The bowman made no motion to attempt to clearly see the image, even though it was highly likely he wasn’t able to, from that distance.

The dragonborn though stooped to look at the image and shrugged. "Not someone I am familiar with. The name doesn't invoke any meaning as well, not for any of my kind anyway." Standing, he clasped his hands together. "At any rate, the hour grows late and I will retire. I would suggest you do the same, but you are free to choose your own path." He bent to retrieve the arrow and turned. As he did so, he said in elvish, "Good night".

”I’ll wake you when my watch is over...unless of course you’d prefer Tweedle Dee and Tweedle Dumb to watch over you, while you sleep.” The bowman spoke to the dragonborn, though remained standing, watching the elves the entire time.

Ura feels a brief moment of sadness when the black dragonborn says D‘Armes name and position means nothing to his kind; she thinks of what she learned in the bookshop, and the near-extinction of the red dragonborn on Theviranne.  „And everyone forgot about their sacrifice,“ she mutters softly, thinking of the Arbitrator, surrounded in his tower by all those swords, missing any owners save but for his own.  

„Well, thanks for the time,“ she says companionably to the others.  „And good luck to you two, at least.“  Despite his reticence, Ura has a rather good impression of the bowman - it seems he won‘t take any shit, which she appreciates.  It also makes her wonder why in the world the world Dovah‘keen and the silent bowman are traveling with the two dwarven imbeciles.  Must pay well, is all she can come up with.

Still feeling a bit saddened both by the loss of Kel, and learning just how right D‘Armes was about his role and position, she looks at Anaeris and shrugs,  „I‘m done here. Let‘s get back and sort out our watches so we can leave as soon as possible tomorrow morning,“ she says.  „I can definitely take first.“  Sleep doesn‘t seem like it‘s going to be coming for a while anyway, with all the thoughts swirling through her mind.

Anearis: 9 ((Anearis is now at 1 level of fatigue))

Every-time he believed himself to be slipping into his semiconscious trance, he found himself simply staring at the inside of his eyelids, wide awake and aware of his surroundings.  But it happened so few times, he would have normally assumed he has accomplished what he was attempting to do.  As the sun rose and shed its light on the clearing, Anearis was snapped back to reality for the last time; feeling annoyed, irritable, and tired.

Atalura: 8 ((Atalura is now at 1 level of fatigue))

Whether it was simply all the thoughts racing around in her mind, or the grief of Kel's death only hours before, Ura was unable to get sleep that night.  Even during the brief moments when she managed to close her eyes and fall into the trance, she achieved no peace. When she finally opened her eyes to the daylight breaking around them, she was still restless and the thoughts still raced.

Ander: 17 ((Ander is now at 1 level of fatigue))

A tickle on his face made Ander attempt to wipe away, whatever the source was. However, when we attempted to do so, he found himself unable to lift his arm. 'Opening' his eyes, Ander saw the source and became quickly aware of his predicament. He was back in the dungeon, beneath the Berossus Manor in Cathaan. What he was feeling on his face was Anton Berossus; but it was not the same as before. Anton was not using ink to paint the lines on Ander again. Instead, Anton was using the tip of a knife, to carve the lines into Ander's skin. "We can't very well have you wiping it off." A twisted wicked smile spread across Anton's face, as he grabbed the back of Ander's head, forcing the knife to break the skin; Ander feeling every painful stroke. The pain grew and turned to a searing hot burning, but just as Ander was about to yell, it stopped.

Anton put down the knife and admired his handy work. He pulled a mirror from the table and held it for Ander to see, the intricate carnage. As Ander stared on in horror, the carved lines began to move, wiggling like snakes or streamers fluttering in the wind. These lines turned from the blood red to black, and sprang off his face, though not completely. They stretched Ander's skin as they reached for Anton's own face, pulling to two closer, and closer. The black streamers grew, swallowing both of their heads, then both of them entirely, until they fell away, and Ander found himself standing there, no longer shackled to the wall.

He picked up the mirror and saw that his face was no longer carved. In fact he saw his face was no longer there at all. As Ander stared at the mirror, the face staring back was that of Anton Berosuss. And Ander smiled at this, the same twisted wicked smile. And one thought seemed to be the only thing on his mind, the find the most innocent, undeserving victim he could, and do the same to them.

Ander shot up, drenched in sweat. His chest pounding and struggling to catch his breath, he was back at the camp in the clearing. He was in the same place he had fallen asleep the night before. And even though he had no recollection of having awoken in the night, he felt as though he hadn't managed to ever get to sleep.

