It wasn't the first time Ken had been involuntarily ripped from one reality to another, and he would later realize that it probably wouldn't be the last. One moment the young QuantumSurfer was at the Frostbornian city, Pinewood, preparing defenses against an ominous invasion and the next everything around him spun around and turned into swirling darkness.
The vortex he was trapped in temporarily rendered him incapable of speech, denying him to vocally question the situation he had just been placed into or even who -or what- had summoned him here... where ever here was.
Finally his body found a flat surface which he could only assume to be the 'ground' and the vortex disappeared from view, leaving him dazed and confused. "W-whaa..." At least his voice had come back to him.
"This... again?" Ken muttered to himself as he stared around him. A familiar ominous feeling began to creep up on him, and in the darkness that surrounded him he waited for someone to step forward and explain why once again he'd been called to the nether-realms without so much as a written invitation.
But no one came.
Just that same ill-boding feeling, growing l͉͇͇͔̭͚a̪̰͓̙͉̪̞r͔͓̹̪g̷̱̣͖̹̘͙e͔͉̬̘̕r̞̤̥ á҉̶̳̘͔͕̰̳̗͘͜ń̷̷҉̴͓̤͙̭̪̰̣͙̫̠̤̺̱͕̹ͅd̷̛̮̳̬̜̺̰̜̗͎̻͔̮̲͉́-̰̖̮̮̦̳̳̣̺̘͉͇̼̠
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"Whoa! A... dire wolf? What're you doing h-"
"-Well it's about damn time one of you lot showed up!"
A large, burly minifig with a musky scent of pine needles effortlessly lifted Ken to his feet. At first the QuantumSurfer tried to wriggle out of the man's iron grip but something about the stranger told him he meant Ken no harm.
"Hmm," The stag-helmed minifig scrutinized Ken with an utmost profound expression, "aha! You'll do! You don't look nearly as flashy or dramatic as the other ones, so all for the better I say!" He boomed with a jolly grin.
"S-sorry," Ken stammered, legs dangling an inch or two off the ground, "but... who the BrikHell are you?"
The stag-helmed, Norse-looking fellow set Ken down and rested his flagon of mead at his side. "You mean you can't tell?" He asked Ken, who slowly shook his head with a concerned expression.
"I... AM..."
"FATHER YUUUULLLEEEE!!!"
Ken winced as Father Yule's roaring voice filled the empty realm with festive ferocity. "Oh. Cool."
"And that," Father Yule used his peppermint axe to point behind them, "is my sleigh of Yuletide cheer!"
The gleaming red sleigh was loaded with weapons, barrels full of weapons, and bags probably full of concealed weapons. Other items seemed to be among them but the emphasis seemed to be mostly on the weapons.
"Nice sleigh," Ken observed while bending to pick up his trusty ebony sword, "but why am I here?"
"Because I," Father Yule lumbered over to his sleigh and grabbed Ken's cloak as he did so, "need a co-pilot!"
"W-what?! But I haven't the slightest idea how to fly that th-"
"Who said anything about flying?" Mused Father Yule, "you let me worry about the reins, lad. What you'll be doing will require more... swordplay."
~ End Act I ~
