Dreams In The Deep

[Lazlow]

Note: This is a solo adventure run for a friend, so I won't be taking on any other players. You're welcome to follow along, though - hope you enjoy it!



Another Note: For anyone who notices/cares, yeah, after more than a year-long absence we're picking up where we left off.

 

[Lazlow]

Swirling, inky miasma of utter black... Never seen, yet always there... Always seen yet never recognized. Recognition - that's the key. Hold the key, find the lock, unlock the box, the mind, the soul... Cast away the belief and hold fast to the unbelief. Unbelieve all you know, know what you cannot possibly believe. Know it. Know it.

"...safe now, you're among..."

Burst of white-hot light, shot through with tentacular writhing of inexplicable revulsion. A vast intelligence - ancient, bestial, relentless... In an instant, back to utter black. Unbelief. Know it. Recognize it. Hold it. Hold it...

"...with me now, stay with me. It's alright. That's it... Stay calm."

Hold it...

"Well, well. Hello there. I must say, you've come around much quicker than was expected. The state we found you in last night was quite a shock to..."

Recognition? No. Not in that sense. But it holds.

"Rest yourself, now. It seems you've been through quite an ordeal. Found you amongst the wreckage, barely alive it seemed at the time - although, to be honest with you, it's as if your body has healed itself tenfold during your slumber. Imagine my surprise when I found your arm this morning! Compound fracture one day, and nary a scratch the next. Amazing. But then again, I suppose your training has conditioned your body and mind to function just so, even under such circumstances. Still, it's amazing."

Yes, the wreckage... Recognize the wreckage. A ship. A long journey, a purpose... Unfulfilled? No. Not quite. But still, something...

"...some things we found on you, in your pack. There really was nothing else around there - save for the other survivors, of course. Nothing remains of the ship's cargo, I'm afraid, whatever it was. For that matter, not much remains of the ship..."

Something to focus on... Light from a lamp above. A brick in the ceiling... A face. A pretty, young face. Know it, hold it, hold fast.

"Ah! Hello there. I knew there were some eyes behind those heavy lids. I'm Romanna. Pleased to meet you."

Romanna? Recognition? No... But that seems expected. Yes, expected. There would be no one to recognize here.

Of course.

The meeting, the assignment, the privelege of representation. Of course, of course. The journey - from Safe Haven. To the Sunset Isles, yes, of course.

But still, something... Something wrong.

"...remember where you came from? Or where you were going? Surely this wasn't your intended destination."

Something wrong.

"...doesn't have the capacity for a ship of that size - leastways, not in the harbor proper. A moot point now, I suppose. But not to worry, I'm sure you can find passage to wherever you like, once this pall lifts..."

"If it lifts..."

Something like recognition in those pale green eyes. Yet... An unknowing recognition.

"Doesn't take much to recognize that the storms, the fog, the abominable weather is unnatural. Still, we don't want to spread panic among the populace, now do we?"

Disapproval. Disappointment.

"...But it is not my place to question. Greater minds than mine have been given the authority... Ah! Here we are. Thank you, Aric. Here you go, you'll have to sit up a bit. Some water, and some broth to revive you. Some bread, if you're feeling adventurous."

Sitting up, a broader view: A darkened room despite the abundance of windows high up near the ceiling. Heady scent of burning lamps, and a hint of many different herbs... A muffled sound of drizzling rain outside, broken periodically by a cough, a low whisper, or a moan. Beds, all around, most of them occupied. And that pretty, young face: Pale, green eyes, framed with care and worry far older than they should be; a round face, slightly tanned, somehow reminiscent of the sea. Light brown hair, straight, cropped short and tied back with a kerchief. Thin nose over thin lips, ruddy cheeks compressed from a warm smile.

"Please - drink. Slowly now... There you go. The broth should bring some color back to your face - although, I'm afraid there's not much I can do for the hair." A small, soft hand reaches out and smooths it down, and a chuckle accompanies the gesture.

Ah... A-ha ha ha. Definitely awake now.

"So, we might as well start at the beginning: What's your name?"

