[A youngish man, middling handsome, of good athletic build and stature wanders through what seems to be unending fog. It is not dark although there also is no apparent source of light. When he speaks his accent is similar to that someone of modern Earth might recognize as British.]
Hello? Is anybody there? Hellooo? My name is, uhhhmmm, oh yes, Dorben. Yes, I'm sure that's right. Can anybody hear me? If there's anybody out there please call out. I'm friendly; I come in peace; no hand raised in anger except in turn and all that. I can't see a thing in this deuced fog. Quite inconvenient don't you know. Oh bloody jumped hell on a one wheeled ox cart! I do believe I must be lost. Yes, this must be what lost is like. Well, I'm sure if I just can figure out where I am now then I can certainly find my way home.
[He stops suddenly, his head quickly tilting slightly to one side and down. His brows knit and the edges of his mouth turn down slightly. As if something rather strange and out of sorts has just occured to him.]
Wait. Home? But I haven't been back to the villa in years. Hmm. Yes, that's right, a villa in Waterdeep. And Waterdeep is a large city on the Sword Coast. And the villa belongs to my parents. Been in the family for years. I've had several domiciles of my own since I left but that's neither here nor there and doesn't answer the question of how I got here. Yes, that's the problem actually before the committee right now, isn't it? Just exactly where am I right now and how did I get here?
[Dorben sits down in a well padded armchair with a small side table next to it. He doesn't seem to give a second thought to whether or not the furniture may or may not have existed only moments before. Without really seeming to think about it or consider its origins, he reaches for a caraffe and cups from a teaset on the side table and pours himself a steaming cup of chai tea with milk and a touch of honey. He settles back, cradling the steaming cup in both hands just in front of his face. The rich, deep spiced aroma wafts around his head as he seems to be in deep thought, staring at some invisible point somewhere before him and half mumbling to himself as one forefinger occassionally taps the rim of the cup ever so gently. He actually stares into the surface of the dark drink for stretches at a time and then sips the tea every once in a while, almost as punctuation to a finished thought.
After some time his eyes open wide and his head raises, as if come to a conclusion. Seemingly by reflex learned over many years with all these things in spots long accustomed, he places cup and saucer back on the side table with no more than a momentary glance toward its landing spot, spilling not one drop. His head tilts slightly forward, one hand comes up, resting just below his closed eyes as thumb and forefinger gently pinch the bridge of the nose. His other hand crosses his chest and crades the upright elbow. His body language would seem to suggest exasperated resignation. As if the answer he has come to is undeniable but he isn't totally happy with the conclusion. He holds the pose for several moments and then sits back again, opening his eyes and lightly slapping his hands back to the arm rests.]
Yes, well. That must be it then. The girl, her attackers, the fight, the blood so dark from where that retched bastard of a would be rapist plunged the knife in me. When my last swing caved in his skull the strain must have also finished the job his nasty little knife started. Opened up something bloody important inside, didn't we? Liver most likely. Yes, I believe it is the right conclusion. Well, blast! I do believe I've gone and died! Well, at least the girl got away.
So, the question now becomes, what happens next?