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Dreams of Erthe
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<blockquote data-quote="Richards" data-source="post: 8641263" data-attributes="member: 508"><p><strong>ADVENTURE 29: THE WOUNDS THAT DO NOT HEAL</strong></p><p></p><p>PC Roster:</p><p style="margin-left: 20px">Alewyth Putterpye, dwarf priestess of Aerik 6</p> <p style="margin-left: 20px"> Thurloe Pulver, human fighter 3/wizard 3</p> <p style="margin-left: 20px"> Wakuren, half-orc cleric of Cal 3/paladin 3</p> <p style="margin-left: 20px"> Xandro Silverstrings, human bard 5/rogue 1</p> <p style="margin-left: 20px"> Zander Quilson, elf sorcerer 6</p><p></p><p>Game Session Date: 14 May 2022</p><p></p><p> - - -</p><p></p><p>It took another two days getting back out of the Centralia Desert, heading in a northeasterly direction to get them back on the road to civilization and to the city - Devlinshire - where the moogles had said there was not one but two separate dreamers trapped in their dreams. Horse got a bit of a break during those two days, for his reins were tied to the rear of the wagon and he ambled along without Thurloe's weight on his back, as the swordsman had decided to wrangle with some of the spellbooks he'd appropriated during his adventuring career and see if he could make sense of a few of the spells annotated within. He made enough progress during those two days that when the group finally left the desert and made it back to actual roads, with another two days of travel ahead of them to get to the city, he opted to continue with his studies in the back of the wagon and by the time Devlinshire appeared in the distance he'd mastered four new spells.</p><p></p><p>Devlinshire proved to be a fairly large city, comparable in size to Baron's Haven and also ruled by a noble of the same bloodline - not unexpectedly, for the Devlin family was the single-most powerful family in all of Armaturia, with <strong>King Eovard Devlin</strong> the current ruler of the whole continent. Fortunately, Devlinshire did not have any prohibitions against spellcasting as did Baron's Haven and they had several potion shops where Thurloe picked up a few items: a <em>potion of neutralize poison</em> and two vials of antitoxin. They wandered around and found Smiths Avenue, where Alewyth paid to have the magical protection on her chain mail upgraded and Xandro sold his own chain mail, using the money received to help fund the purchase a set of magical chain mail quite similar to Alewyth's.</p><p></p><p>"I thought you were saving up for those magical boots," Xandro pointed out to the dwarven priestess.</p><p></p><p>"I am."</p><p></p><p>"Didn't you even put a down-payment on them with those gnomes?"</p><p></p><p>"I did."</p><p></p><p>"You're not going to be able to buy those boots if you spend your money on armor upgrades," pointed out the bard.</p><p></p><p>"I'm aware."</p><p></p><p>"I don't see how you're even going to get in contact with those gnomes once you do gather up the rest of the money," Thurloe added. "You ask me, that down-payment you gave them was money you'll never see again."</p><p></p><p>"I didn't ask you," pointed out Alewyth, but the swordsman's point was something that had been gnawing at her nonetheless, despite the gnomes' insistence that they'd find her when she was ready to make the purchase. Either they were lying and she'd never see that money again or they were telling the truth and were somehow spying on her - neither possibility was particularly pleasant to consider.</p><p></p><p>While they'd been making their purchases, the heroes had also been chatting with the shopkeepers and armorers, asking if there were any rumors in the city about anyone being unable to be awakened from a long sleep. Several of the townsfolk had steered them toward the Temple of Telgrane, where there was a paladin, <strong>Drakkar Pyropus</strong>, who was said to have been sleeping now for weeks on end. And worse yet, none of the clerics' spells had been able to do anything to awaken the young man - local rumor was it was some type of a curse, but <em>remove curse</em> spells had been as ineffective as anything else the spellcasters had tried. "Reckon a <em>wish</em> spell might do it, but I never heard of nobody capable of casting so powerful a spell - not exceptin' in legends of the old days, in any case," added a grizzled hammersmith.</p><p></p><p>Since all of the rumors they were able to pick up led to the Temple of Telgrane - nobody had any ideas about a second sleeper in the city unable to be awakened - the heroes got directions and headed there at once. The temple was rather distinctive in that just outside its gate, in place of a fountain, a column of permanent flame rose up a dozen or more feet - an appropriate gesture to a temple devoted to the God of Fire and Knowledge.</p><p></p><p>The clerics were curious as to what these travelers thought they could do where their most powerful spellcasters had failed, but Alewyth assured them they'd had many successes in the previous months at waking those trapped in their dreams. After giving Wakuren more than a few suspicious stares (half-orcs were not often seen wearing the armor of Cal, the God of Air and Healing), followed by assurances that he was not at all like the desert orc raiders that plagued the lands to the south, the group was allowed entry into the temple and ushered to a back room, where Drakkar lay sleeping on a simple cot. They passed several clerics and paladins in the halls, quite a few of them sporting horrendous-looking burn scars on their exposed skin. "Do not be alarmed," their cleric guide assured them. "The paladins of our faith learn to set their bodies ablaze with Telgrane's holy fire. The burns they receive during such occurrences are considered holy and remain in place when the damage is otherwise healed. Here in the sanctity of our own temple the paladins do not cover their scars, but when outside dealing with others they often wear masks and gloves, the better to shield their burns from the eyes of those outside our faith, who often view such scars as...troubling."</p><p></p><p>"Yeah, no kidding," agreed Telgane.</p><p></p><p>The cleric led the group into the room where Drakkar lay sleeping on a cot. Despite having earned the rank of a paladin, Drakkar wore a simple sleep shift and was covered with a single blanket. His skin was unblemished, apparently not having reached the level of training where he could self-immolate. "This room is normally reserved for those resting after an illness or injury," the temple's head cleric informed the group, having joined the visitors after news of their presence had been brought to his attention. "We placed him here, where we can keep an eye on him, after our attempts to wake him bore no fruit. What, exactly, do you propose to do?"</p><p></p><p>Alewyth explained their procedures and the clerics agreed to move Drakkar to a larger room reserved for meditation, where the dreamwalkers would have enough room to sit around him in a circle. The dwarven priestess placed the dreamstone-headband upon the young paladin's brow, then took her position in the circle around him. The five dreamwalkers sat at the five points of a star, each sitting cross-legged in the lotus position, and each wearing a dreamstone upon his or her own forehead, held in place by a leather headband crafted by Thurloe's Uncle Marten. A few clerics - and Zander's <em>jade cooshee</em>, once activated - stood at the back of the room to observe and ensure there were no interruptions. Then the heroes slowed their breathing, stilled their minds, and drifted off to sleep.</p><p></p><p>Mogo was there to guide them to the appropriate door in the seemingly-endless Hall of Dreams. "Good luck, kupo!" he told them as they stepped inside Drakkar's dreamscape.</p><p></p><p>At first, the dream looked very much like the last dream they'd entered, that of the orc raider captured by the trio of dune hags down in the desert: an endless wasteland of parched earth, with a few scattered plants scratching out a determined existence. The heroes looked all about them but they were the only five figures at all in the dreamscape.</p><p></p><p>Then they heard the cries above them. Looking up, they saw two reptilian bodies engaged in combat. One was a bat-winged serpent, the other a bronze dragon. The serpent shrieked in anger and brought its sinuous tail up and across the dragon's back, dislodging a rider the heroes hadn't noticed until he was hurtling to the ground. However, just as he was about to make a splat-stain on the hard-packed desert earth he suddenly stopped a few inches above the ground, hovered for a moment, and then went flying back up to the back of the dragon he'd just been riding. The serpent reversed its combat shriek as the two aerial foes unflapped their wings and backed up from each other - the entire dream reversing until the combatants were in their original positions when the heroes first entered the dreamscape. Then time started moving forward again, with the dragon and the serpent flying toward each other, the flying snake's tail swatting the rider, who toppled from his draconic perch and plummeted <em>nearly</em> to the ground again, before the dream started rewinding once more.</p><p></p><p>"What's going on?" demanded Alewyth. "This makes no sense!"</p><p></p><p>"That's gotta be Drakkar," reasoned Zander. "He's got the holy symbol of Telgrane painted on his shield." The dragon-rider was in full armor, however, with a helmet that covered his entire face so they were unable to confirm it was the same individual they'd left sleeping in a cot in the meditation room in the Temple of Telgrane.</p><p></p><p>"Let's see if we can weaken the beast," Xandro suggested, raising the dreamstone he held in his hand both back on the Mortal World and here in the Dreamlands. Concentrating on the bat-winged serpent, he imagined its strength siphoning off and dissipating into the winds. Beside him, Alewyth, Wakuren and Zander did likewise, while Thurloe took a different approach and tried doing nearly the opposite, using his lucid dreaming training to try to increase the paladin's physical dexterity, hopefully to the point he could dodge the incoming serpentine tail on its next pass.</p><p></p><p>"This isn't working!" complained Thurloe as the paladin was once again swatted from the back of the bronze dragon and sent plummeting to his death - a finish he was spared at the last second when time stopped once again and rewound for him. None of the dreamwalkers was affected by the sudden reversal of the dream's time-stream; they were immune to the effect as the two aerial figures backed up in the sky once again and resumed their starting positions.</p><p></p><p>"I'm going to try something," Wakuren announced. He well knew his own <em>shield of Cal</em> had a <em>feather fall</em> effect that worked for whoever held it; this being a dream, where anything could happen, he used his lucid dreaming training to cause the shield to fly out of his hands and go streaking up to the paladin, while at the same time the paladin's shield came dropping down to the half-orc. "Let's see if swapping shields has any effect," he told the others. By this time the serpent's tail had struck the armored figure once again and he fell from his draconic mount - and sure enough, the paladin's fall was slowed by the <em>feather fall</em> effect, such that it was taking him much longer to fall all the way down to the ground.</p><p></p><p>Alewyth cast a <em>calm emotions</em> spell up at the three figures, hoping to get them to cease their aerial combat. It had as much effect as their dreamstones, which is to say none at all.