It's the strangest thing...

The double doors swung open, revealing a young man with charcoal black hair and slim physique adorned in a blue plaid button-up over a brown t-shirt and blue jeans. On his belt was a black scabbard, the handle of an ornate weapon protruding from the opening. Jeffrey Dorm stopped mid-step. His eyes widened. Panicked, he glanced around the dimly lit tavern.
"This isn't the closet..."
Behind the bar at the other end of the room was a large wooden (and very ugly) head with a stream of polished drool slipping down its chin. Beneath it read the words, "Troll Spit Bar and Grill"
Jeff glanced back over his shoulder to the other side of the double swinging doors. All he saw was a dirt road and grassy plain. Five minutes ago he had been sparring with his best friend Kellen at the fortress Jeff, Kellen, and a few others had built almost a year ago. He went to the closet to put away his Wyvern Katana, and found himself in the middle of the "Troll Spit something-or-other."
He unlatched the button on his scabbard, readying his katana for whatever this bar had in store for him.
Jeff took two slow strides, when a figure at one of the plentiful tables spun around coolly.

[Cain]

The man was Joe, the bar's owner, manager, craftsman...and well the list does goes on. As usual he wore a strange suit that some (such as us) would consider modern, though it was fairly rumpled like he had slept in it. He also wore his usual tinted glasses, blocking veiw of his eyes while at the same time wearing a strange cerimonial looking fox mask on the side of his head.
"Oh, hello! Uh you can put that way, might I sugest the weapon wall?"
He jestures to a portion of the wall where several weapons seemed to hang on it though no shelving or pegs seemed to hold them up.
"Umm...can I get you anything? We have a vast selection of food and drink, as well as other services."

Jeff glanced from the weapon wall back to the tavern owner warily. He neither rebuttoned or removed his katana from his side. Instead, he leaned on the table, his eyes darting this way and that, trying to make heads or tails about what had just happened.

Well, first thing's first... he thought to himself.

"Where am I?" Jeff asked in almost a whisper.

[Cain]

"Hmmm? Oh! Yes, right! Didn't I say?... Sorry about that. Uh... Welcome to Troll Spit Bar and Grill. I am Joe, the owner and manager though I do a few other jobs around here."
He scratched his chin.
"Let me guess..you were minding your own busness and got snatched up from whereever you were ending up here? Finding the entrance where it never was before?"

Jeff scratched the back of his neck. Sensing less and less danger, he eased off on the caution.

"Uh... yeah, I was just--" Jeff stopped himself. Who was he kidding? This "Joe" guy didn't know who he was, or where he had been. So he rephrased his statement. "Yeah. Just all of a sudden... here."

[Cain]

Joe nodded knowingly.
"It happens all the time. The bar seems to have its own way of finding needs that need to be filled and opening a way for people so those needs can be solved..."
He thought for a moment.
"Granted it doesn't differentiate between someone just a bit pekish and someone trying to run for thier life. . . "

"So this is just... a bar?" Jeff asked, surveying his surroundings with a little more care. "Well, then how do I get back?" He looked at the double swinging doors again.

[Caer Ibormeith]

A woman with dark green hair entered through the swinging doors, a surprised look on her face. She put the swords in her hands in their scabbards and looked around. She spotted Joe and Jeff talking quietly and wondered if she had accidentally wound up somewhere far away from where she had previously been.
She turned around and looked out the doors and noted that she was correct. She sighed heavily, as if it was such a terribly strange thing, but more of an annoyance than anything else at the moment. She took off her swords and walked over to the wall and held one out about half a foot away and watched with interest as the sword went to the wall, as if it had a magnetic pull...but not one so strong that it could damage her weapon. She put the other one next to its companion and looked around the room.

[Cain]

"Well..more then just a bar, we also serve food, provide an arena, have magic items workshop, oh and of course we've also taken on a role of an inn as well, due to popular demand. Bar & Grill was part of the origanal name and we decided to keep it since, well Troll Spit Bar, Grill & other services just doesn't roll off the tounge. Uh as for getting back, well generaly the best way is through the main door. Mind you sometime it can be a bit more difficult but if you consentrate on the image of the entrance you used, it should open up there again."

Jeff stared intently at the door, determined to get back home. I could visualize the closet he had attempted to use very clearly.

"I guess I'll try it, then..."

He strode back to the door, concentrating on the image in his head. He pushed the door open. He thought for a minute that he had succeeded, but soon realized he had mistaken. Rather than the rough, stone-hewn walls of the fortress Jeff called a second home were walls comprised of rectangular rock. There were chains and shackles nailed to the walls, and a lone torch sat in a holster on the portion of rock next to Jeff.

He whipped around. finding rusty iron bars and an opened lock. He was no longer in the Troll Spit Bar and Grill, and he wasn't where he wanted to be. He was in some kind of midieval prison cell.

"Ah, hell..." he sighed.