(A/N: This is the story of a D&D adventure that my gaming group had in Xanth. Our DM, my father, has a rule that if someone tells a bad joke, he rolls to see if the party is sent to Xanth, which is very rare, but it has happened once since I joined the group, and these are the results: By the way, this is our DM's version of Xanth, which is a bit different from Piers Anthony's, but that's only so that we [the players] don't know what to expect.)

The mage was the first to awaken. He glanced around at his companions, who were just beginning to come around. He began muttering under his breath, making sure that he hadn't sustained any cranial damage. "My name is Whelmyn Lightweaver Pendalton. I am the son of Edwin Pendalton, and I hail from the town of Hillsguard..."
"Is this another dream?" came the voice of the fair lady, Melody Lyreheart, the minstrel traveling with the party known throughout the kingdom of Alandel as "The Smiling Troubadour."
"In theory, no, Melody, because if it is, then I am dreaming it two, and the odds of two people having the exact same dream at the exact same time are approximately 4,625,947 to 1."
"Right. . ." She rose to her feet and looks around just as Bindaer Dundatt, the "creative acquisitionist," as he had named himself, opened his eyes.
"You use long words, my friend." He too stood and examined their surroundings. "But one thing is certain: I definitely do not think are in Alandel anymore."
By now, Kerredis Goldenleaf, priestess of Lathander and mother of Melody had also awoken, and the four companions all stared up at the wall of a city they'd never seen before.
"Where are we? How did we get here?" Kerredis wondered aloud.
"We must have come to this locale by some form of magical means, but nothing in my study of the field can explain this scenario. Melody, you are the expert in worldly matters such as this. To what geographic location have we been transported?"
Melody shrugged. "I've never been here before. The Hell if I know! Wait, does anyone else hear that?" The sound of sweet, almost angelic music drifted toward them. At first, it was faint. . .distant. . .but it grew steadily louder as if growing closer.
"Look!" Kerredis pointed toward the sky, where four winged bodies were flying toward them. Whelmyn turned in that direction and squinted his razor-keen eyes to get a look at what was coming.
"The forthcoming creatures appear not to be humanoid. They are without visage, only a trunk and three limbs. . .All of which appear to be on their left side. It would seem that they are the source of the composition we all perceive."
Bindaer raised an eyebrow at him. "What?"
"They're what's making the music." Melody explained, "but if they have no faces, then how can they be singing?" By then, they were close enough that she could see them as well, and could make out a series of strings connecting each of their limbs in a manner similar to her own lyre. "Oh." She drew her sword and looked to Whelmyn and Bindaer, but they both only stared at the shapes as if mesmerized by their music. She looked at her mother, who had readied her mace. She had seen this effect before in their adventures. It was almost exactly the same as. . .