</p><p></p><p>"I'm going to try something, too," replied Thurloe, rising up into the air. This was just a dream, he figured - no reason he couldn't fly through the air as gracefully as any dragon or winged serpent. He pulled the bastard sword from its sheath on his back as he approached the bat-winged snake. Xandro and Zander followed suit, although they opted not to fly up to the giant serpent but rather over to where the paladin was engaged in his slow-motion plummet to the ground. And although the paladin's face was mostly covered by his helmet, as Zander approached he was able to better judge the figure's overall size and build, as well as the shape of his eyes through the visor. "This is an elf!" he called to the others.</p><p></p><p>Thurloe backed away from the bat-snake as it bit into the dragon's neck, at the same time the dragon's front claws ripped furrows across the serpent's scales - each having gained extra "combat time" by the slowed effect of the elven paladin's fall. Rather than attack the dragon's foe, Thurloe held out his dreamstone again like a holy symbol and concentrated on it, focusing on identifying the dreamer of this strange back-and-forth dream. Surprisingly, his focus directed him not to the paladin slow-falling below him but to the dragon he'd been riding before being knocked from his perch.</p><p></p><p>"That's not Drakkar!" Thurloe called to the others. "Drakkar's dreaming he's the dragon!"</p><p></p><p>Alewyth kept her feet firmly planted on the ground, not wanting to fly through the air even in just a dream, and cast a <em>spiritual weapon</em> spell that sent a hammer-shaped field of force flying straight up to smash the winged serpent in the head. Its reaction was immediate: with eyes glowing a hellish red, a pair of beams exploded out of his eyes and struck Alewyth, dissipating her dream-body to motes of light that were quickly extinguished. Just like that, Alewyth had been slain (and woke with a gasp back in the Temple of Telgrane).</p><p></p><p>"Are you all right?" asked one of the Telgranian clerics overseeing the silent ritual.</p><p></p><p>"We're...experiencing a bit more difficulty than expected," admitted Alewyth. This was further evidenced when Thurloe gasped aloud and came to a sudden wakefulness by her side, the angry serpent's eyebeams having exploded his dream-self to nonexistence as well. The other three woke themselves voluntarily, realizing they weren't going to be able to defeat the winged serpent on their own.</p><p></p><p>The cleric looked down at the sleeping figure of Drakkar Pyropus, who hadn't stirred at all during the ritual. "He seems unaffected," he observed.</p><p></p><p>"Yes, I'm afraid we were unsuccessful," admitted Alewyth with a sigh. "This has happened twice before. We'll suggest to you what we suggested to those looking after the other two: leave the dreamstone secured at Drakkar's forehead" - the dwarf removed the leather headband they used on the dream victims and replaced it with a cloth scarf she tied in place around his head. "It will bond with him over time. We'll return later to try again, after the dreamstone has had to attune itself to him a bit. Perhaps then we'll be able to awaken him." The head cleric was of two minds of the heroes' failure to wake their young paladin: on the one hand, disappointment that their charge still remained trapped in his dream; on the other (admittedly selfish) hand, a slight relief that these strangers hadn't succeeded where they themselves had failed, which would have cast a pall upon the church's abilities to look after their own.</p><p></p><p>"There's supposed to be another dream victim somewhere in the city," remarked Xandro as the group gathered up their things and said their farewells (and made their apologies) to the temple clerics. "You wouldn't know anything about who that might be, or where they could be found, do you?"</p><p></p><p>"As a matter of fact, I do," replied the head cleric. "One of our retired paladins, <strong>Sir Marcus Brightflame</strong>, has a grand-niece, <strong>Amelia Candlecraft</strong>, who fell asleep a week or so ago and, just like Drakkar, could not be awakened. We have tried the same approaches on her as we did on Drakkar, with no success. Perhaps you will be more successful there than you have been here." He gave them directions on how to find the Brightflame estate and the group departed the temple.</p><p></p><p>The estate was easy enough to find; Alewyth knocked upon the front door of the single-story building and waited for an answer. It took some time in coming, but eventually they could hear shuffling footsteps and the tap of a cane approaching the front door from the other side. Then the door opened and Sir Marcus Brightflame stood before them.</p><p></p><p>The man was of average height, with a slightly stooped posture as he leaned upon a metal cane. Both hands were covered in black gloves that extended up into the sleeves of his shirt, and his face was entirely covered by a wooden mask with mere slits for eyes. "May I help you?" he asked, then took an involuntary step back at the sight of Wakuren, raising the cane behind him as if ready to strike the half-orc if needed.</p><p></p><p>Wakuren had half-expected such a reaction; not many were used to the idea of a non-aggressive person with the blood of an orc running through his veins. He held his hands up to demonstrate he was not armed and gave the old man his best smile. "Good afternoon. My name is Wakuren and I am not a threat," he said by way of introduction. "I am a cleric/paladin of Cal."</p><p></p><p>"Would you be terribly offended if I detected you for evil?" asked Sir Marcus.</p><p></p><p>"By all means," agreed Wakuren, keeping his hands raised where the elderly paladin could keep them in his sight.</p><p></p><p>"Well, I'll be," remarked Sir Marcus after staring at the half-orc before him for a moment or two. "Forgive me, but old habits die hard and old prejudices are even harder to dispel. Now then, how may I help you?"</p><p></p><p>"Actually," replied Alewyth, "we've come to see if we could assist you. I understand you have a grand-niece who's fallen asleep and has resisted all attempts to awaken?"</p><p></p><p>At that, Sir Marcus's shoulders drooped as he sighed in sadness. "I'm afraid you're too late," he informed them. "Amelia died three days ago. But please, come in - we need not stand here in the doorway." He stepped aside as the five dreamwalkers entered his foyer, a wide room with the ornamental displays of two sets of plate mail, the holy symbol of Telgrane emblazoned on each chest-piece and shield. Then, closing the front door, he shuffled off to a hallway to the east, leading them into a comfortable sitting room.</p><p></p><p>"I'm sorry to hear of the loss of your grand-niece," commiserated Alewyth. "May I ask how she died?"</p><p></p><p>"She was here visiting," Sir Marcus replied. "Not quite a week ago I was unable to wake her up, but she was quite alive. I brought in clerics from the temple and they did their best to revive her, but nothing they tried had any effect. I checked on her periodically and she was fine...and then, three days ago, I went to check on her in the morning and she was cold, no pulse. She must have died at some point during the night, poor girl."</p><p></p><p>The dreamwalkers looked worried at each other. "This is a new wrinkle," Xandro observed. "We've never seen one die before."</p><p></p><p>"Is this part of the Nightmare King's plan, do you think?" asked Zander.</p><p></p><p>"I'm sorry - what?" asked an obviously perplexed Sir Marcus. Alewyth informed him of the dream plague that was seemingly sweeping the continent, and of their successes - and failures - in waking those caught up in a dream coma. "We met up with the Nightmare King in the Dreamlands," the dwarven priestess declared. "We're still not sure why he's trapping people in their dreams, but so far everyone stuck in their dreams has been in a kind of magical stasis - no need for food or water, no wasting away due to starvation - so we assume the Nightmare King has a reason for keeping them alive."</p><p></p><p>"Could be this is the next step of the plan," observed Thurloe. "Maybe he's been stocking them up like firewood and now he's starting to use them."</p><p></p><p>"To what purpose, though?" asked Alewyth.</p><p></p><p>"Guys," interrupted Zander. "We're all missing something here: the moogles said there were still two dreamers here in Devlinshire. But if Amelia's been dead for three days..."</p><p></p><p>Alewyth looked over at Sir Marcus. "Forgive the question, sir, but...are you absolutely sure your grand-niece is dead?"</p><p></p><p>"Quite sure."</p><p></p><p>"Can we see the body?" demanded Thurloe, gruff as always.</p><p></p><p>"If you wish," replied Sir Marcus, pointing to the mantle. "She's right there, in the urn."</p><p></p><p>The heroes looked up at the urn on the top of the mantlepiece. "Well, that's rather conclusive," agreed Xandro.</p><p></p><p>"I performed the cremation myself, in accordance with our traditions," replied the paladin of Telgrane, God of Fire.</p><p></p><p>"Maybe there's somebody else stuck in their dreams," suggested Wakuren. "Somebody new, I mean. The moogles can't always tell specifically who's having the dream, just where they're located on the Mortal World...if someone else started their dream coma around the same time as Amelia died...."</p><p></p><p>"We should check out the dream," Alewyth decided. She turned to Sir Marcus. "Would it be too much of a bother if we took a quick nap here in your sitting room?" she asked. "I know it sounds like an odd request, but we'd like to talk with our...advisers in the dreamlands." She decided it was best not to describe the moogles to the elderly paladin; their story was already difficult for most people to believe.</p><p></p><p>"By all means," replied Sir Marcus, leaning on his cane to rise to his feet. "I'll go start a pot of tea, so it'll be ready for when you awaken."</p><p></p><p>"Don't you have someone to help you with that?" Alewyth asked.</p><p></p><p>"Pshaw!" scoffed Sir Marcus. "I used to have servants here, but I released them from service when I retired. I don't need anyone doing everything for me, now that I'm home here all day. You go have your chat, and afterwards I have a proposal I'd like to make to you." And with that, the elderly paladin ambled off down the hall to the kitchen.</p><p></p><p>One by one, the five dreamwalkers stilled themselves to sleep and were met by their individual moogle guides. They all converged in the Hall of Dreams once again, where they were met by Mogo. "Are you ready to see the second dream already, kupo?" he asked, opening the door to the dream in question. It was a forest dream this time, Zander noted with approval - he was getting tired of dreams taking place in barren wastelands.</p><p></p><p>Stepping into the dream-forest, the group found a frightened young woman hurrying along a path, her way lit only by the light of the moon above. There were crashes behind her as something made its way noisily through the trees and bushes. Xandro instinctively went over to the woman to assure her that they'd help but she gave no indication she was even aware of his presence; belatedly, he realized his ability to interact with the woman's dream-self was limited in that they weren't by her side on the Mortal World, nor was she wearing a dreamstone upon her brow.