After a brief session of strangers becoming acquaintances, you are each shown to individual rooms. The rooms are modestly appointed with a single ladderback chair and a small round table. A hand lantern sits on the table, giving sparse light to the space. A bed with tight sheets and a thin blanket occupies most of the floor. Certainly not a presidential suite, but it serves its purpose.
You each go through your nightly rituals and snuff your lantern. At first you are uncertain if sleep will find you in this new environment, but apparently like a cunning predator it has manage to follow you here effortlessly. You are asleep shortly after your head hits the pillow.
************
You find yourself back around the table in the sitting room on the ground floor of the Sleeping Dragon. The decor is the same, but seems brighter and richer. The chair you sit in his embroidered with an iridescent thread that shifts in color as you look at it. There is a tapestry on the wall showing a scene of a forest dense with foliage and undergrowth. (Knowledge History or Arcane DC 10 means you recognize the scene to be of the Fey Wild). On the opposite wall is another tapestry showing a starscape awash in a silvery blue light. the stars fill the entire tapestry and a opalescent silver fog connects many of the stars together. (If you passed the previous check then you also recognize this to be a depiction of the Astral Sea)
As you watch these tapestries you notice they are moving ever so slightly. The trees in one sway in an unseen wind. The misty fog in the other slowly whirls and swirls from one star to the next in a never ending dance.
On the surface of the table is a pyrographed etching of a sleeping dragon, the inn's name sake. The artwork is beautiful, but you do not remember it on the physical table in the real world.
Looking around you the 4 compatriots that you met earlier are each at their own seat. Its impossible to say if the seats are random or chosen with purpose, but in the center sits Oridee with Giles on her right and Daveth on her left. Then to the far right is Ellara and the far left is Meriele. Across from the five of you the seat at the head of the table is now occupied by a form. Or, at least, the suggestion of a form. A humanoid shape made of the same mist as the fog in the starscape sits comfortably in the ornate chair, misty hands steepled infront of a blank head that bears no face.
"Welcome. It is nice to meet you in person, or at least as in person as is possible at this juncture. As we come to know each other better perhaps you will be able to see me more clearly.
As I walk across the realms and view into the dreams of their various denizens I am able to gather information about the goings on of the different worlds. Most of the time this information is of no import to me, however there is on occasion events that would benefit from intervention to make sure the pendulum swings in the right way and ensures that balance presides over the lands. On these occasions I employ agents of that realm that are able to act more directly than I to intervene in the situation and hopefully bring the correct outcome to bear. At this time, I have no such agents in your realm and have been made aware of several events in the coming months that could indeed benefit from such intervention. So, if you are willing I would give you the information that I have gathered. Often within there will be opportunities for you to profit personally or as a group from the circumstances, and bring greater light to the world, which I know some amoung you would see as profitable as well.
At this time, I am aware of two such instances that could use your attention. "
With a wave of a misty appendage a scroll of parchment appears on the table infront of you and unfurls to reveal a map of the surrounding realm. A light of sea-green floats down from the ceiling and comes to rest on a small port town about a week's ride south.
"To the south of here, along the coast, is a community of humans named Seawell that have been cut off from the outside world. Their dreams show me deprivation and starvation and raids by a tribe of lizardfolk nearby. Apparently no trading or supply ships have arrived in the past six weeks, although 3 were expected. But the local garrison has been too occupied by the raiding lizardfolk to investigate the disappearances of their supplies or send word requesting assistance."
Another mote of light, this time a blood-red comes to rest on another community about a week's ride east into the plains and to the edge of a mountain range.
"Another community East of heresuffers similar problems but from different causes. Their dreams are filled with illness and disease. Some kind of plague has taken hold of the mining community of Duvik's Pass. I can sense a dark mind at the center of it that tells me the disease is not natural, but I have been unable to pierce into that mind's dreams to learn more. The community has sent rider's' to request assistance and now wait for help to come, not knowing that as they rode out the rider's fell ill themselves. No help is coming as the messengers never reached their destination."
The lights sitting on the map both dim and brighten in a syncopated rhythm. "I do not believe either community can last much longer, but do not know which one can hold out the longest. It is possible that choosing one means the other is doomed, but it could be that not choosing either dooms them both to painful destruction. I will do what I can for the community you do not choose, but assuming you accept my charge to become my agents, will you ride East or South?"
Stormclouds boil over the map, gathering out over the sea and heading in towards land. It looks like the storm will pass over both of the routes sometime during the next week.
(Time to pick which one-shot adventure I will be taking you guys through. Two communities in grave peril, but only one group to ride out to the rescue. What will you do?)
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Founding Member of the High Roller Society.(Currently trying to roll max on 4d6)
"It is not skill for which I look, but strength of character," Meriele replies to Giles, and then smiles. "Skills will fail---but virtue knows its weakness, and when to anchor itself to something that will not change---such as an oath." She also looks to the others for their input, and the group quickly comes to the conclusion to retire for the night in hopes of meeting the party's benefactor, and making further decisions then.
