Nikolaj Near and Far

You're witnessing to someone on the train. He makes an angry comment about what you said that is well off base from what you're actually trying to say to him, so you figure you'd better clarify your point, and then leave him because he doesn't look much like he's happy to listen.

"Well, its not quite like that..." You begin.

"That's it." He snarls at the cellphone he was getting out of his pocket. "Its broken, and I have to deal with you god-bothering freak..."

He swings, and his fist with the cellphone in it plows right into your startled jaw. Being caught totally off-guard you fly back and hit the window. Perhaps your fingers grab instinctively on something, perhaps the glass shatters.

The last person you see has a gloating, satisfied face that turns to dismay. The last thing you see is the train flying by you as you plunge backwards out over the canyon.

You have enough time to start a prayer before you hit the rocks below the railroad bridge.

==================

You wake. Its cool. Creaks and noises come to you. The floor vibrates up and down. You smell some strong flowery perfume. Your eyes are shut.

Heheh, funny intro. As far as I know we don't have canyons in Belgium. Belgium could probably fit in a canyon. I think I should start statting myself up first, right?

Give me your full name—the name a god would know, just in case you ever meet one. Write any nicknames you use or are commonly used for you where it says A.K.A., along with any qualifying notes concerning who uses them. In other words, if your mother calls you Sonny, put that; if everyone on the Internet knows you as MJ but everyone at home calls you Mark, tell me both of those.

Nikolaj Erns Germaine Frederica Bourguignon
A.K.A. Den Olaj (or Olaj), by 2 old school buddies from technical school, my mom, my sis, my brother, my brother in law and my grandfather (mother's side).
A.K.A. Nick to Igor, Ukrainian translator and good friend, and to most of my other contacts in Ukraine
A.K.A. Kolja to Arpie (RP), another good friend from Ukraine. Kolja is the standard informal version of Nikolaj in Ukraine and Russia.
A.K.A. Barus Kirai (King Beard) by Ukrainian Street-kids in Beregowo
A.K.A. Zohan (or however that guy from that movie was called) by the same kids, because I wore a certain kind of hat that the main character in that movie wore.

On Attributes, there are only a couple of questions. Begin by looking over this list of attributes, then answer the three questions below:

Persuasion
Charisma
Animal Magnetism

Strength
Stamina
Resistance

Flexibility
Agility
Hand/Eye

Intellect
Intuition
Education Level
Will Power

First, do you believe that you are or might be outstanding, on the order of the top two percent or one out of fifty, on any of the attributes listed there? This means Mensa intellect, star athlete, professional model, or something else that identifies you as outstanding. Tell me which ones, just how high you are (e.g., 1 in 100, 1 in a thousand), and why I should believe this.

No, I'm not in the top 2% of the world in any of those.

Second, how intuitive are you? I discuss intuition in some detail in the RPGnet article Intuition and Surprise; the short version is that we all gather information subliminally and process it subconsciously, with the result that we reach conclusions without knowing how we got them. These come into our awareness as hunches or feelings. Do you notice more than most people, are you aware of details in your surroundings, do you have good hunches and instincts about people, places, events? How do you compare to others in this regard?

Since it's subconscious I'm assuming empathy is not here. I'm fairly quick to notice that someone is sad or angry. Especially with kids. I think I'm safe to say that I'm better than most, if not all, of my colleagues at this. Yet, at other times I can be really clueless. I've been called naive quite often.

Third, what is the last grade of school or degree program or post-secondary education you completed or attended? Also, have you taught an undergraduate or higher course or program?

The last is childcare, in adult school. I've also graduated as a graphic designer in technical school (high-school level), which would be my highest ranking degree.

For weaknesses, all I want to know now is whether you have any medical conditions or limitations, including vision irregularities and allergies.

I'm allergic to certain pollen, I'm not sure which ones. I'm also allergic to animal fur. I'm allergic to the dust-mite.

My neck is stiff regularly, as well as my back. I'm starting to feel that I work (play) with children.

My nose always seems to be full of snot one way or another. In the winter it's colds and in the summer it's hay-fever.

Give me a physical description of yourself. Include Height, Weight, Current Hair Color and Style, Age or Apparent Age, Eye Color, Facial Hair, Birthmarks, Tattoos, or other unusual markings, and any Other Description that might matter (racial characteristics, deformities, anything people would notice that hasn't been asked).

I'm about 1 meter 86 tall I would guess (It's been a while since I've measured myself).
I'm quite thin. Waist-size 30-32 (European)
I think I must weigh around 75 kg, maybe less.
I've got brown hair. My beard has a bit of orangey-red hair in it. My hair is pretty short, unkempt and my beard has just been trimmed to 9 mm.
I'm 26 and look closer to 28-30 I guess. When I'm clean-shaven, I look younger, probably around 24 or so.
My eyes are brown, pretty dark at that.
I have a birthmark in the lower back of my neck.
My right earlobe still has a small hole through it for when I had an earring there.
I have a scar under my nose, on my knee and on my back. My mustache covers the one under my nose. They are not big, the one on my back being the biggest, maybe 2-3 cm long. My feet are hairy.

