After an almost restless night you manage to fall sleep, during your dreams you experience calm for the first time in months, visions of your loved ones appear and you relive some of your most precious memories...
Hello adventurers,
If you wish to join the game just answer the following questions :
Character's name:
Character's race and class:
Based on the text above what is your character dreaming?
The setting is in the forgotten realms si feel free to base your backstory in the oficial lore.
No homebrew or UA. I'll ve expecting players ti participate with at least one posting per day.
Edit: I forgot to mention the size of the party! I'm expecting at least 4, and basically the first 4 that meet conditions described above are in.
Dream: I often dream of hunts. I miss them. Lying in ambush and waiting for the prey to walk by, making a trap or simply chasing it. Every one of these has it's perks. Hunt is simple. Hunt is uncomplicated, if you know the nature of yourself and the beast. I know both full well. In a hunt, you need no one else. There's only you and you wit and your skill. I've been missing the simple pleasures of living in the forest almost every day since I came to live amont men. And only then my dream hunts started turning into nightmares.
I was about to release the string, when the majestic stag I've been traking turned his head. The deer jumped towards me, shifting mid-air. I'm no stranger to shapeshifting, that's true. If one spends enough time with the creature, one learns to think as it does, move as it does. Over time, it allows one become as it is. But this change was unnatural. It was a stag who started the jump. It was a werewolf who landed and my chest. I tried to shoot it, I tried to defend myself, but the hands were stuck, as if I was swimming in honey. Every spell that I knew escaped my memory.
"Till next time" it growled, plunging its claws right where my heart's supposed to be. I gasped and... died.
Character's race and class: Human Investigator Rogue
Based on the text above what is your character dreaming? Crispy has chronic, terrible nightmares about many things. When she has good dreams, she dreams about her mother who abandoned her when she was about 12. Beaten by her alcoholic and abusive father, picked on as a child, and broken in both body and soul, Crispy's only good memories include her mother. The other good memories include her brother in arms, Chubby Beersmith, a drunk dwarven fighter she met years ago.
"Cora's mother slowly opened the door. She crept in slowly into her daughter's room and tried not to wake her, but she was excited and wanted to give her the toy. Cora roused, and saw her mother, and she smiled. Her mother was holding a small toy - it was a wooden horse - and wanted to put it under her pillow so Cora would find it when she woke up. Cora had a swollen eye from the beating her father gave her last night, and her mother felt responsible. She always did, even though it was never her fault. Cora smiled seeing the toy, and, having never been gifted anything before, held it tightly and hugged her mother with the innocence of a 6 year old. Downstairs, her father made some grumbling annoyed noises and the smile on both of their faces left, and Cora held on to the horse tightly and tried to fall back asleep, as not to incur her father's wrath once more.
That was one of the few good memories Crispy had. Especially the night she was robbed by bandits 14 years later. She got beat up, her toy stolen. Now it was personal. When she woke up from the beating, the bandits were sloppy, and left tracks and garbage right to their hideout. She picked up her short swords, and laughed like a maniac as she murdered them one by one, even the women and children.
Darvin had never felt so calm and comfortable in his memory. There was a warmth where he was perched, laying on top of the bosom of some giant creature. He opened his eyes to see a beautiful woman with blonde hair and blue eyes. Her skin was red and wet with sweat, as if she had recently exerted herself greatly, yet still she smelled of roses and... something metallic. Her giant hand reaches down with a warm, moist cloth, rubbing it over his face and body, and the smell of iron subsides, leaving only the roses and sweat.
She turns to some unseen figure. "You have to protect him. If that fiend should find him... Who knows what would happen, but I don't imagine it's good."
Darvins heart sinks as he feels himself moving away from the woman, passed into the arms of another giant. A different voice, male this time, answers her, "Don't worry; we'll keep him safe. What about you?"
Darvin looks up once again, and this time sees the familiar face of his teacher. But he looks strange... years younger, and oddly large... And then just as suddenly he fades away...
