Quick Draft 1 (second part): Choreography

(continuing from Maker's Conundrum below...)

The PCs were exactly where he expected them to be for once! It was frightening though. What if there was an impossibility attached to his interaction with them. Perhaps his interaction would create the beginnings of a dissolve for this place and send his own existence crumbling into nothingness. Was it going to be a battle between his own will in the world and Fred's DMing policy that kept him alive? Or was this just a slow death that would eventuate like life's end, with the odd property that he could see his own demise more clearly than in his last life?

Hiding in the bushes he attempted to move away silently in the night. He suddenly began hearing whispers in his own mind. The whispers were unclear at first and then became clearer. "You hear something in the bushes," he heard the voice in his head say. Robert stopped, he thought out of fear. Then he heard the group running his way, coming from the trail, drawing steal 1d8+3 blades and chanting 3rd level arcana.

"No!" He thought, "my friends are going to find me here and then that'll be it, no more me!"

He tried instinctively to run away as the fear and adrenalin in his body asked him to do, but he was frozen. Instead of running he stood up calmly and turned to face the direction of his friends.

"Well this was not a conscious choice," Robert conspired along with his new lack of free will.

The next thing Robert felt was manifold, consisting of ideas pertaining to what he felt his personal history was, what his intentions to the group were along with a sudden new knowledge that he guessed could grant him power. But none of these things were true, in regard to what he knew.

He felt a strange breath come out of his mouth, it tasted of ash. He spoke words that he did not intend to speak. "Ho!" Robert shouted in a cheesy voice, raising his right hand to his friend's characters in peace. Still, no actions were formed from Robert's actual intent.

"Fred's smokey ass mouth!" Robert thought. "That son of a bitch is using me as an NPC!" Robert though a moment about Aldous Huxley, "If he only knew."