</p><p></p><p>The woman continued down the forest path, nervously glancing behind her. The dreamwalkers waited around long enough for whatever it was that was pursuing her to make an appearance, and despite the fact it had sounded like some monstrous beast crashing through the trees, when it finally stepped out between the trees and onto the forest path in her wake it was nothing more than a black-clad man, a serrated dagger in his hand. He, like her, gave no indication he could see any of the intruders into this dreamscape but silently pursued his target.</p><p></p><p>"This is definitely weird," observed Wakuren. "Is it possible for a dream to continue when the dreamer's been slain?"</p><p></p><p>"Let's ask Mogo," suggested Alewyth, opening the door from the dream and stepping back outside into the endless corridor, where their primary moogle dream instructor waited for them.</p><p></p><p>"That was quick, kupo!" the moogle observed, his tiny wings flapping to keep him at head level to the much taller dreamwalkers.</p><p></p><p>Alewyth asked him if it was possible for a dream to continue without a living dreamer. "It's hard to say, kupo!" he replied. "We only get to see the dreams themselves, not the dreamers, kupo!"</p><p></p><p>"But this particular dream - it still has a dreamer attached to it? And that dreamer is still in Devlinshire?" pressed Xandro.</p><p></p><p>"Let's go find out, kupo!" Mogo led them through the endless hallways and into a room with a map of the continent of Armaturia displayed on a table. Concentrating on the dream he'd just witnessed, the moogle caused a pinpoint of light to glow on the map. Then, causing the map to focus in on that area, the glow sat in the center of the city of Devlinshire, roughly in the part of the city where the Brightflame estate stood. "This is definitely weird," Wakuren sighed.</p><p></p><p>They woke back up in Sir Marcus's sitting room as the elderly paladin was making his way back into the room with a teapot and five cups balanced on a tray in one hand, his other hand gripping the cane he leaned upon. Alewyth sprang up from her comfortable chair and took the tray from him, setting it down upon a low table. She started pouring the tea into the cups and passing them around, while asking, "Can you describe Amelia for us?"</p><p></p><p>The paladin gave a description of his grand-niece that perfectly matched the woman in the dream. "It seems that's definitely her dream, then," Wakuren mused aloud. "Again, I'm not sure how that can be."</p><p></p><p>"You said you had some sort of proposal for us?" Alewyth asked, wanting to move the conversation on from Amelia, for fear of causing the elderly paladin further pain. She belatedly realized he had only brought five cups, then realized he likely hadn't planned on drinking with them, for he'd have to remove his mask to do so - it had no opening at the mouth to allow him to drink.</p><p></p><p>"Indeed I do. I would like you to slay the ghost who is haunting this house."</p><p></p><p>That prompted quite a few follow-up questions. Sir Marcus explained the ghost had first appeared three nights ago - "So the night Amelia died?" Thurloe asked, and was answered in the affirmative - suddenly appearing in his kitchen and attacking him. "He wore Telgranian armor," Sir Marcus admitted, "of the type worn by the paladins of my order. I can only assume it was the ghost of <strong>Dardolio</strong>, an infamous paladin of Telgrane who fell from grace, allowing a love of earthly pleasures - good food, women, and money, not necessarily in that order - corrupt him. He became a blackguard and was slain by a force of paladins sent out to stop him. I was not part of that group and have never even met the man while he was alive; I can only assume he has a vendetta against Telgranian paladins and decided to start with me, thinking me well past my prime."</p><p></p><p>"And you fought him off?" prompted Zander.</p><p></p><p>"I did, yes. Paladins of my order cannot turn undead, so I was forced to fight him off with my cane, using it like a mace. I was fortunate enough to drive him away that first night, and I had a cleric of Telgrane with me the following night in case he showed up again. He did, and the cleric turned him, but that didn't stop the ghost from returning again the next evening, when I was forced to fight him off again. I'm guessing his having been a member of the Telgranian order - and his apparent hatred of us - has somehow prevented him from being put to rest by a member of my order. With any luck, you two, being clerics of Cal and Aerik, will be able to deal with Dardolio on a more permanent basis. I have a thousand pieces of gold if you are able to destroy the ghost permanently; killing me is no great loss, for I have lived a full life and am well past my prime, but I fear if he slays me he'll then move on to others of my order. Will you help me?"</p><p></p><p>The heroes looked at each other and nodded, and Alewyth gave him their unified assent. "Very good," said Sir Marcus, gathering up their cups and collecting them onto the tray. "The ghost appears when the sun comes down, so you have several hours to prepare if you need to gather any supplies or anything. Otherwise, you are welcome to make use of the servants' quarters on the far side of the entry hall if you'd like to stay."</p><p></p><p>Wakuren had a practical question to ask: "Does the ghost appear in the same place each time?"</p><p></p><p>"No, just wherever I happen to be. The first night it was in the kitchen, the next night in the hallway, and last evening it was in my study. He manifests and immediately tries to kill me." Then Sir Marcus got up and started making his way back to the kitchen to wash the cups and teapot, shooing away Alewyth when she offered to help.</p><p></p><p>It was a lengthy wait until sundown, but none of the heroes needed anything in the way of additional supplies; Alewyth and Wakuren would both try to turn the ghost using their respective holy symbols, while the others used their weapons or spells if it came to that; after all, Sir Marcus had managed to fight off the ghost twice now with his metal cane so they were fairly certain the five of them could handle the undead spirit. But just as the sun was about to go down, they had Sir Marcus gather in the sitting room with them so the ghost would show up right before the assembled group, at which point they'd all pounce. Alewyth prepared for the upcoming battle by casting a <em>magic circle against evil</em> spell upon herself and a <em>bless</em> spell on the group. Wakuren cast a <em>protection from evil</em> spell upon himself and a <em>virtue</em> spell upon Zander Quilson, to give him that extra bit of staying power in the fight to come. Thurloe cast a <em>mage armor</em> spell upon himself, then used his wand to follow it up with a <em>shield</em> spell. He then passed the wand over to Zander so the elf could do likewise, and Zander cast a <em>haste</em> spell on the group after he had done so. Finally, Xandro cast a <em>heroism</em> spell upon Zander, then got out his lute and started playing his song of inspirational courage; when the ghost appeared they'd all be ready for it.</p><p></p><p>And then they waited.</p><p></p><p>Surprisingly, the ghost did not immediately appear, even though a quick peek through the sitting room window indicated the sun had fully set and the world outside was cloaked in full darkness. The interior of the Brightflame estate was lit by <em>everburning torches</em>, but after a few minutes of waiting a different type of illumination came into the sitting room through its sole entrance, an open doorway leading into the hall. The light got brighter as a humanoid figure, bathed in illumination like bright moonlight, stepped through the doorway. It was a man clad in the armor of a Telgranian paladin, with the God of Fire's holy symbol emblazoned upon his armor and shield. He held a longsword in his right hand but made no move to use it; in fact, his gaze seemed to slide off the assembled heroes as he did a quick scan around the room and then turned to go back the way he had come.</p><p></p><p>"He didn't attack," observed Wakuren, frowning.</p><p></p><p>"Neither did any of you!" replied Sir Marcus, clearly agitated. "You're to put the evil wretch down!"</p><p></p><p>"Perhaps he sensed our protective spells," suggested Alewyth.</p><p></p><p>"Let's see what he's up to," said Thurloe, following the ghostly figure into the hallway leading to the back of the estate. "He may be circling around so he can attack us through the wall or something." But the ghost did no such thing; rather, he walked to the next room, the formal dining room, and skirted the table as if it were an impediment to his incorporeal body. Then, upon reaching the door to the kitchen, he actually opened the door instead of simply passing through it. There was an open doorway exiting the kitchen back into the main hallway and after a moment the ghost stepped through it, turning to open the door to the privy and then closing it again.</p><p></p><p>"He's looking for something," Alewyth observed, having stepped forward as far as the dining room with Xandro, Zander, and Wakuren, with Sir Marcus starting to hobble their way to catch up to them. Thurloe was still back by the sitting room, muttering to himself. "It's almost as if he's Sir Marcus, looking for his missing grand-niece," he grumbled, then starting turning the idea around in his head. If that were indeed the case, then who was the guy who answered the door and why would he be trying to pass himself off as the retired paladin? But Sir Marcus, wearing a mask that hid his face and gloves that hid his hands, would be a particularly easy target to impersonate without arousing suspicion...and it would explain why Amelia was still around to be dreaming her dream of being chased by an assassin in the forest.... Thurloe caught up to Sir Marcus and tapped him with the flat of his blade, encouraging him to speed up - but really testing to see if he was under some sort of an illusion, for his bastard sword had the ability to carve through illusions with but a touch. Nothing changed about Sir Marcus's appearance; if this wasn't in fact the elderly paladin the impostor was using a mundane disguise.</p><p></p><p>Zander's keen elven hearing had picked up Thurloe's muttered speculation and he quickly passed the idea on to Wakuren before "Sir Marcus" - if that were indeed really him - got close enough to them to overhear. Wakuren immediately ducked into the dining room and activated his <em>ring of invisibility</em>, fading immediately from view. Zander, for his part, activated his <em>scout's headband</em>, granting himself <em>true seeing</em> which allowed him to see the now-invisible half-orc just fine. Wakuren pantomimed he was going to pull the mask off of "Sir Marcus" as he passed and Zander gave him a subtle nod to show he understood the plan.</p><p></p><p>Thurloe, however, had no idea what those two were scheming and came up with a way to determine the elderly paladin's true nature on his own: by attacking him from behind when he wasn't expecting it, just to see his reaction. He cast a <em>ray of exhaustion</em> spell that struck the masked man in the back, sapping him of a portion of his physical strength. "Sir Marcus" didn't know who had just attacked him, merely that he'd been hit from behind. He spun about and saw only Thurloe standing there. Zander, not wanting their suspicions to be out in the open just yet, tried covering for Thurloe's impetuous attack by calling out, "He's been possessed by the ghost!" and running back towards Thurloe, casting a <em>color spray</em> spell at his friend that he knew would be largely ineffective - but which he hoped would put "Sir Marcus" back at ease. In passing, his <em>true seeing</em> had also confirmed to the elven sorcerer the elderly paladin hadn't been employing any illusion magic.