************
"What is it, Pahadron? What have I done?" Meriele finds herself climbing out of bed to see the Celestial standing at the foot. As always, the angelic being's features are at once terrifying and glorious, seeming to be all eyes, radiant flame, wings, and light. Meriele knows it must be a dream, because she doesn't see him like this in real life.
No one is visited with dreams or visions without purpose, the Celestial says, his glowing form washing out the small bedroom. Meriele lifts a hand to shield her eyes, and Pahadron's light fades to a faint shimmer to reveal a rich dreamscape of wild etchings and embroideries---it's the sitting room on the lower floor of the inn. Meriele is seated in the seat at the far left, and is wearing not only her hooded robe, but also her chain shirt, armor, and sword.
She is relieved to meet their benefactor, and listens closely to his description of the task he wishes them to take on. When he has finished, she lowers her gaze and ponders the choice. Then she stands from her seat and bows to her companions, looking at each in turn (how does everyone look in the dream? different? the same?). "A village that still holds the fight against a siege and enemies from without has time," she says, "while one cut down from within by disease and a malevolent will has already been breached. Seawell may yet muster resources to send for help. Duvik's Pass has already failed because they believe the task was done." Meriele sits back down. The others would see the strange winged shape of Pahadron behind her seat, his light seeming to just add one more attractive feature to the dream version of the room.
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
In the strange realm the sickly half elf from the earlier meeting seems to be more lively, his gaunt features now filled in. Despite this he still gives off a strange feeling as darkness seems to surround him as if he was wearing it like a cloak. He leans forward on the table and listens to the options for their quests.
His interest is quickly shown as the second description is given, he finds himself nodding to what is said by Meriele "I am in agreement. I have lived through one myself. If we may eradicate the disease before it spreads we could save more then a single village of people. If it is not natural then I can only imagine it is worse then a simple sickness."
The image you see of Giles is that of a simple man, with no costumes or embellishments. The shroud of mystery that seemed to surround him in life is not present during the dream, he seems to be an ordinary man, but suffused with energy.
Arcana : 20
He says “I also agree that we should help the community of Duvik’s pass and their struggle with the plague. The second task is the one I would pursue.”
The dreamer again waves his hand and the map is replaced by a pool of water in a shallow but wide silver bowl.
"The dreams of the townsfolk are fragmented and strange. As if they are not sleeping well. Of course there is no wonder. But I will show you what I can."
A dart of silver light seems to come up from a great depth and hit the surface of the water, turning it a blinding white for a moment before resolving into an image. A dream within a dream. You see through the eyes of someone that is stumbling through a sparse cottage into a bedroom. A child lays on the bed coughing. Sweat streams down the boy's head as his body is racked with convulsions. Under a drenched linen sheet you can see young muscles straining in painful contractions. The boy seems to struggle to draw breath down a clenched windpipe. Suddenly the child relaxes, a wheezing sound of release as he exhales. At first it seems to be a kindness, but as the viewpoint of the dream reaches out and touches the boy's chest, there is no rise and fall. The boy is gone. Tears blur the image and it fades back into clear water.
DC 10 Medicine Check:
The symptoms you saw are consistent with the Burning Plague, a disease spread by contact and generally transmitted by fleas or ticks from diseased rats of other vermin. The Plague normally has a very short lifespan and can be recovered from though, generally requiring an individual to be repeatedly exposed to it before causing serious harm. To be bringing an entire town to the brink of destruction, it could be a different version of the disease...or the Dreamer did mention a "dark mind" being involved. Perhaps the disease has been amplified in some way.
The Burning Plague's symptoms include high fever, searing muscle pains, convulsions, clenching of the throat, fatigue, and potentially death; normally in rare cases where the infected is very young, very old, or already sickly.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Founding Member of the High Roller Society.(Currently trying to roll max on 4d6)
Giles has some skill in medicine and relays what he puts together in the dream about the plague and the vector and how the infectious nature and virulence of the disease is being somehow (magically?) increased.
Meriele listens to Giles' explanation of the disease, unsure exactly what all the terms mean. "I can see that the child's physical ability to fight against this disease was insufficient---this is a vector, it carries the disease into the body---like taking a boat down a river instead of swimming, perhaps?" She looks at the now blank bowl of water, her expression troubled. "In that case, there is doubtless risk to us as well, and to others, as Daveth says."
She looks at the half elf sadly, although her attention is caught for a moment by the strange dark cloud surrounding him. But this is a mystery for another time. "Daveth, you say you have been through a disease like this. Did you manage to stop it? What do you know that could help us with this crisis?"
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
Medicine: 15
Daveth clenches his fist as they watch the vision, his dream image fading back to his physical appearance. He does not seem to know about the disease himself but looks as if he is being haunted by something, his eyes glued to the vision.