 

[Gray Shade]

As much as it saddens him, he stops looking at her face. His eyes search the other people in the room and, just as intently, the shadows of the room. Discerning: how many others here are from his ship? did anything from the ship come ashore OTHER than people in beds?

Yes, he remembers. A ship from Safe Haven. Large. Bound for the Sunset Isles, but that wasn't his purpose, was it? To reach the Isles? His instincts tell him he was on the boat for another reason. That his masters sent him on that specific boat, but the wreck has him still addled. His healing is not yet complete. He looks back at the woman. "Romanna?" He sips the soup and nibbles the bread. "My hair is as it always is. A young patience such as yours cannot abide it, but . . . to my old patience it is perfect." Seeing that she doesn't understand, or perhaps even took it as an insult, he smiles charmingly and adds, "Seems therein lies the rub, eh? Beauty and patience: mutually exclusive."

As he finishes his soup, water and bread, his senses return, if not his memory, and he asks, "The beginning? My name? It seems that may be all we have for now is the beginning. They call me Pollock. Do you know what happened to the ship?" He suspects They had something to do with its destruction, perhaps not only They, but he as well.

 

[Lazlow]

"Well, I'm very pleased to meet you, Pollock," Romanna answers with a smile, bowing her head in respect. "Pleased and surprised, considering the circumstances." She looks around her, gesturing with her hand at the other beds. "There were only a handful of survivors, and to be honest, we don't expect them to last the night." She pauses a moment, then looks back. "But then again, we didn't expect you to last, either. But I can percieve from your manner of dress that you've spent some time in a monastery. I would assume that your study and meditation has conditioned your mind and body to withstand such events.

"As for the ship, there is some wreckage left on the shore, but the stormy weather we've had these past two days might wash it all away by day's end. As I mentioned, there was virtually no cargo found. Your own bag and walking staff are behind you, against the wall. I - Oh! Your Grace, you honor us with your presence."

Romanna rises and bows reverently to a slender Elven maiden, golden haired, blue eyed, and smiling slightly. Adorned in simple yet exquisite priestly vestments of deep cerulean and gold, an amulet with the symbol of Surlamon, god of the oceans, depends from a simple silken ribbon around her neck, and an intricately woven leather belt seems to snake several times around her delicate waist. A few small curios dangle from the end of the belt, glittering in the lamplight.

"Has our guest awoken so soon?" the maiden asks with a smile. "Indeed, I must say this is a miraculous recovery. Surlamon be praised." The two neophytes flanking her raise their hands to their heads and repeat the exaltation, murmuring quietly. "I am Artenza, High Ecclesiast of the Abbey of St. Germain. I welcome you. I see you've met another of our guests. Romanna, I am most grateful for your help here in the wards."

"It is my honor and pleasure to serve," Romanna replies, bowing again.

Artenza smiles and turns back. "I'm afraid I must keep my visit short," she says. "There is much I must attend to. But once you have gathered your strength, I would like a chance to visit with you at length. Perhaps, if you have sufficiently recovered, you can join me at my table tonight when we take our evening meal." She turns to Romanna and asks, "I wonder, would you be so kind as to show him to our guest quarters? Any of the unoccupied rooms will suffice. The attendants will be there to provide him with anything he may need." With a final smile and a wave of a delicate hand, she bids goodbye. "Until tonight, then." She departs, the two neophytes following in her wake.

Well! Much less haughty than her position and expensive dress make her out to be. A relief, I suppose. Still, I like this one better.

Romanna bows once more as the High Ecclesiast leaves, then returns to the bedside. "The Ecclesiast's table? An honor, indeed! Just who are you, anyway?" she says playfully. "Oh, don't worry, I'm sure she just wants to know the circumstances of your journey. The ship's destination, the cargo, any passengers of note... Another ship has been expected for some days now, bringing an emissary of sorts from the mainland, I understand, but it is now a fortnight since it was supposed to arrive. Perhaps you can shed some light on that, perhaps not. In any case, you'll get the good grub, I'm sure."