The warmth is gone. Not replaced with cold. No, a different warmth. The warmth of a furnace. To a human, this warmth would be painful, but Darvin takes comfort in it. In front of him is a powerful fiend, surrounded by its minions, a score of lesser demons. "What do you mean, you lost the child?" the demon roars. With a quick flick of its wrist, it uses its immense claws to snap the head right off of the underling it was yelling at. The fiend turns its attention to the remaining demons. "Learn from this one's mistake," it insists, "or you will be next. Find my son and bring him to me!"
The minions cower before the might of their master before fleeing in fear. On the one hand, Darvin understands; his studies have told him much about such fiends. But oddly enough, he feels no fear. Only a warm feeling. A feeling of being home. A feeling that he had never felt before, except with his teacher who had raised him, and in this strange dream, with the beautiful blonde woman and this monster before him.
The fiend looked towards him, as if to say something, when Darvin woke up...
Based on the text above what is your character dreaming?:
The sun smiles upon a hamlet as Sigmund wakes for breakfast. He rushes down the stairs to greet his ma and pa. After a lengthy morning meal and discussion it was time to get to work.He walks outside with his father to begin work on the horseshoes the stables had commissioned. The coal forge is lit, and soon it glows with a ferocious heat. It isn't long before metal meets coals and the pinging of hammer against iron rings out throughout the hamlet. However, something is amiss. From the south horns sound. It can't be. On the horizon a massive orc horde stands atop a hill ready to charge. They descend on the village and carnage ensues. Buildings torched. Souls mercilessly slaughtered. Sigmund and his family try to flee, but to no avail. The orcs descend on his home via horseback and cut down his family. He looks up just in time to catch a massive mace mid-swing heading straight for his skull.
Character's race and class: Human Cleric (Trickery domain)
Based on the text above what is your character dreaming?
Evening fell on the Highharvestide festival and Isabeau's fingers flew over the lute strings. Her parents didn't wern't fond of the fact she was using her bardic training to amuse the common folk, but she didn't care, the people were smiling and laughing and that's what mattered to her.
The dream flashed forward to later that night in a warm, inviting tavern. A pretty little blonde with freckles and blue eyes was talking as they drank frosty autumn ale. Finder. Finder Wyvernspur. God of the Transformation of Art, know to some as the God of Reckless Fools. The more Isabeau heard, the more she liked. A human bard, once a founding member of the Harpers, who became a deity after slaying Moander the Darkbringer. It sounded heroic in the best of ways.
Another flash and Isabeau found herself playing another tune, this time deliberately changing it, Why not see how this sounds?, she thought.
Another flash and Isabeau found herself in what used to be known the Lost Vale. It was finally starting to turn green again, she had been struggling to communicate but now she had learned the sign language of the Saurials that lived there and had made a friend in Copperbloom, the reptilian woman who served as high priestess.
Another flash and Isabeau could smell the woodsmoke scent of piety as Copperbloom pronounced her Finder's newest cleric.
More flashes. Adventure. Saving people. Healing both bodies and hearts.
"Wear this pin in your heart, but keep it from prying eyes."
"Well, who'd have thought? Well done, my daughter, I'm proud of you."
Some of you experienced layered dreams, more than once you thought that it was all over...just a dream, however, it would all start over again.
This continued for hours, until finally the gods seemed to take pity of you and showed you the nicest dream: The perfect hunt, the most beautiful memories of you and your mother, your duty finally fullfilled and another calm morning with your folks.
Just when you are about yo give in, the horror begins, the flesh of the people and creatures slowly melt as if they were made of wax, your sorroundings ignite and nothing but fire and adhesivo remain. You turn to your hands and they melt as well, your body slowly desintegrates, a ghostly imitation of your body arises and seems to ve pulled voy a silver cord.
You navigate through a maze and finally reach a closed chamber and suddenly realize other ghostly figures, all attacks a thin silver string.
Your characters are level 3, you may roll perception at this point.
Everyone but Isabeau and Cora couldn't get used to whatever was happening to their bodies, so they couldn't make anything clear from their sorroundings, after trying really hard they noticed 3 to 5 corpses lying on the ground.
