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[Heliman]

~

[micelus]

The same thing happened to me some time ago. I can understand if you abandon the game.

[Heliman]

~

[Pandarsenic]

Ish okay, Heliman. I think everyone who's run a game has had that happen at some time. >_<

[Heliman]

Urist.

Lets be that hay stuff.

You are now Urist, the Stablemaster.  And my, isn’t it your lucky day today. Today, you found a whole new breed of horse just standing there in your stables that had beautiful blue eyes that were also yellow. Also, apparently, as it turns out, you’re about to die too.

Presently, you’re in a dark, sealed room that’s slowly filling with gas. You can’t see the gas in the dark, and it’s totally scentless, but you can feel it on your skin. You can feel it on your chest as you sit, propped up against a wall.

Around this point, you muse, you’d probably be panicking or yelling for help, but such things are not things you can do anymore. You see, you’ve already inhaled some of the gas by accident, and it appears to be a very effective neurotoxin.

You feel the gas reach your neck. Trapped in a room with no windows or bars and filling with gas set to kill you at a random point in time. You chuckle at the realization. You could almost say that to anyone else, you’re both alive and dead at the same time. If only you were anyone else right now.

Ah. It looks like it’s reached your lips, an interesting dilemma. Should you just inhale to get it over with, or hold your breath until you can’t anymore? Who are you kidding, you’re about to die anyway, might as well not make it paaaiiinfuuulll.
Aaaahhhh. Thiiiiings seeeeem toooo beeee slllllloooooowiiiiiiiing doooooooown nooooooooooow.
Gooooooooooooooodbyyyyyyyeeee, Woooooooooooooooooooorrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllllld.

You are now dead. I think that’s a good enough reason to be someone else, wouldn’t you say?

Dagger.

You are now Cripps Claudus, the ASSASSIN.
...
Ok fine, you’re not really an assassin, but you REALLY WANT TO BE. In reality, you are just Torto’s hired muscle. You wish you could put it more eloquently, but that’s just how it is.  You are of average height, hamfisted, with arms the size of tree trunks. You may not actually be all that stupid, but your strength outweighs your intelligence by far.
Your agreement with Torto is a fairly simple one. You never spill the beans about what Torto does and never disappoint him and he pays your bills and quite noticeably doesn’t throw you into a gas chamber in the same way you threw the stable master into a gas chamber. You’d say that it was a pretty fair deal, if you also didn’t know all about your master’s mood swings. In reality, after dealing with him for so long, you aren’t entirely sure you should be alive right now. You’re pretty sure it’s because you don’t ask too many questions. The worst thing hired muscle can do is make himself look like a loose end.

Today, you are helping kill the royal family. Well, most of it, at least.

You’ve spent all day today spreading your gas canisters all around the castle. The gas canisters you are quite proud to say that the canisters are of your own, “acquired” design. You have no idea how your master is going to be able to activate them all, but somehow, you feel that it’s one of the things you’re better off not knowing.

 You had a chance to see one of the princesses go by as you were sneaking a canister into their room. Such a fine ass on that woman, shame it’s about to go to waste.

NEIGH.

Stupid horse. Right now, your master is having you do something that is completely different and totally arbitrary and a total waste of your talents. You are to make sure that no-one sees a horse. A goddamn horse.
Master was very specific about it. No one can look at the horse and live, and also do not under any circumstances stare at it yourself. Your curiosity got the better of you at that one time, and you asked why. He said nothing, as usual, and stared at you like you were an imbecile. You decided not to push it. After all, curiosity killed the Stablemaster.

NEIGH!
NEIGH.

What in the hell is that thing doi- WHAT THE FUCK WHY IS CASTRUM STARING DOWN THE FUCKING HORSE, DO PEOPLE EVEN READ?

Normally at this point you’d have him unconscious, over your shoulder, and halfway to the gas chambers, but you’d be a TOTAL idiot if you didn’t know your master’s relationship with him. Castrum is the exception. He’s always the exception.