Should I start on the skills part or will this take you some time? Do you have any more questions concerning this part?

-------------------------------

I open my eyes and sit up, wondering what just happened. I remember, or was that a dream? I should be dead otherwise. It must have been a dream. Now where am I? I rub my hands a bit against the cold. I scratch my hair and look around.

"What's this pull I'm feeling?", I wonder, feeling the scriff vector to my stuff at home. My shoulder bag is with me. My spare underwear (includes socks), bible, ukulele, a lost pen, and a copy of the pilgrim's progress are in there. (I'm taking that I came back or went to visit a friend for the weekend.) Of course I forgot my toothpaste again, as well as my toothbrush.

You're laying a white vinyl like floor, lined for good traction, with three high, large wooden boxes round about you.

The nearest says, "Dest. Sardic." and "Prepaid Passage/Mary Piper."

'Ugh.' You hear a male moan off to your right through the boxes, and 'Wha?' in a female voice from further in front of you.

A steady shhhhhh mixes with occasional whipcracks from beyond the large room.

Cool, one of the Mary Pipers!

I assume you have no more questions on the character generation part that I already gave. I still have a little addition, concerning intuition. One of the gifts I've got from the Spirit is discernment of spirits. This generally come down on that I can usually feel when someone has something bad or good over them. Sometimes I can even identify it.

Examples: I saw some youths waiting on the train. They were a bit loud, nothing to be bothered about, but my hart started feeling more painful in a way that my breathing was affected. In an other instance I saw someone shine brightly in invisible light (yeah, I know, try to explain visions with your eyes open. It was a bit like how the air above a flame can ripple, but it was very straight and 'bright'. I felt God's love for her in such a way that for a few weeks I fell in love with her. (there was no relationship or anything like that, though.)

I also have it with certain places. I'm not sure if that's a skill or a specific situation modifier on intuition.

I'll only proceed with skills if you give me the go.

--------------------------------------

Do the shhhhhh and the whip-cracks sounds sound like mechanical sounds or is it like a person whispering and a real whipcrack sound later?

"This is weird. Where am I? Lord, help me and guide me."
I close my backpack again and rise to my feet. I walk forward towards the female voice, since there are no boxes between me and it if I interpret right. I want to find someone who can explain me where I am.

Proceed with skills, then. And thanks.

You slip between neatly arranged piles of boxes until you come to frightened looking woman in a deep blue burqa robe laying on the floor. Next to her, kneeling on one knee with his hands held out palms up, with a mixture of tension and frustration in his face is a very large man.

He's at least six foot six, and 280 pounds of mostly muscle although he does have a paunch.

"What's going on?" She asks near tears.
"Who're you?" He asks bluntly with the clear subtext that he'd better like your answer.

They feel familiar in a strange sense.

Both speak Antwerpian, although the big guy has a strange accent to his, a drawl.

The noises you heard seem mechanical.

Let's keep it Dutch (Flemish), since Antwerpian is already a specific dialect. :)

I see their frightened/tense reaction and am a bit shocked by it.

"Um, I'm Nikolaj and I'm not sure what's going on. I hope I'm not interrupting something here. Is everything alright? Um, should I help with something?", I mumble. I stand there a bit, insecure and uncertain on how to proceed. I'd help to get the lady up, but I'm not sure how the man would react. Seeing the Burka (is it the one with the gauze in front of the eyes? I assume not since I can see that she's nearly crying, or is that an auditive interpretation of her voice?), her laying down and a man kneeling over her I fear that I've stepped into an Islamic domestic incident/disagreement. He might also just be trying to help though, but then why the tears? Does the woman look beat up?

I feel like I should know them or something. But now's not the time to ask about that, maybe later.

--------------------------------

First, I need to know if you have any skills at all at which you would be considered professional or expert. Professional means that you could be paid for work doing that, and expert means that professionals would consult you for advice. If you think you're an expert at something, prove it to me--tell me what books you've written or patents or copyrights you hold or courses you've created or taught. If you think you have extraordinary skill in something in which no one is generally paid, such as swimming or poker, make the argument for it.

I have studied for, graduated as and worked as a graphic designer. My teacher would once in a while ask me stuff about Photoshop. I knew that program inside out (until CS 2, everything after that is unknown to me.) So professional graphic designer, Photoshop expert (low expert). My area of expertise was image manipulation. I'd say high professional but not really an expert yet.

I have studied for, graduated and am working now as someone graduated to work with kids from age zero up until age 12. I am a low to mid professional at this I would say.

I have not studied for, but am working as a teacher in protestant-evangelical religion. I have a letter of approval from the protestant churches of Belgium as well as from the elder of my Fellowship. High amateur, starting professional would be my guess. I'd give you my courses but they are in Dutch. I've taught children of up to 14 years, but most of my experience here is the age-range 6-12.

Second, do you have any skills on the cutting edge of technology, such as in robotics, genetics, space travel? Be specific.

No.

Third, do you have any abilities you would consider psionic or magical? I’m open minded about this, but my brain hasn’t fallen out either. I distinguish magic from psionics thus: if the power comes from inside yourself, it is psionic; if it comes from beyond the universe, it is magic. I also distinguish magic into holy magic and arcane magic, where holy magic involves working with or through a god or spirit and arcane magic involves manipulating supernatural energies directly. Describe what you can do and how you do it.