She stands. "Well... How do you feel? You look fine to me, I suppose, considering how you looked not half a day ago. Are you up for a walk?"

 

[Gray Shade]

At least she's prettier than the last. And, yes, as you point out not haughty.

Pollock still does not trust the priestess, though. He learned a long, long time ago that the "gods" were only what Men (or even Elves) made them, and although he does his best to bow his head to her in respect, he cannot bring himself to smile at her. However, once she leaves, he finds it very easy to smile at Romanna.

"Yes, dear girl! A walk. That sounds quite invigorating. Fetch yourself a foul-weather cloak, and we'll see if we can make it down to the wreckage before Surlamon (he tries to hide his disdain for Romanna's benefit) sucks it all into his foamy, rolling gullet." He then stands and stretches, testing his strength--weakened, but strong enough for a hike down to the craggy shore. He collects his bag and slings it across his chest over his opposite shoulder, and then, curiously to anyone who notices, gives a nod of respect and familial greeting to his quarterstaff before taking it in hand and turning back to Romanna.

With a laugh in his voice he says, "Well, what are you waiting for? Don't tell me an old man, who's spent all night resetting his own broken bones is in better shape than you are?"

 

[Lazlow]

Despite the check of disdain, a look of panic crosses Romanna's face and she motions for Pollock to be quiet. "It is not wise to speak so cavalierly of - of him, here," she whispers. "There is much unchecked zeal among the brethren on this island. But we cannot speak of this here. Come."

Romanna leads the way out of the ward, speaking briefly with one of the attendants. As she speaks with him, you notice that she, too is dressed in the manner of a priest, but not similar to any of those in attendance here. Her loose-fitting robes are of earthen tones, and hearty boots cover her feet. A black leather belt girds her slender waist, upon which hang a number of pouches.

After a moment, she nods to the attendant and heads down a dimly lit hallway. Halfway throught the hallway is a door, which she opens; a cold, wet draft rushes in and chills the air. "After you," she says. She closes the door after you and you both make your way out into the courtyard. It is empty, save for a single obelisk in the center, rising up over the level of the outer skirting wall.

"This way," she says, skirting her way around to the far side of the courtyard, trying to stay under the overhang of the level above. Rain is coming down in smatterings here and there, and the sky is so overcast that it appears to be evening, even though it is only an hour or so past daybreak. She comes to another door, and another hallway. Along this hallway were many doors set fairly close together. "The guest quarters," she says. "Here, the one across from mine is empty, I think... Yes. You can put your things in there, if you like." She ducks into hers and emerges a second later wearing a heavy hooded cloak. "Well... Once more, into the fray," she says, taking off down the hallway and back outside again.

Once outside, she walks out into the courtyard and heads straight for the gate, which is unmanned and open. A wide pathway leads down to a larger road, which in turn leads away from the Abbey, inland. "The road to St. Germain, the town proper," she says. "We'll go there after we survey the wreckage, if you like. For now, we'll take this path." She turns away from the road, and follows a side path that double-backs on the Abbey, leading around it for a bit, then down a slope that steepens sharply. "Watch your step," she cautions needlessly.

After a few minutes of careful navigation, the rocks give way to more and more sand. Soon you can make out a rocky beach, upon which is strewn broken wooden planks, lengths of rope and net, and not much else. "We found you down here, I believe," Romanna says, walking over to one of the larger boulders on the beach. "Not much else, really."

She looks around a bit, then looks you in the eye. "I know not what your beliefs are," she says solemnly, "but I must warn you that the people here are unlike any I've known. I can tell that you're from the mainland, and from your remarks I assume that this may be your first time here. That being the case, you would do well to be as accomodating as you can to the priestly class here. They hold a sway over the people unlike any I've seen - but that is to be expected. After all, the Abbey, the town, in truth, the whole island is the namesake of St. Germain, most honored and revered of Surlamon."

She turns and looks out over the surging ocean. "As such, the people here revere the representatives of the god with unwavering devotion. You must be careful what you say.

