Vethys sees a detailed picture of a mountain and on top of it a bright light covered by 50 foot long leather studded bandages. The light is bright red and witnesses describe hearing a screaming of rage in their mind, like someone or thing is frustrated.

Balgron nods to the new tiefling, his mind lost in thought.  "West is very generic, although the Dreadlord speaks to me in dreams, perhaps he will tell me tonight.  Perhaps a blood sacrifice will help."

(Is there anyone else at this Kaz bastion or just us?  IF not is there a village in the direction we are going?)

Quote from Burgen_Badluk >>

Balgron nods to the new tiefling, his mind lost in thought.  "West is very generic, although the Dreadlord speaks to me in dreams, perhaps he will tell me tonight.  Perhaps a blood sacrifice will help."

 

(Is there anyone else at this Kaz bastion or just us?  IF not is there a village in the direction we are going?)

 Their is just you, been deserted and cursed for 200 years. there are a few villages nearby at a days walk. another way is to get followers for your god that way if needed you have npc's that will fight for you.

"I am Othokent. It doess seem that we are alliesss after all. It will be good to get some horsesss to ssspeed the journey up. And if any of them die, it is extra food for usss." He then glances around seeing nothing else of note here. "Let usss leave now. No need to delay"

"I agree, having a horse would accelerate our journey west to the red mountain where the first seal lies, but I'm uncharacteristically light on coin. We will likely have to resort to more 'creative' means to acquire them. What's our play? Any ideas? Murderous bandits pillaging the nearby villages, feasting in your case, Othokent! Demanding tribute to our patrons & persuading converts to our cause? Petty thievery?" 

Synntax looks at the creatures around him with a wry grin. "It appears we will be scavenging and pillaging as we go.  That is, unless one or more of you have a couple wagons outside that are loaded with supplies, provisions, and special weapons?"   With a low sweeping bow, Synn indicates the exit for all to go toward as he sneaks a peek at each - imprinting them onto his memory.

Once the last of them pass by, the tiefling moves to walk along side the female tiefling. "Mirk Rosewood, wasn't it?  How nice to have some beauty among all the beasts in our party. That and some mindful melodies will not go amiss whether riding or walking!  Oh, and forgive me, Synntax at your service.  Just... Synntax."

"A pleasure, Synntax," she offered a curt nod. "I'm sure you're going to make this journey very...intriguing. Beauty, maybe but Beast as well if you don't stay in line."

She gave a smile. In all of her travels she had never met another Tiefling willing to talk to her. It was....interesting. Much like the majority of the group.

"Let us head west and stop at the nearest village.  Perhaps we can acquire horses, or other supplies.  If there are other worshippers near, we can seek aid."

 "Off we go! For fame & glory to our patrons!" Vethys deliberately finds a place behind Othokent, wary of a hungry & predatory lizard salivating at his back.

"14 days on foot."  Synntax groans as he pulls off his boot to let a small pebble drop to the ground.  "This is not how I envisioned taking over the world."  Wrestling his boot back on; standing and stomping it snuggly into place, the teifling extends a hand to the Lady Bard Rosewood, "Once more westward bound for glory?" 

"Bound for glory indeed," she nods, neglecting to take his arm as she follows the rest of the group on their quest. And let us pray we can find some horses along the way, or this is going to be a very long journey.

Vethys wakes up again, blood seeping from his eyes. He has hardly slept since the accursed vision of the bloody seal they seek, haunted by the same abhorrent nightmare. He thought he could find some advantage for the Archduchess, his unholy mistress, by keeping the vision to himself. But the other 4 Fiends his lady conspires with are strong and they punish him. Every time he sleeps the vision comes again, and the other 4 Fiends are forcing the vision out through his bleeding eyes:

A towering mountain, its peak shrouded in mist, erupts with a pulsating red light. Fifty-foot-long leather straps, studded with iron, writhe and strain, barely containing the light's fiery fury.

A lone mountain, its silhouette stark against the blood-red sky. On its summit, a crimson glow struggles against the oppressive weight of massive, studded leather restraints.

A jagged, volcanic mountain spews smoke and ash, while at its peak, a malevolent red light strains against crimson, leather straps adorned with brutal spikes.

A snow-capped mountain, bathed in the eerie glow of a trapped, angry entity. Crimson light bleeds through cracks in the weathered leather bindings, each studded with obsidian.

A rugged mountain range, its highest peak crowned by an ominous red glow. Thick, weathered leather straps, studded with rusted metal, struggle to contain the red light's desperate pulsations.

A mountain peak, crimson light seeps through the worn leather, each individual stud casting a sharp shadow. The air crackles with unseen tension, and a sense of overwhelming rage hangs heavy.

A colossal mountain erupts with a malevolent red light, straining against impossibly long, studded leather straps that dig deep into the rock.

It is overwhelming! He cannot withstand their combined might and is forced to share the infernal insight with the rest of the group.

Otho's tongue flicks out in the direction of the blood, stopping just short of actually eating it. Mostly distracted by listening to the visions instead. 

"By all the Dark Gods, Vethy!  How long have you been having these seizures?"   Synntax looked on with confusion.

Once things had calmed down a little, Synn spoke up, "THIS is several fiends showing the same vision?  Or visions of EVERY SEAL we might have to find? "   Shaking his head slowly, Synn looked around.  "We REALLY need horses and supplies."

