Opening
Ah, dreambubbles, the refuse pile of the dead and forgotten. One of the least pleasant places to find yourself in, especially if you aren't actually dead. Which you aren't! Yet, at least. Traveling between sessions does have its quirks, and the intersection of your path with dreambubbles is one of the most annoying ones. Getting ripped from what you were doing to have to spend a few hours with a group of the world's most unbearable people isn't really your choice of recreation. Sometimes, you find your own dead alternate selves, stuck in this dimensional limbo. You don't tend to interact with them much. You now find yourself in one such dreambubble, in a place similar to a desert with a deep purple sky. You're just twiddling your thumbs, waiting for this pass-through to be over, when you get accosted by one of the 'locals'. A troll wearing a garish red sweater. Kankri: "Wh9 are yo9?"