"But what kind of host am I? Why, I have told you nothing of myself, save my name. I, too, am a priest, but I serve Gamael, god of nature." She clasps her hands and brings them to her chest as she says the name reverently, then continues. "I came here to meet others of my order, but have yet to go into town to find them. This accursed storm hit upon my arrival last night, and so I offered my services here..." She gazes up into the sky, and her hood falls off of her head. Soon her hair is drenched and the rain, coming down harder now, streams down her face. "This is not a natural storm, as I said," she states. "I can feel it... I can smell it, I can taste it. It is not of Gamael."

 

[Gray Shade]

Questions and more questions

you both make your way out into the courtyard. It is empty, save for a single obelisk in the center, rising up over the level of the outer skirting wall.

Pollock veers away from his guide to walk a slow circle around the obelisk, examining it. Interesting. What do you make of this, old friend? Once he's given it a good once over, he catches up with Romanna.

"The guest quarters," she says. "Here, the one across from mine is empty, I think... Yes. You can put your things in there, if you like."

He looks into the guest room then digs through his bag for something to leave in the room to make her realize that he will take it and not to insult her, but finds nothing he is willing to leave behind except a plain candle, which he puts on the simple table but does not light, suspecting that they may not be back for many hours. "Thank you," he tells her. "But my possessions are meager, and I am comfortable carrying them for now."

Later, on the beach, when she mentions that they are on an island, he looks worried and asks (when the time is right), "Island? I thought we were still in the Third Kingdom, in Duke Archibald's territory." He laughs long and hard at this. "Look at me! Doddering old man can't even tell mainland from an island! No wonder the brothers shipped me off, eh? How far from the mainland are we?"

"As such, the people here revere the representatives of the god with unwavering devotion. You must be careful what you say."

"I'm always careful what I say, my dear. The difficult thing is being careful about what I hear. And I'll tell you this much, and don't take this the wrong way, because you seem like a marvelous girl, whose beliefs I do not know, but . . . people of religion have a peculiar tendency to be high-strung."

When she mentions her vocation, he says, "Gamael, eh? Good for you! If you're going to have faith in something pulling the strings, might as well be pulling friendly strings. But this storm's not of Gamael, you say?" He walks around the area, searching for any clues or wreckage left over from the night before. "Well, have you any theories on what would cause the storm if not Gamael? Or to what ends? Perhaps . . ." He winks at her. " . . . to wreck a boat? To toss it upon this craggy shore right here?"

He squats to examine something among the rocks and salt water and continues to talk. "Very interesting." When she comes to see what he's looking at, he tosses it back in the water and looks her right in the eyes and says, "you say you arrived last night and the storm popped up just after you got here. And then, before you could get to town, my boat came along in the storm and wrecked here. Is this correct, my dear? Very strange that the storm should hit so quickly and suddenly and with such range and force to pull in my boat and smash it to so many small bits that I cannot find worthwhile evidence that it even existed and yet, your boat arrived safely so soon before. What vessel did you arrive on, and who was your captain? Also, and please take no offense to all my questions, as I've no doubt that you're not invovled in any nefarious doings, but, if you please: When did you arrive, when did my ship wreck, and did anyone try to convince you NOT to go to town before my unlucky ship's arrival?"

Cadmus, my friend, I'm afraid I'm more adled than I first realized. Perhaps you can offer some guidance. Do you remember what happened just before the shipwreck, and just after? Ha! What am I bothering with? Do you remember what our assignment was that landed us on that doomed vessel in the first place?

* * *

Trying some Knowledge Religion/Arcane/Forbidden Lore on the obelisk. Anything come to mind? Also, what do these skills tell me of St. Germain, Surlamon, and Gamael? Also using Search for any wreckage.

 

[Lazlow]

Pollock veers away from his guide to walk a slow circle around the obelisk, examining it. Interesting. What do you make of this, old friend?

Hm. It does seem a bit out of place in an abbey dedicated to Surlamon. Especially one with so much zeal, as our new friend attests.

