A/N: Updates on this site will be sporadic at best, as I have no idea if anyone is actually interested in following this and thus little motivation to update.
Flamerule 10
The first things I noticed in the small village were the guards, thickly built men with crossbows strapped to their backs. Ah, another potential...issue. One wrong move, and this mad quest would be over practically before it started.
One of them stopped us before we passed the gate he guarded. "Who goes there?" he grunted.
Frankly, I'd be worried if he did know us. "Who's asking?"
The guard glared at me. "Kas, third sentry of the border," he finally answered. "If you are new to this isle, you must speak with Kaishas." He pointed to one of the roughly built wooden houses beyond the gate.
I wanted to ask who Kaishas was, but Kas was looking rather irritable. Discretion's the better part of valor, they say. All in good time.
Later
Kaishas Gan seemed normal enough—for a quest-giver, I hasten to add. After trying several times to evade the simple question "what do we have to fight?", she sent us off to the north of the isle to fight them anyway. Joy. Jaheira thinks they might be wolfweres or werewolves, so time to fight melee again. Winged Mother, does no one sell enchanted bolts?
Oh, and she offered us cookies. Belladonna cookies, at that. I don't know whether to be amused or terrified.
Apparently the village's lorekeeper/sage/whatever-he-is might have some information on these monsters, so we're off. Again. In the morning.
Errand quests, mine bread and bane...how I loathe thee.
Nighttime
That night, I dreamed.
A crystalline pool before me, its surface perfectly reflecting the darkened clouds. I looked closer... A dream within a dream? Within the pool, the clouds stirred and vanished.
Wings of fire, suspended in the darkness... A voice, resonating throughout a vast and empty cavern, amidst the sound of a weeping woman.
Ash spiraling about me, swirling in the wind. Beneath me, a plume of smoke; all about, a reek of something burnt and rotting... I hover in the center of it all, waiting, watching...but for what, I know not.
Three oak trees, alive and well far below the earth. As I watched, a delicate face emerged from each tree, and twig-like hands of bark reached out, grasping for...something. Ethereal voices begged for help.
A grinning skull, one half splashed dark red, the other bleached white, a jagged crack running between the two. The red spilled over the crack, drowning the skull in a river of blood...
Dark earth below, dark sky above, rain pouring down... Hands like talons reach out from an open grave, belonging to a thing long dead, now pale as ice... Reaching, grasping, clawing blindly...but at me, coming ever closer...
A strange laughter, echoing from the darkness. But...different...this time, it must be. My face was soaked with tears and rain as another's hand grew colder in my own.
I nearly jumped out of my bedroll as I felt a light touch on my shoulder. "Ildera?" It was Kivan. "You were thrashing, so I thought to wake you. Are you well?"
Define "well." I shrugged. "Strange dreams. I've had them before."
" "Strange" dreams should not leave you weeping," the ranger muttered. He knelt, then seated himself next to me. "I will listen, if you desire."
If anyone could keep a secret, it was he. Haltingly, I began to relate my strange visions.