Dreams In The Deep

[Lazlow]

When she sings her song, he will smile vaguely and tell her afterward how beautiful it was. After a moment he'll ask if she made it up on the spot or if it was written by someone else. Either way, it was beautiful.

"Oh, no... Would that such beautiful lyrics spring from my mind. But no, 'tis part of an epic song cycle by St. Floyd, the Pink."

Once at Zachariel's, while the apothacary washes his hands, Pollock will notice some interesting herb along the wall that he knows (or reads) the name to. When Zachariel comes back and offers his hand again, Pollock will introduce himself with vigor and start to extend his hand, but before they grip, or Zachariel can even get a good look at it, Pollock will point with his other hand and say excitedly, "Is that So-And-So herb?!" He'll then move over to it and try to change the subject. If Zachariel tries to shake hands again after that, Pollock will do basically the same thing, but say, "What a shame about your herb garden! All that rain!" and go to the window to look out at it. Mostly, though, he'll be happy to let Romanna do the talking with this man.

Zachariel dries his hands off and returns, and you introduce yourself, with vigor, and his smile becomes even wider with your infectious enthusiasm. But before your hands meet, you blurt out, "I say, is that skullcap essence?"

The friar's eyes follow your other hand immediately and, much to your surprise, he perks up even more. "Why, yes, yes it is! Grown right here in the abbey's garden and distilled by myse-"

"What a shame about your herb garden! All that rain!"

His face takes on a grandfatherly look of compassionate sorrow, and he seems to deflate by a few cubic feet. "Oh, yes, this belligerent storm has all but ruined my perrenials. But I was fortunate enough to save quite a bit, I have some excellent nightshade specimens over here in the dryer if you would care to-"

"I'm so sorry to interrupt," Romanna interjects, looking at you both sympathetically, "but I'm afraid we're in a bit of a hurry, and I'm in sore need of a rather... Unusual component."

"Of course, my dear, of course." He looks to you. "We'll follow up some other time, my good fellow, I do hope so. Now," he says, giving Romanna his full attention, "what is it that you need? I'll do my best to help you if I can."

"Well, I need a largish pinch of diamond dust."

"Diamond dust! My my my..."

"I have gold to compensate- "

"Tut tut! That won't be necessary." He leans in conspiritorially and whispers loud enough for you both to hear: "If there's one thing that this abbey needs less of, it's material wealth." A baleful look crosses his face, and his voice drops a bit more. "Some of us fear that our... Leaders... Have chosen to follow a path that leads to unrighteousness... But Surlamon's will shall no doubt be served in the end," he concludes, regaining a bit of his former joviality.

"Now. Diamond dust, eh? Let me see, let me see... The chests, I would think. A moment, my dear, but a moment."

He bustles over to a sturdy-looking cabinet in the corner, and producing a key from the inner confines of his robe, unlocks the door. He bends and picks up an even sturdier-looking chest, and, producing yet another key from an entirely different pocket, unlocks that as well. He procures a small sachet of silk tied with twine and hands that to Romanna, laying one finger beside his nose and winking. "With our lord's blessings, my dear."

"Thank you, Zachariel. Thank you so much. I hate to be such a poor guest but I'm afraid we must be off immediately."

"I understand. I do hope I'll see you again soon?" he inquires.

"Of course! Pollock here has been invited to dine with the High Ecclesiast this evening. We'll see you this evening."

"An honor!" Zachariel says, his eyebrows nearly leaping off the top of his abundant forehead. "Perhaps we can find a moment or two to visit afterwards, eh?"

"Of course. Goodbye, Zachariel. May Gamael bless you," she says, clasping her hands and bowing her head.

"Thank you, dear. I shall be happy to receive any and all blessings sent my way in these dark times." He graciously bows to her in return.

"Shall we?" Romanna says, turning toward the door.

 

[Gray Shade]

"Oh, no... Would that such beautiful lyrics spring from my mind. But no, 'tis part of an epic song cycle by St. Floyd, the Pink."

"Ah, yes. I do very much enjoy his Ode to Time."

His face takes on a grandfatherly look of compassionate sorrow, and he seems to deflate by a few cubic feet. "Oh, yes, this belligerent storm has all but ruined my perrenials. But I was fortunate enough to save quite a bit, I have some excellent nightshade specimens over here in the dryer if you would care to-"

Enjoying the man's enthusiasm, Pollock finds himself caught up in it and actually nodding and following to the dryer when Romanna snaps them both out of it. Pollock slides his hands behind his back and stands aside.

