Tony hates high fantasy. Hates it. Even back at MIT, he was the only nerd who had no interest in Lord of the Rings. Even now, after serving on various Avengers teams with multiple magic users and briefly dating a witch (whose number he inadvertently lost when he tried to charge his phone using the R.T. Node), he still really doesn’t like magic.

But here he is. Sitting in the back of a transport wagon. Stuck in the unskippable cut scene from the beginning of Skyrim.

He doesn’t have his armor — or if he does, he can’t access it — which just leaves him confused about why he’s been summoned here at all. He’s far from useless without his suit, but he’s accustomed to working with access to (comparatively) advanced technology, not to mention fissionable materials. He doubts that this civilization has enriched uranium on hand, and if they need to start a uraninite mining operation before he can get to work, he could be stuck here for a very long time.

Another problem? The physics. In his experience, the thing that keeps parallel worlds from touching most of the time are the tiny variations in the laws of physics between one world and another. He’s worked in other worlds before, so he knows that he can do it, but it’s difficult if you don’t know the rules or the energy signature of the world you’ve landed in. Currently, Tony knows neither, and he’s not sure anyone here would understand the question if he asked it. There’s got to be a university around here somewhere, right? Someone who speaks English?

He figures the city is his best bet. But the closer he gets to Cadens, the more obvious it becomes that some shit has transpired, and probably recently. Armed guards, patrolling soldiers, signs of unrest and upheaval. This must have something to do with the “dangerous times” the Prime Minister was referring to, but she was pretty light on specifics.

Using the skills he developed playing Skyrim, Tony deduces that the best place to get information is the local tavern. His transport driver suggests the Sarstina, so that’s where he goes, rolling up the sleeves of his uniform and trying to look a little less out of place.

The tavern is busy enough (which is to be expected for the only game in town,) but he still spots an open seat next to one of the other patrons, who seems to have a drink in front of them. (Tony doesn’t think he has any money, but maybe if it looks like they’re together, he won’t be expected to order anything.) He sidles up to the counter, and taps them on the shoulder, gesturing to the open seat.

“Hi, do you mind if I sit here?” He offers a broad smile, trying to look as friendly as possible. At 6’2,” he’s quite tall, but he’s not imposing. And, well. He’s pretty, which usually helps. “I’m Tony, by the way.”

Tony’s not a big fan of the psychoanalytical framework that his therapist keeps applying to him, but she’s probably not wrong to say that trying to make everyone like him (even people who have tried to kidnap him) is an unhealthy way of coping with the lasting effects of his crappy childhood. But Dr. Linda’s not here, so Tony will volunteer to deliver mysterious supplies to a military hospital if he wants to.

Anyway, chronic people pleasing is at most 20% of his motivation here. In fact, delivering supplies seems like a way to earn some good will with his captors (okay that still sounds like people pleasing), meet more residents of the settlement, and get a better look at the place where he’s staying. In his experience, you have a little more freedom to wander if you’re wandering around with a pack of medical supplies and a very official-looking clipboard.

When the wagon is almost unloaded, Tony throws another crate over his shoulder and wanders a little further into the halls than he was instructed to. He’ll pass off his presence here as a simple mistake if he’s questioned — he’s new, after all — but he really wants to get a better look inside.

He ducks his head into a few of the rooms -- some empty, some housing the injured, though none are familiar. But with the crate blocking his peripheral vision, he only realizes that he’s run into something when he’s bounced back against an open door frame and dropped some of the bandages onto the tile floor.

(ooc: open to a person he ran into or a person whose room he was outside of when he ran into the door frame)

Despite his documented distaste for magic, Tony decides to visit Nocwich because it sounds weird. Proper weird, even compared to the overall weirdness that typifies his current circumstances. An eternal darkness nightmare town sounds like the kind of place where Strange or Billy Kaplan might be able to find him. If they’re looking. (Which they — aren’t. They probably aren’t. But it’s still an idea.)

When he arrives, though, it’s clear that the place is less weird and more eerie. it’s remarkably empty, and has the look of a place that shouldn’t be. The streets are lined with shops and restaurants, but there are medical tents and tables stacked in front of them - a field hospital, likely an emergency outpost that was set up to treat the victims of a nearby disaster or pandemic that overwhelmed the town’s usual resources.

Of course, it’s hard to tell more than that, because it’s empty. And there’s no liminal space creepier than an empty hospital.

Tony slowly starts to help pack up supplies, deciding to make himself useful for a little while longer. Maybe if he’s packing up, he’ll have a good enough reason to delve a little deeper into what happened here. But apparently, he’s feeling a little on edge, because when someone gently bumps into him from behind, he nearly jumps out of his skin.

[ hit me up here or on plurk if you want to do something else/something specific ]