Cora and Isabeau noticed a group of cultists wearing golden robes restraining someone to a golden table, after a couple of minutes they started chanting in a deep ominous tone unintellegible words. What could've been the oldest one of them pulled a golden knife out of his sleeve and raised it while the choir went higher and faster, the cultist violently stabbed the person and the choir stopped. The head of the victim hit the table and was visible for a couple of seconds, But that was enough for Cora to realize that it was an older version of herself, she gasped and that caught the attention of the cultists,at that moment all of you felt a strong pull from your back and found yourselves fully awake now.
"I must find the others" was your first thought.
You'll all meet in a matter of 2 to 3 months in waterdeep. Describe if you may, any hardships endured to meet the rest of the party at the yawning portal.
Assume that you know what they look like from the dream described above. And that you had visions and dreams that guided your path to meet them.
Darvin Dundragon was bothered by this vision. Cloistered within the towers of Candlekeep, he searched fervently for answers, trying to ascertain what it meant, the identity of those mysterious dead bodies, or who these strangers were that he felt supernatural drawn to seek out.
Grigor Dotsk, Darvins teacher and adoptive father, was of no help. When Darvin began to explain the dream, Grigor seemed disturbed, and told Darvin to not worry about it.
Darvin was never a good listener.
When the libraries of Candlekeep failed him, Darvin gathered up what little belongings he had to his name, and set out to find the strangers from his dream. The strange cavern didn't seem like anything he'd seen in or around Baldur's Gate, so Darvin set out for Waterdeep. Perhaps someone there might have answers.
Dream: He woke up to the delicious smell of food and the clanging noises of his father clanging on the iron. He went to the kitchen and saw his mother cooking a glorious meal for him and his father. His father entered the room, kissing his wife on the cheek. He smiles at his parents but when he sees them he sees that he can't see their faces or recognize them at all.
Then they both turned to him and their skin started peeling off to reveal that they were actually monstrosities here to harm him. He ran from his two 'parents' as they chased him through a dark forest. He kept running until he tripped and fell off a cliff. He fell until he saw the hard spiked ground beneath him with orc skeletons in them.
He then woke up in a pool of his sweat and started hyperventilated in fear with tears in his eyes.
Rollback Post to RevisionRollBack
A teen from a small island in the middle of the Mediterranean Sea where nobody else plays D&D. *irony*YAY!!! *irony*
Cyrus Starblaze, Half-Elf Light Cleric
"I have no idea what I'm doing, but I know I'm doing it really, really well." - Chris Pratt
This post has potentially manipulated dice roll results.
(If recruitment is still going on, I'd like to try and get in on this. Sounds like a cool premise. If not, I'll happily bow out, and enjoy the campaign!)
Name: Roland Ronald Richardson (R3)
Race: Human
Class: Warlock (Pact of The Undying)
Dream: Roland sees himself at his home, an open log fire keeping the house warm. He is back in time, when he had his family; his wife and daughter of 6 summers are seated in the large wooden chair. He has just come in from gathering lumber in the snowy winter, and is removing his heavy jacket. His daughter runs over to him, giving him a hug. He holds her up in the air as she laughs in delight. She wants to show him the wonderful picture she drew on the parchment her mother gave her that afternoon of the three of them. The wife gets up as well, giving Roland a kiss on the cheek, leading him further away from the chill of outside as they partake in some rich broth together, talking about how well their harvest was to have such a good store for the winter. He recalls their faces, laughing and smiling back at him, as he truly feels that he is back in that moment.
He then awakens in a cold sweat. That dream was only that, a dream. The reality is that was seven years ago, before the Thayans took over the quaint village and he lost his wife and daughter to them. He was left of the cusp of life, one of the archwizards, deciding to use his barely living husk as a vassal for his dark means. Roland has blanks in his memory over the past few years, forgetting what truly happened, but knows that he gets certain urges and drives that he cannot comprehend, and he has somehow gained some lesser potency for the arcane on his travels.
Years had gone by since the mission at the Temple.