</p><p></p><p>But since the figure holding the metal cane now had his back turned to the invisible half-orc...Wakuren popped suddenly back into view, the man's mask in his hands. The face beneath the mask was not the least bit scarred from having been burned by holy immolation, nor was it the face of a man in his 60s or older. This was an impostor, a 30-something man named <strong>Conviolos</strong> with greasy, black hair and a sneer already forming on his face. "So that's how it is, huh?" he snarled. Then at the top of his lungs, he yelled, "ALL FORCES: ATTACK!" This he followed up with a <em>searing light</em> spell cast directly at Wakuren, revealing himself not as a paladin or even blackguard but a cleric, although the half-orc had no idea which god the impostor served. (Later, the heroes would find an unholy symbol of Gareth, God of Betrayal, hidden beneath Conviolos's shirt.)</p><p></p><p>Thurloe, basking in the glow of an "I was right!" feeling of superiority, heard the clank of metal to his left and looked over to the entry hall, where sure enough the two suits of Telgranian plate mail armor were coming to halting life, lifting their shields before them and raising their longswords. They stepped from their places in the corner of the entryway and marched over to the side hallway, ready to attack. Zander stepped away, allowing Thurloe to cast a <em>magic missile</em> spell at the closest of the two suits of armor; he wasn't at all surprised he hit it, but he <em>was</em> rather surprised to see that one hit was all it took to take the armor completely out, for it collapsed into a pile of clattering metal at his feet. Thurloe couldn't help but notice the bones visible between the pieces of armor and realized these "animated suits of armor" were actually animated skeletons wearing suits of armor. That made him doubt himself for a moment, wondering if one of the skeletons might have been Amelia after all.</p><p></p><p>"Fall back!" Wakuren called to Thurloe as the cleric of Cal stepped past Zander, and for once the swordsman obeyed without question, ducking back into the entrance of the sitting room, leaving an open path between Wakuren and the second armor-clad skeleton when it stepped into the hallway to pursue Thurloe. Wakuren activated his <em>gauntlet of Cal</em> and caused a <em>javelin of lightning</em> to manifest into his raised right hand; the bolt was enough to take out the armored skeleton in one blow.</p><p></p><p>But now Alewyth was back around the corner after having followed the ghost as he fruitlessly searched first the guest bedroom and then the study; she brought <em>Sjondra</em> crashing into Conviolos's back. He spun about to face this new attacker, only to have Xandro plunge his <em>frost short sword</em> straight through the deceiver's belly. Conviolos spat out blood from his mouth as the bard's blade stuck out from his back; when Xandro pulled it free the cleric of Gareth fell to the floor, quite dead.</p><p></p><p>"This way, guys!" Alewyth called to the others, leading them to a closed door at the end of the hallway, a door the ghost had approached and then left without opening. Xandro tried the door and found it to be locked; the ghost - now believed to be the spirit of the real Sir Marcus - opened the door to the courtyard at the center of the building and explored the stables, then went through to the other side and started searching the now-vacant servants' quarters. In the meantime, Zander had removed the holy symbol from the door that had apparently kept the ghost from entering the bedroom and Xandro put his lockpicks to good use and painstakingly worked on opening the lock. Alewyth had returned to the guest bedroom - thinking it would have been where Amelia would have stayed - and found signs of recent disturbance: a gash-mark along the wall above the bed, looking to be where a sword slashed along the wall, as well as a drop or two of dried blood on the floor just beneath the bed, in a place easily missed by someone cleaning up the evidence of the place where Sir Marcus Brightflame had likely been slain.</p><p></p><p>Xandro finished his work and the door opened. Zander rushed inside, looking about and seeing a canopy bed along the far wall. He couldn't see the bed's contents for the hanging draperies were closed, but he did see a bearskin rug on the floor before the bed and a lengthy dresser and mirror along the side wall. He cast a quick <em>detect magic</em> spell and noted four points of abjuration magic, one each at the top of each of the four posters of the canopy bed and an aura of transmutation around the rug - which then dispelled all doubt as to its magical nature as it animated and attacked the elven sorcerer.</p><p></p><p>Zander had had his hand upon the cloth barrier hanging from the bed when the bearskin rug attacked, slashing at him with the claws of one flattened paw. The attack jostled the elf to the side and he pulled the curtain away from the bed, revealing the unclothed form of Amelia Candlecraft lying asleep and whole on the bed. But he had no time for the implications of her location in the bed of her slain great-uncle to sink in as he found himself in mortal combat with the animated pelt of a grizzly bear.</p><p></p><p>Zander Quilson was not the group's most adept member when it came to melee combat and everyone was well aware of that fact. Xandro raced into the room to try to draw the bear's attention away from the frail elven sorcerer, while Wakuren summoned an air element wolf into the room to attack the rug. The rug focused its attention on the bard, scratching at him with its fully-functional claws and wrapping its pliant form around Xandro's face, trying to smother him. Alewyth cast a <em>spiritual weapon</em> spell, sending a dwarven warhammer made of pure force slamming into the part of the rug not currently wrapped around Xandro. Wakuren followed up his first summoning spell with another, this time bringing forth a celestial fire beetle. But it was Thurloe who finished off the animated bearskin rug, slicing it nearly in half with a swipe of his bastard sword. Xandro pulled the now-limp half off of his face and gasped in deep breaths.</p><p></p><p>"Look away!" commanded Alewyth, seeing Amelia's nakedness and quickly covering her with a blanket. "Make yourselves useful and find me her clothes!" A set of women's clothes were found in the bottom drawer of the dresser, apparently where Conviolos had stashed them once he had realized the full implications of a beautiful young woman helpless in a dream coma. In fact, it was the rumor of such an occurrence that had led him to the Brightflame estate in the first place, where a little snooping about revealed the only people inside had been Sir Marcus, Amelia, and the traveling maid who had accompanied Miss Candlecraft on her journey to visit her elder relative. Waiting until Sir Marcus had departed the house and leaving Amelia in the temporary care of her maid, Conviolos had approached the house in the guise of a healer sent by the temple of Telgrane to try a new method of awakening Amelia from her slumber. Conviolos sent the maid off with a bag of coins to the marketplace to purchase some rare herbs - herbs rare enough he was certain she'd be gone for more than enough time to allow the cleric of Gareth to implement his evil plans. Of course, he hadn't counted on Sir Marcus's early return home, to find the greasy-haired pervert bent over the unyielding figure of his grand-niece, his breeches down around his ankles. They had fought, but the younger man was a much better combatant than the elderly paladin, whose days of combat prowess were sadly years behind him, and the end result was never much in doubt. Conviolos easily overpowered Sir Marcus and slew him, then realized he had quite an opportunity here: by wearing the paladin's mask and taking on his identity, he need only deal with the unwitting maid upon her return and he'd be practically set for life, with Amelia providing him with as much pleasure as he desired.</p><p></p><p>And once dead, Sir Marcus and the maid even provided their skeletons for animation as an additional means of defense, should there ever be any problems on that front. Of course, Conviolos had likewise not anticipated the arrival of Sir Marcus's ghost....</p><p></p><p>Once Alewyth had dressed Amelia back in her own clothes, she had the men return to the bedroom and help place her in the middle of the floor, where they repeated their dream ritual, this time with much more success. The assassin chasing her through the forest was easily dealt with, at which time Amelia awoke from her week asleep - only to be told by a sad-faced, good-hearted dwarven woman that both her great-uncle and the maid she had traveled with were both dead.</p><p></p><p>And then the room brightened even more than the illumination provided by the <em>everburning torches</em> hanging from sconces around the room. The ghost of Sir Marcus Brightflame entered the room and took off his helmet, revealing a face scarred with puckered burns - flame-wounds caused by his own voluntary immolation in the service of the God of Fire many years back. A single tear rolled down his scarred face at the sight of his grand-niece awake once more, and then he started fading from view. "Uncle Marcus!" cried Amelia, reaching out to the fading figure from her seated position on the floor - but he was gone, passing on to the next world. Everything the dwarven woman had said was apparently true.</p><p></p><p>Amelia covered her face with her hands and wept, unsure if the wound in her heart would ever heal.</p><p></p><p> - - -</p><p></p><p>This was definitely a creepy one, with an enemy the players all loved to hate once they realized the extent of his depravity. I figured that in a whole series of dream-victims, each of which was basically in a magical form of suspended animation, somewhere along the line somebody was going to take advantage of the situation. (In fact, I'd done something similar with Jingo Pebble-Brain a few adventures back.) And it was great seeing the realization kick in when the players all realized they'd been duped by "Sir Marcus Brightflame," who had a logical answer for everything even though most of what he'd told them were lies. (He'd also cast an <em>undetectable alignment</em> spell upon himself before answering the door, then faked attempting to detect evil in Wakuren's aura, something he wasn't at all capable of doing (but Sir Marcus would have been able to do). I was especially proud of the fact I'd (temporarily at least) pulled the wool over Dan's eyes, as he's easily my most distrustful player and his PCs generally never trust anybody in-game if they can help it. (I suspect he played with a lot of "screw the players over whenever possible" DMs early in his gaming career.) Incidentally, the gems above the four-poster bed were a <em>hide from undead</em> spell effect that would have prevented the ghost of Sir Marcus from being able to find his grand-niece even if he had made it into the room.</p><p></p><p>The players were a bit bummed to have to leave another dreamer (Drakkar Pyropus) unawakened, but I did point out the other two times this occurred they never even made it inside the "real" dream, as Dream Ghidorah and Dream Kong had both killed the PCs before they could even get a glimpse of the "real" dreams they were guarding. At least this time, while Dream Warbat (using a plastic toy Warbat from the recent "Godzilla vs. Kong" movie I bought at Wal-Mart) prevented them from waking the dreamer, they were able to get far enough into his dream to actually see him, even though he was dreaming of being the bronze dragon mount of an elven paladin from Telgranian history. So it's a form of progress, and once the dreamstones have all had plenty of time to attune to the dreamers for a matter of months the PCs are anticipating having a better run of it.