Tome 1: The council's Return- OLDOLDOLD

"N-not how I p-pictured it...."

"...Huh. We've been pranked."

The green light brightens and reveals a door, the small midnight black room has a couple of accommodations, a table, 2 chairs, a candle not lit, and a blank book. all of these a slightly lighter shade of black. The door however is a plain wooden door, the same color any normal looking door would be. ((By the way I want to congratulate Lionhead Studios for actually making Fable anniversary with Unreal 3 engine for the 360! I am so excited for this and I'll waste my life on this game again.))

Kali sees the candle, and starts searching her pockets, muttering, "Now where did I put those... Hm..."

Kali would notice that all of the thing she may have stored on her has vanished, poof, gone, other synonyms to disappear.
Ranger gets up because yes, he was lying down on the ground in this scenario. "Any ideas of where we are?"

"W-we're dead..."

Paladin walks through a wall. As in, he walks into the wall and the wall loses. "Huh. Would have thought you'd be more... Impressive."

Kali pulls her hand from her pocket, eyes narrowing. "My -matches- are -missing-!" She stomps a foot on the ground. "I demand they be returned RIGHT NOW!"

"I doubt they will be as long as we are here." Paladin looks to be rather old, surprisingly, since he's supposed to be one of the youngest Guild graduates.

Bereaver and The Harbinger appear before Sabre and Ranger respectively. Ranger picks the weapon up and swings it to get a feel for it's weight, the light blade creates a trail of lightning behind it. He points it at Paladin. "Where...Are...We." ((Yes I am well aware that this isn't supposed to be a 'light' blade.))

Paladin laughs, hold a hand out and calling his own weapon. "Not sure. Certainly not home. And definitely not a place to fight, if you want to live."

Sabre falls on his ass trying to lift the Bereaver the first time. His hands shaking, he grips the blade in both hands, a strange new look in his eyes, before swinging it up and slightly to the side.

Paladin grins, putting on his helmet. "Are we doing this? Please tell me we are doing this. Wait, hold on, this isn't a fair fight. Two of you, one of me, you don't stand a chance." He raises a hand towards them, aging them forwards in power and body. "Much better. Still not a fair fight, but at least you have a chance." The weapon Paladin summons appears from thin air, a long, wide blade with a single edge. Blue lines of magical power pulse down mystic inscriptions along the flat of the blade, everysooften turning red as he moves into a combat ready stance.

The new kid disappears as Ranger lifts the mighty blade and strikes at Paladin. A new image of Ranger appears with each strike, one a grizzled veteran, balding and a scar over an eye, another with blue markings and more lightning appears on the mythical blade he wields, but each time one thing is in common, there is no halo nor devil's horns, no signs of alignment.

Paladin matches his blow for blow, blocking each swing with a well timed swing of his own. "Not bad, not bad. Still..." Paladin turns his blade and shoves, pushing Ranger back. "I'm better."

A figure runs up to Paladin and smacks him across the face with a hammer with as much impact as if we were using a freaking fully grown TREE. Paladin looks to be undamaged (mainly because of the dimension we're in). The hammer looks a bit like Murren's Greataxe, except a silver end (whatever you call the block at the end of the hammer) and it's not an axe. The design on this newcomers armor is a bright gold, silver and cloths of royal blue. The symbol of a lion, not a recognizable allegiance to anyone here.

Paladin gets back up, slowly, his helmet having been knocked off. A look of rage flashes across his face as he lifts his sword back up. The blade has grown wider and longer, now possessing a jagged, black edge. "That was a cheap shot." He raises the blade up and takes a swing at the ground, slamming it in about a couple feet. "Too bad it doesn't matter here." the rageface passes as he removes his shoulder plating and drops it to the ground. "Much better. Shoulder protection is important, but very uncomfortable." He nods to the children. "Remember that when you're older."

Sabre, despite growing, still manages to look like a scared, unsure CHILD.
"Wh-why fight? Wh-what i-is this place?"

(Are, are we doing this? is this happening? Tell me this is happening! Oh gaddam, what chris and I had planned, MMPH!)

Paladin laughs, a deep hearty laugh. "This, child, is a dream. Prophetical, magical, and important. Your fate starts here. You each have an important role to play in the future of Albion. I am here to begin your preparation." He waves a hand, and everything shifts. Rather suddenly, everyone is seated at the table. The chairs are comfy, the table is fancy, and there is still a blank book in the center of the table.

"Wh-what if I I I don't w-want to play a r-role?"

Paladin shakes his head. "Fate makes puppets of us all. The Call will find you, eventually. The best thing to do is to embrace it, own it. Turn the role to your advantage." Paladin sets his helmet on the table, a loud thud signifying it's excessive weight.

"I I I p-prefer to be a c-c-causal f-fatalist. I ch-choose n-not to f-fight."