The army was fast asleep after a day of conquering. Blood had been shed by the gallons and the sand on the beach was coloured red. Carrion birds and scavengers crowded the shore, searching for any chunks of flesh left behind. The bodies had been buried but not all body parts had been accounted for. Above, amidst the dark night sky a star twinkled and blinked.

And disappeared.

Aragol Silversheen, High General of Tiranor, sat on the edge of his large bed within the keep of the city of Belgaria. It had been a long day and a good night's rest was in order. He felt his shoulder where his wound had once been, completely gone now, and glanced at his sheathed blade, Dragon's End, resting along the wall beside his bed. There was mystery to that sword. He should have an arm in a sling and his gut on fire with infection yet both wounds were vanished and he felt no pain anywhere. He eyed the sword for a few moments before it became difficult to keep his eyes open and lay back in his bed.

With a yawn he was asleep.

It did not take long for him to begin dreaming. He saw a shadowy figure, a silhouette perhaps, and it was getting closer. It looked human, mostly, and seemed to move with purpose. Light suddenly appeared from somewhere and he saw a face. The man's face appeared to glow and stern eyes from within a square face of seriousness bore into his soul.

"You will do," the voice said in a cacophony of all tones and volumes at once. It was as if a massive crowd spoke with him. He reached a hand for Aragol.

Aragol woke up immediately, his face sweaty and his breathing rapid. He reached for Dragon's End but found that his blade was not there. With a pat to his side he discovered that it was attached to his belt. He also saw that he was dressed in his steel breastplate over light leather armour, blue cape, thick leather boots and leather gauntlets. With a look around he realized that he was no longer in his room, or in Belgaria for that matter.

He sat in a clearing of tan-coloured cracked earth within a forest of massive mushroom trees. There were some of various sizes and heights and a strange bitter smell tickled his nostrils. He looked up and saw a purple sky, tinged with dancing auroras of various colours. He had a sinking feeling that he was not in his own world and he instinctively reached for his sword once more.

What lurked behind the thick and wide stalks of this mushroom forest? What dangers surrounded him? He saw an old path, perhaps just a game trail, leading away from him and further into the forest. He followed it for a short distance.

"Do not leave," the multi-toned voice called out from somewhere. "I am in need of speaking to you all."

All? Aragol thought. He quickly walked back into the clearing and at the far end were seven other figures standing there, eyeing one another with various expressions ranging from wonder to panic to distrust. He removed his hand from his sword and walked to them, raising his weapon hand to show that he meant no harm. They appeared as confused as he did and he judged them no threat.

"Hello," he said to them. "I am Aragol Silversheen, High General of Tiranor. You wouldn't happen to be Draconans, would you? Is this some sort of arcane trick?"

"The hell is a Draconan?" asked a large and quite tall dark-skinned man of muscle with extremely short brown hair. He wore a sleeveless white shirt and blue pants of a tough-looking material Aragol had never seen before. "The name's Boog, by the way, and no, I don't think anyone is whatever you asked we were..." He seemed to wear a perpetual frown.

Aragol nodded to him and looked to the others. "Do any of you have any idea what we are doing here?"

"Dude," said an incredibly pale young woman. She was tugging on her long dark hair and her dark eyes darted from one area to another, fearfully searching for any danger. She was dressed in a baggy red and black shirt of a light yet smooth material with large white letters in the front below what looked like a red and black leaf with a figure atop of it. Aragol thought he saw tiny holes throughout the entire shirt, perhaps to allow the skin the breathe, he thought. Her pants were loose-fitting, a light blue and made of the same material Boog's pants were. Her footwear consisted of heavily-used grey shoes with a white band around the bottom. A brown bracelet with a gold plate with lettering etched into it hung around one of her wrists. Pierced into one of her ears was a small gemstone that appeared to change colour in different amounts of light. For the moment she was still and it sparkled a deep blue. "All I was doing was getting the quad ready for another rip and I closed my eyes as I stretched and before you know it I'm here. I've never heard of mushroom trees before. Are we still on Earth?"

Aragol blinked. "I am not certain I understood half of what you said but I understood that you have no idea where we are. I have no answers for you on that. I am sorry."