He looks into the guest room then digs through his bag for something to leave in the room to make her realize that he will take it and not to insult her, but finds nothing he is willing to leave behind except a plain candle, which he puts on the simple table but does not light, suspecting that they may not be back for many hours. "Thank you," he tells her. "But my possessions are meager, and I am comfortable carrying them for now."

Meager? In quantity only, I'm sure.

"I'm always careful what I say, my dear. The difficult thing is being careful about what I hear. And I'll tell you this much, and don't take this the wrong way, because you seem like a marvelous girl, whose beliefs I do not know, but . . . people of religion have a peculiar tendency to be high-strung."

The young girl smiles and nods. "Yes, I don't disagree with that observation. On the other hand, people with no religion tend towards laxity - in a spiritual sense, of course. But this is all in keeping with the will of Gamael, that the balance be maintained."

"Gamael, eh? Good for you! If you're going to have faith in something pulling the strings, might as well be pulling friendly strings. But this storm's not of Gamael, you say?" He walks around the area, searching for any clues or wreckage left over from the night before. "Well, have you any theories on what would cause the storm if not Gamael? Or to what ends? Perhaps . . ." He winks at her. " . . . to wreck a boat? To toss it upon this craggy shore right here?"

"Well... It is unnatural... And I'm afraid that is the extent of my assessment for the time being. As I said, I've only been on the island just the night. I was hoping to look deeper into that very question. No doubt my associates would want to as well."

Later, on the beach, when she mentions that they are on an island, he looks worried and asks (when the time is right), "Island? I thought we were still in the Third Kingdom, in Duke Archibald's territory." He laughs long and hard at this. "Look at me! Doddering old man can't even tell mainland from an island! No wonder the brothers shipped me off, eh? How far from the mainland are we?"

"A week's journey by ship," Romanna replies. "The Isle of St. Germain is the northernmost of the Sunset Isles, but also the easternmost, which might explain why your boat ended up here. Quite a distance from Horizon, though. Is that where you were headed? Most ships of that size head straight for the largest port there."

He squats to examine something among the rocks and salt water and continues to talk. "Very interesting." When she comes to see what he's looking at, he tosses it back in the water and looks her right in the eyes and says, "you say you arrived last night and the storm popped up just after you got here. And then, before you could get to town, my boat came along in the storm and wrecked here. Is this correct, my dear?"

"Yes, I suppose that's how I would put it, but..."

"Very strange that the storm should hit so quickly and suddenly and with such range and force to pull in my boat and smash it to so many small bits that I cannot find worthwhile evidence that it even existed and yet, your boat arrived safely so soon before. What vessel did you arrive on, and who was your captain? Also, and please take no offense to all my questions, as I've no doubt that you're not invovled in any nefarious doings, but, if you please: When did you arrive, when did my ship wreck, and did anyone try to convince you NOT to go to town before my unlucky ship's arrival?"

A look of deep concern covers Romanna's rain-streaked face. She thinks for a moment, then speaks, choosing her words carefully. "I arrived on a small ferry that came straight from Iona, about four hour's ride southwest of here. I do not know the captain, although I understand his name to be Abner. No doubt he is still here, as I can't imagine him trying to get back to Iona in this weather. If he's not in the Abbey, I would imagine he's found lodgings in town.

As for the circumstances surrounding our respective arrivals, I must say I am at a loss to explain them adequately... But we did arrive on opposite sides of the island. Here, let me show you." She bends down and finds a piece of shell, with which she starts tracing in the wet sand. "The island is rather elongated, like this. The Abbey is here," she says, making a point in the lower part of the island shape, which runs from northwest down to southeast. "I came from the southwest, and we made straight for the Abbey, which has a small landing on the southern beach. It is closer to our origin, and I would imagine the ferrymen prefer it as there is no harbormaster to charge a fee. The town and it's harbor is here, on the northwest side. Now, your ship came from the east, and ended up where we are now, on the northern beach. How it missed the lighthouse, here," she says, making another mark at the southernmost part of the island, "I have no idea. It was approaching dusk, but still, you can see-"

She looks down the coastline, gesturing upward a bit, but stops in mid-sentence, looking but obviously not seeing what she wanted. "The lighthouse... It's dark. That's ill news, indeed. No wonder your ship ended up where it did, it had no guidance."