Christ lives in me and I have now life eternal. But that is probably not what you are looking for.

I can speak in tongues (sing as well). As to doing it, it's like turning on the watertap and it flows, turning it closed again it stops. Occasionally there is 'strong pressure, meaning that I feel it really should be spoken aloud, but I am still in control.

As mentioned in the previous post I believe I have the gift of discernment of Spirits. I do not have to activate it, but I can focus on it somewhat.

I can get dreams and visions about the same way as with discernment. I can ask for them in prayer as well and then I get some. Usually this is heavy in symbolics. Most of the times I do get explanations for them. Eyes are closed.

Generally the power of prayer. I've prayed for a lot of things, from protection against possible bad/spoiled food to healing to conversions and revelations. Some have been answered visibly. Most of them is a matter of faith.

I've helped somebody get delivered from a spirit of death/suicide (2 actually) without any physical manifestations. Most of it was revealed by visions while praying.

Fourth, have you studied any martial arts or acrobatics? Again, give details. Martial arts styles are usually categorized as slow or fast, aggressive or defensive, but these are generalizations to help create the details. They are specifically classed as weapon-averse (fighter may not use any weapon, e.g., most forms of karate), weapon-utilizing (fighter can use a weapon or not, e.g., Jackie Chan and most martial arts movies), and weapon-dependent (e.g., fencing, kendo, styles built around weapon use), which must be stated. Also, if there are particular maneuvers or techniques which you would be likely to name in play, such as a feint, a disarm, a particular kind of strike or kick, list and describe these as well.

Basketball (Mid Amateur) and volleyball (Low Amateur). There's blocks, faints and pivot's. I protected my ball by pointing my elbows out as I got a hold of it. Not sure if this is useful.

If all is covered here I'll move on to the last part.

"Everything all right?" She throws up her hands as her voice raises. "No. I was standing in my kitchen, in my own very home, trying out a new appliance. It was importe from America. My husband is a very important man in service. I see a white flash, and I think Gabriel has come for me. Now I am here with this barbarian infidel leaning over me." She sobs a bit. "I am Yasmin." She's calm again.

"Just trying to help out, lady." The man snaps. He then rises to his feet with an inborn grace impressive in so large a man. "My batting machine started smoking. Well, I had whacked it. Its not my fault the season is going bad. I keep telling the boys that the PEC is still an outside shot." He gestures around him. "Now I'm here, whereever this is. Looks like a warehouse to me. And of course, you know who I am."

You don't.

"I'm very sorry to hear that Yasmin", I reply. (funny, I know a Yasmine in Belgium who is half belgian half Marrocan (I think), but she's Catholic, not Muslim.) "I'm Nikolaj by the way," I tell them reaching out my hand for a handshake to the man.

"I'm sorry that I don't know you, I feel I should. Are you a tennisplayer?", I ask, considering tennis is played more than baseball in Belgium, so I will interpret 'batting machine' as like a ball cannon or something.

After he gives his name I come to a conclusion. "So you guys don't know where we are either?"

ooc: So, for Yasmin, what kind of Burqa is she wearing? (the link is an image)

For the big guy, I assumed him to look north-African or Middle Eastern since he was by the woman, but your text seems to indicate that he might not. I doesn't quite give a clue whether or not he's a white man or a Asian looking man or an African looking man.

Oh, I also figured there's one attribute where I might be in the top 2%, but I don't know what it falls under. It's positive and cheerful attitude. Is that animal mag?

You start with everything you are currently wearing, so write it all down to the color and style of your underwear and the coins in your pocket, because sometime you might need that white flag or piece of elastic or 1992 dime.

Right, on person equipment. Train travel, that can mean I was going to work or returning or visiting friends in the weekend.

If we take this week for the time I versed I would be traveling to work.

This means that I probably had my worn out brown and white shoes (white laces) on, one of my bright colored ribbed velvet pants, probably the yellow one. And with that I had a red-brown sweater over a light blue T-shirt. Gray socks. Tight fitting boxershorts with pop-art (Lichtenstein-like) print.

My wallet, containing about 20 euro's, my debit card, health insurance card, digital ID, and several other cards. Like one with the number of my cell-phone and a lot of business cards I got from people. My bloodtype card (O positive positive) and a few drawings. One specific is a drawing of two rings on a necklace and a date, which is an image God gave me while fasting and praying that I drew and dated for reference several years ago.

I have two sets of keys. One set from work (which might not have come with me because they aren't mine and I don't think they'd just allow me to use it.) The other set contains keys from my home, my sister's home and garage, my mother's apartment and the key of my bike.

