W alking into the town in shackles, the mean knight that captured you, by the name of Sir Aristol, led you from his mount on a thick rope. The other knight, Sir Gerian, followed far behind you, watching you, and rubbing his head where you dropped the TV on it. He was still pulling glass particles from his cheek. As you reach the top of the hill, you see a city ahead. It wasn't very big, but it was based around a tall castle, with a long, high wall around it's outside. You notice a horse pulling a carrage across the drawbridge into town... It is incredibly picturesque. There is no doubt that you have traveled back in time to ancient England now, and what makes this no fun at all, is that it is just in time for your beheading.

Before you get into town, you have time to think of why you are here. Back in Trenton, the reason that the vortex opened up must have been the incredible contrast bettween the fragrant smell of the flowershop, and the horrible stench of you and your truck. It must mean that the fabric of the universe is just not as strong as we think it is, if all it takes is a contrast of smells, to make it rip like that. "it must be like touching matter to anti-matter." You say to yourself.

The inner city is even more beautiful. the buildings look brand new, almost somewhat glittering. The castle itself is an incredible work of art, but doesn't look familliar at all. Of course, you've never been to Europe before, and toured the castles' ruins, but you would have remembered this one from TV... It is that pretty. This castle must be built so long before your own time that even it's ruins aren't still around. They take you up to the castle, past eight shiny guards, into the main hall, which happens to be the throne room, at least for today.

"Your Majesty," Sir Aristol announces, "We brought this smelly daemon troll from the north pasture where he summoned fire, earth, thousands of flowers, and a large, black, heavy device that he threw at sir Gerian, almost killing him." "I wouldn't say 'killing,'" Added Sir Gerian, "More like hurting a lot, your majesty." Knowing that you are doomed, depression doesn't let you get a word in edgewise before they send you outside, to clear the air in the room.