Despite the curious incident with the final messenger the night wears on much as it always has. The wine flows, if not freely, then at least moderately priced. Brews silently begins the process of mopping up the shattered glass and spilled drinks and the Shard settles back into its comfortable routine.
Several hours pass and night falls. The nightlife of Sharn peaks briefly as the various taverns empty out their drunks and you silently thank your gods of choice that warforged bartenders don’t need to sleep. When the sounds of drunken violence subside and the watch patrol creeps out of the shadows to round up those unlucky few who were too drunk, injured or stupid to make themselves scarce, the noise levels swiftly return to normal, such as it is.
All in all, it’s a quiet night in Sharn…
[sblock=Those dragonmarked, dragon-blooded or otherwise touched by the prophecy]
It starts suddenly, no warning given. If you were sipping a drink, you gag reflexively before spitting it out. If you were in conversation you stop, suddenly, in mid-sentence as visions of flame overwhelm you.
‘No…’
Fire everywhere. Surrounding you, so much flame and smoke it’s difficult to make out any other details.
‘No! He can’t die…’
You move through the flames, the burns sear your skin, but the pain is only momentary and far less than you’d expect. If you act fast you might just get out of this alive. As you fumble your way through the smoke and debris you begin to take in more details of your surroundings. Some kind of townhouse… wooden, well furnished. The room is filled with expensive looking knickknacks: Portraits, statues, alchemical equipment… and a large number of dragonshards built into various devices. Some kind of storeroom or laboratory perhaps?
‘We never meant to- Not like this…’
You regain your footing, gritting your teeth through the pain, and breaking into a run. You head for the nearest exit you can see… too late. A multitude of chittering shadows writhe within the doorway, the flames lapping about them like a cloak looking at you, leering, ready to strike.
‘It wasn’t supposed to happen like this.’
They’re about to pounce, when a larger shadow rushes at them from the side, tackling them into the corridor. The light from the flames illuminates the larger shadow, revealing a frame of gleaming metal. A warforged. A pretty vicious one from the sound of it, good thing it’s on your side.
‘It can’t end this way.’
You turn to the window. Even with the smoke you can make out the waterfront of the docks below; it looks like Sharn. (Although you have to question the sanity of someone wealthy enough to afford all those dragonshards living down in that cesspool) The window. Your way out of here! You run over to the great glass window. The heat is getting unbearable now, but if you can just reach it… no. Another shadow looms up over the rim of the window. This one is different, has a poise and grace the others lack… and a flaming red dragonmark branded across its face. The mark glows, and a blast of flame shoots through the window, sending molten glass flying. That awful, awful mark covering its face is glowing so hot… yet the creature doesn’t seem to mind. It grins with sadistic pleasure as it vaults through the empty frame and charged towards you, knife drawn…
‘I won’t let it end this way!!!’
The vision cuts off as suddenly as it began and you're sent crashing back to reality. It feels like a punch in the stomach as you're whisked back to the Tower's Shard and you find yourself frantically fighting the urge to throw up. [/sblock]
ooc: All dragonmarked, dragon-blooded or otherwise qualified take a DC 15 fortitude save or be knocked prone by the magical backlash.