Meriele looks at Daveth, watching his features sicken and grow gaunt as he stares transfixed at the bowl, seemingly unable to respond to her question. As he is seated just to her right, she reaches out a dream hand to lay on his arm, having some thought of what must be happening in his mind with what he mentioned he had lived through. "They are gone, and it was terrible," she says. "I'm sorry."
There is a long silence after watching the youth leave mortality behind. After a respectful wait the Dreamer dismisses the bowl that enabled the vision and returns the previously viewed map with the rhythm of lights blinking and the storm clouds billowing out over the sea.
"It seems the majority of you have opted to ride to the diseased town of Duvik's Pass. I will inform Rosmerta of your need for horses and supplies for the journey. You should be able to set out in the morning unless there is anything else you need beyond the basics of water and food. If you believe you will need any specific supplies tell me know so I can inform Rosemerta, or let her know in the morning. Your departure may be delayed depending on how quickly she can deal with the request...but a small delay to help ensure success should be acceptable."
The sitting room begins to disintegrate into a mist. You float up through the ceiling of the room and find yourself standing over your own bed, a duplicate lying there asleep. It is not often you have an opportunity to observe yourself like this. It is strange...disconcerting. But before you have too much time to think about it you continue to float up, through the ceiling of your room and the roof of the Sleeping Dragon and into the night's sky where the stars beckon like a thousand dreams begging to be explored. The few dark angry stars that you immediately intuit as nightmares seem few and distant, an assurance that you will not be plagued by them tonight.
(What do you dream of on this night?)
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
Founding Member of the High Roller Society.(Currently trying to roll max on 4d6)
As Meriele floats upwards in her dream from her sleeping body---a curled up form, frail and still, only the luminous markings on its skin seeming to maintain its vitality---her own dreamform seems to shift, borne by wings of light, and streaks of flame that reached out towards the unending starscape, as if she were merging with Pahadron's form. While a few dark stars wink at her from the expanse, she finds her gaze drawn towards one bright star, and spreads the celestial's wings of light to fly towards it, eager to visit this place which she has often visited in dreams.
The celestial city of Sangreal, framed by light-filled mist in a mountain valley, passing through the first gate underneath a roaring waterfall. The water of the falls parts around her as the celestial wings and other aspects of Pahadron disappear; he enters the city through another way. The seven hills in the valley of the city, only visible once passing under the waterfall that spills off of the first hill, are nestled within a stone wall within the valley of the towering, snowcapped peaks. Five hills surrounded the seventh hill, each with a gate, but the great expanse of the city lies between the first gate and the five hills. Beyond the five gates are gardens and lodgings, but the seventh gate opens to an inner garden, and a garden within a garden, through which flows the celestial river. It seems to have its source at the pinnacle of the seventh hill. Meriele feels, as she always does in this dream, a longing to see the garden of the seventh hill. But as she walks in the dream, she never seems to make it to the five gates. Each time, she is not even sure which one to choose, but whichever one she does choose, something always keeps her from reaching it.
She walks towards the fourth gate this time, but as she follows the road, a man comes out of one of the surrounding buildings, begging for her help with various tasks. Meriele finds herself asking the man to come with her to the fourth gate, but he refuses, showing her all of the work that he has to finish. Meriele is torn; the pull of the seventh hill seems clearly more important to her than any of these small tasks, but the man doesn't see it that way at all. By the end of the dream, she wakes---as she always does---before she makes it to the gate.
Meriele wakes in the bed. The tiniest hint of light is tinging the dark sky outside her window; it's still early. The faint glow of her eyes shows her dark room in dim grey, and she crawls out of bed and lights her lamp, pulling the hood of her woolen robe closer around her face to fight off the chill. She kneels on the floor in the robe and contemplates her dream. What will it take to reach the seventh hill? Pahadron has not yet answered this question, though she has asked it many times. Maybe she is not yet ready...
After a few minutes she gets up to finish dressing, blows out the lamp, and tiptoes down the hallway and staircase towards the sitting room they had all met in the day before, keeping an eye out for the others or for Rosemerta.
"I never caught it but watched many die from it. One person was cured through a great sacrifice of another but I know nothing more then that..." Daveth tells Meriele as he focuses once more on the others, forcing his dream vision to return to a healthier form but stops as they start to fade from the room. "I shall see you all when we rise."
As he finds himself being pulled towards the dream, Daveth tries to let the darkness of dreamless sleep overcome him. He clears his mind as he feels a vague tug from his lord, letting him know that as always the vampire was watching over him. The feeling soon faded as the dhamphir found himself in a place long since lost to him.
A small farmhouse comes into view as he finishes his work for the day, the sun sitting low as evening approaches. Stepping inside the aroma of dinner reaches his nose, stew with the rare addition of freshly baked bread. Before the door is even closed a young half elven girl rushes into his arms, rambling to her father about her day with her mother.