I have a light brown money pouch (zipper broke off) with me with several things in it. A key to the simple lock on my bike, a green plastic bead (about 1 cm diameter, ball shape, big hole), 1 dime I found after some American friends had left after a visit, some Ukranian money (2 pieces of 1 Grivna, 1 piece of 25 Kopeke, 3 pieces of 10 Kopeke, 3 pieces of 5 Kopeke and one piece of 2 Kopeke for a total of 2 Grivna, 72 Kopeke) and some Euro money (A piece of 2 euros (Belgian back), 3 pieces of 50 cent (2 dutch backsides and one German I think), 3 pieces of 20 cents (Belgian, Italian, German), 5 pieces of 10 cent (Belgian, German, Austria, French, Spanish), 3 pieces of 5 cent (2x Belgian, 1x Austrain), a piece of 2 cents (German) and 2 pieces of 1 cent (Belgian, Dutch) for a total of € 4,79.) The backsides can be seen per country on Wikipedia if it would ever be needed.

Also in my pants are a used handkerchief and my smartphone (Nokia XpressMusic) in a black leather protection sleeve which has a faded and worn sticker of a cute doggy on it which I once got from one of the kids at work.

I also have my bag with me to work. This is a blue worn out shoulder-bag containing a pink see-through plastic L-folder (the back and bottom seam are the only ones that are closed, the other sides are open.) with different printed music-sheets (chords and half of it also with notes) and a plastic laminated reference-sheet for Ukulele Chords, Nele, the yellow Ukulele (it rhymes in Dutch) in a yellow pouch is also in there. Another Brown , nameless Ukulele is also in there without a pouch. A CD box with 3 CD's with modern remixes of Dutch and Belgian children's songs is in there as well. Also a book about puppetry It's theory about puppetplay as basic instruction about making puppets with cheap and easy materials.

Also with me on the train would be Fritz, the foldable bike (again, it rhymes in Dutch)

My other stuff would be away from work, which is several kilometers so I'll get those later. I'm using time I don't have here.

She sniffs, not looking directly at you, and gets to her feet, waving off help.

The man looks startled at your not knowing him. But then he grins a bit ruefully.

"No, pal, not a tennis player. I'm a baseball player for the Antwerpian Crusaders. We've got an outside shot, like I said to take the Pan-European Championship, and then maybe the WC in Tokyo this year. But the Detroit Yankees have that pretty well locked down. Gregorio, their power hitter, is even better than me, and I got MVP...ah, Most Valuable Player in the Pan-Euro League last year."

He shakes your hand being careful not to crush yours. He's blonde and pale-skinned with a stubbly beard and dark eyes.

Yasmin is wearing the Niqab in the farthest bottom left corner at your link.

"Oh, I'm Ron King." The guy says.

And sure, An Mag sounds ok.

"Oh", I reply. "I'm afraid I never hear of the Antwerp Crusaders. That's funny because I used to live near Antwerp and work there. But I've never really been into sports. I played basketball when I was young. My father was a coach. He did pretty well."

I shake my hand a bit. "You've got a firm handshake there," I tell him. "Anyway, you seem to be doing good. Are we in Antwerp then? How did I get here?"

The question kind of hangs in the air.

Oh yeah. I would also be carrying a leather jacked. Faded and worn out brown. There's text on the back which I cannot really remember now. The zipper is broken and the seam near the hand of the right sleeve is getting loose. Inside are some old train-tickets (Belgian train-tickets are big pieces of paper with a magnetic strip on the back.) Some Dutch tickets as well, which are in contrast as small as a businesscard, with a holographic strip.

A stray green ballpoint pen and a blue one as well. A broken of front reflector from my bike as well.

The foldable bike is a Oyama Metropolitan (open & folded) It's the same color as the pictures show him. Only dirtier, since I've used it to play with kids in parks and stuff.

"We feel like we're moving, so I don't think we're in Antwerp." A man says to your left as he slowly walks up. A professionally calm smile is on his face. "The Khan has no railcars this wide, so I must surmise we've been drugged and dumped in the hold of a freighter."

His skin is dark, and he's short with a bt of a paunch. He's wearing a robe jacket, and his dark skin is tied back in a ponytail.

"Did you say Antwerpian Crusaders?" Yasmin asks her voice rising as she points a finger at Ron King.

He looks askance at her, and you.

"Of course, stadium for a hundred thousand people in the downtown district. You'd have to be living in a ca..."

"Crusader scum, you die!" She yells and shoves him.

The new guy steps forward and grabs her elbows in what looks like a practised move.

"Cease this disruption at once." He says.

"How dare you touch me, infidel? I shall have you flogged..." She squeaks as he applies more pressure on her elbows.

"Listen you little witch..." Ron begins starting to look a little annoyed, and considering if he should give his attacker a little slap.

"I was not talking to you. You will die slowly." She spits back.

"Sir." The new man says turning his head to you. "Perhaps you could help me separate these two."

LOL, crusaders. Dark skin tied back in a ponytail? Did you mean hair?

I'm surprised by the new appearance, but I remembered the voice from the other direction after I woke up. This is all just getting a bit surreal so I decide not to think about it for now and deal with the situation here.

I nod affirmative to the new man and step in front of Ron with my hand held gently to his chest. "Don't be angry Ron, this is a misunderstanding. She's Muslim, crusaders are not something good to them, since they killed a whole lot of Muslim men in the crusades."

If he presses in I will try to stop him, even thought he's too big a man to stop.