</p><p></p><p> - - -</p><p></p><p>T-shirt worn: I was tempted to wear my "DAD: Cleverly Disguised as a Responsible Adult" T-shirt as it would be very appropriate given Conviolos's impersonation of Sir Marcus Brightflame, but that would have let my my players know ahead of time something was up and somebody wasn't really who they claimed to be. I also have several shirts with various undead on them (mostly skeletons and zombies), but I was likewise hesitant to let them know they'd be up against some sort of undead in the adventure. So I eventually chose to wear one of my dragon shirts, the black T-shirt with a green dragon on it, to represent the bronze dragon in Drakkar Pyropus's dream.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="Richards, post: 8641263, member: 508"] [B]ADVENTURE 29: THE WOUNDS THAT DO NOT HEAL[/B] PC Roster: [INDENT]Alewyth Putterpye, dwarf priestess of Aerik 6[/INDENT] [INDENT] Thurloe Pulver, human fighter 3/wizard 3[/INDENT] [INDENT] Wakuren, half-orc cleric of Cal 3/paladin 3[/INDENT] [INDENT] Xandro Silverstrings, human bard 5/rogue 1[/INDENT] [INDENT] Zander Quilson, elf sorcerer 6[/INDENT] Game Session Date: 14 May 2022 - - - It took another two days getting back out of the Centralia Desert, heading in a northeasterly direction to get them back on the road to civilization and to the city - Devlinshire - where the moogles had said there was not one but two separate dreamers trapped in their dreams. Horse got a bit of a break during those two days, for his reins were tied to the rear of the wagon and he ambled along without Thurloe's weight on his back, as the swordsman had decided to wrangle with some of the spellbooks he'd appropriated during his adventuring career and see if he could make sense of a few of the spells annotated within. He made enough progress during those two days that when the group finally left the desert and made it back to actual roads, with another two days of travel ahead of them to get to the city, he opted to continue with his studies in the back of the wagon and by the time Devlinshire appeared in the distance he'd mastered four new spells. Devlinshire proved to be a fairly large city, comparable in size to Baron's Haven and also ruled by a noble of the same bloodline - not unexpectedly, for the Devlin family was the single-most powerful family in all of Armaturia, with [B]King Eovard Devlin[/B] the current ruler of the whole continent. Fortunately, Devlinshire did not have any prohibitions against spellcasting as did Baron's Haven and they had several potion shops where Thurloe picked up a few items: a [I]potion of neutralize poison[/I] and two vials of antitoxin. They wandered around and found Smiths Avenue, where Alewyth paid to have the magical protection on her chain mail upgraded and Xandro sold his own chain mail, using the money received to help fund the purchase a set of magical chain mail quite similar to Alewyth's. "I thought you were saving up for those magical boots," Xandro pointed out to the dwarven priestess. "I am." "Didn't you even put a down-payment on them with those gnomes?" "I did." "You're not going to be able to buy those boots if you spend your money on armor upgrades," pointed out the bard. "I'm aware." "I don't see how you're even going to get in contact with those gnomes once you do gather up the rest of the money," Thurloe added. "You ask me, that down-payment you gave them was money you'll never see again." "I didn't ask you," pointed out Alewyth, but the swordsman's point was something that had been gnawing at her nonetheless, despite the gnomes' insistence that they'd find her when she was ready to make the purchase. Either they were lying and she'd never see that money again or they were telling the truth and were somehow spying on her - neither possibility was particularly pleasant to consider. While they'd been making their purchases, the heroes had also been chatting with the shopkeepers and armorers, asking if there were any rumors in the city about anyone being unable to be awakened from a long sleep. Several of the townsfolk had steered them toward the Temple of Telgrane, where there was a paladin, [B]Drakkar Pyropus[/B], who was said to have been sleeping now for weeks on end. And worse yet, none of the clerics' spells had been able to do anything to awaken the young man - local rumor was it was some type of a curse, but [I]remove curse[/I] spells had been as ineffective as anything else the spellcasters had tried. "Reckon a [I]wish[/I] spell might do it, but I never heard of nobody capable of casting so powerful a spell - not exceptin' in legends of the old days, in any case," added a grizzled hammersmith. Since all of the rumors they were able to pick up led to the Temple of Telgrane - nobody had any ideas about a second sleeper in the city unable to be awakened - the heroes got directions and headed there at once. The temple was rather distinctive in that just outside its gate, in place of a fountain, a column of permanent flame rose up a dozen or more feet - an appropriate gesture to a temple devoted to the God of Fire and Knowledge. The clerics were curious as to what these travelers thought they could do where their most powerful spellcasters had failed, but Alewyth assured them they'd had many successes in the previous months at waking those trapped in their dreams. After giving Wakuren more than a few suspicious stares (half-orcs were not often seen wearing the armor of Cal, the God of Air and Healing), followed by assurances that he was not at all like the desert orc raiders that plagued the lands to the south, the group was allowed entry into the temple and ushered to a back room, where Drakkar lay sleeping on a simple cot. They passed several clerics and paladins in the halls, quite a few of them sporting horrendous-looking burn scars on their exposed skin. "Do not be alarmed," their cleric guide assured them. "The paladins of our faith learn to set their bodies ablaze with Telgrane's holy fire. The burns they receive during such occurrences are considered holy and remain in place when the damage is otherwise healed. Here in the sanctity of our own temple the paladins do not cover their scars, but when outside dealing with others they often wear masks and gloves, the better to shield their burns from the eyes of those outside our faith, who often view such scars as...troubling." "Yeah, no kidding," agreed Telgane. The cleric led the group into the room where Drakkar lay sleeping on a cot. Despite having earned the rank of a paladin, Drakkar wore a simple sleep shift and was covered with a single blanket. His skin was unblemished, apparently not having reached the level of training where he could self-immolate. "This room is normally reserved for those resting after an illness or injury," the temple's head cleric informed the group, having joined the visitors after news of their presence had been brought to his attention. "We placed him here, where we can keep an eye on him, after our attempts to wake him bore no fruit. What, exactly, do you propose to do?" Alewyth explained their procedures and the clerics agreed to move Drakkar to a larger room reserved for meditation, where the dreamwalkers would have enough room to sit around him in a circle. The dwarven priestess placed the dreamstone-headband upon the young paladin's brow, then took her position in the circle around him. The five dreamwalkers sat at the five points of a star, each sitting cross-legged in the lotus position, and each wearing a dreamstone upon his or her own forehead, held in place by a leather headband crafted by Thurloe's Uncle Marten. A few clerics - and Zander's [I]jade cooshee[/I], once activated - stood at the back of the room to observe and ensure there were no interruptions. Then the heroes slowed their breathing, stilled their minds, and drifted off to sleep. Mogo was there to guide them to the appropriate door in the seemingly-endless Hall of Dreams. "Good luck, kupo!" he told them as they stepped inside Drakkar's dreamscape. At first, the dream looked very much like the last dream they'd entered, that of the orc raider captured by the trio of dune hags down in the desert: an endless wasteland of parched earth, with a few scattered plants scratching out a determined existence. The heroes looked all about them but they were the only five figures at all in the dreamscape. Then they heard the cries above them. Looking up, they saw two reptilian bodies engaged in combat. One was a bat-winged serpent, the other a bronze dragon. The serpent shrieked in anger and brought its sinuous tail up and across the dragon's back, dislodging a rider the heroes hadn't noticed until he was hurtling to the ground. However, just as he was about to make a splat-stain on the hard-packed desert earth he suddenly stopped a few inches above the ground, hovered for a moment, and then went flying back up to the back of the dragon he'd just been riding. The serpent reversed its combat shriek as the two aerial foes unflapped their wings and backed up from each other - the entire dream reversing until the combatants were in their original positions when the heroes first entered the dreamscape. Then time started moving forward again, with the dragon and the serpent flying toward each other, the flying snake's tail swatting the rider, who toppled from his draconic perch and plummeted [I]nearly[/I] to the ground again, before the dream started rewinding once more. "What's going on?" demanded Alewyth. "This makes no sense!" "That's gotta be Drakkar," reasoned Zander. "He's got the holy symbol of Telgrane painted on his shield." The dragon-rider was in full armor, however, with a helmet that covered his entire face so they were unable to confirm it was the same individual they'd left sleeping in a cot in the meditation room in the Temple of Telgrane. "Let's see if we can weaken the beast," Xandro suggested, raising the dreamstone he held in his hand both back on the Mortal World and here in the Dreamlands. Concentrating on the bat-winged serpent, he imagined its strength siphoning off and dissipating into the winds. Beside him, Alewyth, Wakuren and Zander did likewise, while Thurloe took a different approach and tried doing nearly the opposite, using his lucid dreaming training to try to increase the paladin's physical dexterity, hopefully to the point he could dodge the incoming serpentine tail on its next pass. "This isn't working!" complained Thurloe as the paladin was once again swatted from the back of the bronze dragon and sent plummeting to his death - a finish he was spared at the last second when time stopped once again and rewound for him. None of the dreamwalkers was affected by the sudden reversal of the dream's time-stream; they were immune to the effect as the two aerial figures backed up in the sky once again and resumed their starting positions. "I'm going to try something," Wakuren announced. He well knew his own [I]shield of Cal[/I] had a [I]feather fall[/I] effect that worked for whoever held it; this being a dream, where anything could happen, he used his lucid dreaming training to cause the shield to fly out of his hands and go streaking up to the paladin, while at the same time the paladin's shield came dropping down to the half-orc. "Let's see if swapping shields has any effect," he told the others. By this time the serpent's tail had struck the armored figure once again and he fell from his draconic mount - and sure enough, the paladin's fall was slowed by the [I]feather fall[/I] effect, such