Uthal: 14 ((Dropped roll due to advantage from inspiration))

((Updated Advantage from Uthal and Ura, utilizing inspiration))

Ura: 4 ((Dropped roll due to advantage from inspiration))

Uthal: 20 ((Uthal is now at 0 fatigue))

Darkness surrounded him. In every direction, pitch black stretched endlessly. Silence. Then all at once with a rush, the darkness was sucked to a single point, directly infront of Uthal. It formed a humanoid figure, though it was featureless. As it stood there, an environment began to take shape around Uthal.  He was in a massive cavern with a pool of black liquid, about 10 feet in diameter, between himself and the figure. A face on the figure began taking shape, but remained fluid, parts of the face phasing between actual features and darkness; and the features kept changing. However, at a single point in time, when an entire face existed on the figure, it was one that Uthal recognized. It was Trevor.

But at the very moment that Uthal recognized the face, a massive thrall of tentacles shot up from the pool, whipping around, though never touching Uthal.  The mass of the shadowy tentacles blocked Uthal's view of the figure. As everything happened around him, Uthal was stationary, though the thought of moving never even came to him. A beam of white light shot down from above, creating a column, beyond the tentacles. And as the white light rushed down to the ground, the tentacles retreated back into the pool, leaving Uthal and the Trevor-faced figure. Once the tentacles were gone completely, the column of light dimmed, but did not disappear completely. It had engulfed the black figure, who was no longer standing there, but laying on the ground, doubled-over and lifeless.

The source of the white beam lowered; it was Uthal's deity, Selune. She appeared to Uthal wearing scaled-armor and wielding a hammer, just as Uthal did, only hers were of a silver color, shimmering and seemingly producing their own light. Her hair and draped loose robes swayed in a wind that was not there, until her feet touched the ground completely. She stood twice Uthal's height, a looked down at him smiling.

"Uthal Ogolakanu." She looked at the hammer in her hand, and it dissipated, becoming shards of light that faded into the sky. "If you were to swing your blunt instrument at nothing, what would happen? Darkness has it's source, the same as light. You must find that source. Look to your father's words for guidance."

Just as the thought of moving never arose, neither did the thought of speaking. Selune's words resonated within Uthal's head, as all around him, silver and white light began to take place of the surroundings. It seemed to Uthal to take forever, until eventually the light also took place of Selune, until just as he started completely surrounded by pitch black, he ended in pure white. And he awoke, feeling more refreshed than he could ever remember feeling.

Uthal wakes up, cracking his stiff bones and gripping his hammer. He gives a quick, silent pray if thanks to Selune for his vision. He then tries to think what she meant by his father's words. His father was never one for speaking more than about the latest hunt and he hadn't been around long enough to impart real wisdom. 

Searching through his bag for some food his hand runs across the packet of letters and he quickly removes them, taking the next one on the list and reading it while he waits for the others to begin to look like they don't want to die.

Believing that he possessed some understanding of the Moon Maiden’s cryptic message, Uthal removed one of Cedric’s letters to Trevor, consulting the ‘words of his father’

Trevor,

Surely you jest! As much as I hated to believe Hammerfell capable of such things, I trusted your sense when you said he was stealing from the temple, and when you indicated that those funds were going towards financing his personal endeavors towards political ends.

But now, you write your me to say that these ‘personal endeavors’ are research into dark arts! You are my friend and I have put my faith in you, but let us not forget that he is out friend as well.

I refuse to believe that he is acting of his own volition. Of course he has the strength and power to perform such actions, his position in the church provides a wide stretching influence. However, I believe there to be someone else pulling the strings. Another force, whether it be natural or otherworldly, controlling him.

I am not ready not assume he be our target. We must first look for a source. Look for anyone connected to him, that may be able to influence his actions, no matter how small.

I await your response and anything you find. I pray we identify a solution, before it’s too late.

Cedric.

Hoping for more information Uthal opens the next letter. It's seems like there might have been a lot about why he went to the city in the first place that no one told him about, typical priests.

The first sign of something being wrong when Ura wakes up is that she's still Ura.  The second sign is the heaviness she feels in every limb, as though rest was still a distant memory. 

Ugh... I couldn't rest at all last night.  Blinking, she reflexively checks on the other encampment, as well as Dah'Deey, who didn't exactly join them last night at the campfire, sprawled out as he was over the grass.

Perception: 11

Blearily rubbing her eyes, she looks around at the others, still slumbering, but for Uthal who is reading some sort of letter.  After nibbling on some food from her daily ration - she has precious few of them left, she notes - she scoots closer to Uthal.  "What's that?" she asks after swallowing a particularly dry piece of hardtack.