Giles finds himself floating up in the aether, swimming among the sea of stars. As he reaches out to touch one in fascination, a memory, or is a dream? comes rolling into view. Others soon follow.
A young man making a bet, laughing as the winnings came to him. A series of images, a montage, fighting alongside friends, investigating a shrine, fighting undead skeletons, running across a rope bridge, opening a box of treasure, what’s that needle, poison! He is in disguise, coaxing someone into revealing the location of the tomb. A series of deeds, risks and gambles, all the while, a beautiful woman in a blue cloak with white hair, sits and observes, nodding and smiling. You are seeing a homemade movie of clips, some seem very real, some seem imagined.
And finally the scene fades back to the dark starry night, Giles floats back up and away from the images and he awakens the next morning, a smile on his face, a sleep that seemed very deep indeed.
As he waits the next morning for all to come down and breakfast to commence with Rosemerta, he asks about healing kits and potions, antitoxin, any scrolls that would help with restoration as they begin to prepare for their new task.
Ellara dreams of a world alight with color, with sensation, with chaos. She dreams of a world where there are others who look strange like her, where she doesn't need to disguise herself. She dreams of the Feywild, as she often does, though she's never seen it. Perhaps it's an inborn memory of some kind, given to her by her fey blood.
But not all of her dreams are so special. Some of them are from real memories like anyone else's. Some of them have an older woman who can become a monstrous fey creature in the blink of an eye, who calls Ellara my dear daughter in a tone she despises. Some of them have the hag who's no doubt hunting her right now.
Rosemerta brings in a plate piled high with a variety of breakfast meats, bacon, sausage, ham, salted kipper, scrapple, bread with creton. She smiles at your question at your questions about supplies.
"Oh aye, I've got you all set with the basics...travelling supplies for 10 days plus an herbalism kit and a pack of medicinals. If'n you have someone with you that is skilled in the like it should come in handy. There was also this strange rack of vials sitting on the desk this morning next to a tube with caps on both ends. I'll bring those things in here. Everything else is already loaded on your horses."
True to her word, she brings in a potion rack holding 10 vials, 5 a hearty red color while the other 5 are a reflective silvery liquid. Each has a label with some kind or runic language on it. The same runic language labels a scroll case next to it.
Draconic:
5 potions of Healing
5 potions of Lesser Restoration
1 scroll of Detect Poison and Disease
If no one reads Draconic the potions can be identified by sip testing them. Just a taste and you will understand what they are. Without someone that can read the runes someone will have to focus on the scroll like they are attuning to it for a short rest to determine what it does.
As the rest of the newly formed party gathers in the meeting room, Rosemerta again arrives bringing flagons of breakfast ale, wine, and water for everyone to choose from.
"We have some patrons in this morning that I need to tend to...if'n you need anything else give the bell a pull and I will be along shortly. Otherwise, I understand you have some travelling ahead of you. The Dragon will be here when you return. If'n I don't see ya before you head out I will bid you goodluck at whatever your venture is."
She bustles out of the room quickly as you sit down to a fantastic breakfast...although quite protein forward. No fruit has been brought to offer to the disappointment of some.
You are welcome to discuss amongst yourselves what steps you will be taking next...or interact more with the staff of the inn in some way, I don't really have anything more for you until you set out on the road.
Fortunately Giles can speak draconic, he describes the contents and labels of each vial to everyone else, happy to have this before they begin their journey. “This will be a good start, but I imagine the task will be more than any vial can cure.”
Meriele, not versed in Draconic, is glad to hear the identity of the vials that Rosemerta left. "These are rare, and valuable potions," she says. "Our benefactor truly does have great influence and power. Yet even he cannot do all, and against this plague I believe you are correct, Giles, there is no magic potion that will stop a malignant wellspring... we will need all our virtue and wits to find the answer."
She smiles sadly, nibbling on a piece of scrapple. "Where does she afford such a variety of animals to serve at breakfast, I wonder?"
After a brief session of strangers becoming acquaintances, you are each shown to individual rooms. The rooms are modestly appointed with a single ladderback chair and a small round table. A hand lantern sits on the table, giving sparse light to the space. A bed with tight sheets and a thin blanket occupies most of the floor. Certainly not a presidential suite, but it serves its purpose.
You each go through your nightly rituals and snuff your lantern. At first you are uncertain if sleep will find you in this new environment, but apparently like a cunning predator it has manage to follow you here effortlessly. You are asleep shortly after your head hits the pillow.