Ok, ok there’s no issue here. You forcibly turn the prince away from the thing and crock up a lie about the horse, the kid looks like he’s seen a ghost, but he seems to buy it.

NEIGH!
Behind you, you see the kid’s dragon bunny now staring at the horse. You figure animals probably don’t count.

You bring Castrum into the by now probably late stablemaster’s room. You remember promising him tea at some point but it you have no idea where that would be in the house of the person you’re posing as and it would be best to keep your appearences right now.

“Ponies ponies ponies," you say,"Ponies ponies ponies ponies?"

OK WHAT THE HELL. The horse must fuck with people’s heads, and Castrum stared right at one. Torto is going to maim you. He is going to tear out your guts and strangle you to death with your intestines.  He will rip out your spine and use it to stab out your eyes. Fuck Fuck FUCK. Ok, ok, calm down. It might not be so bad. Maybe, just maybe the effects are temporary.
"You'll probably be like that for awhile. It doesn't matter, when your brother gets here he'll do the talking." You say, in an attempt to make it look like you know what’s going on.
"pony?" he asks.
If you make it through this you are never posing as anything in a stable ever again. "Shut up,” you say, “that's starting to get annoying." Annoying is an understatement, every time he says “ponies” you feel like your life is flashing before your eyes.
"PONY." you yell indignantly.
Your character cracks a little. "I said shut up!" You yell, slamming your hands on the table.

“No, you.” Says a voice from the window. It’s Torto.
Ah... aha... shutting up, then.
“Ponies!” Calstrum cries, running over to hug is brother.
“Ponies?” Torto repeats, “Cripps,” He asks in a carefully restrained voice, “what’s going on?”
“He...um... _{he looked at the horse, sir.}”
“Oh, I see.” he replies, “one moment, brother.”

Oh god he’s coming right at you this is it oh shit oh shi- Oh, he passed you. You watch as he storms back into the stable, closing the door behind him. You hear an angry argument going on between him and absolute thin air. You can’t make out the words. It sounds almost as if the horse is neighing laughingly at him, if that could even be possible. After a few minutes, he comes out, in a visible huff.
“Brother, thank God you’re still alive! We have to leave, it’s not safe to be here.”
“Ponies?”
“The castle is under attack. I don’t know how, we have to get away while we can.”
“Ponies...”
“I’m sorry, I don’t know if anyone else made it out. We absolutely have to leave now.” Torto turns to you. “Stablemaster, we can’t be seen flying at a time like this. Bring me my horse.”
Oh, it seems he’s playing along now too. Ok, fine. We’ll play it your way.
You quickly bring him his good horse.
"Thank you, good sir." he lies, "It's good to know that in this day and age there are still some men still loyal to the crown." The corniness of his words makes you want to balk.
He gives you a fake goodbye smile that wordlessly states "You're not getting any help getting out of here, I don't hire weaklings" and leaves. Asshole.
A Neigh comes from directly behind you. Apparently it's not in its pen anymore. You have to stop yourself from turning to look at it. It gives you a chilling nibble on the ear. You don't really remember anything after that.

Be the O

You are now the old lady. You're dead! Crushed underneath a dead dragon. What a way for a pottery tutor to go.


Hmmm... Oh dear, it seems as if we're out of people!


Well, there's one way of remedying that, now isn't there?

{Crown}{Dog}{Tiara}

[Roboboy33]

Dog

[Pandarsenic]

Dog

Woof.

[Heliman]

Dog

Woof.