Once the component is procured, Pollock smiles gratefully and thanks Zachariel. "I am by no means a master of herbs, but I would love to come back later and spend some time exploring your collection. Thank you again for the favor. I'll see you at dinner tonight!"

Pollock then follows Romanna out the door and out of the abbey.

 

[Lazlow]

A cleansing, and a walk

"Let's slip back out the way we came. 'Twould behoove us to avoid any contact at this point."

Romanna leads the way back out through the front gate and follows a shepherd's path around the walls of the abbey. The high stone edifice towers ruefully in the dank drizzle, rivulets of water cascading down its rocky sides and collecting in larger streams at the base, making a muddy flow of the path. At about the midpoint of this wall, Romanna stops and asks you to stretch out your hand.

She pulls out the tiny sack of diamond dust, pinches out about a third of it, then replaces it in one of her belt pouches. Sprinkling the fine powder over your hand, she raises her other hand, palm side up, closes her eyes, and murmurs a prayer in a language you don't quite recognize, although you hear the name of her god and what you think sounded like an ancient word for 'cleansing'. A warm glow engulfs your finger, blocking out the oppressive cold of the rain, and slowly the black taint vanishes. The warmth of the magic spreads throughout your body, finally dissapating at the top of your head and the tips of your toes, and you feel, quite frankly, amazing.

Wow... Even I felt that.

Clasping her hands and bowing, she gives a quick thanks and examines your finger, nodding and pulling you back along onto the trail. "Looks well enough now. I'm lucky, though, that it hadn't spread much more. I don't know how much of that... Evil... My own expertise can handle. I certainly couldn't handle that other poor fellow."

She walks on a while in silence, then says, "But if this is something that is infecting this island, we need to be on our toes. Watch your step, here." She hops over a largish puddle and up onto a stone walkway that marks the far side of the abbey, and connects with the cart road that leads to the lighthouse. "Not far now," she says, setting out toward the still-darkened tower. As if in response, a low, booming thunder rolls overhead, followed shortly by a crackle of lightning hidden high in the clouds. For a split second your mind wants to welcome the light - but rather than illuminating the landscape it casts an eerie, blue-grey pall over all.

You both walk a ways down the road, the sound of the gathering storm hampering conversation more than anything. A few hundred yards down the road curves closer toward the dark, choppy sea, where a low cliff meets the water. Brave tufts of sturdy grass cling to the increasingly rocky terrain, swaying in the wind and rain, which churns the water into tiny whitecaps and whips against half-submerged boulders out past the island's edge. The dark clouds above are virtually impenetrable now; where once you could barely make out the edge of the storm, the rain and darkness has gathered like a blackened curtain surrounding the island, obscuring your vision in all directions now.

Suddenly, off to your right, you think you see - feel? - something off in the near distance.

Slowing your pace you turn, and quickly scan the waterline. In the blink of another flash of lightning, a hint of movement...

Was that a pair of eyes?

A splash of water grabs your attention. Focusing, you see nothing...

...Well, the water is choppy. Perhaps it was just the rain.

Romanna hasn't noticed you and has continued onward, a few feet ahead of you now. With a final scan you return to the path and quicken your pace to catch up. The island is sloping downwards here, slowly coming closer to the water's level, and the grass and earth surrounding the abbey and the road to town is giving way to rocks and sand, driftwood and other island detritus half-buried in beaches strewn with shells. The way is easy, save for the rain, and given other circumstances might make a won-

THERE!

There, up ahead, the eyes!

That was definitely a pair of eyes, but...

You focus your concentration on the spot, but there is nothing there now. Turning your concentration inward, you try to recall what details you can about the eyes.

Large, dark, unusually round...

Lidless...

Nowhere near human.

Pollock, I'm sensing something... Not right. I don't know what, but... Let's stay alert.

The road takes a final turn and heads straight for the lighthouse, which you can now see clearly. It's a typical design, the base being a large cube, perhaps one story tall, its top ringed by a low, ornate stone bannister. Atop this building sits the cylindrical spire stretching up at least another hundred feet. Small square windows pierce the length of the tower at regular intervals. The flagpoles atop the base are bare, and one lays broken, resting on a lip at the base of the tower. A crude, wooden scaffold-like apparatus clings precariously to the outside of the tower, accessible by a similarly crude rope and bentwood ladder. The tower itself is painted white, hiding the dark stones with which it was built, a single black ring breaking up the stark whiteness of the spire. The sheer side ends with a flared ring of more ornate stonework, from which many small columns protrude all around, supporting the small dome that caps the very top of the tower. It is quite beautiful in its own way, and you wish that you could see it under more favorable circumstances...

