The Labyrinth

You awake and find yourself in a dark room, surrounded by others who have also just awoken. A man in a gray cloak stands above you, "Welcome to the Labyrinth," he says "You have been selected, by what who knows, Chance? Fate? the Gods? perhaps... but no matter, out of all para-humanity you have been selected as the inhabitants of this dimension. The room you are in now is the heart of the Labyrinth, and if you are killed you will return to life here. Outside this room is the testing grounds."
The room lights up as suddenly flames leap from several torches ensconced along each wall, the ceiling, and the floor. You find several doors on each wall, flanked by two torches each. The gray cloaked man strides purposely towards the wall behind him and, stepping up, walks up it as if it was the floor.

"As you can see, this room is unusual, you may enter and exit as you will, the room will provide you with essentials for living, and if you need something special, you may offer either your earthly currency or wealth that you find in the labyrinth to the room, and it will create what you desire, as long as it is not an exit. now, I will leave you for a bit, if you require my assistance in explaining anything else before you leave this room, you merely have to call my name, Tjaard. [TEA-art]" with that, the man fades from your perception.

Among the few who stood within the cavernous room was a wolf-man, face taught with a tight sneer. "What is this a joke?!" He asked furiously as his tail swished with displeasure. Standing at nearly 6 feet tall he wasn't much on the intimidation factor but regardless the wolf man's tapered armor that glinted a dull golden sheen with a twilight black trimming plus a like-color kite-shield that covered an enormous greatsword made his mass seem to expand beyond that of his actual frame.
Golden eyes glinting with a unspoken rage the man turned to the others, his teeth like 2 rows of blood stained-milky icicles. "Well, what's all your stories? If any of you have something to do with this I'll be more than happy to free your tongue from the rest of your body so I won't need to hear your lies." he threatened sounding perfectly serious despite his complete and utter lacking knowledge of the company he held. Crossing his arms the wolf-man straightened up his hind legs to make him seem more threatening, tail continuing to wag back and forth from between his legs. Eyes darting from one member to the other he waited for his answer.

A small silver haired gnome spoke up in her musical voice. "Down boy. No reason to get upset. We may be trapped in a room but we are being provided for." She pulled out a simple iron flute and her green eyes flashed. She looked into it and then blew out a clear crisp note. "Well everything seems to be in order."

"Perhaps you should consider who you may be dealing with before making such brash threats, mutt," spoke Crycios, eying the wolf coldly. "I'll speak as I wish, whether it be to your displeasure or not."

Tjaard appears behind the wolf-man, saying "To answer you, this is not a joke. Or perhaps it is, either way, this is completely serious. You are here, possibly for the rest of eternity, possibly for a few seconds. but if you feel like killing each other, please leave the heart first. In here death is permanent, and I just cleaned up a few eons ago."

The wolf-man smirked at the responses he received from the fellows about him ~Smart asses~ he thought. When Tjaard appeared for the second time he looked nearly ready to backhand the man, letting out a discontented snort the man drummed his fingers impatiently. "Quit speaking in riddles! I intend to kill no man until I get some answers." he said indignantly "Now cutting your tongue from your mouth is another story altogether. But for now that does me no good, you captured us as it appears and are holding us in this... this place, I demand you let us go, so I'll ask, how do we get out of here." he said hotly, putting on a less threatening posture. Now was the time for answers, not violence.

" Cutting my tongue will do you no good, as for how to get out of here, that is simple! Leave. There are doors everywhere you know, and they all lead to different places, you may find home, or heaven, or hell in the Labyrinth, it is made to test you though, do not forget that."

"Silly mutt, why didn't you think to look for a door?" Solbrunhet stood up, keeping her flute out. "If anyone would like to join me, I shall take my leave of this room."

there are four doors on each wall of the room, opened from one of the adjacent floors. the doors seem to shift with time, their materials shifting from stone, to wood, to iron, to wicker, sometimes they appear to be made out of flesh. the ones on the current floor include: a rusty Iron portal, drips can be heard from behind it, echoing into the distance. A carved wooden door, with an intricate caricature of a drunken dwarf , a knitted wicker door hanging from twine hinges, and a simple hole in the wall that leads to a blackness that cannot be seen past.

