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[IamanElfCollaborator]

Branwen takes a step back from the cloud, in case breathing him in was dangerous, either to her or to him. Presumably, breathing other people in was a bad thing.
"No, our heads are definitely like yours. Your head is..... how can I describe it? Sorry, the words are not coming."
"Your head is quite definitely green fire."

[Furtuka]

”Well no- that is to say. It is not so much that you’re on fire as it is that, you are... fire... or... something. That is...” he said, blinking- or rather winking, in confusion.

”Just one moment.”

Julius wordlessly turned around and beginning to search through the nearby items of the armory for a suitable unembellished shield. He pointed his arm to Oriros and raised his index finger in a signal of pause before briskly beginning to polish the metallic object with the sleeve of his coat.

[Praefectus Screptum]

"No pain at all. No fire either, I didn't feel any sort of warmth bringing my hand against my face."
Otiros sighed and tilted his head upwards for a moment.
"So my head is different after all, that is concerning."
With that very specific detailed he was receiving from the stranger, his concern was only growing.
"Vaporous substance? I guess that at least explains the clouds then. Not that I was hoping for this kind of answer-And you can see my skull!?"
Both of his hands went up to his face again trying to understand just what shape it truly was-At least until he noticed what Julius was trying to do. He waited for the shield to be polished before grabbing it to check his reflection. Not that it made him any less concerned.
"...So my head is a green cloud. Am I dead? Is this a consequence of his magic?"

[CrimsonEon]

The stranger lifted a hand up to his chin briefly.
: "Are we really in a position to say, if you don't remember your life beforehand? Given the circumstances, you are surrounded by people who could be from different worlds. For all we know, you could be normal where you come from."

[IamanElfCollaborator]

"Perhaps your people are others with heads that are resembling....flamebugs? Is that the word? Yes, it sounds correct. Perhaps your people have heads that are resembling flamebugs, so they will understand better than us what is going on with you."

[Powder Miner]

Alex had leafed through the armory's weaponry, claiming lances and maces. His eyes fell on a hammer, and he grabbed it, hefted it... and then he shook his head, with a sigh.
:"...doesn't feel right."
Not that he could tell why.

Alex gets Silver Lance, Glaive, Silver Mace, and Concoction!

Then he had gone off in search of the other older man among the group, perhaps hoping to have a conversation on the topic of age, when he instead stopped by the commotion around, well...
:"...Sir, you appear to be a fireball."

[Praefectus Screptum]

"The fact this helmet had some sort of lock worries me that wasn't exactly the case but..."
"It doesn't matter, we were all called here for something important. So I will try to ignore this for now."
Then he heard another voice commenting about his head, that was enough to tell he was probably better off hiding it. The sniper reached for his helmet to put it back on and crossed his arms against his chest again.
"I suppose it is better this way, less distracting."

[CrimsonEon]

: "Eh, my bet is that lock is there to prevent it from falling off in the heat of battle. But hey, there could be plenty of explanations."

[Dwarmin]

"I guess we're fortunate we didn't get anyone weirder than that. Like giant bugs or cat people..." Iris observed dryly. Surely the universe was a strange place...

...

The Artist was longer than most choosing her equipment. She handled the tomes awkwardly, seemingly confused by them. A burgeoning memory surfaced, however...

"...It was a brush...a paintbrush...!"

Searching the writing supplies found whats she required. In time she had both brush and a large, sturdy easel with several sheafs of creamy white paper. What followed was interesting. She propped up the tomes against a nearby window (carefully choosing light and setting), and began to paint them with what had to be called magic-an effect like a heatless candleflame could be seen on her brush, with colors rapidly changing as she swapped from hue to hue. She worked incredibly swiftly, hands moving before conscious thought. The easel itself was lit in a cool glow, that waxed from light to dark as she worked on her projects.

Colors sprung to life on the easel as simultaneously the tome seemed more and more leeched, as if energy was being drawn from it-indeed, a narrow ribbon of color could be seen leaving the tome, and entering the easel. When she was finished, Iris had a very lifelike drawing of a tome...and a strange book sitting on a shelf-investigation would reveal the tome was now blank, every word erased, all the colors leached into blacks and whites-the images strangely stretched and distorted. And disturbingly, so too did the shelf and wall she had drawn against seem drained of life. Part of the world had been literally drawn into the power of her creation.

She imbued several tomes into her easel in this fashion, more or less tuning out everything around her as she did the only thing she ever truly enjoyed-making better worlds. She even painted a few potions, tastefully set against a plate of fruit...not that anyone would likely enjoy drinking the potions, or eating the fruit after she was done.

Afterwards, Iris reflected on her work the purest joy.

"...Now, this is who I really am."

...

Action: Taking Concoction, Acid, Nosferatu, Divine, Arcwind

[SeriousConcentrate]

Vahn had merely watched silently once Iris had set her easel up, focusing on the painting as it slowly turned from colorful strokes upon a blank canvas into tomes and potions. What a curious thing to paint! But more curious was the energy being drawn from the tomes into each painting. Was this woman from a world where painting itself was a form of magic? Interesting indeed.

"Very realistic, miss Baker. If I hadn't watched you paint those, I would swear the canvas is a window I could reach through and take those books from."

[Twinwolf]

Catherine looked very carefully at the fiery-headed man. And then made notes.

"Perhaps your appearance is normal for your world? I'm certain you'll remember soon. It is very interesting though."

[Dwarmin]

"...A succinct analysis, in fact. I believe the subjects should be useable in all ways be they were in life. My memory...I do remember. I am not a true mage, as such. I cannot perform magic of that sort. I am a soul painter-I do not recall the entire meaning of the term, just the term itself.

But I recall, that I can manipulate energy through the act of creation. So I merely took the power from the tomes and...translated them, to a medium I could access. There was a small loss...no energy can be transferred without loss, of course...but I merely took the balance from the area around my subject...

I do suspect a limit of absolute mass is, however, still in effect...I feel I couldn't carry anything more, that couldn't fit in the space around me...maybe this is little more than a parlor trick, but the possibilities...

...

Still, would you like to try a piece of fruit, Mr. Brannon?

 ...It looks like an avakodo to me. Though its the wrong color. Why is it green? Very strange."

[SeriousConcentrate]

"Hmm. Caution tells me that your magic may have changed the nature of the fruit; for as real as it looks, and even if you pulled it out, it would still be paint. After all, that is the medium in which it exists. But on the other hand I'm not dead yet, and I am curious if this magic defies logic."

"Perhaps a bite, then. If the taste is unnatural I can spit it out."

[IamanElfCollaborator]

"I see. You use painting to create things into thin air. Is that.....normal? Ugh."
"This lacking of the understanding.....it really incinerates me. Hopefully our memories return soon, and fast; I can't stand feeling like there is a hole in my head."

[Dwarmin]

"This lacking of the understanding.....it really incinerates me. Hopefully our memories return soon, and fast; I can't stand feeling like there is a hole in my head."

"...I feel much the same. I think the quickest way to regain your memories is to find that which your identity is most strongly anchored to. Which is of course a problem if you can't remember it..."

"Perhaps a bite, then. If the taste is unnatural I can spit it out."

"Soul to memory, memory begets imagination, imagination brought to life, life rendered to still image, still image commited to memory-to shape the Soul...I'm understanding more now...

...Hold still for just a moment. And pose, please, with your hand extended. Like so!" She said, miming a cupped pose with a shy smile.

Iris then turned a new sheaf of her pad expectantly.