Campaign Journals 6-20-08

[Greylen]

The journey East towards Cormyr was uneventful. Two days into the journey I received a sending from our new undead archmage friend that informed me of a messenger that he was sending to us named Hayai. The name sounding like "Hi ya" almost made me think it was a prank, except for the source.

Another days walk and we were starting to relax a little. I shook off the mood that had taken me after another death in our party and Ty started good naturedly ribbing me again for my little missteps here and there. A very good sign.

Hayai caught up with us before that evening, just as were starting to come up on the boarders of Cormyr. I found him a little solemn, but he seemed stalwart enough.

As I was technically headed home, I spent a lot of time remembering some of the better times growing up there. Reminded of my favorite prank as a boy, I secretly fashioned a little dye bomb and seeing the perfect opportunity, I flicked it over the head of the new guy, thinking to catch him unawares... and was totally surprised when leaping up, he caught it and had thrown it BACK at ME... when it went off, I was still blinking in amazement at his speed. Even ty would be hard pressed to move that fast, I thought.

Laughing, though, as I cleaned off as much dye as I could, could see Ty looking at the newcomer appreciatively. Evidently her competitive nature was asserting itself.

As the day was ending, we arrived at the gates of the small boarder keep that Cormyr maintains at all the main access roads into their kingdom. Evidently there was some entertainment going on, as we were hardly questioned, and the walls manned with a skeleton crew.

The evening was enjoyable, though I did not enjoy the adulation for my role in the goblin wars... I just did my duty and what I thought was right... nothing more.

The only thing marring the evening was the call of a dragon on the night air... despite our having bested a dragon twice now, the call still chilled my blood and I pulled the blanket a little tighter.

The next day was as fair a day as you could want for travel. We can down the pass, on the main road, moving quickly to cover the ground to the next city.

However, we were soon dismayed to find a white object in the sky that seemed to be tracking us... and as we watched it dived right for us.

"Ware the Dragon!" yelled Ty and she started back, before realizing she should be off the path. Everyone scrambled for cover and I followed Creeg for the rocks, after casting another fireshield on everyone within range.

Creeg, being unhappy about my presence, wanted to move, but the dragon was coming in too fast. I cast a firestorm in front of it, reveling in the power as I poured my rage into fueling it hotter and hight, but as the gragon emerged, I saw it had been unaffected. I followed up with a fireball and an orb of force a moment later, but then the beast was upon us.

I screamed in pain as the teeth punctured the plate armor I was wearing like so much parchment. The Fire around me flared up, burning and searing. Through the pain I instinctively cast my most powerful defensive spell, blowing away part of her lip and teeth... then she dropped me... Lucky for me, she had not gone high and I hit the ground rolling to a stop against a boulder, as I saw the beast slam into the ground not far from me.

Lots of healing later, I was sipping a cup of hot tea that Ty had brewed up for us all, to calm our nerves... I could see it had shaken her a little more than usual, but it was to be expected with a beast that size.

Having skinned the Dragon, to put it's skin to good use another time, we sent it on to the village to be tanned, but decided to take a more round-about way. Good thing we did, as we crossed a ravine, we saw two figures taling us, evidently frustrated with our choice of crossings.

Hours later, as the sun dipped in the sky, Ty called to me that we were being followed again. Looking back I couldn't see anything, but she assured me they were there.

Going over another hill, we stopped and had Ty, Yev, and Hayai fan out, hiding to create an ambush. But evidently Hayai was not as good at hiding as he was at snatching dye bombs and the two figures stopped, with one firing arrows at his position.

This proved to be too much for him and he jumped up, speeding toward his attacker at an incredible speed. I'd never seen anyone move so fast, even magically enhanced.

But the archer was also very good and sent arrow after arrow into him. Sighing, I quickly gathered the weave together and hit both with a fireball. making it larger and hotter than normal just required a few extra tweaks with my hand and it burst forth singeing both.

The next thing I know, I was surrounded by my own worst spell, as Black Tentacles reached out to grab me. I evaded the first one, launching another spell, as I jumped out of the affected area, but found myself again surrounded. This time, one got a hold of me and didn't let go.

I struggle with it for a moment, fearing it was too strong, when I heard Ty cry out in anger. It propelled me to greater efforts and again, I broke from it's grasp and ran to an unaffected spot.

