How curious." Not far beyond them, behind panes of dirty glass, figures moved across the ice with an elegance Anjey had only ever seen in dragonkind. She'd loosened her grip on her sword and stood staring at the spectacle in the center of the arena. "Huh." Anjey bumped into Charis's shoulder. These people, whoever they were, were positively drunk on excitement. An arena? A chant ran through the crowd, the words incomprehensible but the emotion unmistakable. Seats rose on all sides, higher than she could see. They emerged, blinking in the stark daylight of an unfamiliar sun and surrounded by hundreds, no, thousands of screaming strangers. Stay close." I also had the feeling you were going to say that, Anjey thought, but followed Charis out. "In fact, Miss Bentaine, I don't think we're in Arle at all." "I had the horrible feeling you were going to say that." Charis rested one hand on the hilt of her sword. "Please tell me you recognize this place." "I'm afraid not." Charis didn't take her eyes from the opposite end of the tunnel, where it sounded as if something quite dreadful was happening. "Uh, Lady Charis?" Anjey moved closer to the Rider, thankful at least one familiar face had followed her into this mysterious. From somewhere quite close came a thunderous roar and - what in the world? - the sound of an organ. A Rider family, perhaps? It made sense the crest featured two drawn swords and a creature that looked a little like a humpbacked beoryn. Blue and yellow seemed the colors of choice, and most people also wore what Anjey assumed was the crest of some powerful family on their surcoats and jerkins. Some bore signs written in an unfamiliar script others had painted their faces as if for battle. People in bizarre clothes bustled around her. 105? One hundred and five of what? Anjey's breath came in white clouds as she puzzled over their possible meanings. They were in a stone tunnel, unadorned save for a number repeated on the walls.
How would they handle that situation? EKW: Kelsey: Two of your characters (Charis and Anjey) randomly appear at a hockey game in Buffalo, NY.
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