I turn around a bit to the lady. "And please Yasmine, he meant a sports team that is called like that! The crusades have been over for centuries now. They will not start again so quickly, Insh' Allah. (If God wants it)" (My knowledge of Islam would probably be somewhere around 1@5 or 1@6 I think. More than the common western man, but certainly not knowing everything about it)

I think about how I don't get Muslim women. They wouldn't normally be allowed to even look at a man unless spoken to, and if spoken to to keep it short. The radicals at least, which, looking at her Burqa, she belongs to.

On the equipment note, my leather jacket also always holds my train subscription, which for this one runs from Mechelen to Vilvoorde and back from september 4th until october 3th (turd? no! third. Sorry, I'm tired, I get lame when I'm tired.) and sporting a picture of me. It's a combination train bus. With the buss I'm free for every destination as long as it is in the Flemish part of Belgium.

Hair, yes, hair!

Ron blinks.

"Muslim? Wow. I thought they were all..." He pauses, and then nods and walks away about ten feet around the corner of some boxes.

"Very well." Yasmin says, and then in a calmer, and harder voice she asks. "Then who gave this infidel pig the right to name his tiny little sports team..."

"Possible world champions, twenty thousand season ticket holders." Ron yells from the next aisle over.

"In the heart of Antwerp?" She continues.

"I imagine that would be the sub." The ponytailed man says in a very calm, inflexible voice. "Now I'm going to let you go, and report your breaking of the Peace (you can clearly hear the Capital Letter) to my superiors."

"I will see you flogged little man for daring to touch your mistress. I have special permission from the imam to order about infidels for my holy labor, but that does not give you leave to even touch my person, much less restrain me."

"Um, what's going on, and where am I?" A girl walks up behind you. She's redheaded, and dressed in jeans and a t-shirt that says in English 'See Paris For Yourself. Fall in Love.' "And where's Jacquard?"

I am surprised by Ron's behavior. "That's a very ... a-social reaction.", I think. I don't have time to think about that though, since Yasmin is trowing a tantrum again. "Yasmin, you are not helping things here. Please hold your temper and restrain yourself.", I say firmly.

I turn around abruptly. "I'm not quite sure myself.", I answer her as I absentmindedly hold my hand above my eyes and peer behind her. "Are there any more people out there?", I half ask, half wonder.

"This is getting weird real fast.", I think. "I've only been away from Antwerp for what? Four years, five years? It sounds like I don't know the place anymore. Then again, Antwerp has always been full of weird people as well. That would explain the Muslima. But referring to herself as Mistress... (ooc: heh, Muslima Mistress, funny alliteration) And then new people coming from nowhere constantly."

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My English would be around 1@8 or 1@9, maybe 2@0. My housemate is half Scottish and half English and claims that for the last year I have constantly been surprising him with my English vocabulary. I'm not sure for the 2@ because my tenses and stuff are still a bit messed up. I know a lot of words and sayings, but that would be all. I also tend to use American and British English quite mixed.

My French is low to mediocre amateur. Say 1@4?

I know other languages but they don't seem relevant here. Should I list them?

also, I must be looking pretty clueless right now.

"Listen to the Belgian subject, Mistress Yasmin. For your own good." Mr. Ponytail says. He gives you a brief smile. "My name is Mr. Bahdur, and you are, Nikolaj, right?"

Yasmin calms down, you think largely because of your charm. You realize she's been assessing you as she's had her temper tantrum.

"Um, I saw a blonde haired ah, chick, back there, I think that's it. Unless someone is still lying down. You guys have been making a lot of noise. Oh, my name is Rose." She looks to be on the edge of tears.

Ron King sticks his head around the corner to smile at Rose.

"Yes I am," I answer Mr. Badhur, "but what do you mean, subject? Anyway, that's not really important now. Hi Rose, I'm Nikolaj, I don't know what's happening here, but it will be alright. Things have calmed down here and we can find out what's happening here toghether now. Is that OK?"

I make sure I make eye-contact. I want to put my hand upon her shoulder to comfort her but refrain, thinking it might work out opposite. I put out my hand to her instead.

I reflect upon how wise it has been not to reveal my Christianity yet towards the Muslim woman. "Right now she may even think that I'm Muslim as I have used the "Insh' Allah" thing. Being a Christian is Shirk to the Muslim people or law. It's something, if I remember correctly, like an unforgivable sin, worshiping more than one God. Which is of course a faulty interpretation of the trinity, but I don't think Yasmin would be open for discussion right now. Now, what about that Ron guy?"

"Um Ron, I think it's a good idea if someone goes looking for the other girl miss Rose here just talked about. Would you mind doing that?"

"Well, how's that for taking initiative around complete strangers?", I wonder to myself.

I'm waiting for reactions from Rose and Ron before addressing Mr. Badhur. (does he have some Hinduism-sign on his forehead? Not that I can recognize most of them. I know the red dot, a bigger white splotch or smudge and then the orange downward streak that Krishna lady had that spoke to me recently.) Mr. Badhur seems to know more.

"Your accent is Antwerpian. You are Belgian, yes?" Mr. Bahdur raises one eyebrow, and then releases Yasmin.