The next letter:

Trevor,

This has grown to be more than something we can handle then. Begin gathering others; ONLY if we can trust them unconditionally. And be discreet about it.

We will reveal the truth behind Hammerfell’s actions in due time, but for now just present the initial findings. We must be smart about this, so for those we bring in, use the information about his funneling of funds. We cannot be too careful about who may be loyal to Hammerfell and what might happen if they discover how much we truly know.

I suggest bringing in that fellow Felix. He has a questionable background, but has always had a disdain for Hammerfell. I truly believe that in a worse case scenario, he would assist simply as an ‘enemy of my enemy’ situation.

Even though you have not found a shadow figure behind everything, I am still not ready to put everything on Hammerfell himself. We will be leaving for Cathaan soon. Do not act before I get there.

Cedric

The second letter provided more a slight bit more context to the story between Cedric and Trevor, but did little, if anything, to improve his understanding of Selune’s guidance.

Groggy and restless (and still Ura), she sees Uthal already awake, and the other encampment still stood, partially. And an empty spot of grass where Ura believes Dah’Deey Yahn’Keey to have been lazily positioned in his trance, the evening before.

"... did anyone see Dah'Deey around?" she asks, stifling a yawn.

Uthal looks up from his letter and then looks around to see if he can spot the old elf. "No but I hadn't really looked. You look like hell." 

Dah’Deey Yahn’Keey is no where to be seen.

"I feel like hell.  Didn't get much rest last night.  Too much on my mind," she admits, trying to clear the hoarseness out of her throat with a few coughs.  "Well, if our tour guide split then we might be on our own from here."  Sighing, Ura begins to point her finger and starts casting message in each of the cardinal and intercardinal directions, once straight up into the air for good measure, and once into the ground, just to be sure.  Each time, she whispers the same thing.

"Good morning Mr. Yahn'Keey!  Where are you?  And I mean, like, exactly, where are you right now in relation to where you tranced last evening?"

As Ura took a shotgun approach to contacting Dah'Deey Yahn'Keey, her messages ultimately fell on deaf ears. The old elf was either intent on not responding, or was beyond the range that her spell could travel. Either way, there was no noticeable result, from it.

Uthal wanders over towards the other camp, stopping in front of the other camp but not entering it. "Anyone awake over here?" 

Ura and Uthal were already awake when he opened his eyes. He had failed to enter his meditative trance, the result of the overflow of emotions from the day before preventing him from getting the rest he needed. His mind had been restless, struggling to find balance. He stood up, feeling slightly irritable. 

He soon noticed the absence of their elderly elven guide. Anearis thought he might have gone back to his hut, his part in this adventure being done. 

He went to talk to Ura, as Uthal had already made his way to the other camp. Anearis would have been worried by this in any other circumstance. But he felt Uthal was more than capable of taking care of himself.

"Man Erin, Ura. Did you sleep well?", he said groggily.

"As well as you did," Ura said, gesturing at her boobs.  "These are a lot more obvious than the bags under my eyes."  Digging the heels of her palms into her eyeballs, she groans.  "What are we gonna do?  I don't feel like I could storm any dungeon effectively like this, and you don't look much better.  And I can hear Ander tossing and turning in his bedroll from here.  Sounds like he's having a helluva dream.  Well, at least Uthal looks chipper.  Maybe he's going over there to break some dwarven knees."  Ura stifles another yawn.  "No sign of the old man anywhere, though.  I bet he's going to pop up sometime when we least expect him to."

As Uthal approached the other camp, he saw only one tent still standing. The other two had since been broken down and packed. The fire was smoking as it had recently been put out.

The two dwarfs and the dragonborn stood at the smuthered campfire. "Biggin's here," Nik said motioning towards Uthal, causing the dragonborn to turn. The dragonborn responded to the goliath's greeting. "No, we are quietly resting on our heels Master Giant, discussing matters of pay and the vast wretchedness that is the entirety of written probability and its absolute rigged systems of play."

Uthal's eyebrow raises a bit. "I'm afraid I don't understand half of what you just said. Goliath's aren't much for systems, rigged or not. Would any one of you have happened to see our old guide? He seems to have gone missing during the night." 

"Biggin's didn't understand tha wiz, Nik." "I heard Nack. Big surprise." The dwarf known as Nik turned to address the goliath, himself. "Is it poss'ble you ate 'em in your sleep?"