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Message: <blockquote data-quote="covaithe" data-source="post: 4874195" data-attributes="member: 46559">Chapter 1:  Zvomarana<a href="http://www.enworld.org/forum/playing-game/259722-covaithes-e1-deaths-reach.html" target="_blank">IC</a>  <a href="http://www.enworld.org/forum/talking-talk/258598-d-d-4th-edition-covaithes-e1-deaths-reach.html" target="_blank">OOC</a>   <a href="http://www.enworld.org/forum/plots-places/259321-rg-covaithes-e1-deaths-reach.html" target="_blank">RG</a>The cast: <ul> <li data-xf-list-type="ul"> Orelal "Massacre" Lunareth (CaBaNa):  Eladrin Wizard / Divine Oracle / Archlich</li> <li data-xf-list-type="ul"> Sarenax the Reaper (Lord Sessadore):  Dragonborn Cleric / Angelic Avenger / Darklord</li> <li data-xf-list-type="ul"> Kalas Graybeard (renau1g): Revenant (Human) Warden / Son of Mercy / Chosen of the Raven Queen</li> <li data-xf-list-type="ul"> Kylek (Oni): Dragonborn Sorcerer / Blizzard Mage / Demigod</li> <li data-xf-list-type="ul"> Batin (stonegod): Shadar-Kai Swordmage / Ghost Blade / Planeshaper</li> <li data-xf-list-type="ul"> Anostor Duran: Human Barbarian / Adroit Explorer / Eternal defender  (not complete)</li> </ul>The DreamA temple on a mist-covered mountain, tall and still in pearly luminescence. A thousand ravens wheel above it in perfect silence. A warrior in coal-black armor pounds at a sealed doorway with an enormous hammer. Against a mirrored altar, his shield rests: on a field of crimson, a black dragon's head. You yourself, locked in battle against a dragon with scales like obsidian. Your comrades are cut down one by one, while ghosts wail in agony. A series of seven locked gates. As your hand reaches toward the first, a sound startles you, and you turn... A desolate plain beneath a leaden sky. You watch helplessly as a great black rock the size of a moon hurtles toward you; an impact the world will not survive. Blackness, and a falling sensation. Acceleration, and anticipation as you race down, faster and faster, toward your heart's fondest dream. Then, disaster and despair: the way is blocked.[sblock=Massacre]The dream, again?  Strange, that even without physical synapses to spark randomly, dreams should come.  Or perhaps this is merely a memory of a previous dream.  Or...  perhaps a foreknowing, a slippage of your grip on the present?  It all seems so irrelevant, now.  Still, the habits of a lifetime of flesh cling stubbornly, and you bestir yourself.  Igor confirms that the preparations are complete.  You sense the energizing of the teleportation circle; that-which-is-to-be is now becoming that-which-was.  Shortly thereafter -- or is it shortly before? -- the wards at the boundaries of your domain shiver with recognition.  Your guests are arriving.Another crosses your outer wards, one they do not recognize.  Another guest, or an intruder?  [/sblock][sblock=Sarenax]The images of the dream flash through your mind again as you approach Massacre's spire.  Strange that such fleeting visions should be so sharp, so hard to ignore.  Such portents can hardly be meaningless products of the imagination, mere mortal synapses misfiring in fatigued confusion.  Surely not.  There must be meaning, and if there is, you mean to find it.  Massacre's domain provides no barrier or hindrance to your passage.  Indeed, the tower door slowly opens as you approach; held by a hunched, skeletal figure who bows as you approach.  "Welcome.  The mathter ecthpecth you."[/sblock][sblock=Kylek]At last, alone.  An immense weight seems to lift from your shoulders as the door to your inner sanctum locks behind you.  A hundred minor decisions, petty squabbles, fawning sycophants, all cast aside and forgotten as quickly as... as the closing of a door.  Your armor fits perfectly, its magic strengthening and supporting you.  Your pack settles into its place, familiar weight comforting and exciting.  Your stride lengthens as you pass through your secret tunnel, making your way to a teleportation circle you know won't be watched at this time of day.  The sigils for Massacre's tower are already flashing through your mind.When the blackness of the between-place clears, the tower's familiar gloom surrounds you, unchanged from when you helped complete it, except perhaps a bit of dust.  The echoes of a quiet chime fade away; your arrival has been noticed. [/sblock][sblock=Kalas]"Orelal." The memory of that one word, or the images that accompanied it, have not faded in your memory since you first felt it in your mind.  Nor has the mental fog that gripped you returned.  Clearly your purpose is not yet fulfilled.  A purpose; a task.  You dimly feel something, an emotion that, in a living creature, might be called anticipation.  The same mysterious knowledge that placed the image of a forbidding tower in your mind guides you; you ride confidently, sure of the way, Gilthanas' flaming hooves burning past the endless miles of the Shadowfell.  Nothing disturbs you or bars your path, and after an interval of meaningless time, you arrive at the tower from your vision.  There is a minor tingle as you cross the boundaries of the place; your arrival has been noted.[/sblock][sblock=Batin]You cross a low ridge and behold a familiar landscape:  Massacre's tower in the Shadowfell.  Since the dreams began, this is the first place your wanderings have taken you that holds some significance to you.  Perhaps it is time for the place-you-are to be one with the place-to-be.  And if not, perhaps the wizard will have knowledge that will help shape your path.  The wards part easily for you with only a whisper of recognition.  Your presence is known and welcome, for now at least.  The door opens as you approach, a skeletal figure waiting there in threadbare homespun.[/sblock][sblock=ooc]And we're off!  Minor quest: determine the meaning of the dream.  (Or in Kalas' case, the nature of your summons and the task laid before you.)[/sblock]</blockquote>

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