You are now...
You don't know what you are. You think you heard someone say once you kind of looked like a kobald, but you've been living in the tunnels for you don't know how long and never seen one. You hate how different you look. You are quite small, only the size of a young boy, and covered from head to toe with peculiar short, brown hairs that give you a sort of brown tinge to your silhouette. Your eyes have no pupils, and are off colors. One is yellow. You can see fine out of that one, But the other other is a bright, glowing white. You can't see out of it at all, but it makes for a good flashlight when looking for bugs to eat. You. What you hate most about yourself is your snout. It's dog shaped and is the biggest thing that keeps you from looking like a human.
You really wish you were a human again. You've seen them pass by in their carts, and their always laughing or yelling or fighting or reading books and by god do you love books. One fell off of a human's cart once, it had all these pretty pictures in it with colors you've never even seen before. After that you were hooked on them, and spent so much time looking at it that you figured out that the little scribbles at the bottom of every page was a language that humans could speak AND write. You found that amazing, because you have only ever figured out how to do the speaking thing.
You hear something, coming from the tunnel outside your little alcove. it sounds like the crackling of a buglamp, accompanied by mumbling.

[Heliman]

 You...
you have never seen a man in such bright robes before. You haven't even seen the color orange before. You see caravans regularly, but the wagoners never wore such vibrant clothes.  You see the man sitting on the ground with legs crossed. There was a small lantern beside him. Earlier the man had been mumbling words you didn't know in a language that you hadn’t even heard before.
Between the bright clothes and the new language, You find yourself mesmerized by the man. The man stopped speaking for now though, you dearly wish he would talk some more. After a long while, the man picked up his staff, stood up, and, to your surprise, stares directly at you. In idly musing voice, the man said “I can feel you watching me in the shadows, little spectre. Won't you come out? I'd like to see your face clearly”
You jump with a muffled whine of fright, looking around wildly for a path of escape. You know better than anybody, people get mad when they see you. Suddenly, the man seemed a lot scarier than he used to be. To your dismay, you find no route way around him.
“Well? Are you going to come out, or am I going to have to come in?” the priest took a threatening pose with his staff.
You speak in a meek, raspy voice came from behind the rock, “Ok, ok I come out I come out! No hurt! No hurt!” Tentatively, you crawl out of the shadows.
The priest tightened his grip on his staff. His eyes narrowed. “ A forgotten. Al-meylab, A Forgotten that can speak?” he muttered.
But you're not a forgotten! Shocked, you step back defensively, and wave your hands in front of you. You hastily reply “Nonono! I’m no one of those things, I no hurt, honest!”
The man lowered his guard, “If you are not a Forgotten, then what are you?”
You lower your gaze at the ground, “I… I am not knowing what I am”
The man was silent for a moment. After reaching an internal decision, he put down his staff and kneeled down in front of the creature. You are basically pissing yourself now, transfixed in fear. Slowly, he puts his finger to your forehead and closed his eyes. After what seemed like an eternity the his eyes opens again and he sits back.
His voice calmed. “I believe you, little one. My name is Kraye, monk of the Shadow City Temple.” The priest reached into his satchel and produces a loaf of bread. “Here, try some of this, you must be hungry.”
Slowly, the creature took the bread from the man, it was a big as its head. You take a cautious nibble, then began to tear at it hungrily. The man smiles. “So tell me,” he asked,  “How did you learn to speak all the way down here?”
Your focus remains on knawing at the bread as you answered, “I like words! Makes sure I don't get bored. People who come by on caravan say many words. I sometimes follow caravan and listen to people." You remember a painful memory."People in caravan get angry when I say words to them.”  You look up again at the priest, excitedly “But you no angry when I say words! You give food!” you cock your head questioningly, “But why you different?”
The priest gave a soft chuckle. “It's my duty to be accepting of many things. Speaking of which, I don’t think I asked your name.”
“Name? What is name?”
The man chuckled softly, “Well, a name is what you want other people to call you, like I want people to call me Kraye.”
“Can I choose name?”
He chuckles again, “Well, of course you can.”
What's your Name?

[Roboboy33]

Aban don.

[Johnfalcon99977]

If you didn't want this to die, perhaps you should've considered not rail roading us without our consent?

[Vorthon]

Are name shall be Bloop!

(Yes, with an exclamation mark.)