that it was taking him much longer to fall all the way down to the ground. Alewyth cast a [I]calm emotions[/I] spell up at the three figures, hoping to get them to cease their aerial combat. It had as much effect as their dreamstones, which is to say none at all. "I'm going to try something, too," replied Thurloe, rising up into the air. This was just a dream, he figured - no reason he couldn't fly through the air as gracefully as any dragon or winged serpent. He pulled the bastard sword from its sheath on his back as he approached the bat-winged snake. Xandro and Zander followed suit, although they opted not to fly up to the giant serpent but rather over to where the paladin was engaged in his slow-motion plummet to the ground. And although the paladin's face was mostly covered by his helmet, as Zander approached he was able to better judge the figure's overall size and build, as well as the shape of his eyes through the visor. "This is an elf!" he called to the others. Thurloe backed away from the bat-snake as it bit into the dragon's neck, at the same time the dragon's front claws ripped furrows across the serpent's scales - each having gained extra "combat time" by the slowed effect of the elven paladin's fall. Rather than attack the dragon's foe, Thurloe held out his dreamstone again like a holy symbol and concentrated on it, focusing on identifying the dreamer of this strange back-and-forth dream. Surprisingly, his focus directed him not to the paladin slow-falling below him but to the dragon he'd been riding before being knocked from his perch. "That's not Drakkar!" Thurloe called to the others. "Drakkar's dreaming he's the dragon!" Alewyth kept her feet firmly planted on the ground, not wanting to fly through the air even in just a dream, and cast a [I]spiritual weapon[/I] spell that sent a hammer-shaped field of force flying straight up to smash the winged serpent in the head. Its reaction was immediate: with eyes glowing a hellish red, a pair of beams exploded out of his eyes and struck Alewyth, dissipating her dream-body to motes of light that were quickly extinguished. Just like that, Alewyth had been slain (and woke with a gasp back in the Temple of Telgrane). "Are you all right?" asked one of the Telgranian clerics overseeing the silent ritual. "We're...experiencing a bit more difficulty than expected," admitted Alewyth. This was further evidenced when Thurloe gasped aloud and came to a sudden wakefulness by her side, the angry serpent's eyebeams having exploded his dream-self to nonexistence as well. The other three woke themselves voluntarily, realizing they weren't going to be able to defeat the winged serpent on their own. The cleric looked down at the sleeping figure of Drakkar Pyropus, who hadn't stirred at all during the ritual. "He seems unaffected," he observed. "Yes, I'm afraid we were unsuccessful," admitted Alewyth with a sigh. "This has happened twice before. We'll suggest to you what we suggested to those looking after the other two: leave the dreamstone secured at Drakkar's forehead" - the dwarf removed the leather headband they used on the dream victims and replaced it with a cloth scarf she tied in place around his head. "It will bond with him over time. We'll return later to try again, after the dreamstone has had to attune itself to him a bit. Perhaps then we'll be able to awaken him." The head cleric was of two minds of the heroes' failure to wake their young paladin: on the one hand, disappointment that their charge still remained trapped in his dream; on the other (admittedly selfish) hand, a slight relief that these strangers hadn't succeeded where they themselves had failed, which would have cast a pall upon the church's abilities to look after their own. "There's supposed to be another dream victim somewhere in the city," remarked Xandro as the group gathered up their things and said their farewells (and made their apologies) to the temple clerics. "You wouldn't know anything about who that might be, or where they could be found, do you?" "As a matter of fact, I do," replied the head cleric. "One of our retired paladins, [B]Sir Marcus Brightflame[/B], has a grand-niece, [B]Amelia Candlecraft[/B], who fell asleep a week or so ago and, just like Drakkar, could not be awakened. We have tried the same approaches on her as we did on Drakkar, with no success. Perhaps you will be more successful there than you have been here." He gave them directions on how to find the Brightflame estate and the group departed the temple. The estate was easy enough to find; Alewyth knocked upon the front door of the single-story building and waited for an answer. It took some time in coming, but eventually they could hear shuffling footsteps and the tap of a cane approaching the front door from the other side. Then the door opened and Sir Marcus Brightflame stood before them. The man was of average height, with a slightly stooped posture as he leaned upon a metal cane. Both hands were covered in black gloves that extended up into the sleeves of his shirt, and his face was entirely covered by a wooden mask with mere slits for eyes. "May I help you?" he asked, then took an involuntary step back at the sight of Wakuren, raising the cane behind him as if ready to strike the half-orc if needed. Wakuren had half-expected such a reaction; not many were used to the idea of a non-aggressive person with the blood of an orc running through his veins. He held his hands up to demonstrate he was not armed and gave the old man his best smile. "Good afternoon. My name is Wakuren and I am not a threat," he said by way of introduction. "I am a cleric/paladin of Cal." "Would you be terribly offended if I detected you for evil?" asked Sir Marcus. "By all means," agreed Wakuren, keeping his hands raised where the elderly paladin could keep them in his sight. "Well, I'll be," remarked Sir Marcus after staring at the half-orc before him for a moment or two. "Forgive me, but old habits die hard and old prejudices are even harder to dispel. Now then, how may I help you?" "Actually," replied Alewyth, "we've come to see if we could assist you. I understand you have a grand-niece who's fallen asleep and has resisted all attempts to awaken?" At that, Sir Marcus's shoulders drooped as he sighed in sadness. "I'm afraid you're too late," he informed them. "Amelia died three days ago. But please, come in - we need not stand here in the doorway." He stepped aside as the five dreamwalkers entered his foyer, a wide room with the ornamental displays of two sets of plate mail, the holy symbol of Telgrane emblazoned on each chest-piece and shield. Then, closing the front door, he shuffled off to a hallway to the east, leading them into a comfortable sitting room. "I'm sorry to hear of the loss of your grand-niece," commiserated Alewyth. "May I ask how she died?" "She was here visiting," Sir Marcus replied. "Not quite a week ago I was unable to wake her up, but she was quite alive. I brought in clerics from the temple and they did their best to revive her, but nothing they tried had any effect. I checked on her periodically and she was fine...and then, three days ago, I went to check on her in the morning and she was cold, no pulse. She must have died at some point during the night, poor girl." The dreamwalkers looked worried at each other. "This is a new wrinkle," Xandro observed. "We've never seen one die before." "Is this part of the Nightmare King's plan, do you think?" asked Zander. "I'm sorry - what?" asked an obviously perplexed Sir Marcus. Alewyth informed him of the dream plague that was seemingly sweeping the continent, and of their successes - and failures - in waking those caught up in a dream coma. "We met up with the Nightmare King in the Dreamlands," the dwarven priestess declared. "We're still not sure why he's trapping people in their dreams, but so far everyone stuck in their dreams has been in a kind of magical stasis - no need for food or water, no wasting away due to starvation - so we assume the Nightmare King has a reason for keeping them alive." "Could be this is the next step of the plan," observed Thurloe. "Maybe he's been stocking them up like firewood and now he's starting to use them." "To what purpose, though?" asked Alewyth. "Guys," interrupted Zander. "We're all missing something here: the moogles said there were still two dreamers here in Devlinshire. But if Amelia's been dead for three days..." Alewyth looked over at Sir Marcus. "Forgive the question, sir, but...are you absolutely sure your grand-niece is dead?" "Quite sure." "Can we see the body?" demanded Thurloe, gruff as always. "If you wish," replied Sir Marcus, pointing to the mantle. "She's right there, in the urn." The heroes looked up at the urn on the top of the mantlepiece. "Well, that's rather conclusive," agreed Xandro. "I performed the cremation myself, in accordance with our traditions," replied the paladin of Telgrane, God of Fire. "Maybe there's somebody else stuck in their dreams," suggested Wakuren. "Somebody new, I mean. The moogles can't always tell specifically who's having the dream, just where they're located on the Mortal World...if someone else started their dream coma around the same time as Amelia died...." "We should check out the dream," Alewyth decided. She turned to Sir Marcus. "Would it be too much of a bother if we took a quick nap here in your sitting room?" she asked. "I know it sounds like an odd request, but we'd like to talk with our...advisers in the dreamlands." She decided it was best not to describe the moogles to the elderly paladin; their story was already difficult for most people to believe. "By all means," replied Sir Marcus, leaning on his cane to rise to his feet. "I'll go start a pot of tea, so it'll be ready for when you awaken." "Don't you have someone to help you with that?" Alewyth asked. "Pshaw!" scoffed Sir Marcus. "I used to have servants here, but I released them from service when I retired. I don't need anyone doing everything for me, now that I'm home here all day. You go have your chat, and afterwards I have a proposal I'd like to make to you." And with that, the elderly paladin ambled off down the hall to the kitchen. One by one, the five dreamwalkers stilled themselves to sleep and were met by their individual moogle guides. They all converged in the Hall of Dreams once again, where they were met by Mogo. "Are you ready to see the second dream already, kupo?" he asked, opening the door to the dream in question. It was a forest dream this time, Zander noted with approval - he was getting tired of dreams taking place in barren wastelands. Stepping into the dream-forest, the group found a frightened young woman hurrying along a path, her way lit only by the light of the moon above. There were crashes behind her as something made its way noisily through the trees and bushes. Xandro instinctively went over to the woman to assure her that they'd help but she gave no indication she was even aware of his presence; belatedly, he realized his ability to interact with the woman's dream-self was limited in that they weren't by her side on the Mortal World, nor was she wearing a dreamstone upon her brow. The woman continued down the forest path, nervously glancing behind her. The dreamwalkers waited around long enough for whatever it was that was pursuing her to make an appearance, and despite the fact it had sounded like some monstrous beast crashing through the trees, when it finally stepped out between the trees and onto the forest path in her wake it was nothing more than a black-clad man, a serrated dagger in his hand. He, like her, gave no indication he could see any of the intruders into this dreamscape but silently pursued his