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Message: <blockquote data-quote="Gregor" data-source="post: 5636848" data-attributes="member: 11751">Conversation around camp stretches out for a bit as you all relax around the fire.  There is some awkwardness with your new travelling companion, but you're not sure if that is related to your attraction to her, her smarmy demeanor, or both.  The drizzle continues to fall and the thick clouds obfuscate the light of the moon.  Watches are kept and no further problems arise.At dawn, prayers are spoken and spell books reviewed and scribed before the camp is struck.  Katrina looks miserable, given that she spent the night huddled by the fire without a bedroll, but she eagerly hops into a boat and gets comfortable.  Torrent throws her a glance of daggers when she realizes that the redhead will not be helping with the rowing.[sblock="for Lars"]Since you and your friends freed the entity known as Indomitability, your dreams have ceased.  You were sure there was some connection between the entity and your uncontrollable visions, but you could not solve the puzzle and it remained a mystery to you.  Various questions have tumbled in your mind, each related to that strange connection and to the words Child of Trilla.  It was on this night, huddled around a campfire in your bedroll after an encounter with strange witches in the swamp, that you felt new powers flow into your veins.  You had experienced this before, especially when another unknown magical power manifested itself for you, but fatigue got the better of you and you fell into a deep slumber.  Was it a coincidence that your dreams returned the night you felt that strange magical feeling?  Perhaps, perhaps not.  What was sure to you was the intensity of the returning visions.  As if you were experiencing them for the first time, your sleeping form rocked back and forth and a sheen of sweat covered your brow.  In your mind, you went on a marvelous journey.  You flew through deep caves and dark tunnels.  Like the wind you sped along, reveling in the feeling of flight.  When you looked at your hands and body, there was not much to see save for a ghostly apparition of dragon's wings and a long wispy tail.  The image of something, vast, golden and winged filled your sight and you felt instant emotion, as if you were a child being held by a mother you never knew until now.  You sailed up, away from the image, to distance yourself from its incomprehensible form and meaning.  You sought to escape, frightened now by what you are and what this dream could mean.  Up through tunnels, feeling the air grow warmer, heavier.  Then, without warning, you saw a creature.  It was a corpulent form, with dark greasy hair and a small frame.  It had  hands for grasping and feet for walking.  You were luminous, ethereal, and yet, it saw you.  Its fleshy eyes turned to stare at you and in an instant you knew.  It was he.  Dream walker.  You rushed forward, with no real understanding of why, only a need, a primal desire to join, to become one, to conjoin with he who can walk the dreams, taste the eternal realm and return to the place of flesh, bone and blood.  Into the creature's heart you flew, staggering him and driving him to the ground.  His head shaken, body tumbling, he cried out, its sound muffled from your place within his heart.  Another cry and all went black.Lars, your eyes snap open in the morning and you brush away your sweat and dew covered forehead.  Miserable that your dreams have returned you splash some water on your face and try to piece together the messages in your vision.  That is when you hear it.  The voice in your heart.  The voice is old, more ancient than sunken ruins of ancient civilizations.  The voice is eager, curious and inquisitive.  "Greetings Dreamwalker" is speaks in a language that you should not understand, but do.  Startled, you shake your head, thinking that you are still dreaming.  Yet you are not.  "I have found you." it says again, "the one who can save me." [/sblock]Your group sets out from the island, poling and steering through the bayou as the chirps of strange birds and the buzz of insects sound out.  Your travel requires a few portages over muddy embankments and Torrent continues the frustrating effort of navigating your many divergent maps of the swamp.  Night falls and camp is struck, thankfully without any encounters with more local denizens of the marsh.  On the third day of travel, your boats begin to take a path closer to the edge of the swamp.  You can make out a sandy beach through the clutter of stunted and gnarled trees that surround you and the faint crash of sea waves can be heard.  The marsh begins to thin out in mid afternoon and you find yourselves portaging more often than actually rowing through water.  Tired, muddy and covered in insect bites you seek a brief reprieve on a dryer bed of dirt, your boats piled up.  The drizzle still falls, but a fair wind from the sea is now blowing through the thinner foliage and its briny scent is a refreshing change from the stench of the bayou.  You spy a hawk, circling in the air far above you, which soon flies away.  Water and rations are enjoyed and Katrina yet again shares her thoughts on how nice a hot, soapy bath would be, her eyes boring into a different man each time.Perhaps a half hour later, you hear the sound of a horn blow out, which startles your tranquil mid day rest.  Out of the foliage step three male elves.  The lead one moves forward, raising his palm in greeting.  A few strands of blonde hair peek out from his blue cloak. He carries a sword at his hip and a bow on his back, but his armor, if any, is hidden under loose robes, and he carries himself like a scholar, not a warrior.  The two that accompany him are harder looking, wearing a long and short sword at their hips, longbows on their backs and chain shirts cover their torsos.  Each man wears a broach bearing the sigil of Shahalesti. The hawk you spied earlier swoops down and lands on the lead elf's shoulder with a cry.  Smiling the leader says: "Hail and well met travelers.  I am Thalan of the Shining Lands of Shahalesti.  I ask you, under my orders from Princess Shalosha herself, and as a gesture of goodwill to the people of Seaquen, to identify yourselves and kindly allow my men and I to inspect your belongings."[sblock="for Arnir"]Thalan looks very familiar to you.  He is definitely much older than you, perhaps around 350 to 400 years old, but you are positive that you have either met him before or perhaps he knew someone in your family.[/sblock]</blockquote>

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