"Looks like the past to me," said another young woman. Her wavy brown hair cascaded over her shoulders and her half-lidded brown eyes gave her a sullen look. She wore a faded yellow shirt with short sleeves and tight-fitting blue pants of the same material the previous girl had been wearing. Her arms were crossed over her chest and she was studying everything around her carefully. Aragol could almost see the gears in her head working. If someone would have answers, it may be her.

"That past?" he asked her. "I don't remember of any place like this in the past."

"Maybe not your world, Aragol... But back in my world hundreds of millions of years ago it was covered in trees of fungus. This looks like it could be it but I don't ever remember hearing about a purple sky."

"Someone must have brought us here, then," Aragol reasoned. "But who...?"

A skinny man with short brown hair was mumbling to himself and searching the ground for something. He appeared desperate and worried and Aragol went to offer help. "What have you lost?"

"Buttons!" the young man called out, his purple eyes bright with intensity. He wore a maroon mantle with many different buttons of myriad styles, colours sizes dotting the bottom edge of it. He also wore dark blue trousers and a white scarf wrapped around his neck. "My buttons!!! I had three-hundred and sixty seven of them and now they are all gone! I will never get back..."

"Get back where?"

"Hello!!!"

Aragol turned around to see a short and young woman, in her mid-teens, with tawny blonde hair, a heart-shaped face and sparkling blue eyes. She wore a light pale yellow blouse, a necklace of shining pearls and silver, and a large and wide frilled dress of various hues of red. She reminded him of someone he had fought against once back home. Her expression was a mix of fear and awe. He offered her a small smile. "Hello, do you have any idea where we are?"

She shook her head rapidly. "Nope. I was just trying to read my book in my bed but I fell asleep and here I am! Am I in a dream? Are you my dream husband? Your silver hair is weird but looks good on you. You are really handsome and I'm pretty sure I am dreaming because you'd probably make a good husband for me."

Aragol felt his face warm. "I...I am real. This is no dream."

"Celestia," said Boog. "Get over here and stay close. I told you not to go running away."

"You're not my dad! I barely know you!"

"Who got you down from that mushroom?"

"You did but..."

Boog's frown deepened.

"Fine..." Celestia sighed and moved closer to Boog.

"We were the first ones here," Boog explained to Aragol, his frown lessening somewhat. "Celestia was first, actually. I came second and helped her down from one of the mushrooms. Could have shattered the thing with one punch but I didn't want to risk anything so I climbed up myself and then leapt off. When I hit the ground Elmar came, screaming about his buttons. Victoria was next." He gestured to the pale, dark-haired girl. "Then it was Graham." He pointed to a young man sitting beside a small mushroom tree. He was dressed in a green long-sleeved shirt and dark pants. On his head was short brown hair so dark it was nearly black. He would occasionally glance at the group but only for a few seconds. He appeared quite shy and understandably afraid. "Just got his name out of that one. Didn't say much else. After that it was Karmen, the one that thinks she knows everything. Then you showed up. As far as I can tell this all seems random. No one here admits to having been practising black magic or whatever the hell got us here. Most of us were captured in our dreams. Not sure I want to sleep again for a while..."

Aragol took the information and reflected on it. He eyed Celestia drumming her hands atop a small group of mushrooms and giggling about the sounds they made. It was almost music. Karmen was still surveying the land around her, always gathering information. Victoria was tapping her thumbs on a strange, small, flat object and cursing under her breath. Graham was hugging his knees against his chest and staring off in the distance, his face pale with fear and worry. Elmar was wandering the area in search of his buttons, grumbling and cursing loudly. Aragol thanked Boog for his information and walked over to Graham. He knelt down beside him and put a hand on his shoulder.

"Join the rest of us, Graham," he told him. "We'll get this figured out together. I've been through difficult situations before and have found my way out every time. It will be so again."

Graham gulped and cleared his throat. His voice was shaky but he did not tremble. "I don't know what I did to deserve this. Is this some punishment?" He fingered about with a small stone on a necklace and a breeze blew by, tossing Aragol's hair every which way.