"We were by the fountain, in the spray, and so I took out my camera to take a picture of Jacquard, my boyfriend, there was this white flash...I'm here."

"Slut, hussy." Yasmin says. "Even the Christians are not allowed out without their menfolk."

Rose looks shocked for a second, and then her entire manner changes. Her tears seem to dry on their own, and her face gets as hard as a statue.

"What was that?" She asks in a crystalline voice. In her right hand is a small pistol. She's not bothering to hide it.

Ron has already left after he nods and then he went off to look for the blonde.

"Yes I'm Belgian, but I'm a person, not a subject." (and now I realize that you meant subject of the king right? I didn't get that. I thought subject more as in object. My English needs to get better.)

"Oh wait, subject of the king? Yeah, we don't really use that term anymore. The king is near powerless now, you know."

I turn to Rose as I want to answer when interrupted by Yasmin. "Yasmin!", I exclaim in shock. "This really isn't helping. Would you keep your comments to yourself please!"

I hope my being a man would have some influence over her. Seeing Rose's reaction I move myself in between the both of them. "Rose, please put away the gun. It's not needed. Sticks and stones, right?"

"Why do I always get the crazy people?", I think, meaning the violent ones.

OOC: Americans are citizens. Britons are subjects to Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth. I'm not sure if Britons are also citizens.

Mr. Bahdur looks puzzled, and then shakes his head in disagreement although you can tell its not his chief focus. He's more worried about the gun in Rose's hand.

"Shut..." She pauses. She starts to talk. She stops.

"She's insulted my honor. If she wants to duel, I'm ready." Rose says in that same crystalline voice, although you can detect a slight weakening in it.

"Please put away the gun, honored lady Rose." Mr. Badhur says. He takes up a position next to you. He seems a bit nervous, and ready to do something.

Rose sighs, and puts up the gun into her back pocket. Mr. Badhur sighs in relief.

I smile in relief and let my shoulders down from being tensed. "Thank you.", I tell Rose.
I turn to mister Badhur. "Thank you as well. Or should I say Namaste?", I tell him, giving him a hand, or patting him on the shoulder if it seems like he would allow it. (I think Namaste is more like a greeting of peace, but I'll say it anyway)

"Now, if we can be grownups for a minute and try not to kill each other, we could perhaps introduce to each other and find out where we are.", I tell the people. "Something funny is going on here.", I think to myself. I'll remove myself out of the middle of the attention and will introduce myself if there are no interruptions. If Mr. Badhur wants to add something or correct me in something I will listen. Amongst those present, I'm most willing to listen to him and his ideas. I will be open for the others though.

"I'll start. I am Nikolaj Bourguignon, 26 years old, born in Mechelen, raised in Mechelen and Edegem*. I went to school in Mechelen and Antwerp. I've been schooled as a graphic designer and as a daycare and after-school worker for kids from the age of 3 months until 12 years old. I work in the after school care and am also a teacher of Protestant-Evangelical Religion in primary school. (I think it's primary school, ages 6-12) I love my jobs."

*Edegem is near Antwerp

"Either is acceptable." Mr. Bahdur says with a small smile. You pat him on the shoulder as he seems to have a kind of deliberate calm that would allow most things, except some things that it would firmly not allow.

"I'm Ron King, of the Antwerpian, ah, Crusaders, a baseball team in the Pan-European League. I'm 34. I'm third base and cleanup hitter with a liftime average of .349 which is very good indeed. I'm on my fourth wife, but its hard being a major league player and getting the family stuff to work. Originally from Texas, but moved to further my ball career. Antwerp's been good to me."

"I'm Rose Milton, 23, a college student from West Virginia in the US. Hoping to become an astronaut on the next outer run mission, but I have to admit, its long odds. Currently I was a tourist with my summer boyfriend, Jacquard, a very cute and nice French boy."

"I am Yasmin Abdullah. Age 20. I am the third wife of Faisal Al-hroun Abdullah. My husband is in Import Controls so he's able to get me stuff from America."

"I am Subotai Bahdur, not Badhur," He smiles at you. "I am a manager of security guards for a local corporation, but it is not one of the great, and of course, I am Mongolian in good standing." He looks a bit thoughtful. "My current theory is that we are on a cargo ship in the midst of one of the major rivers of the western lands. I theorize that we were drugged and dumped here. However, I don't feel groggy, and I am open to other, better theories."

ooc1: Did Ron find the Blond Girl? If so she would also be welcomed to introduce herself.

ooc2: Ah, Bahdur, a bit like Badr?

I presume we find something to sit, so I'll set myself on one of the crates as I listen to the others. I put my leather jacket next to me or on my lap, depending on how close we sit next to each other.

I wait until Blond Girl introduces herself or it is revealed that she is nowhere to be found.

Ron doesn't know what you're talking about. The others look at him like he's got problems.

"I've never heard of these Crusaders. Your sports team." Mr. Bahdur says.

"Its a giant closable top stadium, seats a hundred thousand downtown." Ron says. "The city built it for us two years ago."

"I don't recall the sub or ah, the king, as Nikolaj puts it, building any such structure. We do have a large structure planned for the edge of town. Nice flat land, good for horses." Mr. Bahdur says.