She sits back and looks at you, then continues, a look of perplexity on her face. "Now that I think about it, I don't remember seeing it when my boat came in, either... But thinking back, realizing that we made it to shore with little trouble, it seems... It seems that your ship must have brought the storm with it, so to speak." She stands up, looking at you inquiringly.

Cadmus, my friend, I'm afraid I'm more adled than I first realized. Perhaps you can offer some guidance. Do you remember what happened just before the shipwreck, and just after? Ha! What am I bothering with? Do you remember what our assignment was that landed us on that doomed vessel in the first place?

Funny... I was just about to ask you the same thing... I can't recall anything since the mainland. I must say, I've never experienced this feeling before, it's as if part of my very existence, my... My time of being, has been taken from me. I don't like this, Pollock. Not one bit.

===============

OOC: Trying some Knowledge Religion/Arcane/Forbidden Lore on the obelisk. Anything come to mind? Also, what do these skills tell me of St. Germain, Surlamon, and Gamael? Also using Search for any wreckage.

Obelisk: As you understand it, the original standing stones, centuries and maybe even millenia old, were unique to the Isles, erected by ancient civilizations to their long-forgotten gods. This one, however, is a more modern representation - which isn't all that odd, as there are more modern ones than ancient nowadays.

St. Germain: Germain lived about 200 years ago, and was the first man to cross the ocean and settle the Sunset Islands. He attributed his successful journey to Surlamon, god of the oceans, and worship of this diety soon become the major religion in the Islands. However, as with any civilization, piety gave way to progress, and now there are fewer established churches to Surlamon than in days past. As with most cultures, the further away one gets from the larger populations, the more fervent the beliefs. This is most evident in the fact that Horizon, largest port in the Sunset Islands, is well known as an extremely cosmopolitan city, where one can satisfy nearly every vice they desire, as well as pick up a few new ones.

Surlamon: God of the oceans, he is known on the mainlands, but rarely worshipped by anyone other than ocean-going sailors.

Gamael: God of nature, this deity is revered throughout the world by many Barbarian tribes, Druids, and Rangers, as well as hunters, fishermen, and farmers. His disciples teach harmony and peaceful coexistence among all living creatures, which ensures that the fragile balance of the world is maintained.

The wreckage strewn about the rocky shoreline is mainly broken planks, beams, and tattered ropes and nets. There is still a goodly amount left, although not nearly an entire ship's worth. You don't find anything significant among the rubble.

Romanna's depiction of the Island of St. Germain (not to scale):

 

[Gray Shade]

A Few Loose Ends Tied Up

Hm. It does seem a bit out of place in an abbey dedicated to Surlamon. Especially one with so much zeal, as our new friend attests.

Yes, a new idol to an ancient god. Quite 'out of place'.

Meager? In quantity only, I'm sure.

Not just, at all! What? You don't think I would consider you a possession? One does not 'possess' a companion.

"Quite a distance from Horizon, though. Is that where you were headed? Most ships of that size head straight for the largest port there."

"Far be it from me to buck a trend, young lady. Surely if most ships this size head for Horizon, then ours was too."

Funny... I was just about to ask you the same thing... I can't recall anything since the mainland. I must say, I've never experienced this feeling before, it's as if part of my very existence, my... My time of being, has been taken from me. I don't like this, Pollock. Not one bit.

She said it's a week's journey. A week . . . just gone. No, I've never experienced this before either, but I can tell it's not good. We'll have to be very on our toes through this adventure, I believe. Please, friend, watch for details I may miss, eh?

* * *

OOC: That is, I don't think Pollock's ever experienced this kind of memory loss before. I assume he's read about all sorts of dark forces erasing minds, and certainly about mortals losing bits of memory after traumas and being unable to recall horriffic experiences, but nothing where everything is so seemingly "normal", right?

 

[Gray Shade]

The Notes/Map

OOC: Very good information and notes, thanks! The "world" is coming together quite well!