They all had spent weeks exploring the island, making new friends, and defeating the evils that resided there. The company that hired her wanted to make it a resort, and she smiled to herself at the good memories she had from that time. But that was all in the past, and Crispy was well into her 30s now. It seemed like yesterday, and she took another sip of her ale as her and her humongous drunk dwarven brother-in-arms discussed memories of the past. Chubby's alehouse was doing considerably well, and Crispy spent most of her time as the part-time bouncer. It was easy to see the lines of weariness on her face, especially at this hour, she had never really solved how to get rid of the nightmares she had often in her sleep. She smiled fondly at a penciled image of a young woman, a red-headed caster type in a beautiful dress, and folded it back into a box of what looked like to contain memories of the years, and gave Chubby a pat on the back. She had a look of sadness on her face, and his, one of hope, and she turned and went upstairs to go to bed.
As the years rolled on, more missions and more wealth came. Most of it went in to Chubby's business.This time, she was part of a team that was trying to infiltrate a cult of some sort, and she was partnered with many people this time around to try and get answers. She always took the investigation jobs, that's all she used to do. One of her co-workers was named Isabeau, and the dream Crispy had that night involved her, instead of the red-headed woman Crispy usually thought about. In the dream, we were there, disguised, the lead cultist making his sacrifice. Isabeau and I exchanged worried glanced, and when I realized the sacrifice was me, I gasped, and got us caught. I woke in the morning, and I knew then I had to do something.
"I must find the others.." I had said.
It had taken about two months and countless favors, but with Isabeau's help, we managed to wrangle up the rest of the team. In some shape of form, I had adventured with those people before, and they were readily available to assist us with this vision I knew was about to come, and seeing my own death to cultists?
After an almost restless night you manage to fall sleep, during your dreams you experience calm for the first time in months, visions of your loved ones appear and you relive some of your most precious memories...
Hello adventurers,
If you wish to join the game just answer the following questions :
Character's name:
Character's race and class:
Based on the text above what is your character dreaming?
The setting is in the forgotten realms si feel free to base your backstory in the oficial lore.
No homebrew or UA. I'll ve expecting players ti participate with at least one posting per day.
Edit: I forgot to mention the size of the party! I'm expecting at least 4, and basically the first 4 that meet conditions described above are in.
Good stuff by the way!
Name: Opium Poppy
Race: Human
Class: Druid
Dream: I often dream of hunts. I miss them. Lying in ambush and waiting for the prey to walk by, making a trap or simply chasing it. Every one of these has it's perks. Hunt is simple. Hunt is uncomplicated, if you know the nature of yourself and the beast. I know both full well. In a hunt, you need no one else. There's only you and you wit and your skill. I've been missing the simple pleasures of living in the forest almost every day since I came to live amont men. And only then my dream hunts started turning into nightmares.
I was about to release the string, when the majestic stag I've been traking turned his head. The deer jumped towards me, shifting mid-air. I'm no stranger to shapeshifting, that's true. If one spends enough time with the creature, one learns to think as it does, move as it does. Over time, it allows one become as it is. But this change was unnatural. It was a stag who started the jump. It was a werewolf who landed and my chest. I tried to shoot it, I tried to defend myself, but the hands were stuck, as if I was swimming in honey. Every spell that I knew escaped my memory.
"Till next time" it growled, plunging its claws right where my heart's supposed to be. I gasped and... died.
DM Price of Misfortune (finished)
Character's name: Cora "Crispy" Perkins
Character's race and class: Human Investigator Rogue
Based on the text above what is your character dreaming? Crispy has chronic, terrible nightmares about many things. When she has good dreams, she dreams about her mother who abandoned her when she was about 12. Beaten by her alcoholic and abusive father, picked on as a child, and broken in both body and soul, Crispy's only good memories include her mother. The other good memories include her brother in arms, Chubby Beersmith, a drunk dwarven fighter she met years ago.
"Cora's mother slowly opened the door. She crept in slowly into her daughter's room and tried not to wake her, but she was excited and wanted to give her the toy. Cora roused, and saw her mother, and she smiled. Her mother was holding a small toy - it was a wooden horse - and wanted to put it under her pillow so Cora would find it when she woke up. Cora had a swollen eye from the beating her father gave her last night, and her mother felt responsible. She always did, even though it was never her fault. Cora smiled seeing the toy, and, having never been gifted anything before, held it tightly and hugged her mother with the innocence of a 6 year old. Downstairs, her father made some grumbling annoyed noises and the smile on both of their faces left, and Cora held on to the horse tightly and tried to fall back asleep, as not to incur her father's wrath once more.