************
You find yourself back around the table in the sitting room on the ground floor of the Sleeping Dragon. The decor is the same, but seems brighter and richer. The chair you sit in his embroidered with an iridescent thread that shifts in color as you look at it. There is a tapestry on the wall showing a scene of a forest dense with foliage and undergrowth. (Knowledge History or Arcane DC 10 means you recognize the scene to be of the Fey Wild). On the opposite wall is another tapestry showing a starscape awash in a silvery blue light. the stars fill the entire tapestry and a opalescent silver fog connects many of the stars together. (If you passed the previous check then you also recognize this to be a depiction of the Astral Sea)
As you watch these tapestries you notice they are moving ever so slightly. The trees in one sway in an unseen wind. The misty fog in the other slowly whirls and swirls from one star to the next in a never ending dance.
On the surface of the table is a pyrographed etching of a sleeping dragon, the inn's name sake. The artwork is beautiful, but you do not remember it on the physical table in the real world.
Looking around you the 4 compatriots that you met earlier are each at their own seat. Its impossible to say if the seats are random or chosen with purpose, but in the center sits Oridee with Giles on her right and Daveth on her left. Then to the far right is Ellara and the far left is Meriele. Across from the five of you the seat at the head of the table is now occupied by a form. Or, at least, the suggestion of a form. A humanoid shape made of the same mist as the fog in the starscape sits comfortably in the ornate chair, misty hands steepled infront of a blank head that bears no face.
"Welcome. It is nice to meet you in person, or at least as in person as is possible at this juncture. As we come to know each other better perhaps you will be able to see me more clearly.
As I walk across the realms and view into the dreams of their various denizens I am able to gather information about the goings on of the different worlds. Most of the time this information is of no import to me, however there is on occasion events that would benefit from intervention to make sure the pendulum swings in the right way and ensures that balance presides over the lands. On these occasions I employ agents of that realm that are able to act more directly than I to intervene in the situation and hopefully bring the correct outcome to bear. At this time, I have no such agents in your realm and have been made aware of several events in the coming months that could indeed benefit from such intervention. So, if you are willing I would give you the information that I have gathered. Often within there will be opportunities for you to profit personally or as a group from the circumstances, and bring greater light to the world, which I know some amoung you would see as profitable as well.
At this time, I am aware of two such instances that could use your attention. "
With a wave of a misty appendage a scroll of parchment appears on the table infront of you and unfurls to reveal a map of the surrounding realm. A light of sea-green floats down from the ceiling and comes to rest on a small port town about a week's ride south.
"To the south of here, along the coast, is a community of humans named Seawell that have been cut off from the outside world. Their dreams show me deprivation and starvation and raids by a tribe of lizardfolk nearby. Apparently no trading or supply ships have arrived in the past six weeks, although 3 were expected. But the local garrison has been too occupied by the raiding lizardfolk to investigate the disappearances of their supplies or send word requesting assistance."
Another mote of light, this time a blood-red comes to rest on another community about a week's ride east into the plains and to the edge of a mountain range.
"Another community East of here suffers similar problems but from different causes. Their dreams are filled with illness and disease. Some kind of plague has taken hold of the mining community of Duvik's Pass. I can sense a dark mind at the center of it that tells me the disease is not natural, but I have been unable to pierce into that mind's dreams to learn more. The community has sent rider's' to request assistance and now wait for help to come, not knowing that as they rode out the rider's fell ill themselves. No help is coming as the messengers never reached their destination."
The lights sitting on the map both dim and brighten in a syncopated rhythm. "I do not believe either community can last much longer, but do not know which one can hold out the longest. It is possible that choosing one means the other is doomed, but it could be that not choosing either dooms them both to painful destruction. I will do what I can for the community you do not choose, but assuming you accept my charge to become my agents, will you ride East or South?"
Stormclouds boil over the map, gathering out over the sea and heading in towards land. It looks like the storm will pass over both of the routes sometime during the next week.
(Time to pick which one-shot adventure I will be taking you guys through. Two communities in grave peril, but only one group to ride out to the rescue. What will you do?)
Founding Member of the High Roller Society. (Currently trying to roll max on 4d6)
"It is not skill for which I look, but strength of character," Meriele replies to Giles, and then smiles. "Skills will fail---but virtue knows its weakness, and when to anchor itself to something that will not change---such as an oath." She also looks to the others for their input, and the group quickly comes to the conclusion to retire for the night in hopes of meeting the party's benefactor, and making further decisions then.
************
"What is it, Pahadron? What have I done?" Meriele finds herself climbing out of bed to see the Celestial standing at the foot. As always, the angelic being's features are at once terrifying and glorious, seeming to be all eyes, radiant flame, wings, and light. Meriele knows it must be a dream, because she doesn't see him like this in real life.
No one is visited with dreams or visions without purpose, the Celestial says, his glowing form washing out the small bedroom. Meriele lifts a hand to shield her eyes, and Pahadron's light fades to a faint shimmer to reveal a rich dreamscape of wild etchings and embroideries---it's the sitting room on the lower floor of the inn. Meriele is seated in the seat at the far left, and is wearing not only her hooded robe, but also her chain shirt, armor, and sword.