target. "This is definitely weird," observed Wakuren. "Is it possible for a dream to continue when the dreamer's been slain?" "Let's ask Mogo," suggested Alewyth, opening the door from the dream and stepping back outside into the endless corridor, where their primary moogle dream instructor waited for them. "That was quick, kupo!" the moogle observed, his tiny wings flapping to keep him at head level to the much taller dreamwalkers. Alewyth asked him if it was possible for a dream to continue without a living dreamer. "It's hard to say, kupo!" he replied. "We only get to see the dreams themselves, not the dreamers, kupo!" "But this particular dream - it still has a dreamer attached to it? And that dreamer is still in Devlinshire?" pressed Xandro. "Let's go find out, kupo!" Mogo led them through the endless hallways and into a room with a map of the continent of Armaturia displayed on a table. Concentrating on the dream he'd just witnessed, the moogle caused a pinpoint of light to glow on the map. Then, causing the map to focus in on that area, the glow sat in the center of the city of Devlinshire, roughly in the part of the city where the Brightflame estate stood. "This is definitely weird," Wakuren sighed. They woke back up in Sir Marcus's sitting room as the elderly paladin was making his way back into the room with a teapot and five cups balanced on a tray in one hand, his other hand gripping the cane he leaned upon. Alewyth sprang up from her comfortable chair and took the tray from him, setting it down upon a low table. She started pouring the tea into the cups and passing them around, while asking, "Can you describe Amelia for us?" The paladin gave a description of his grand-niece that perfectly matched the woman in the dream. "It seems that's definitely her dream, then," Wakuren mused aloud. "Again, I'm not sure how that can be." "You said you had some sort of proposal for us?" Alewyth asked, wanting to move the conversation on from Amelia, for fear of causing the elderly paladin further pain. She belatedly realized he had only brought five cups, then realized he likely hadn't planned on drinking with them, for he'd have to remove his mask to do so - it had no opening at the mouth to allow him to drink. "Indeed I do. I would like you to slay the ghost who is haunting this house." That prompted quite a few follow-up questions. Sir Marcus explained the ghost had first appeared three nights ago - "So the night Amelia died?" Thurloe asked, and was answered in the affirmative - suddenly appearing in his kitchen and attacking him. "He wore Telgranian armor," Sir Marcus admitted, "of the type worn by the paladins of my order. I can only assume it was the ghost of [B]Dardolio[/B], an infamous paladin of Telgrane who fell from grace, allowing a love of earthly pleasures - good food, women, and money, not necessarily in that order - corrupt him. He became a blackguard and was slain by a force of paladins sent out to stop him. I was not part of that group and have never even met the man while he was alive; I can only assume he has a vendetta against Telgranian paladins and decided to start with me, thinking me well past my prime." "And you fought him off?" prompted Zander. "I did, yes. Paladins of my order cannot turn undead, so I was forced to fight him off with my cane, using it like a mace. I was fortunate enough to drive him away that first night, and I had a cleric of Telgrane with me the following night in case he showed up again. He did, and the cleric turned him, but that didn't stop the ghost from returning again the next evening, when I was forced to fight him off again. I'm guessing his having been a member of the Telgranian order - and his apparent hatred of us - has somehow prevented him from being put to rest by a member of my order. With any luck, you two, being clerics of Cal and Aerik, will be able to deal with Dardolio on a more permanent basis. I have a thousand pieces of gold if you are able to destroy the ghost permanently; killing me is no great loss, for I have lived a full life and am well past my prime, but I fear if he slays me he'll then move on to others of my order. Will you help me?" The heroes looked at each other and nodded, and Alewyth gave him their unified assent. "Very good," said Sir Marcus, gathering up their cups and collecting them onto the tray. "The ghost appears when the sun comes down, so you have several hours to prepare if you need to gather any supplies or anything. Otherwise, you are welcome to make use of the servants' quarters on the far side of the entry hall if you'd like to stay." Wakuren had a practical question to ask: "Does the ghost appear in the same place each time?" "No, just wherever I happen to be. The first night it was in the kitchen, the next night in the hallway, and last evening it was in my study. He manifests and immediately tries to kill me." Then Sir Marcus got up and started making his way back to the kitchen to wash the cups and teapot, shooing away Alewyth when she offered to help. It was a lengthy wait until sundown, but none of the heroes needed anything in the way of additional supplies; Alewyth and Wakuren would both try to turn the ghost using their respective holy symbols, while the others used their weapons or spells if it came to that; after all, Sir Marcus had managed to fight off the ghost twice now with his metal cane so they were fairly certain the five of them could handle the undead spirit. But just as the sun was about to go down, they had Sir Marcus gather in the sitting room with them so the ghost would show up right before the assembled group, at which point they'd all pounce. Alewyth prepared for the upcoming battle by casting a [I]magic circle against evil[/I] spell upon herself and a [I]bless[/I] spell on the group. Wakuren cast a [I]protection from evil[/I] spell upon himself and a [I]virtue[/I] spell upon Zander Quilson, to give him that extra bit of staying power in the fight to come. Thurloe cast a [I]mage armor[/I] spell upon himself, then used his wand to follow it up with a [I]shield[/I] spell. He then passed the wand over to Zander so the elf could do likewise, and Zander cast a [I]haste[/I] spell on the group after he had done so. Finally, Xandro cast a [I]heroism[/I] spell upon Zander, then got out his lute and started playing his song of inspirational courage; when the ghost appeared they'd all be ready for it. And then they waited. Surprisingly, the ghost did not immediately appear, even though a quick peek through the sitting room window indicated the sun had fully set and the world outside was cloaked in full darkness. The interior of the Brightflame estate was lit by [I]everburning torches[/I], but after a few minutes of waiting a different type of illumination came into the sitting room through its sole entrance, an open doorway leading into the hall. The light got brighter as a humanoid figure, bathed in illumination like bright moonlight, stepped through the doorway. It was a man clad in the armor of a Telgranian paladin, with the God of Fire's holy symbol emblazoned upon his armor and shield. He held a longsword in his right hand but made no move to use it; in fact, his gaze seemed to slide off the assembled heroes as he did a quick scan around the room and then turned to go back the way he had come. "He didn't attack," observed Wakuren, frowning. "Neither did any of you!" replied Sir Marcus, clearly agitated. "You're to put the evil wretch down!" "Perhaps he sensed our protective spells," suggested Alewyth. "Let's see what he's up to," said Thurloe, following the ghostly figure into the hallway leading to the back of the estate. "He may be circling around so he can attack us through the wall or something." But the ghost did no such thing; rather, he walked to the next room, the formal dining room, and skirted the table as if it were an impediment to his incorporeal body. Then, upon reaching the door to the kitchen, he actually opened the door instead of simply passing through it. There was an open doorway exiting the kitchen back into the main hallway and after a moment the ghost stepped through it, turning to open the door to the privy and then closing it again. "He's looking for something," Alewyth observed, having stepped forward as far as the dining room with Xandro, Zander, and Wakuren, with Sir Marcus starting to hobble their way to catch up to them. Thurloe was still back by the sitting room, muttering to himself. "It's almost as if he's Sir Marcus, looking for his missing grand-niece," he grumbled, then starting turning the idea around in his head. If that were indeed the case, then who was the guy who answered the door and why would he be trying to pass himself off as the retired paladin? But Sir Marcus, wearing a mask that hid his face and gloves that hid his hands, would be a particularly easy target to impersonate without arousing suspicion...and it would explain why Amelia was still around to be dreaming her dream of being chased by an assassin in the forest.... Thurloe caught up to Sir Marcus and tapped him with the flat of his blade, encouraging him to speed up - but really testing to see if he was under some sort of an illusion, for his bastard sword had the ability to carve through illusions with but a touch. Nothing changed about Sir Marcus's appearance; if this wasn't in fact the elderly paladin the impostor was using a mundane disguise. Zander's keen elven hearing had picked up Thurloe's muttered speculation and he quickly passed the idea on to Wakuren before "Sir Marcus" - if that were indeed really him - got close enough to them to overhear. Wakuren immediately ducked into the dining room and activated his [I]ring of invisibility[/I], fading immediately from view. Zander, for his part, activated his [I]scout's headband[/I], granting himself [I]true seeing[/I] which allowed him to see the now-invisible half-orc just fine. Wakuren pantomimed he was going to pull the mask off of "Sir Marcus" as he passed and Zander gave him a subtle nod to show he understood the plan. Thurloe, however, had no idea what those two were scheming and came up with a way to determine the elderly paladin's true nature on his own: by attacking him from behind when he wasn't expecting it, just to see his reaction. He cast a [I]ray of exhaustion[/I] spell that struck the masked man in the back, sapping him of a portion of his physical strength. "Sir Marcus" didn't know who had just attacked him, merely that he'd been hit from behind. He spun about and saw only Thurloe standing there. Zander, not wanting their suspicions to be out in the open just yet, tried covering for Thurloe's impetuous attack by calling out, "He's been possessed by the ghost!" and running back towards Thurloe, casting a [I]color spray[/I] spell at his friend that he knew would be largely ineffective - but which he hoped would put "Sir Marcus" back at ease. In passing, his [I]true seeing[/I] had also confirmed to the elven sorcerer the elderly paladin hadn't been employing any illusion magic. But since the figure holding the metal cane now had his back turned to the invisible half-orc...Wakuren popped suddenly back into view, the man's mask in his hands. The face beneath the mask was not the least bit scarred from having been burned by holy immolation, nor was it the face of a man in his 60s or older. This was an impostor, a 30-something man named [B]Conviolos[/B] with greasy, black hair and a sneer already forming on his face. "So that's how it is, huh?" he snarled. Then at the top of his lungs, he yelled, "ALL FORCES: ATTACK!" This he followed up with a [I]searing light[/I] spell cast directly at Wakuren, revealing himself not as a paladin or even blackguard but a cleric, although