That was one of the few good memories Crispy had. Especially the night she was robbed by bandits 14 years later. She got beat up, her toy stolen. Now it was personal. When she woke up from the beating, the bandits were sloppy, and left tracks and garbage right to their hideout. She picked up her short swords, and laughed like a maniac as she murdered them one by one, even the women and children.
All for a childhood toy."
Name: Darvin Dundragon
Race: Feral Tiefling
Background: Cloistered Scholar
Class: Wizard
Description of the Dream:
Darvin had never felt so calm and comfortable in his memory. There was a warmth where he was perched, laying on top of the bosom of some giant creature. He opened his eyes to see a beautiful woman with blonde hair and blue eyes. Her skin was red and wet with sweat, as if she had recently exerted herself greatly, yet still she smelled of roses and... something metallic. Her giant hand reaches down with a warm, moist cloth, rubbing it over his face and body, and the smell of iron subsides, leaving only the roses and sweat.
She turns to some unseen figure. "You have to protect him. If that fiend should find him... Who knows what would happen, but I don't imagine it's good."
Darvins heart sinks as he feels himself moving away from the woman, passed into the arms of another giant. A different voice, male this time, answers her, "Don't worry; we'll keep him safe. What about you?"
Darvin looks up once again, and this time sees the familiar face of his teacher. But he looks strange... years younger, and oddly large... And then just as suddenly he fades away...
The warmth is gone. Not replaced with cold. No, a different warmth. The warmth of a furnace. To a human, this warmth would be painful, but Darvin takes comfort in it. In front of him is a powerful fiend, surrounded by its minions, a score of lesser demons. "What do you mean, you lost the child?" the demon roars. With a quick flick of its wrist, it uses its immense claws to snap the head right off of the underling it was yelling at. The fiend turns its attention to the remaining demons. "Learn from this one's mistake," it insists, "or you will be next. Find my son and bring him to me!"
The minions cower before the might of their master before fleeing in fear. On the one hand, Darvin understands; his studies have told him much about such fiends. But oddly enough, he feels no fear. Only a warm feeling. A feeling of being home. A feeling that he had never felt before, except with his teacher who had raised him, and in this strange dream, with the beautiful blonde woman and this monster before him.
The fiend looked towards him, as if to say something, when Darvin woke up...
Character's name: Sigmund
Character's race and class: Human Paladin
Based on the text above what is your character dreaming?:
The sun smiles upon a hamlet as Sigmund wakes for breakfast. He rushes down the stairs to greet his ma and pa. After a lengthy morning meal and discussion it was time to get to work.He walks outside with his father to begin work on the horseshoes the stables had commissioned. The coal forge is lit, and soon it glows with a ferocious heat. It isn't long before metal meets coals and the pinging of hammer against iron rings out throughout the hamlet. However, something is amiss. From the south horns sound. It can't be. On the horizon a massive orc horde stands atop a hill ready to charge. They descend on the village and carnage ensues. Buildings torched. Souls mercilessly slaughtered. Sigmund and his family try to flee, but to no avail. The orcs descend on his home via horseback and cut down his family. He looks up just in time to catch a massive mace mid-swing heading straight for his skull.
He awakes in a cold sweat.
DMing: Adventures in (and around) Houndstooth | Sellswords on the Endless Plains
Player in: Dark Omens
Character's name: Isabeau Estelmer
Character's race and class: Human Cleric (Trickery domain)
Based on the text above what is your character dreaming?
Evening fell on the Highharvestide festival and Isabeau's fingers flew over the lute strings. Her parents didn't wern't fond of the fact she was using her bardic training to amuse the common folk, but she didn't care, the people were smiling and laughing and that's what mattered to her.
The dream flashed forward to later that night in a warm, inviting tavern. A pretty little blonde with freckles and blue eyes was talking as they drank frosty autumn ale. Finder. Finder Wyvernspur. God of the Transformation of Art, know to some as the God of Reckless Fools. The more Isabeau heard, the more she liked. A human bard, once a founding member of the Harpers, who became a deity after slaying Moander the Darkbringer. It sounded heroic in the best of ways.
