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[March]

The taste of rotting meat.
Coughing and rolling you vomit a slurry of revulsion onto the dark ground besides you.
Returning to your back, the night sky sparkles silently upon you helplessly gasping for air you just can't seem to catch.
You are roughly humanoid?
You are supine.

You collect enough sense to look around for help;
You are alone?
It is night.
It is dark.
The ground is soft & damp.
The ground is dirt?
You are in some kind of small wooded clearing?

Spoiler: key (click to show/hide)

? in descriptor block mean unknown or uncertain

[Demonic Spoon]

> Explore!

[KittyTac]

PTW.

[King Zultan]

Look around and figure out where we are.

[IndigoFenix]

Find something to eat.

[March]

The buzzing of noise in your head animates you to explore.
Tossing yourself over you manage to crawl around.

The earth between your fingers is fibrously held together but barren of vegetative cover.
You are in a mycelium grotto.
Looming over the edge of the grotto like imposing guardsmen are a line of trees, the word "orkbark" flitters across your mind for some reason when you look up at them.

Feelling around you find; the unusable tattered remains of some kind of cloth container, a single half burned candle, 4 palmable metallic sticks, a puddle of your vomit, an empty phial with no stopper, a piece of wrapped ration

You open the ration and shove the hard bread into your mouth; its dry and stale but the flavor is a relief of bland graininess, swallowing it sucks all the moisture from your mouth leaving you coughing what dry crumbs you couldn't get down.
You are roughly humanoid?
You are crawling.
You are alone?
It is night.
It is dark.
The ground is soft & damp.
The ground is mycelium.
You are in a mycelia clearing in a orkwood wood.
There is assorted items here.

[KittyTac]

>pick up candle
>pick up metallic sticks
>pick up phial

[March]

You pick up the candle, is very much just a uncolored hunk of soft wax with a twisted piece of wick through it, the wick has a burnt end showing it was at some time lit.
You pick up the metallic sticks, they clink together gently in your hand, without thinking about it you move them down to your hip to put them... you feel some kind of string knock against your hand enclosing the sticks, it brings you a small bit of hollow worry that goes as quickly as it came.
You pick up the phial dropping the candle in the process, it's a smooth glass tube rounded at one end with a lipped opening at the other big enough to put your finger in, its empty.

[VoidSlayer]

Forged glass is probably more valuable then a wax candle.  Keep that I guess?

No more surprises about ourselves, check gently our limbs with our hands; check limbs torso and head for limbs and heads and extra limbs and extra heads and injuries and garments.  Or maybe a wing that would be cool I guess.

[March]

You gently check yourself; two arms ending in in fingered hands, two legs ending in toed feet, a ribbed torso with a soft sunken abdomen, a single skulled head with one toothed mouth and an assortment of bilaterally symmetric paired; eyes, ears, nostrils.

Your skin is like soft leather but desiccated and cracked in places; there is some kind of fibrousness to the cracked areas, there are several straight cut sections on your arms & chest & abdomen: feeling inside the largest one on your chest you cannot find the depth with your fingers but the rest are generally superficial.
Besides some wax you flake off your head you don't find anything surprising.

You are wearing; cloth pants, a leather belt with three hand length twisted strings attached to it, a torn cloth shirt.

[Superdorf]

Do we feel pain?
Do we recognize our species?
Are we aware of any supernatural capabilities on our part?
Do we have any memory of our past history, or of this world?

[Funk]

Do we feel pain?
Do we recognize our species?
Are we aware of any supernatural capabilities on our part?
Do we have any memory of our past history, or of this world?

+1

[Superdorf]

Oh, addendum: are we breathing?

[March]

You don't feel any pain currently.
You feel around in your "capabilities", nope nothing supernatural here.
Though you are still periodically gasping for air, nothing goes in and nothing comes out.
You try to recall if there are others like you or anything at all of the past...

Chanting in the dark, a man laughing in smoky candle-light as he rises his drink, fighting, the smell of her hair as you embrace, watching the life drain from its eyes, the smell of cooking fruit pies, the small coughing girl, the description of a trailplant, the finger placement for playing an instrument, being attacked by a man with a knife, what the dwarfen word for hat is, someone putting eggs into their mouth, lacing your left shoe, counting Measures out of a bag, crying into mama's dress, more fighting, eating a piece of meat, walking, being led by the hand through a field of flowers...
None of it sticks; random faces without names, events without context, information without purpose.

[Superdorf]

We're gashed in multiple places, but it doesn't seem to hurt us-- even when we stick a finger inside one of the gashes. We seem still to possess a breathing reflex, but apparently don't gain anything from it? I posit that we are an undead entity, possibly of myceliac origin. I also posit that our body no longer circulates oxygen as would that of a mundane being.

The objects we found around us most likely brought about this change in our biology, and the loss of our memory. It would seem that phial contained something rather nasty...

Do we recall anything in particular about "orkbark"?