((Mini prologue of several finished and/or ongoing RPs))
Matt woke with a start. Thats was not surprising in and of itself, but the where. HE was floating. Or rather, the tiny island that contained his bad and not mush else was.
Follow the steps my child
"What the hell was that? He thought as he got out of bed. His T-shirt and boxer shorts transmogrifying into his flak vest, jeans, combat boots and brown leather overcoat as he did so. Curiously, he took a step.
A step appeared before him. "In for a penny..." he muttered as he followed the steps, appearing one after the other. He reached for his revolver... and found it, fully loaded. "Well, At least I have dream bullets for the dream enemies."
He continued until he reached a platform with an altar. A visage, and old visage, his fater's visage appeared next to him. And the alther was not one at all, but a grave. His Mother's grave
"This is where my help has to end alas". Said Joshua Drake. Take what belong to you and return to your world. Answers await you there"
There was a spear, stuck in the ground, next to the gravestite. Matt took hold of it. An emotionless voice spoke then. "Validating Bloodline Protocol... Success. Validating Combat expertise... Success. Soulbinding established."
And Matt faded back into a fitful sleep.
The next morning, he found the spear by his bed. The moment he touched it it spoke to him. "Soulbinding succesful. engaging form 11." And the spear sharank until Matt had an ornate Ango-Saxon Seax in his hand. "What was that? Who are you? Who is my father?" But alas, the angrily asked questions went unanswered. For now.