"We will find answers to those questions together, Graham. We need to stick together as a group if we wish to get out of here. An army of soldiers that work together is stronger than any massive horde of wild barbarians. Trust me, I know."

"I only see mushrooms, no barbarians..."

"It still stands."

"Heads up!" Boog called out. "We have visitors."

Aragol felt a rush of warmth from Dragon End's sheath and he immediately grabbed its hilt. He followed Boog's pointing finger and saw two figures approaching. One was armoured in heavy plate and armed with a brilliant silver axe and the other wore a bright skirt and her head of straight, shoulder-length auburn hair turned from side to side, her eyes picking up all the sights around her. Aragol saw the first woman as an enemy moving her victim to another cell or slave camp.

So even in this strange world, cruelty exists, he thought. There were slaves in Tiranor but, having grown up as one, he had grown a disdain for slavers and slavery itself.

With great speed, his mind on freeing the oddly unbound captive, Aragol rushed the armoured woman. She was much shorter than him but her reflexes were sharp. She saw him coming and raised her axe in defense. He stabbed for her abdomen and she slapped away his blade, hopping back to gain distance.

Aragol closed in and felt a rush of heat pouring into his body from Dragon's End. It was as if the blade was hungry and wanted to feast on this slaver's blood. He slashed at the woman's legs but she blocked with her axe and the two weapons clashed loudly. They exchanged blows for several seconds, neither side backing down. Aragol assumed the slave must be quite valuable for the slaver to put so much effort into denying her to him.

"Stop!" a voice called out with great power.

Aragol and the woman reluctantly lowered their weapons, eyes staring daggers into one another.

Boog walked between the both of them, his massive hands into even bigger fists. "The hell was that all about, Aragol? She walks up to us and you attack her?"

Aragol blinked rapidly and sheathed his sword, feeling his mind begin to ache. "I...I don't know what came over me..."

"You were overwhelmed," said the woman Aragol assumed was a slave in a steady voice. "Your mind was struggling to understand this place and you wanted to release your frustration on someone so you imagined Ivory here as a slaver and I a slave that needed rescuing. We are neither, by the way. I am Casandra and despite my foresight, I did not see any of this coming. I do not know where we are or for what reason."

Aragol walked to Ivory and sighed. "Forgive me, Ivory. I lost control." She narrowed her eyes. He raised an eyebrow and crossed his arms over his chest. "For a dwarf you do hold some amazing agility, I must admit. You dress as a soldier. Are you?"

Ivory walked right up to Aragol, looked up at him, and gently placed a dagger against his inner thigh. Her face was an expression of calm anger, like a slow-burning flame. "Call me a dwarf again, snowflake, and I'm going to cut you a few inches down to size, if you understand me."

Aragol smirked and nodded. "Understood."

Ivory sheathed her dagger and took a step back. "Captain, actually, not soldier."

"I am a general myself," he said. "I have been in many battles. It's a pity you weren't with us. Many good men would have survived with someone of your skill there to fight alongside them."

Ivory ran a hand through her wild blonde locks, brushing the sweat off her forehead as she did so, and shrugged. "Do not flatter me. It falls on deaf ears." She walked toward the others and found a spot to sit down off to the side. Her armour suddenly became transparent and eventually faded away into nothingness, revealing a leather tunic and dark brown leggings, patched in a few places with more leather. She stretched herself out and closed her eyes.

Aragol eyed her for a few moments before turning to Casandra. "Will you help us find a way out of here?"

She nodded. She was short and slightly on the plump side but appeared strong. Her blue eyes were shrouded in worry. "I have to. I have a family to raise. My children will be wondering where their mother went and I already worry for their well-being." She blinked her eyes rapidly and took a deep breath, calming herself. Suddenly, her eyes widened and she looked up. "He's here!"

Everyone craned their necks and looked up at the purple sky with its many magnificent auras. Floating in the air, a hundred feet up, was a black form staring down at them through bright white eyes. Clouds of darkness swirled around it and hugged it in an almost loving fashion. It began to descend.

"Who is that?" Aragol asked.

"The one who brought us here," Casandra replied.

**** The picture above was graciously created by @TheJarheadWars. All credit for it should be given to her. :)****