We were somewhere along the lonely desert, 100 miles outside of Sharn, when the dreamweed begand to take hold. I remember saying something like "I feel a bit lighttheaded; maybe you should drive..." And suddenly there was a terrible roar all around us and the sky was full of what looked like dire bats, all swooping and screeching and driving around the carriage, which was going about 20 miles an hour with an open top to Sharn. And a voice was screaming: "Holy Jesus! What are these goddamn animals!"
Then it was quiet again. My rogue had taken his shirt off and was pouring mead on his chest, to facilitate the tanning process. "What the hell are you yelling about?" he muttered, staring up at the sun with his eyes closed and covered with wraparound glasses of sun protection. "Never mind," I said. It's your turn to drive." I pulled back on the reigns and aimed Red towards the edge of the road. No point mentioning those dire bats, I thought. The poor half-orc will see them soon enough.