She is relieved to meet their benefactor, and listens closely to his description of the task he wishes them to take on. When he has finished, she lowers her gaze and ponders the choice. Then she stands from her seat and bows to her companions, looking at each in turn (how does everyone look in the dream? different? the same?). "A village that still holds the fight against a siege and enemies from without has time," she says, "while one cut down from within by disease and a malevolent will has already been breached. Seawell may yet muster resources to send for help. Duvik's Pass has already failed because they believe the task was done." Meriele sits back down. The others would see the strange winged shape of Pahadron behind her seat, his light seeming to just add one more attractive feature to the dream version of the room.
"What do you all think?"
History or Arcana: 18
In the strange realm the sickly half elf from the earlier meeting seems to be more lively, his gaunt features now filled in. Despite this he still gives off a strange feeling as darkness seems to surround him as if he was wearing it like a cloak. He leans forward on the table and listens to the options for their quests.
His interest is quickly shown as the second description is given, he finds himself nodding to what is said by Meriele "I am in agreement. I have lived through one myself. If we may eradicate the disease before it spreads we could save more then a single village of people. If it is not natural then I can only imagine it is worse then a simple sickness."
Arcana: 15
Rekuberk Onc Level 8 | Half Orc | Barbarian (The Tales of the Fellowship of the White Cloaks)
Kayassa Level 3 | Satyr | Warlock (Cleath13's LMoP)
Bertolt Silentlash Level 3 | Variant Human | Bard (Our Little Lives Kept in Equipoise: Death House)
Daerthe Narcion Level 4 | Drow | Rogue (Karmoli's Great Upheaval)
The image you see of Giles is that of a simple man, with no costumes or embellishments. The shroud of mystery that seemed to surround him in life is not present during the dream, he seems to be an ordinary man, but suffused with energy.
Arcana : 20
He says “I also agree that we should help the community of Duvik’s pass and their struggle with the plague. The second task is the one I would pursue.”
The dreamer again waves his hand and the map is replaced by a pool of water in a shallow but wide silver bowl.
"The dreams of the townsfolk are fragmented and strange. As if they are not sleeping well. Of course there is no wonder. But I will show you what I can."
A dart of silver light seems to come up from a great depth and hit the surface of the water, turning it a blinding white for a moment before resolving into an image. A dream within a dream. You see through the eyes of someone that is stumbling through a sparse cottage into a bedroom. A child lays on the bed coughing. Sweat streams down the boy's head as his body is racked with convulsions. Under a drenched linen sheet you can see young muscles straining in painful contractions. The boy seems to struggle to draw breath down a clenched windpipe. Suddenly the child relaxes, a wheezing sound of release as he exhales. At first it seems to be a kindness, but as the viewpoint of the dream reaches out and touches the boy's chest, there is no rise and fall. The boy is gone. Tears blur the image and it fades back into clear water.
DC 10 Medicine Check:
The symptoms you saw are consistent with the Burning Plague, a disease spread by contact and generally transmitted by fleas or ticks from diseased rats of other vermin. The Plague normally has a very short lifespan and can be recovered from though, generally requiring an individual to be repeatedly exposed to it before causing serious harm. To be bringing an entire town to the brink of destruction, it could be a different version of the disease...or the Dreamer did mention a "dark mind" being involved. Perhaps the disease has been amplified in some way.
The Burning Plague's symptoms include high fever, searing muscle pains, convulsions, clenching of the throat, fatigue, and potentially death; normally in rare cases where the infected is very young, very old, or already sickly.
Founding Member of the High Roller Society. (Currently trying to roll max on 4d6)
Medicine: 6
Giles Medicine check : 16
Giles has some skill in medicine and relays what he puts together in the dream about the plague and the vector and how the infectious nature and virulence of the disease is being somehow (magically?) increased.
Ellara Medicine: 15
Meriele listens to Giles' explanation of the disease, unsure exactly what all the terms mean. "I can see that the child's physical ability to fight against this disease was insufficient---this is a vector, it carries the disease into the body---like taking a boat down a river instead of swimming, perhaps?" She looks at the now blank bowl of water, her expression troubled. "In that case, there is doubtless risk to us as well, and to others, as Daveth says."
She looks at the half elf sadly, although her attention is caught for a moment by the strange dark cloud surrounding him. But this is a mystery for another time. "Daveth, you say you have been through a disease like this. Did you manage to stop it? What do you know that could help us with this crisis?"
Medicine: 15
Daveth clenches his fist as they watch the vision, his dream image fading back to his physical appearance. He does not seem to know about the disease himself but looks as if he is being haunted by something, his eyes glued to the vision.
