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Avatus idly flipped through the pages of his book, more using it as a way to pass the time than a form of entertainment while he waited for Alia to return.  This particular story had grown somewhat old.  The retired soldier was half tempted to put it down in favor of another.  Sighing to himself, he snapped the book shut and stood up to—

The ground fell out from under him.  His chambers became a black void.  Air rushed past his face— he was falling.

There was an instant of panic before his instincts took over. He quickly righted himself as well as he could, pulling his body together as tightly as possible.  Avatus remembered to leave his ankles and knees flexible— they’d be broken if he didn’t.

Almost as if something was waiting on him to do this, he hit the ground.  He landed on the balls of his feet first, flexing his ankles and letting himself fall sideways.  Rather than taking the impact on just his feet, the soldier took the majority of the force of it on his calf and hip, followed by the side of his back. Not waiting on the pain to register, he rolled immediately to his feet and drew his sword.

Avatus was in a small, stone walled room.  There were no windows, and with no other light source he could see little else.  The strange falling sensation was unfamiliar to him.  It felt nothing like Arean magic, though the Altioran didn’t know of any other way he could have been brought here.  With his left hand he summoned a small flame.  He now saw that there was a wooden table in the center of the room with a map stretched across its surface.  The soldier quickly recognized it as a map of his home, Zenthium.  What it was doing here— wherever ‘here’ was— he wasn’t sure.

A frown of suspicion crossed his face.  His grip on his weapon tightened.

On the other side of the room was a plain green door. Warily, he approached it.