The battle was in full swing and I hit the armored man, who had appeared on our hill now, with a couple of good spells, and he went down with Ty and Everyone else around him striking almost simultaneously.

Looking out, I saw the archer frozen in waste deep mud. The battle was over. A good thing too. Everyone looks like they could use another cup of tea.

[Boric Glanduum]

June 21, 2008

As we traveled towards Cormyr and Dettrick's childhood home, we enjoyed the first full night's rest we've had since leaving Teuveamanthar. We awoke fully healed; at least, I felt fully rested and well, with just the normal aches and pains.

During our second full day of travel, Dettrick received an arcane message from Laresh. Dettrick reported that the fey'ri had attacked Laresh yet again. He also cautioned that a powerful fey'ri sorceress was tracking us. Finally, Laresh indicated that he was sending us additional help in the form of an elf named Hayai.

Hayai caught up with us late on our third full day of travel. We were nearing Cormyr's borders when an elf appeared from the woods. He claimed that Simon sent him and showed us one of Simon's pins. I was concerned about his veracity and I know that my companions shared that concern. However, he was wearing the pin and knew what it could do -- that itself speaks volumes.

As night fell, we arrived at a small keep. Dettrick named it as "High Horn" and stated that there was no way around the keep; no safe way, at any rate. He knocked for entry and we were readily admitted. It was clear from his face that Dettrick was upset by the lack of security. "In my day," he said as the guards left us alone for a moment, "we would never have been admitted. We should have been questioned, and probably should have been separated and questioned again. I can tell you I would not have let me in. Ty either." The guards returned and motioned us to follow.

As we entered it was plain to see that the walls were sparsely manned. The guards reported that there was a Waterdhavian bard in the keep that night and the Commander was holding a banquet in his honor. Upon being admitted into the great hall where the tables were laid out, Dettrick immediately sought for and caught the Commander's eye. We were welcomed to make ourselves at home while Dettrick wandered off to speak to the Commander.

I quickly finished off my first plate: potatoes, red meat, and roasted onions. I was sopping up the last bits of gravy when the Bard finished his tale, announced a short break, and left the hall. Yev jumped to his feet and trotted after the Bard; I confess that I did a double-take. The Bard was our old "friend," Dirk. I was well into my second plate when Yev hurried back to the table. He said that Dirk carried messages from Simon: Dettrick should not enter the heartland of Cormyr--if he does, we will be facing assassins without number. When Dettrick came to the table, he seemed to shake off the warnings.

After the meal and entertainment, we headed off to the cold upper room we had been offered. The furnishings were so sparse as to be non-existent and no fire had been laid in the fireplace in at least a year. Yet the adulation Dettrick had received was as if a king-in-exile had returned. Well, the respect was not evident in these quarters. We were quiet and reserved as we bedded down; quiet until the dragon cry echoed through the night. We were high enough in the keep that we had a fair view of the dragon's silhouette against the moon. A dragon in flight is always a disturbing vision.

We began the next day early and none the worse for our night's revelries. We were well on our way, walking along the edge of a wood, when Tymora spotted a white object high in the air above us. No sooner had she seen it than it began to grow in size; a call similar to that we heard the night before. Ty yelled, "Ware the dragon!" and the rest of us scrambled from the road, searching for cover. Dettrick called out some strange word and we were each covered in wispy, flickering blue flames. They did not burn, but they did give off a slight warmth. 'Tis the same protection he offered back in the dragon's lair! Yev also called out and I felt confidence and assurance settle over my mind and heart.

Arrows flew into the air and rained down onto the road. Despite Yev's prayer, it was plain to see that the presence of this dragon had driven several of my companions to distraction with fear. Understandably so; even though the dragon's influence had not affected me, it was still a daunting enough foe that I was close to sharing their fright.

Dettrick called out a phrase, then, and a veritable storm of flame raged into existence directly between he and the dragon. As I watched, the flame grew in intensity, in heat, and in light. I must see if I can duplicate this: a storm of fire. Beautiful. When the dragon struck the fiery cloud the flames were almost too intense for my eyes and I could feel my skin drying out and my hair singeing from twenty feet away. The dragon soared out from the near side of the cloud, apparently unaffected, and flew directly at Tymora. From somewhere Ty received the benefits of a spell; she jumped into the air and began running upward, walking on nothingness--just as I have done numerous times.