Another flash and Isabeau found herself playing another tune, this time deliberately changing it, Why not see how this sounds?, she thought.
Another flash and Isabeau found herself in what used to be known the Lost Vale. It was finally starting to turn green again, she had been struggling to communicate but now she had learned the sign language of the Saurials that lived there and had made a friend in Copperbloom, the reptilian woman who served as high priestess.
Another flash and Isabeau could smell the woodsmoke scent of piety as Copperbloom pronounced her Finder's newest cleric.
More flashes. Adventure. Saving people. Healing both bodies and hearts.
"Wear this pin in your heart, but keep it from prying eyes."
"Well, who'd have thought? Well done, my daughter, I'm proud of you."
Some of you experienced layered dreams, more than once you thought that it was all over...just a dream, however, it would all start over again.
This continued for hours, until finally the gods seemed to take pity of you and showed you the nicest dream: The perfect hunt, the most beautiful memories of you and your mother, your duty finally fullfilled and another calm morning with your folks.
Just when you are about yo give in, the horror begins, the flesh of the people and creatures slowly melt as if they were made of wax, your sorroundings ignite and nothing but fire and adhesivo remain. You turn to your hands and they melt as well, your body slowly desintegrates, a ghostly imitation of your body arises and seems to ve pulled voy a silver cord.
You navigate through a maze and finally reach a closed chamber and suddenly realize other ghostly figures, all attacks a thin silver string.
Your characters are level 3, you may roll perception at this point.
Perception: 4
Perception: 9
(Sorry for the edit. My modifier for perception was smaller than I originally thought)
DMing: Adventures in (and around) Houndstooth | Sellswords on the Endless Plains
Player in: Dark Omens
I will be using backquotes for combat mechanic if no one minds and spoilers for OOC messages like this one. Everything else is character speaking.
DM Price of Misfortune (finished)
wait are you still recruiting because the sign shows recruiting? because it seems like there is already 4 characters.
A teen from a small island in the middle of the Mediterranean Sea where nobody else plays D&D. *irony*YAY!!! *irony*
Cyrus Starblaze, Half-Elf Light Cleric
You are still on time to join, I'll remove the tag until I feel the party participates consistently, which should be clear by tomorrow.
OOC: lol oh cool, I thought I had gotten in too late.
Okay then, Perception: 15
I have no idea whats going on but here we go! 19
Everyone but Isabeau and Cora couldn't get used to whatever was happening to their bodies, so they couldn't make anything clear from their sorroundings, after trying really hard they noticed 3 to 5 corpses lying on the ground.
Cora and Isabeau noticed a group of cultists wearing golden robes restraining someone to a golden table, after a couple of minutes they started chanting in a deep ominous tone unintellegible words. What could've been the oldest one of them pulled a golden knife out of his sleeve and raised it while the choir went higher and faster, the cultist violently stabbed the person and the choir stopped. The head of the victim hit the table and was visible for a couple of seconds, But that was enough for Cora to realize that it was an older version of herself, she gasped and that caught the attention of the cultists,at that moment all of you felt a strong pull from your back and found yourselves fully awake now.
"I must find the others" was your first thought.
You'll all meet in a matter of 2 to 3 months in waterdeep. Describe if you may, any hardships endured to meet the rest of the party at the yawning portal.
Assume that you know what they look like from the dream described above. And that you had visions and dreams that guided your path to meet them.
First thing in the morning, will do.
Darvin Dundragon was bothered by this vision. Cloistered within the towers of Candlekeep, he searched fervently for answers, trying to ascertain what it meant, the identity of those mysterious dead bodies, or who these strangers were that he felt supernatural drawn to seek out.
Grigor Dotsk, Darvins teacher and adoptive father, was of no help. When Darvin began to explain the dream, Grigor seemed disturbed, and told Darvin to not worry about it.
Darvin was never a good listener.
When the libraries of Candlekeep failed him, Darvin gathered up what little belongings he had to his name, and set out to find the strangers from his dream. The strange cavern didn't seem like anything he'd seen in or around Baldur's Gate, so Darvin set out for Waterdeep. Perhaps someone there might have answers.
