Alan sighed as he looked out of one of the many windows of the Olmstead International Airport, a hand resting on the glass. He’d woken up in a chair a few hours ago with no knowledge of where he was. His face took on a determined look, his eyes hard as steel as he placed both hands on the window and tried to make a portal back home. Sadly, just like before, it didn’t work, the window remaining unchanged, no sign of a portal forming.
“Great…just great.” Alan sighed. He wondered if his friends back in his realm knew what had happened to him, knew where he was. But how could they? Even he didn’t really know where he was. Gripping his death scythe tightly in his hands, it being his only weapon and tie to home, he walked away from the window, deciding to explore.
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