"Arabians?" Yasmin says with a flicker of love.

"I'm sorry?" Says Mr. Bahdur.

OOC2: not sure, but close enough.

I raise an eyebrow at Ron's revelation that he doesn't know what I'm talking about.

"As far as I know, the Sports Palace doesn't have an opening top. And it's been around for as long as I can remember." I frown. "Something funny is going on here.", I say. I pinch myself. "No, I'm not dreaming. I feel pain. So um... Horseland in Antwerp? That doesn't seem very likely to me. I think there would be no space enough left for that. But it's possible I guess. And as far as I remember," I say as I turn to Yasmin, "Belgium is a country where polygamy is prohibited. So, it strikes me strange that you are a third wife, unless it had been through divorces."

I frown. "Okay, so that's not making sense. Us being here is also not making sense. Before I woke up here I remember having a train accident. Or rather me flying out of the train because somebody punched me through the window of the train. That seems really unrealistic, but I remember pain so it must not have been a dream. Maybe we were drugged indeed. Maybe our memories are all jumbled up. If we're on a river near Antwerp it has to be the Scheldt, right?"

I look towards where Rose said she saw the Blond Girl. I figure she would come here when she wakes up. If she's not coming soon I'm going to have to find a way to find her.

"Not Sports Palace, but the Belgo-dome. We knocked down the SP five years ago. Its nicknamed 'the Great Egg'." Ron says looking with puzzlement at you.

"We used part of the greenbelt with permission of the sub." Bahdur says.

"Belgium is not a country. Not really. Its part of a greater whole." Yasmin says. "And I am in compliance with the law, nor have I ever been divorced."

Badhur nods to what you say about the river. Blonde Girl shows no sign of showing up.

"Okay, this is really weird. Neither of us seem to come from the same Antwerp.", I say.

"I don't know what's going on. If it wouldn't sound ridiculous I'd say that we come from alternate realities or something. But, yeah, that sounds ridiculous. Doesn't it? Hahahah ... hah?"

I look around. "So what about practically finding out where we are? There has to be a door somewhere right? Or we can wait until whoever put us here comes to bring us our food and water. But first, let's look for that blond girl right? Rose, you saw her, right? I suggest we all go together. OK?"

Rose looks at you and shakes her head, clearly dismissing you as an idiot. It hurts. But then Ron speaks up.

"Rose, did you, ah, visit, say..."

"Speak up." She snaps.

"Did you visit Paris?" He replies stiffly.

"Of course." She shakes her head in dismissal.

"Were you wearing a Level Five Hazmat Suit?" He persists.

Its like dropping a stone into a lake. Everyone quiets.

"Paris is fine. The sub ruling over the French is fair and clever, and quite the gourmand." Mr. Bahdur says.

"Paris has been renamed New Medina." Yasmin says. "By order of the New Caliph."

"In my...reality, as our friend Nikolaj has suggested, in my reality, Paris got hit by a bioterrorist attack which turned its inhabitants into biozombies which would have spread the disease all over Europe. So Britain and Germany had to nuke Paris and its environs, ah, very thorougly. After which the French opened up on the Muslim nations, and other powers joined in. I was surprised to meet a Muslim....because I've never met one before. The only surviving Muslims to my knowledge live in tents and ride camels."

"Crusader treachery." A knife has appeared in Yasmin's hand and her eyes burn with hatred. An even larger knife is in Mr. Bahdur's hand, and he speaks.

"In the Name of the Khan of Khans, put the weapon down. Do not break the Peace." The formula flows from his lips with the force of a believer in them, even if his hand is shaking.

Rose decides now is a good time to take your suggestion to look outside, away from teh crazy people.

"Oh. Oh. Uh. Oh." She says as she looks outside.

"Where I come from, France is a republic.", I say.

When I see the knife ... knives, I get very quite and a bit frustrated.
"People! We're all adults here, please let's behave like them." "Do I really have to put you in a time-out like a kid Yasmin? For crying out loud, if I wouldn't know better I'd ..." "Um ... What's going on Rose?", I ask her, directly taking my eyes back on Yasmin. If she doesn't put her knife away I'll have to slowly approach her I guess. It would be a good time to test out whether or not I really don't fear death. But I fear that I fear pain though. The plan would then be to put my hand gently on her wrist and take the knife from her.

Yasmin lowers her knife a bit. You put your hand on her arm, and she shudders. You take the knife away from her. Bahdur slides his knife back up his sleeve, and nods to you with approval. Ron King looks rather agitated, and like he might like to take a swing at Yasmin.

"Uh, well, uh, we're not in Kansas anymore." She begins to giggle hysterically, collapsing the ground with tears streaming down her face.

I drop the knife in my shoulder-bag, tell Yasmin I'll be keeping that until she learns to control herself and let out a sigh of relief. I look at Ron, trying to make him reconsider.

Just when I think everything is under control, Rose gets a hysteric fit. I'll help her up quickly and put her somewhere safe. On one of the crates or something. I try to take a sneak peak at the outside when I do then, if I can. I assume the others will be wanting to look now too, so I'll get a report anyway.