Arrows rained down around the dragon as it flew closer; somehow they all missed. I must do what I can while the beast is within range. As the dragon passed me, I drew upon the power of the earth beneath my feet--I searched out the dry, sandy layer of soil far below. I drew that dryness forth, imbuing it with the heat of the desert sun. I then pushed that dry heat forward in a bright, hot wave before me; it crashed into the dragon mid-flight. What physical damage the heat may have caused, I cannot tell. However, exposure to the searing heat and light had other obvious effects: the dragon's scales dulled, the ever-present rime of frost evaporated as the beast became instantly dehydrated. The white-hot light and the pain of dehydration confused the dragon, as it veered off course, shuddered once, and shook its head.

The dragon swooped around and landed underneath Tymora; if she had remained on the ground she would have been torn to shreds. ~Excellent work, youngling. If that beast had not been confused and addled just now by the heat and the light, it still could have struck at your companion. The elf would have been finished.~ I had to smile; it was not easy to get a compliment from the old one. ~But you have no time to rest. Get back to it.~ Ah, there it was. Just what I expected.

A ten-foot section of air began to shimmer, heralding the summoning of a supernatural creature. I looked around to see Yev'rah's hands moving quickly; I turned back to see a large bird of prey fade into existence. The huge bird was not solid; I believe I was the only one who could see it clearly. Despite the fact it was not a creature of substance, it immediately began pecking and clawing at the dragon; bursts of brownish energy sparked from the bird's beak and claws with every strike.

Tymora's arrows rained down on the beast. Creeg ran at it swinging wildly; too wildly if you ask me -- he missed with nearly every slice, the flat of his blade glancing off the dragon's scales. Something had to be done; I gathered the heat in the air; I pulled it together, swirled it into an unseen ball. I could feel it as it came together. It grew in strength, heat, and power, until I could scarcely control it. Then, just when I was about to lose control of the superheated sphere of air, I sent a quick spark of fire into its midst and pulled. A column of fire sprang into being and blasted downward onto the dragon. Steam burst from the dragon's flesh as scales were burned away; the dragon keened in pain.

At nearly the same instant, a wall of fire erupted from the ground and surrounded the dragon. It must have been the work of one of my companions; the weave felt different -- it left a bitter taste on the air. Likely Dettrick's magic. The beast's keening rose in both pitch and volume. The heat must have been nearly intolerable to the creature, borne of cold.

The dragon's scream was cut short, turning to a ing gargle as Hayai landed a flying kick on the beast's throat. The dragon spun, choking and spitting; its gaze fell upon Dettrick and its head struck out, serpent-like, to grab Dettrick in its mouth. The dragon lurched its way into the sky. Dettrick screamed once as the beast bit down -- hard -- as it left the ground. The warmage took his revenge, though: a fireball blew chunks of the dragon's face away and Dettrick fell to the earth. He struck the ground with a sickening wet sound and rolled to a stop against a large boulder.

Ty screamed out a vile curse in Elvish and pulled back on her bowstring; she drew bead on the beast, following it as it spiraled around in pain. Creeg launched a lance upward and struck the beast in the shoulder. The dragon rose upward a hundred feet or more with only a few wing-strokes. Tymora let her arrow fly and the fletching whistled, matching Ty's continued scream. The arrow buried itself deep in the dragon's breast, in a patch of singed flesh, where one of the several fire attacks had taken its toll.

The dragon's foreclaws scrabbled at its breast and the beast fell to the ground, nearly shaking us all to our backs with the impact. The creature shuddered once, then was still. Creeg immediately began to skin the dragon; he worked silently as Yev and I worked frantically to start healing Dettrick's grievous wounds. Creeg was nearly finished with his task before the warmage was able to sit upright and sip at a cup of tea. It was clear to all that Tymora had been badly scared by the attack; she was flitting about Dettrick like a mother hen around a chick.

Camp that night was uneventful. Relatively speaking. The dream was getting worse. I now had no single moment of sleep unburdened by the images. It had gradually changed over time. I was no longer smug at Boric's apparent demise. The foe was more numerous, more bloodthirsty. The dream had also become darker of late. The very air carried an evil taste. That was not all, either. There were other, more troubling changes as well -- among them was the sound.

