You all sit and discuss the days events, filling each other in until the day gets long and you all seek the comfort of decent bedding.
Stretching out on your beds you found that sleep came all too easily and as you slipped into the realm of Dream, a dark shadow fell over your thoughts.
Unbidden and unescapable, nightmare visions born of the tales you had heard of the lands of Iuz, flooded your mind. Fiends tearing at the flesh of the dead who gazed at you with eyes bore in them not the hollow state of death but the recognition of something approximating life. Rivers of blood, roads of skulls, hooded priests, hoch jebline and undescribable entities that walked in shadow all haunted your dreams until, by morning, you woke having felt like you had only just lay down.
A brief wash in the provided basin didn't do much to alleviate matters. So you came downstairs expecting breakfast to be on only to find that no-one was about. Hearing a noise come from outside, you cautiously investigated only to open the door on to a scene of horror.
The streets were black with burning. Bodies were piled in ashen, and still smoking, heaps. Ravens pecked at whatever flesh still remained. The landscape was surreal for as you looked around, you saw the tavern was untouched though every building around it was flattened.
When you turned back, however, you faced a skinless, burnt person who oozed blood from every crack in it's flesh and whose fatty tissues still bubbled and spat. As you reeled back in shock at the sudden visage, tripping backwards onto your behind, it lurched forward, it's dripping eyes trying to focus on you.
Slowly you awakened from a paralyzing fear and began to crawl backwards, away from the thing, but you couldn't help but notice the details on it. The clothing, the body-shape, the jewellery and items...
You awoke screaming. The walking corpse, burnt and blackened, was you.
DM: M'faro is now suffering a -4 penalty to all all rolls for the next three days. M'faro recognizes the splotches on his body as the disease Typhus, something gained through biting insects such as fleas and lice. Though rarely fatal, it can put people seriously out of action for several days.
Grenier is also feeling under the weather today, and itchy...
Whoever is bunking with Bor or whoever is first to check up on him will find that he has left a note and a pouch. The note says that he is sorry but he had a dream last night and after that, he simply can't accept the risk involved and so he has given most of his share of the money back, minus what he needed to get cured of the disease and a small amount to keep him going for awhile. On the table next to the note is a purse with 230gp in it.
Waterday, 12th of Planting, 585 C.Y. Morning.
Though overcast and cooler than yesterday, it looks to be a relatively pleasant day ahead.