"Rose, calm down, Rose, hey, it's OK. Can you count to ten? No, no, slowly, yes, can you count to ten slowly?"

I try to calm her down. If I succeed in that I'll ask her what she saw exactly, unless others have already explained the outside.

Ron grunts, and nods, and steps away. He knows its a bad idea, but getting a knife pulled on him makes him mad is what you decipher of his mental processes.

She counts to ten rather quickly, and then again, and calms down enough to stop the hysterics. But she shakes her head when you ask her what she saw.

I smile reassuringly at Ron. At least I hope it's reassuringly.

I'll keep working with her. "Okay then, maybe you can tell me what you didn't see? You think you can manage that?", I ask her. If she can't manage that I'll reassure her that everything is going to be alright.

"We're going to figure it all out."

Otherwise I carry on the conversation.

(This conversation is actually using a skill I learned in school and use as part of my job-package. It's called active listening. I'm pretty good at it. More then most people around me. I think I'd be in the top 2% The only people I see doing that around me are teachers and people who work with people who have a mental disability.)

She shakes a bit, then the words tumble out of her.

"Glass, just glass as far as I could see, and then a sun in the distance. All the blackness."

When you reassure her that things are going to be okay, she looks at you with her face hardening into an acceptance of 'we're doomed'.

"We're not on Earth anymore, Nikolaj. I don't think you can fix this." She pats your hand.

Ron and the others hear this, and press toward the door. Ron steps forward and jumps over the both of you as you crouch in the stairwell, and scrambled up to the top and outside.

He begins to curse loud and long.

Evidently being a major league baseball player requires professional levels of profanity and vulgarity.

ooc: I always forget to tell you how good of a job you do. I'm enjoying these characters a whole lot Jasmin is stereotype, as is Ron. I have a lot of sympathy for Bahdur and am puzzled by Rose. I'm also puzzled by the mysteriously vanished Blonde Girl that Rose saw lying around earlier. I right now get that maybe she was sarcastic and I might not have gotten it. I'm way too naive in this.

Anyway, excellent job! As usual, but it's worth it to mention it once in a while.

I smile at Rose. "I'm not saying we are going to fix it. I'm saying we are going to be alright, regardless. Alright?" I rise to my feet, pat her on the shoulder and go out to take a look. When I see it, I let Ron vent his frustration in the only way he can. I might wince once in a while. If I'm not too shocked by what I see.

What do I see?

You step out on a white wooden deck, and you see glittering for as far as the eye can see a flat expanse of glass or more like crystal. In the extreme distance, you see something that looks like a ball of red fire. You're going away...maybe, from it.

The crack of a sail overhead jerks the vessel as it shushes over the glass, and throws you so that you're half over the railing, and looking straight down through crystal, to another smaller but still enormous ball of crystal, and in the edge of that ball of crystal you see something that looks like Jupiter with its Great Red Spot.

"Ptolemy." Ron says. "I never thought Science History for Jocks would be useful, but this is right out of old Ptolemy."

OOC: Good points, and I'll see what I can do. Problem with Yasmin is I don't know any Muslim fanatics on a personal level. I used to know one a long time ago, but he really was nuts I suspect.

ooc: I never said stereotype is bad. They are stereotypes for a reason, right? I was just praising :)

I don't know any on a personal level either, but I've read a book by one of them that became Christian. Awesome story, but I don't think there is an English version. And there is a lot of Muslim presence in Belgium, especially where I live (and in Antwerp as well). Most cities now already have Mosques, without the minarets, fortunately.

I stare at all that and shut down. I'm silent and stare and keep silent and stare and just ... stare. I shake my head a bit when Ron speaks, getting out of my shock.

"Huh? What? Ptolemy? Wasn't he some ancient Greek writer or something? Wherever we are, this is not the Scheldt." I fall silent for a bit. "Dear God, where are we?", I say. (ooc:It's an exclamation of my feelings and I do mean it but I'm not really focused on receiving an answer. It might still come though.)

"You are right, Nikolaj, I think we can take my theory as conclusively disproven." Mr. Bahdur says his voice cracking under the strain, and he starts to laugh a bit, unsteadily.

"Yeah." Ron says, and puts a metal flask of whiskey in Bahdur's hands. The Mongol sips it eagerly.

Yasmin is on the deck praying.

"I'm not God, perhaps a goddess, but I can tell you." The blonde 'chick' emerges from the stairwell with Rose behind her. She's wearing cut-off blue jeans and a t-shirt and enough costume jewelry on her arms to bedazzle three birthday parties for little girls. She also has a large canvas purse slung over her shoulder.

"I'm Steph, or Stephanie, or Stephanie Loiselle Taylor, daughter of the ambassador to the League of Antwerp from the King of Iceland, or..." And here she smiles in a way that makes you worry. "Dark Lady Stephanie, Queen of the World, also known as 'aaagh its the Dreadful Lady!'" She smiles pleased with herself.

"Slut." Yasmin spits.

Stephanie snaps her fingers and a spark of light jumps from finger to thumb, and then Yasmin is tossed back ten feet down the decking.

"Don't interrupt me when I'm talking. Its very rude." She says coldly. And then she smiles. "Any questions?"