~
Three clans of giants, a horde of orcs, and a swarm of goblinkin pour over me. Upon the ridge stand filthy worgs, grey dwarves, black elves. Rimgah moves almost of his own accord, slicing flesh with every move. Foemen fall with every stroke, but still they come: screaming and yelling, clawing and biting, with blood, sweat, spittle, and venom flying in the air. My hands hurt, burning with blisters and blood. I so badly wand to drop Rimgah, but the weapon seems to grip my flesh, not allowing me to leave the weapon behind. Surges of strength course through my hands and into my body, sustaining me and keeping me on my feet. Despite that, my arms are becoming limp with fatigue and still the filthy orcs and goblin come in waves, one after the other, each one cresting higher as they climb over the bodies of their fallen allies.

Then I felt others surge around me. Dwar, humans, elves. My every move protected them while theirs each defended me in turn. In the distance I saw bears of every type tear into the front lines, orcs and goblinkin flew through the air. Massive earth and metal elementals traded blows with the giants.

Seeing our chance, we began to withdraw as a single body. The stronghold is close, yet still a dangerous distance away. Dwar fell around me, as did elves and humans. Each ally that fell was quickly swept up into the arms and over the shoulders of those nearest without regard for race. The idea of any hero being left behind was too abhorrent to even consider.

Then the retreat stalled. I knew it was coming, every dream was exactly the same. The race to the stronghold ran into a wall of orc-flesh at the same point every night in my dreams. As we fought and battled to continue our push, I found myself looking around, expecting to see the same lone dwar racing past me, as he did every night. Tonight, however, he did not come and yet, still I looked for him.

There! My cousin was already in the field, tied up in a knot of enormous orcs. His shield and massive hammer swung back and forth but he was clearly in trouble. I gave those around me one last push, forcing them behind the great stone doors of the stronghold. The doors were closing; just enough room was left for me to squeeze inside. The orcs and goblins pressed forward; in the rear and on each flank the rest of the forces joined the battle: wargs and bears tore at each others throats and muzzles. Dark dwarves and elves stood side by side forcing their way through the forces of good.

Something has happened. The dream has changed. Something dark has taken control. This is not the way things are meant to be. I seemed to hear a deafening sound now, much like the beating of a massive heart. The sound brought with it dismay and discouragement.

I moved as if to dart between the nearly-closed doors, just as I had in countless versions of this dream before. Something made me stop this time, however, and take one last look back at Boric. High above him, hovering in the air, was an orb of purest black -- so black it was difficult to focus on it; your eyes simply slid away from it. Were it not for my Aiskan, my Dream Sight, I doubt I could have seen it at all; it did not look like Boric was even aware of its presence.

As I watched, the orb began to pulse, giving off an unholy black energy -- I do not wish to call it "light" because of its utter darkness, but strangely "light" still seems to fit. Its pulses grew stronger as I watched, the "light" more intense as it slowly descended toward my cousin.

Utterly unaware of the falling orb, Boric glanced in my direction. He shouted, yet I could barely hear his words over the din of battle. Once again he yelled; my cousin's voice rang out, ordering me through the doors and into safety. "By your beard, cousin, get inside and shut the Tel-blasted doors!" I glanced from Boric to the orb and back again. Somehow I knew that the orb was deadly and that it was Boric's doom. I shook my head, turned long enough to push one last young dwar through the crack in the door, then reached up and pulled the doors closed before me. I turned back and began making my way toward my cousin. Rimgah laid two or more foes low with every stroke, so thick did the filthy animals crowd about me.

I had taken no more than ten steps and it was clear I was not going to reach my cousin's side in time. The orb was descending even faster. I did the only thing I could and did it without thinking: I reared back and sent Rimgah hurtling through the air. I was already drawing my broadsword when Rimgah struck the orb. He bit deeply and simply hung in the air. Boric looked up in shock at the passing warpike. I can only imagine what he saw, what he thought. There followed a horrifying scream that seemed to come from all about me and rattled my bones. The black energy began to coalesce around Rimgah, licking around the haft of the weapon. A bolt of energy lanced out and struck me. I saw a brilliant whiteness, then nothing.
~

The nothingness brought with it a breathlessness and I would jolt awake. The first time, it was almost immediate; with every occurrence of the dream the nothingness grew longer and longer until, by dawn, I jolted awake with my hands scratching at my throat in an effort to breathe.

