Akkron considers the invitation carefully... it might be a good idea to get to know the locals around here a bit. On the other hand, it could be a trap. Still, it might be worth the risk if they can get to the bottom of the mystery of what happened to this place.

"I would be be interested in joining the funeral procession if the rest of you are," the lich says after a moment's hesitation. "It could be a good opportunity to meet the living inhabitants of this realm... perhaps we'll even have an opportunity to make an alliance with people who are more-or-less sane instead of trying to reason with a Beholder."

Dabbert steps around from his position and keeps his halberd handy.  He holds one hand out toward Akkron as if holding him back.  

"I uh...sorry."  He says, genuinely apologetic.  "You answered my question without answering my question.  Who are you?  Not your job.  Your name.  And tell us what is happening here, and how long it's been happening.  You'll find that we uh...are a little out of our element.  Your cooperation is appreciated."  

“My name is Sîr and I was a warlock of the Matron of Ravens   until I was locked in this plane that was left to rot. I’m not sure how long it has been going on, given the twisted puzzle of a calendar they use. But I think there’s an older human here who hasn’t died of old age yet so maybe 2O years? It’s hard to tell.”

“There used to be a city here - an intersection between the fey wilds and shadowfell. For me it was a resting point when traveling between planes. For other warlocks and creatures of the realms it was a home and thriving metropolis.

One day exit became difficult. I won’t say impossible because I think some were able to escape but not long after a curse or disease came through. Things aged and crumbled, areas safe for certain folks turned toxic against them, and new monsters arrived; dark, masochistic manifeststions that seemed to be ripped from the pages or a celestial cult. Judging from what I found outside you guys have met some of them already. 

The priory you took over was part of the change that happened as well. I assume your beheaded friends were all just a part of that mysterious disease, if it’s any consolation.” 

“There used to be a city here - an intersection between the fey wilds and shadowfell. For me it was a resting point when traveling between planes. For other warlocks and creatures of the realms it was a home and thriving metropolis.

One day exit became difficult. I won’t say impossible because I think some were able to escape but not long after a curse or disease came through. Things aged and crumbled, areas safe for certain folks turned toxic against them, and new monsters arrived; dark, masochistic manifeststions that seemed to be ripped from the pages or a celestial cult. Judging from what I found outside you guys have met some of them already. 

The priory you took over was part of the change that happened as well. I assume your beheaded friends were all just a part of that mysterious disease, if it’s any consolation.” 

"Sir."  Dab says with an almost bow.  "I'm uh...Dabbert Hahft.  I'll let the others introduce themselves if they so choose."  

He looks around, his eyes darting from Lorlin and Akkron to the interior of the priory.  

"If you mean this priory, it seems to be well defended with uh....magic.  Anyone know how it works?  May make it an invaluable refuge after dark.  Until we figure out where to go next, anyway.  Who is this Matron of Ravens, Sir?  And how many other uh...people...still live around here?  And what opposing force is what?  I uh...what I mean is...which side is the invading force?  The uh...stone things?  Or the floating things?"  

“I’d say the priory went largely ignored because the monks were such a pain. Their reputation may keep buying your new base some peace and quiet. If you like, can take you to where the rest of us are. Safety in numbers around here, plus  I have a funeral that starts soon.”

"This entire place is remarkably nonchalant about the undead..." Akkron muses as yet another person doesn't even seem to react upon seeing him. "Anyway, I would personally like to meet the others and see what we can learn."

"To uh...be fair..."  Dab says, glancing at the window, "There's a lot of shit out there that's weirder than you."

"I suppose that is true... maybe I should consider staying here a while if I don't find..."

Akkron stops himself from saying "if I don't find peace" as he realizes how demoralizing it could be to the others if he says anything that sounds outright suicidal.

"If we can restore balance to this realm," he says instead.

If you could see under their mask, you would notice Sîr smiling as they head towards the door. “Thank you for your understanding. If you are ready,  we’ll brave the things stranger than Akkron on our way to respite and slightly more pleasant company than suicidal monks.”

Even as he rises to follow Sîr, Akkron turns to Dabbert and quietly says

"You know... I don't think I actually told him my name..."

“You may have met another warlock of the Raven Queen earlier. In a surprising act of selflessness, Baron Evermore asked me to look out for you;” Sîr says over their shoulder as you descend the tower ( if you are following). “His desire for things to return to normal is curiously contrasted with his inability to do anything for himself. You might see him at the funeral.”  

With work the way it is I need to drop from this campaign. It was nice meeting you all and thanks Von_TBD for taking up the DM role for us. 

Good luck and happy adventuring!

(No prob man. Thanks for playing & feel free to jump back in whenever you want.) 

You follow your new acquaintance down the bisected tower and into the wild below. Eyes straining against the color-saturated sky and long shadows, the garish environment at least throws any foes into sharp contrast, making them easy to avoid. You pass by the gothic chunks of the Galeb Duhr and the crusty remains of the fallen Beholder. Curiously, Sîr leads you across its trajectory path to the area where it first began its plummet. Piles of elemental armor and paths of other downed creatures dot your arrival

This low, dried-fountain area is marked with concentric lines of rounded stones and, despite being in a desert, hasn’t been covered in sand. Lorlin would have noticed that this was the area that had that steady flow earlier in true sight. 

Sîr leads you across a twisting path, small runes glowing beneath your feet as you wind your way to the the center “Thanks to my experiments on these new fiends I’ve been able to extract enough components for a makeshift anti-magic field. So far it’s kept our little hideout safe and our foes at bay. This path I built in is the bypass that should allow animated skeletons and floating shields to  pass in peace.”

Lifting up a flat slab, Sîr descends down a wooden ladder.

IF you were to follow down you would find an old tavern. A cramped and dank place made of materials not native to the world you entered but sagging and warped from time. Patrons are either humanoids or literal monsters you’ve fought, but all seem content in their conversations and beverages Groups greet Sîr as they make their rounds. 

And IF you continue I will need either stealth checks at disadvantage  to blend in or charisma checks to stand like most here tend to be doing. 

Akkron follows Sîr down the ladder, and is a bit surprised at the new surroundings. It's been several centuries since he's graced a tavern with his presence... and that last time was just to put absolute terror into a crew of pirates who made the mistake of plundering several merchant ships delivering supplies to the little port on the lich's island. That mistake was not repeated. Trying to 'blend in' and go with the flow is a very different experience.

Charisma (I'm guessing Persuasion... not that it matters much unless we want to make an argument that Akkron could use Intimidate to get these guys to respect him people): 13

Using one of the two remaining Knowledge from a Past Life dice to boost that just a little bit higher, as the lich lets ancient, long-forgotten and foggy memories of life guide his actions. 4