Name: Cyrus Calion Starblaze
Race and Class: Half-Elf Wizard
Dream: He woke up to the delicious smell of food and the clanging noises of his father clanging on the iron. He went to the kitchen and saw his mother cooking a glorious meal for him and his father. His father entered the room, kissing his wife on the cheek. He smiles at his parents but when he sees them he sees that he can't see their faces or recognize them at all.
Then they both turned to him and their skin started peeling off to reveal that they were actually monstrosities here to harm him. He ran from his two 'parents' as they chased him through a dark forest. He kept running until he tripped and fell off a cliff. He fell until he saw the hard spiked ground beneath him with orc skeletons in them.
He then woke up in a pool of his sweat and started hyperventilated in fear with tears in his eyes.
A teen from a small island in the middle of the Mediterranean Sea where nobody else plays D&D. *irony*YAY!!! *irony*
Cyrus Starblaze, Half-Elf Light Cleric
(If recruitment is still going on, I'd like to try and get in on this. Sounds like a cool premise. If not, I'll happily bow out, and enjoy the campaign!)
Name: Roland Ronald Richardson (R3)
Race: Human
Class: Warlock (Pact of The Undying)
Dream: Roland sees himself at his home, an open log fire keeping the house warm. He is back in time, when he had his family; his wife and daughter of 6 summers are seated in the large wooden chair. He has just come in from gathering lumber in the snowy winter, and is removing his heavy jacket. His daughter runs over to him, giving him a hug. He holds her up in the air as she laughs in delight. She wants to show him the wonderful picture she drew on the parchment her mother gave her that afternoon of the three of them. The wife gets up as well, giving Roland a kiss on the cheek, leading him further away from the chill of outside as they partake in some rich broth together, talking about how well their harvest was to have such a good store for the winter. He recalls their faces, laughing and smiling back at him, as he truly feels that he is back in that moment.
He then awakens in a cold sweat. That dream was only that, a dream. The reality is that was seven years ago, before the Thayans took over the quaint village and he lost his wife and daughter to them. He was left of the cusp of life, one of the archwizards, deciding to use his barely living husk as a vassal for his dark means. Roland has blanks in his memory over the past few years, forgetting what truly happened, but knows that he gets certain urges and drives that he cannot comprehend, and he has somehow gained some lesser potency for the arcane on his travels.
Perception: 5
Current Player In: The Guild as Elsara Deepmoon
Years had gone by since the mission at the Temple.
They all had spent weeks exploring the island, making new friends, and defeating the evils that resided there. The company that hired her wanted to make it a resort, and she smiled to herself at the good memories she had from that time. But that was all in the past, and Crispy was well into her 30s now. It seemed like yesterday, and she took another sip of her ale as her and her humongous drunk dwarven brother-in-arms discussed memories of the past. Chubby's alehouse was doing considerably well, and Crispy spent most of her time as the part-time bouncer. It was easy to see the lines of weariness on her face, especially at this hour, she had never really solved how to get rid of the nightmares she had often in her sleep. She smiled fondly at a penciled image of a young woman, a red-headed caster type in a beautiful dress, and folded it back into a box of what looked like to contain memories of the years, and gave Chubby a pat on the back. She had a look of sadness on her face, and his, one of hope, and she turned and went upstairs to go to bed.
As the years rolled on, more missions and more wealth came. Most of it went in to Chubby's business.This time, she was part of a team that was trying to infiltrate a cult of some sort, and she was partnered with many people this time around to try and get answers. She always took the investigation jobs, that's all she used to do. One of her co-workers was named Isabeau, and the dream Crispy had that night involved her, instead of the red-headed woman Crispy usually thought about. In the dream, we were there, disguised, the lead cultist making his sacrifice. Isabeau and I exchanged worried glanced, and when I realized the sacrifice was me, I gasped, and got us caught. I woke in the morning, and I knew then I had to do something.
"I must find the others.." I had said.
It had taken about two months and countless favors, but with Isabeau's help, we managed to wrangle up the rest of the team. In some shape of form, I had adventured with those people before, and they were readily available to assist us with this vision I knew was about to come, and seeing my own death to cultists?
I had better things to do tonight than die.