I cannot let the others know about the dream. I do not understand its meaning myself, cannot fathom the reason for its evil tidings -- how could I expect them to understand? They may feel I have become an unknown quantity -- or, at worst, a danger to them.

We broke camp early and began the day's march toward the next village. As we approached, late in the day, we found that the only apparent way into tow was across a single narrow bridge: the perfect place, we thought, for an ambush. Instead, I wove essences of earth and water around the hooves of Jalore's horse, Trouble, which would enable the animal to walk on air as if it was solid ground. In this way we took turns riding Trouble across the ravine some distance away from the bridge. After we had all crossed, we spied two figures at the bridge jumping around and pointing at us. This was, we supposed, part of the ambush that had been awaiting our crossing at the bridge. We moved quickly to put the village behind us and disappeared back into the trees.

Camp was again uneventful that night, save again for the dreams. They were growing in intensity and sensation until I was convinced that I would awake covered with the gore and slime of battle. A full pot of Tymora's wonderful soothing tea was insufficient to calm me that morning. I was now convinced somehow that the dark orb in my dreams was somehow the creator of the chaos and was guiding, prodding, and abetting the forces of evil in the dream battle. I was also now convinced that Ty suspects something. I did not like the looks she was giving me. I must confess, I was somewhat slow in breaking camp that morning; I was fatigued from lack of sleep.

It was not long before both Tymora and Yev'rah spotted two humanoid figures several hundred feet behind us, seemingly following our trail. Jalore circled back, in a wide, sweeping, flanking move. As soon as we crested the next ridge both Ty and Yev, as well as Hayai, moved around to circle behind the followers. I moved over to the side of the path, behind a lone tree: a stately oak. The road in both directions was dotted with random oak trees, which helped our plan greatly. After that, it was simply a matter of time: we waited and waited.

A shout rang out: they'd seen Hayai. Sounds of battle waft over the ridge. Dettrick moved to the top of the ridge; Tymora likely called to him. Dettrick works for a moment and I see a bright glow in the distance as one of Dettrick's spells goes off. Creeg followed Dettrick to the ridgeline drawing his bow and fired an arrow into the distance. I took the chance to move into the tree and then to step about six hundred feet distant. I could just barely sense an archer some distance further away; deep within the oak tree I could only tell his presence because he was standing near another oak himself.

I stepped again, moving to the oak immediately next to the archer. I moved out from the tree already preparing to call down a column of fire upon her head. She had moved in the meantime about sixty feet closer to the ridge. She must have sensed movement behind her, however, as she turned toward me. Her right hand was a blur and I was struck by four separate arrows. I felt the weave vanish and the heat dissipate from the air. The pain was too great for me to keep hold to the weave. Instead, I drew Rimgah and moved closer to the archer. She moved too rapidly, however, moving sixty feet away; her bow glowed and suddenly she was surrounded by several identical images. They wove around and I soon lost track of which was the original and which were the copies.

I reached down deep, then, into the earth. Far below me was a pocket of primeval fire: liquid rock, fire given form. I pulled at the fire and heat, drawing it upward. At the same time, I reached out to the moisture in the air, focused it, drew it together into the ground at the archer's feet. It condensed and turned the ground to thick mud. The mud spread ten feet down into the earth and into a circle over two hundred feet around. The heat and fire reached the surface immediately after the mud formed; the primordial flame superheated the mud. All of this happened in a matter of seconds; between one step and another the archer and her copies found themselves on uncertain footing, then sunk into the scalding mud. The copies winked out and the archer cried out -- whether in frustration or pain, I could not tell.

She managed to turn slightly, bow still in hand. The bow glowed brightly and three more arrows struck my body. She cried out once more, then keeled over into the boiling, sticky mud.

As for myself, I sank to my knees. The pain of the arrows was nearly unbearable. I must have fairly looked like a pincushion; Yev'rah chuckled as he and the others came over the ridge towards me. By the time they reached my side, I had fallen to a seated position after having pulled the arrows from my flesh. I held held Rimgah cradled across my knees; I found strength and vitality flowing from Rimgah into my body. I quickly drank two healing potions to speed up my recovery. When Yev reached my side, he drew a Rod from his pack and muttered a few words. More strenght and health poured into my body.

I was healed, but I was tired. So tired. I dropped into a senseless sleep. For the first time in weeks I did not dream.