Chapter 3: What's in a Name?

While Raistlin was off searching for Tas, Tanis, Sturm, and Laurana converged on his home. They paused outside the doorway, and Sturm stopped tip-toeing with a sigh of relief--his toes were killing him. Taking a deep breath, Tanis knocked on the door.

To the surprise of the three friends, instead of Caramon throwing the door open and giving them a spine-cracking group hug, they heard a muffled thump and a stream of curses.

"Wait a minute--that language is Silvanesti elvish! Someone has broken into the Majere home and is holding the brothers prisoner!"

So saying, Tanis threw open the door and strode in. Reaching the main room, he slipped on the edge of the large hole in the floor and would have mimicked Caramon's plunge to the bridge below had Sturm not grabbed him and pulled him back.

"How did this hole get here?" the knight asked in confusion.

"TANIS! ARE YOU OKAY!?" Laurana cried, flinging herself onto the half-elf. "You could have DIED! Don't DO that!"

Tanis froze in complete shock. This outburst was completely out of character...wasn't it?

Sturm looked up in concern. "Tanis, Laurana is reverting to her pre-War of the Lance personality as a spoiled brat, but more extreme! What's going on here!?"
"...she is suffering from Displaced Character Syndrome," said a soft voice from the shadows. Startled, the companions leapt to their feet.

"Quickly, everyone--over here, get your backs to the wall!" Tanis shouted. He was just in time--at that moment, Caramon lumbered in, ploughed through the space they had just been standing in, and fell through the hole in the floor. Again.

This time, however, he was lifted out of it by an unseen hand and deposited with his friends. The spidery words of magic faded as Dalamar stepped forward (carefully avoiding the hole) with a sigh.

"It's happening to everyone...the more time passes, the worse it will get. The shalafi has gone to stop it, if he can...I have to stay here, lest I become further displaced..." He stopped, realizing that the arrival of the companions was going to displace him from there to the dark moon. He sighed again.

"What's a shalafi?" Sturm asked, at a loss. He was dead before the companions discovered Dalamar's annoying nickname for Raistlin. The two elves, of course, understood, and Caramon had heard this before. They shushed the knight.

"Never mind that--what's Dalamar the Dark doing here!?" Caramon exclaimed.

"Name of the gods, would you all just stop calling me that!? What kind of name is 'the Dark?' It's so...so...idiotic! You don't hear them calling Porthios "Porthios the Dark," oh no. You only name the wizard that. Dammit, would it be so hard to give me a name of my own!?"

The companions stood in stunned silence at this hugely out-of-character outburst. Tanis shuddered, realizing that Dalamar's Displaced Character Syndrome was worsening.

"Quickly, man--get back in character! Who knows what could happen if this goes on?"

Dalamar nodded, taking a deep breath. "Yes...yes, you're right...I never shout at anyone...because I apparently have some kind of bizarre emotional issue that makes me act calm all the time..."

Laurana was also muttering to herself, trying to get back in character. "I am the Golden General...the Golden General...dammit, why did they call me that...what a stupid name...sounds like some weird magic item in a video game..."

"NO! Laurana, don't create anachronisms, whatever you do!" Sturm shouted in alarm.

But it was too late.

From out of the hole in the floor rose a pair of eyes looking straight at them...

-o-o-o-o-o-

Tas and Flint, meanwhile, were entering Gerard's completely AU jail. Tas was whistling cheerfully, having abandoned his flute--it just couldn't measure up to his magic pipe. Flint was on edge, toying with his battle ax. He kept glancing sharply behind him, feeling like something was amiss...

"Hey, Gerard, it's me, Tas! Are you there? Gerard? Say, weren't you a knight? What happened to that?"

"What in blazes is going on here!?" Gerard exclaimed, entering the jail behind them. "Tasslehoff, you're...dead! I mean really dead, not like the first time when you were time-traveling. And why isn't Solace a bustling city? And where's Rhys? I wanted to ask him more about these Beloved of Chemosh..."

Flint stared at him. "Beloved of Chemosh? What are you talking about? And Solace is only what you'd call bustling on market day. What's this building doing on the ground anyway? I tell you, something's very wrong here..."