The... short... whatever she was... the small one's lax attitude, especially given the circumstance, was quickly beginning to irk Crycios almost as much as the wolf man's attitude. And smell. "You realize that, if these doors truly lead to just about everywhere imaginable, the chances of us ever getting home are phenomenally minute. Of course," he added, with a glance at Tjaard, "considering this entire thing is evidently set up to test us, our chances of going home are likely to rise if we play his games. As much as I dislike present company, I much less enjoy the concept of attempting to navigate the perils of this... labyrinth... on my own." He holds out his hand in a peaceful gesture. "My name is Prince Crycios Koir Lamixana. With common interests in mind, would you care to join me?"

The gnome extended her hand. "Solbrunhet Sølvhaired, the last of my family." She rose and was not much higher than the Prince's privates. "I agree that we should team up to get out of here alive." She glanced at the wolf. "Although I admit I would be happy leaving the mutt here. At any rate, my liege, choose and door and I will follow."

The wolfman sneered at the both of them "I'll not be left here to rot like some abandoned apple core!... Enrgh, as much as I'd like to cut whoever did this in half I'll only get to- it looks like, by teaming up with you two. Let's keep this simple, my name is Allavon Cheronholt. For now I suppose I'll walk with you." he saod bluntly before looking at the small... thing. "And you, watch your mouth when referring to me as a 'mutt', Keep that up and I'll be happy to punt you AND your pint sized mouth down a hallway." Cheron state in a touchy tone, obviously disliking the fact of being called a 'mutt'. Striding over to Prince Crycios and extended a great wolfish hand, black, sharp claws protruding from his fur covered fingers "You seem sensible enough." he said gruffly once more, trying at the more human side of his mentality.

[in order to move forward you may have to decide on where your going. there are four doors on this floor, and in total there are sixteen in the room right now]

Crycios takes the beasts furry paw and shakes it gingerly, attempting not to imagine where that paw might have been at... any point in time. Having been accepted as the apparent party leader, but admitting to himself he doesn't actually have any idea where to go, he decides to trust in the gods to guide him. He points to the wicker door confidently, saying, "We shall go this way."

Solbrunhet walks to the door confidently and then with a glance at the others strides through. Once inside she looks around. [roll 17 +2 = 19 to spot]

as you step through the wicker door, you find yourself in a small hut seemingly made of hardened mud and clay, a small, fire fills the center of the hut, sputtering under it's load of broad leafed ferns and producing enough smoke to fill the hut.
A small, masked man, hunched with age and wearing only a crude loincloth jumps as he notices you, backing away quickly and prostrating himself before you, speaking in a very antiquated form of Common, translated here into the modern tongue for your convenience
"Blessed day, for the prayers of the people have been answered! thank you, oh mighty Gods of War! for With your help we will surely defeat the tribe of the scaled ones in this coming battle! "

Solbrunhet walked up to the man and craned her neck back to see his face. "I am afraid you have mistaken us good sir. But rest assured we would gladly help those in need. Why don't you tell us your story?" She smiled encouragingly.

" You are not Gods? Very well then, as you wish," grumbles the man., obviously not convinced. Standing from his prone position, he continues. As to our dilemma, The Scaled Folk have ruled the swampland for many generations, allowing us to live on the plains as long as we paid their tribute of ten sheep a year. Last week they came out of their swamp, rampaging through the village, killing our braves with sword-club and magic granted by their blood-soaked gods. After the carnage, they gave us a new ultimatum: Send a tribute of ten youth to the swamps or be put to the sword. We had no choice but to accept.
What could I do? My grandson, orphaned by the Scaled ones savagery, would be among those sacrificed, so i called out to the gods and lo, you appeared. will you help us to fend off the scaled threat? "