Rekuberk Onc Level 8 | Half Orc | Barbarian (The Tales of the Fellowship of the White Cloaks)
Kayassa Level 3 | Satyr | Warlock (Cleath13's LMoP)
Bertolt Silentlash Level 3 | Variant Human | Bard (Our Little Lives Kept in Equipoise: Death House)
Daerthe Narcion Level 4 | Drow | Rogue (Karmoli's Great Upheaval)
Meriele looks at Daveth, watching his features sicken and grow gaunt as he stares transfixed at the bowl, seemingly unable to respond to her question. As he is seated just to her right, she reaches out a dream hand to lay on his arm, having some thought of what must be happening in his mind with what he mentioned he had lived through. "They are gone, and it was terrible," she says. "I'm sorry."
There is a long silence after watching the youth leave mortality behind. After a respectful wait the Dreamer dismisses the bowl that enabled the vision and returns the previously viewed map with the rhythm of lights blinking and the storm clouds billowing out over the sea.
"It seems the majority of you have opted to ride to the diseased town of Duvik's Pass. I will inform Rosmerta of your need for horses and supplies for the journey. You should be able to set out in the morning unless there is anything else you need beyond the basics of water and food. If you believe you will need any specific supplies tell me know so I can inform Rosemerta, or let her know in the morning. Your departure may be delayed depending on how quickly she can deal with the request...but a small delay to help ensure success should be acceptable."
The sitting room begins to disintegrate into a mist. You float up through the ceiling of the room and find yourself standing over your own bed, a duplicate lying there asleep. It is not often you have an opportunity to observe yourself like this. It is strange...disconcerting. But before you have too much time to think about it you continue to float up, through the ceiling of your room and the roof of the Sleeping Dragon and into the night's sky where the stars beckon like a thousand dreams begging to be explored. The few dark angry stars that you immediately intuit as nightmares seem few and distant, an assurance that you will not be plagued by them tonight.
(What do you dream of on this night?)
Founding Member of the High Roller Society. (Currently trying to roll max on 4d6)
As Meriele floats upwards in her dream from her sleeping body---a curled up form, frail and still, only the luminous markings on its skin seeming to maintain its vitality---her own dreamform seems to shift, borne by wings of light, and streaks of flame that reached out towards the unending starscape, as if she were merging with Pahadron's form. While a few dark stars wink at her from the expanse, she finds her gaze drawn towards one bright star, and spreads the celestial's wings of light to fly towards it, eager to visit this place which she has often visited in dreams.
The celestial city of Sangreal, framed by light-filled mist in a mountain valley, passing through the first gate underneath a roaring waterfall. The water of the falls parts around her as the celestial wings and other aspects of Pahadron disappear; he enters the city through another way. The seven hills in the valley of the city, only visible once passing under the waterfall that spills off of the first hill, are nestled within a stone wall within the valley of the towering, snowcapped peaks. Five hills surrounded the seventh hill, each with a gate, but the great expanse of the city lies between the first gate and the five hills. Beyond the five gates are gardens and lodgings, but the seventh gate opens to an inner garden, and a garden within a garden, through which flows the celestial river. It seems to have its source at the pinnacle of the seventh hill. Meriele feels, as she always does in this dream, a longing to see the garden of the seventh hill. But as she walks in the dream, she never seems to make it to the five gates. Each time, she is not even sure which one to choose, but whichever one she does choose, something always keeps her from reaching it.
She walks towards the fourth gate this time, but as she follows the road, a man comes out of one of the surrounding buildings, begging for her help with various tasks. Meriele finds herself asking the man to come with her to the fourth gate, but he refuses, showing her all of the work that he has to finish. Meriele is torn; the pull of the seventh hill seems clearly more important to her than any of these small tasks, but the man doesn't see it that way at all. By the end of the dream, she wakes---as she always does---before she makes it to the gate.
Meriele wakes in the bed. The tiniest hint of light is tinging the dark sky outside her window; it's still early. The faint glow of her eyes shows her dark room in dim grey, and she crawls out of bed and lights her lamp, pulling the hood of her woolen robe closer around her face to fight off the chill. She kneels on the floor in the robe and contemplates her dream. What will it take to reach the seventh hill? Pahadron has not yet answered this question, though she has asked it many times. Maybe she is not yet ready...
After a few minutes she gets up to finish dressing, blows out the lamp, and tiptoes down the hallway and staircase towards the sitting room they had all met in the day before, keeping an eye out for the others or for Rosemerta.
"I never caught it but watched many die from it. One person was cured through a great sacrifice of another but I know nothing more then that..." Daveth tells Meriele as he focuses once more on the others, forcing his dream vision to return to a healthier form but stops as they start to fade from the room. "I shall see you all when we rise."
As he finds himself being pulled towards the dream, Daveth tries to let the darkness of dreamless sleep overcome him. He clears his mind as he feels a vague tug from his lord, letting him know that as always the vampire was watching over him. The feeling soon faded as the dhamphir found himself in a place long since lost to him.