Tas scrunched up his brow, thinking hard. "Come to think of," he said slowly, "there don't seem to be any people in Solace, except for us. I wonder why that is?"

Flint frowned and shook his head. "Reorx's beard, how am I supposed to know? This is all wrong, I tell you. I wish I was back at my tree..."

Tas nodded. "The one by Reorx's forge. Say, does Reorx mind people swearing by his beard? I know dwarves are awfully proud of their beards, even if Dougan Redhammer is kind of a weird dwarf."

"Dougan who? Don't be ridiculous. Reorx is the very essence of a dwarf!"

"Whatever you say, Flint, but I still think that hat was pretty funny."

Flint gave Tas a frosty glare, and he fell silent. Even a kender should fear to cross Flint Fireforge.

Gerard sighed, rubbing his temples. Every time kender got involved, you knew there was a headache coming. "So...what exactly is going on here?"

"Displaced Character Syndrome...among other things," said a voice from the doorway. The three companions spun around. Standing there was a man in red robes, with strange, metallic skin and golden eyes with hourglass pupils.

"Raistlin--Tanis, Sturm, and Laurana were just looking for you! Boy, it's lucky I found you. Maybe somebody dropped you? That's usually how I find things."

Raistlin was silent for a moment, gathering patience. "...silence, kender. You--Sheriff Gerard. You take that job after the War of Souls, correct? Yet by then, I have taken the black robes, and the dwarf and kender are both dead. Don't you see what's happening here?"

Tas, Flint, and Gerard all thought as hard as they could. Tas, however, quickly grew bored. "Say, Raistlin, if we're all here, where are Goldmoon and Riverwind and Tika? And what about Gilthanis and Silvara and Elistan? And Lady Crysania and Fizban and Palin and Steel and Usha and--"

"Enough!" cried Raistlin. "We have no time for your whining. We must act quickly, before--"

Raistlin froze, sensing its presence before he saw it. Turning slowly, he saw a pair of eyes shining from the shadows...

-o-o-o-o-o-

elsewhere in Krynn, by request of Tas

Goldmoon sneezed violently and blushed. Chieftan of her people, head of the Citadel of Light, chosen cleric of Mishakal, it was highly undignified for her to sneeze so loudly. Riverwind handed her his handkerchief, frowning.

"Are you all right, my dear?"

Goldmoon sniffed cautiously. "Yes...I'm fine. I just had the strangest feeling that someone was talking about us..."

"That's silly," said Tika. "Why would anyone be talking about us?"

"I agree," said Gilthanis, hugging Silvara. The dragon was too shy to say anything, however.

Elistan nodded decisively. "Indeed, my dear. We must not worry. Paladine watches over us."

Lady Crysania sighed sadly. "Elistan...Paladine is mortal now. And you're dead. For that matter, so are Goldmoon, Riverwind, Tika, and maybe Gilthanis and Silvara. And as for those three--"

"Those three" were, at the moment, arguing heatedly.

"I said, I didn't take your stupid staff! What would I want with it?"

Palin trembled with rage, his hands balled into fists. "I don't know, Steel, but I had it a moment ago and then you sat down and now it's gone!"

Usha frowned. "Palin...I don't like this. Why are we all sitting here in the middle of nowhere, just talking to each other? Doesn't that seem awfully strange to you?"

Steel nodded, dark eyes worried. "It does, Lady Usha. And many sit among us who should not be here, myself included. It seems to me that our conversation is strangely contrived..."

Crysania closed her eyes, trying to pretend she was blind, as she was supposed to be. She knew she had to stay as in-character as she could to keep them safe. "Indeed, Sir Knight. We are here by the request of a kender...a dead kender, at that. The author clearly likes Tas the best, and has thrown all of us together in this nonsensical manner just because he mentioned us in passing...we are in grave danger."

Steel drew his sword, standing protectively before the group. "Worry not, my lady. I will protect us all."

Crysania shook her head in despair. "That's just it, Steel--you shouldn't be able to. You're dead. We're all different than we're meant to be..."

As she spoke, a pair of eyes rose out of the shadows behind her and focused on the group...