the half-orc had no idea which god the impostor served. (Later, the heroes would find an unholy symbol of Gareth, God of Betrayal, hidden beneath Conviolos's shirt.) Thurloe, basking in the glow of an "I was right!" feeling of superiority, heard the clank of metal to his left and looked over to the entry hall, where sure enough the two suits of Telgranian plate mail armor were coming to halting life, lifting their shields before them and raising their longswords. They stepped from their places in the corner of the entryway and marched over to the side hallway, ready to attack. Zander stepped away, allowing Thurloe to cast a [I]magic missile[/I] spell at the closest of the two suits of armor; he wasn't at all surprised he hit it, but he [I]was[/I] rather surprised to see that one hit was all it took to take the armor completely out, for it collapsed into a pile of clattering metal at his feet. Thurloe couldn't help but notice the bones visible between the pieces of armor and realized these "animated suits of armor" were actually animated skeletons wearing suits of armor. That made him doubt himself for a moment, wondering if one of the skeletons might have been Amelia after all. "Fall back!" Wakuren called to Thurloe as the cleric of Cal stepped past Zander, and for once the swordsman obeyed without question, ducking back into the entrance of the sitting room, leaving an open path between Wakuren and the second armor-clad skeleton when it stepped into the hallway to pursue Thurloe. Wakuren activated his [I]gauntlet of Cal[/I] and caused a [I]javelin of lightning[/I] to manifest into his raised right hand; the bolt was enough to take out the armored skeleton in one blow. But now Alewyth was back around the corner after having followed the ghost as he fruitlessly searched first the guest bedroom and then the study; she brought [I]Sjondra[/I] crashing into Conviolos's back. He spun about to face this new attacker, only to have Xandro plunge his [I]frost short sword[/I] straight through the deceiver's belly. Conviolos spat out blood from his mouth as the bard's blade stuck out from his back; when Xandro pulled it free the cleric of Gareth fell to the floor, quite dead. "This way, guys!" Alewyth called to the others, leading them to a closed door at the end of the hallway, a door the ghost had approached and then left without opening. Xandro tried the door and found it to be locked; the ghost - now believed to be the spirit of the real Sir Marcus - opened the door to the courtyard at the center of the building and explored the stables, then went through to the other side and started searching the now-vacant servants' quarters. In the meantime, Zander had removed the holy symbol from the door that had apparently kept the ghost from entering the bedroom and Xandro put his lockpicks to good use and painstakingly worked on opening the lock. Alewyth had returned to the guest bedroom - thinking it would have been where Amelia would have stayed - and found signs of recent disturbance: a gash-mark along the wall above the bed, looking to be where a sword slashed along the wall, as well as a drop or two of dried blood on the floor just beneath the bed, in a place easily missed by someone cleaning up the evidence of the place where Sir Marcus Brightflame had likely been slain. Xandro finished his work and the door opened. Zander rushed inside, looking about and seeing a canopy bed along the far wall. He couldn't see the bed's contents for the hanging draperies were closed, but he did see a bearskin rug on the floor before the bed and a lengthy dresser and mirror along the side wall. He cast a quick [I]detect magic[/I] spell and noted four points of abjuration magic, one each at the top of each of the four posters of the canopy bed and an aura of transmutation around the rug - which then dispelled all doubt as to its magical nature as it animated and attacked the elven sorcerer. Zander had had his hand upon the cloth barrier hanging from the bed when the bearskin rug attacked, slashing at him with the claws of one flattened paw. The attack jostled the elf to the side and he pulled the curtain away from the bed, revealing the unclothed form of Amelia Candlecraft lying asleep and whole on the bed. But he had no time for the implications of her location in the bed of her slain great-uncle to sink in as he found himself in mortal combat with the animated pelt of a grizzly bear. Zander Quilson was not the group's most adept member when it came to melee combat and everyone was well aware of that fact. Xandro raced into the room to try to draw the bear's attention away from the frail elven sorcerer, while Wakuren summoned an air element wolf into the room to attack the rug. The rug focused its attention on the bard, scratching at him with its fully-functional claws and wrapping its pliant form around Xandro's face, trying to smother him. Alewyth cast a [I]spiritual weapon[/I] spell, sending a dwarven warhammer made of pure force slamming into the part of the rug not currently wrapped around Xandro. Wakuren followed up his first summoning spell with another, this time bringing forth a celestial fire beetle. But it was Thurloe who finished off the animated bearskin rug, slicing it nearly in half with a swipe of his bastard sword. Xandro pulled the now-limp half off of his face and gasped in deep breaths. "Look away!" commanded Alewyth, seeing Amelia's nakedness and quickly covering her with a blanket. "Make yourselves useful and find me her clothes!" A set of women's clothes were found in the bottom drawer of the dresser, apparently where Conviolos had stashed them once he had realized the full implications of a beautiful young woman helpless in a dream coma. In fact, it was the rumor of such an occurrence that had led him to the Brightflame estate in the first place, where a little snooping about revealed the only people inside had been Sir Marcus, Amelia, and the traveling maid who had accompanied Miss Candlecraft on her journey to visit her elder relative. Waiting until Sir Marcus had departed the house and leaving Amelia in the temporary care of her maid, Conviolos had approached the house in the guise of a healer sent by the temple of Telgrane to try a new method of awakening Amelia from her slumber. Conviolos sent the maid off with a bag of coins to the marketplace to purchase some rare herbs - herbs rare enough he was certain she'd be gone for more than enough time to allow the cleric of Gareth to implement his evil plans. Of course, he hadn't counted on Sir Marcus's early return home, to find the greasy-haired pervert bent over the unyielding figure of his grand-niece, his breeches down around his ankles. They had fought, but the younger man was a much better combatant than the elderly paladin, whose days of combat prowess were sadly years behind him, and the end result was never much in doubt. Conviolos easily overpowered Sir Marcus and slew him, then realized he had quite an opportunity here: by wearing the paladin's mask and taking on his identity, he need only deal with the unwitting maid upon her return and he'd be practically set for life, with Amelia providing him with as much pleasure as he desired. And once dead, Sir Marcus and the maid even provided their skeletons for animation as an additional means of defense, should there ever be any problems on that front. Of course, Conviolos had likewise not anticipated the arrival of Sir Marcus's ghost.... Once Alewyth had dressed Amelia back in her own clothes, she had the men return to the bedroom and help place her in the middle of the floor, where they repeated their dream ritual, this time with much more success. The assassin chasing her through the forest was easily dealt with, at which time Amelia awoke from her week asleep - only to be told by a sad-faced, good-hearted dwarven woman that both her great-uncle and the maid she had traveled with were both dead. And then the room brightened even more than the illumination provided by the [I]everburning torches[/I] hanging from sconces around the room. The ghost of Sir Marcus Brightflame entered the room and took off his helmet, revealing a face scarred with puckered burns - flame-wounds caused by his own voluntary immolation in the service of the God of Fire many years back. A single tear rolled down his scarred face at the sight of his grand-niece awake once more, and then he started fading from view. "Uncle Marcus!" cried Amelia, reaching out to the fading figure from her seated position on the floor - but he was gone, passing on to the next world. Everything the dwarven woman had said was apparently true. Amelia covered her face with her hands and wept, unsure if the wound in her heart would ever heal. - - - This was definitely a creepy one, with an enemy the players all loved to hate once they realized the extent of his depravity. I figured that in a whole series of dream-victims, each of which was basically in a magical form of suspended animation, somewhere along the line somebody was going to take advantage of the situation. (In fact, I'd done something similar with Jingo Pebble-Brain a few adventures back.) And it was great seeing the realization kick in when the players all realized they'd been duped by "Sir Marcus Brightflame," who had a logical answer for everything even though most of what he'd told them were lies. (He'd also cast an [I]undetectable alignment[/I] spell upon himself before answering the door, then faked attempting to detect evil in Wakuren's aura, something he wasn't at all capable of doing (but Sir Marcus would have been able to do). I was especially proud of the fact I'd (temporarily at least) pulled the wool over Dan's eyes, as he's easily my most distrustful player and his PCs generally never trust anybody in-game if they can help it. (I suspect he played with a lot of "screw the players over whenever possible" DMs early in his gaming career.) Incidentally, the gems above the four-poster bed were a [I]hide from undead[/I] spell effect that would have prevented the ghost of Sir Marcus from being able to find his grand-niece even if he had made it into the room. The players were a bit bummed to have to leave another dreamer (Drakkar Pyropus) unawakened, but I did point out the other two times this occurred they never even made it inside the "real" dream, as Dream Ghidorah and Dream Kong had both killed the PCs before they could even get a glimpse of the "real" dreams they were guarding. At least this time, while Dream Warbat (using a plastic toy Warbat from the recent "Godzilla vs. Kong" movie I bought at Wal-Mart) prevented them from waking the dreamer, they were able to get far enough into his dream to actually see him, even though he was dreaming of being the bronze dragon mount of an elven paladin from Telgranian history. So it's a form of progress, and once the dreamstones have all had plenty of time to attune to the dreamers for a matter of months the PCs are anticipating having a better run of it. - - - T-shirt worn: I was tempted to wear my "DAD: Cleverly Disguised as a Responsible Adult" T-shirt as it would be very appropriate given Conviolos's impersonation of Sir Marcus Brightflame, but that would have let my my players know ahead of time something was up and somebody wasn't really who they claimed to be. I also have several shirts with various undead on them (mostly skeletons and zombies), but I was likewise hesitant to let them know they'd be up against some sort of undead in the adventure. So I eventually chose to wear one of my dragon shirts, the black T-shirt with a green dragon on it, to represent the bronze dragon in Drakkar Pyropus's dream. [/QUOTE]
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