A small farmhouse comes into view as he finishes his work for the day, the sun sitting low as evening approaches. Stepping inside the aroma of dinner reaches his nose, stew with the rare addition of freshly baked bread. Before the door is even closed a young half elven girl rushes into his arms, rambling to her father about her day with her mother.
Rekuberk Onc Level 8 | Half Orc | Barbarian (The Tales of the Fellowship of the White Cloaks)
Kayassa Level 3 | Satyr | Warlock (Cleath13's LMoP)
Bertolt Silentlash Level 3 | Variant Human | Bard (Our Little Lives Kept in Equipoise: Death House)
Daerthe Narcion Level 4 | Drow | Rogue (Karmoli's Great Upheaval)
Giles finds himself floating up in the aether, swimming among the sea of stars. As he reaches out to touch one in fascination, a memory, or is a dream? comes rolling into view. Others soon follow.
A young man making a bet, laughing as the winnings came to him. A series of images, a montage, fighting alongside friends, investigating a shrine, fighting undead skeletons, running across a rope bridge, opening a box of treasure, what’s that needle, poison! He is in disguise, coaxing someone into revealing the location of the tomb. A series of deeds, risks and gambles, all the while, a beautiful woman in a blue cloak with white hair, sits and observes, nodding and smiling. You are seeing a homemade movie of clips, some seem very real, some seem imagined.
And finally the scene fades back to the dark starry night, Giles floats back up and away from the images and he awakens the next morning, a smile on his face, a sleep that seemed very deep indeed.
As he waits the next morning for all to come down and breakfast to commence with Rosemerta, he asks about healing kits and potions, antitoxin, any scrolls that would help with restoration as they begin to prepare for their new task.
Ellara dreams of a world alight with color, with sensation, with chaos. She dreams of a world where there are others who look strange like her, where she doesn't need to disguise herself. She dreams of the Feywild, as she often does, though she's never seen it. Perhaps it's an inborn memory of some kind, given to her by her fey blood.
But not all of her dreams are so special. Some of them are from real memories like anyone else's. Some of them have an older woman who can become a monstrous fey creature in the blink of an eye, who calls Ellara my dear daughter in a tone she despises. Some of them have the hag who's no doubt hunting her right now.
Twombley,
Rosemerta brings in a plate piled high with a variety of breakfast meats, bacon, sausage, ham, salted kipper, scrapple, bread with creton. She smiles at your question at your questions about supplies.
"Oh aye, I've got you all set with the basics...travelling supplies for 10 days plus an herbalism kit and a pack of medicinals. If'n you have someone with you that is skilled in the like it should come in handy. There was also this strange rack of vials sitting on the desk this morning next to a tube with caps on both ends. I'll bring those things in here. Everything else is already loaded on your horses."
True to her word, she brings in a potion rack holding 10 vials, 5 a hearty red color while the other 5 are a reflective silvery liquid. Each has a label with some kind or runic language on it. The same runic language labels a scroll case next to it.
Draconic:
5 potions of Healing
5 potions of Lesser Restoration
1 scroll of Detect Poison and Disease
If no one reads Draconic the potions can be identified by sip testing them. Just a taste and you will understand what they are. Without someone that can read the runes someone will have to focus on the scroll like they are attuning to it for a short rest to determine what it does.
As the rest of the newly formed party gathers in the meeting room, Rosemerta again arrives bringing flagons of breakfast ale, wine, and water for everyone to choose from.
"We have some patrons in this morning that I need to tend to...if'n you need anything else give the bell a pull and I will be along shortly. Otherwise, I understand you have some travelling ahead of you. The Dragon will be here when you return. If'n I don't see ya before you head out I will bid you goodluck at whatever your venture is."
She bustles out of the room quickly as you sit down to a fantastic breakfast...although quite protein forward. No fruit has been brought to offer to the disappointment of some.
You are welcome to discuss amongst yourselves what steps you will be taking next...or interact more with the staff of the inn in some way, I don't really have anything more for you until you set out on the road.
Founding Member of the High Roller Society. (Currently trying to roll max on 4d6)
Fortunately Giles can speak draconic, he describes the contents and labels of each vial to everyone else, happy to have this before they begin their journey. “This will be a good start, but I imagine the task will be more than any vial can cure.”
Meriele, not versed in Draconic, is glad to hear the identity of the vials that Rosemerta left. "These are rare, and valuable potions," she says. "Our benefactor truly does have great influence and power. Yet even he cannot do all, and against this plague I believe you are correct, Giles, there is no magic potion that will stop a malignant wellspring... we will need all our virtue and wits to find the answer."
She smiles sadly, nibbling on a piece of scrapple. "Where does she afford such a variety of animals to serve at breakfast, I wonder?"
Giles smiles at everyone seated at breakfast, says, “I hope everyone enjoyed their night last night? Everyone…. slept well?”