Wiping the blood from his eyes, Vethys responds, "Watch your tongue, Otho! I'd offer you a sample, but I don't want you developing a taste for my blood. I expect you will have many opportunities to feast on human flesh before our quest is complete."

"I've been having these nightmares every time I sleep ever since we were visited by our Patrons, and they told us about the 5 seals we must break. I'm not sure exactly what they represent...in my experience with things arcane and occult the truth is always obscure. Is each Patron sending their particular view of the seals? Are they visions of all the seals we must break? Or are they visions of the first seal over several millennia? My mortal mind has limitations our Patrons do not share, they experience time differently as immortals, and their guidance is often opaque with their true goals impossible for us to comprehend. All my dreams were variations on the same theme - the red light in the mountain struggling to break free from the restraints holding it back. I trust we will know our goal when we see it, and we will feel the rage of the power struggling within."

Vethys felt relieved after sharing the visions with his traveling companions. He looked forward to sleep for the first time since his mistress Fierna’s provocative wink.

"I will not be eating anyone while they are alive. But us Lizardfolk do not waste any food. What difference is there really between a dead cow or a dead Tiefling once you get below the skin. Even Lizardfolk are on the menu for us. Obviously, that only applies if I am hungry. If I am satiated, then the corpse is good for fertilising, and the renewal of life from the mulch."

"Please pardon my ignorance of the culinary habits of your people, Otho. My life's work has taken me to the halls of the rich and powerful rather than the swamps from which you hail, nor have I crossed paths with many lizardfolk. I do expect there would be some difference in flavor, the same way the flesh of a dead cow tastes different than that of chicken or fish. What of your cuisine? Do you butcher, season, and cook meats before feeding? I must admit, after a rather successful career in pursuit of coin & fame, I have become accustomed to the repetitive fare offered by the rich and wealthy, but I would be interested to learn more of your people's cuisine and culture on our journey."

Vethys fell asleep easily that night, yet his slumber was not without interruption.

A discordant melody plucked from an unseen lute snaked through Vethys' dreamscape. It was a tune born of despair, each note dripping with barbed promises and shadowed desires. He awoke, gasping, the taste of ash clinging to his tongue. Moonlight, cold and unforgiving, spilled into his tent, illuminating the sigil of a burning sword etched on his lute - a constant reminder of his pact with Fierna, Lady of Phlegethos.

Fierna materialized from the shadows, her form shimmering like heat waves rising from desert sands. One moment, she was a statuesque woman, her obsidian skin rippling with infernal flames, eyes like molten gold. "I see you've made nice with the lizard. Interested in their culture, are you?" she teased. The next, she was a vision of predatory grace, a scantily clad lizardfolk with scales the color of embers. "I know the lizardfolk, as I know many things your mortal mind doessss not. Perhapssss you would like me to teach you their mating ritualssss?" Her body twisted and moved about in strange ways he had never seen, foreign yet with unmistakable seductive appeal he was powerless to resist. Dancing closer, her forked tongue tasted the phantom blood seeping from Vethys' startled eyes.

"My bard," she slithered, "you seem troubled. Do the whispers of the seals grate on your soul?" Fierna circled him, her movements a dance of predatory elegance. She plucked a string on his lute, the note resonating with dark magic. Images flickered before him: opulent palaces built on suffering, armies kneeling at his command, his enemies writhing in flames, standing triumphantly at Fierna's side. "Imagine," she whispered, her voice a silken snare, "what you could achieve with my full blessing. The pleasures of the living are fleeting, but the power I offer....intoxicating, eternal, the world at your fingertips, it's music yours to command." He closed his eyes, the seductive whispers enticing him. He had traded his soul for fame, power, and glory. The price was steep - but he would do it all again without hesitation. He knelt before her, "What is thy bidding, my Mistress?" His voice was confident, laced with desire.

A cruel smile stretched across her lips. "Obedience, my bard. Do not trouble yourself with concerns beyond your feeble mind. Work with these others to break the seals and let me worry about the rest. And a song. A song that will herald my arrival, that will sow discord and fear in the hearts of our enemies. A song that will make them tremble at the very mention of your name, Vethys, the harbinger of my infernal glory.

Vethys opened his eyes, the dream fading around him. The taste of ash remained, a bitter reminder of his pact. Vethys smiled. He knew what he had to do. He would write the song. It would be a song of defiance, a warning to those who would stand in their way. His lute felt light in his hands, the music that flowed from it born of darkness, but also a flickering ember of hope, a melody that spoke of triumphant achievement and eternal damnation of all opposition. As the first rays of dawn pierced the darkness, Vethys knew his true song was just beginning.

"Another dream?" Mirk, unable to sleep, stared at Vethys, the rising sun casting light on their camp. The others, maybe asleep, maybe awake did not stir at her voice. "What has your patron bestowed on you this night? Does she bring good news at least?"

 "Good morning, Mirk. Yes, it was a pleasant dream filled with visions of conquest & triumph! Come, I could use your talents while the others still sleep. Help me compose our victory march, a triumphant anthem befitting our Patrons! Having some music will help quicken our journey."

Vethys & Mirk compose music together in the morning until the others awaken, and the journey to the first village continues.

Before he sleeps Balgron will plant his spear into the ground and make obeisance to the Darklord he worships.  He will try to remember if he has even seen any of these mountains.  He has vague memories, faded thoughts merely, from the time before he was cast out of the hosts of good.  He will ask this bard....  "Did you acquire any thing else form your visions?  A town near these mountains? Any other landmark?"