The gray cloaked man turns his back to you and begin to kick at the forest floor with your bound feet and yell around the gag. It muffles quite a bit from your mouth but it's still loud enough for him to hear you over the chirp of night bugs. He peers over his shoulder.

"You don't want me to go?" he asks. You shake your head, then nod, your panicked mind not sure which is the correct answer. "I have one question for you then; do you understand what I'm saying."

You furl your brow at the nonsense question; of coure you understand. Why wouldn't you? You nod emphatically and a wide grins crosses his face. A moment later he's kneeling beside you and removing your gag.

"I figured you would with the strange clothing but one has to be careful," he says as he unties your wrists.

"Strange clothing?" you question as you look at the plain pants and shirt you don. The apron is a little out of place but not strange. You catch a peek at his clothing under the cloak. A pair of tall boots, wool slacks, a thick tunic. There may be armor and weapons under there as well. It's like you've landed in some medieval reenactment.

"You've fallen a long way from home," he tells to you. Freed, you rub your wrists and flex your feet.

"Where am I?" you ask.

"Several hours out of Canterstross," he answer. A sly smile on his face tells you he's aware this information is useless. "Where are you from?"

"Denver," you answer figuring the nearest large city was descriptive enough. "How do I get back there?" The man shrugs. "Who are you?"

"You can call me Gray," he answers. "But we can't stay here. Whoever tied you up is bound to be back, probably with guards. You can come with me or head out on your own. It looks like you've already had a taste of what this world has to offer." He gestures to the bloody hole in your shirt.

"I'll go with you."

"I'll make it on my own."