A flash of lightning briefly illuminates the area and just as suddenly in your mind's eye you see, quite vividly, another tower... No! This same lighthouse! But... From a different vantage point... You're out on the water... No, you're where the water should be, but it's only a foot or so deep... The water is cold, and dark... Very dark... Dark, and writhing... Writhing black tendrils swimming around in the roiling brine making their way up and over the rocks, reaching upward toward the stark white spire on the shoreli-

"Pollock? Did you hear me? I said, I don't see any lights at all, not even in the keeper's quarters. Something's not right."

You break out of your reverie and find Romanna looking right at you, waiting for an answer.

 

[Gray Shade]

"I hear you woman! Always with the bloody bleating." Pollock puts a hand to his head and steadies himself. "I'm sorry, Romanna. You're right. There are many things wrong here. I shouldn't let them get me tense. I think something--" He left his sentence unfinished as he realized how frightening the woman would take it ( “-- is getting inside my head!”) and instead forced himself to smile and gave her a reassuring squeeze of the hand.

“I’m really very sorry. Thank you again for driving out whatever had infected my hand.” Pollock then springs up the wet rocks to the base of the tower. “Come now, we’ve some friends of yours to rescue!”

He looks for a door upon which to knock. “Let us try the direct route this time.”

When he finds a door, he uses Cadmus to rap loudly, but politely, upon it.

 

[Lazlow]

"I hear you woman! Always with the bloody bleating."

Romanna pulls back in dismay for a moment, but...

"I'm sorry, Romanna. You're right. There are many things wrong here. I shouldn't let them get me tense. I think something--" He left his sentence unfinished as he realized how frightening the woman would take it ( “-- is getting inside my head!”) and instead forced himself to smile and gave her a reassuring squeeze of the hand.

...her look of dismay disappears as you smile.

“I’m really very sorry. Thank you again for driving out whatever had infected my hand.”

"It was nothing. It's my duty, really."

Pollock then springs up the wet rocks to the base of the tower. “Come now, we’ve some friends of yours to rescue!”

"Rescue...? Let's hope that isn't the case!"

He looks for a door upon which to knock. “Let us try the direct route this time.” When he finds a door, he uses Cadmus to rap loudly, but politely, upon it.

The road dead-ends right at the foot of the tower and the only door you can see at ground level. You knock loudly, and wait a moment or two.

Someone coming, Pollock...

You knock again for good measure, subconciously trying to tune your ears to the sound of footsteps inside.

...But not from inside... Careful now, they're on either side of us!

Scanning the area quickly, you see two pair of curious creatures emerge from the sea, a pair on either shore flanking the lighthouse. One look and it's obvious that these must be the so-called "frogmen" you heard the townsfolk talking about - they vary in color from greenish brown to brownish green, have large, dark, unusually round, lidless eyes and wide, gaping mouths. Their webbed hands hold sharp, shiny spears, and one carries a cruel-looking whip on his belt.

They approach you - but slowly. Still about twenty feet away from you on either side, the one with the whip makes a slow waving gesture at you, his hands open as if to reveal... Nothing.

"Uh, Pollock..." Romanna says, unhelpfully.

 

[Gray Shade]

Moving as non-threateningly as he can, Pollock takes Romanna by the shoulder and steps up in front of her, gently pushing her so that she is against the wall of the lighthouse.

He then tries to imitate the hand motion of the "frogmen" and says, "Salutations! I appologize for any undue fright we may have caused you. We're here in peace. Simply looking for lost companions."

If they don't seem to understand, he throws in, speaking very slowly and a little louder than usual, "We come in peace."

If they still don't seem to understand, he tries, even slower and louder, "Take . . . us . . . to . . . your . . . leader."

 

[Lazlow]

The hand-waving, whip-bearing creature sees your own hand motions and pauses, relaxing a little. He speaks, a croaking, gutteral voice that sounds as wet and dark as the depths from which he just crawled:

"BULBLOOPORDIM"

He pauses. Seeing no reaction from you, he speaks again:

"Not think so. Perhaps now understanding?"

My my, that's interesting, this sea-creature speaks Draconic.

Her voice barely a whisper, Romanna asks the obvious. "Do you understand what they're saying? I think they want to talk."