Nightmares of the sword coast

[DM Setanta]

Nightmares have been reported up and down the sword coast, especially from folk who had contact with the black portals of madness and the alienist moving up and down the coast.


//In honor of my Aberration/Alienist event and the up coming Halloween am offering a chance for player to come up with there own nightmares for there characters or a commoner living near the coast, i may reward well done ones.

Rules
-Must involved aberrations or aberrations themes (eyeballs, tentacles, madness, ect.)
-The Dream are happening in game, and for player may effect there in game actions.
-Pg 13


"Searchers after horror haunt strange, far places. "
-H. P. Lovecraft

[DM Setanta]

Jimmy Martin is a Dockworker in the Harbor of Baldur's Gate. He spent his life trying to be as upstanding as can be, going to bed early and waking up early for work. One day, he found a rather strange dagger in some cargo he was moving. Something about the blade, he could not take his eyes off of it, this would be the first time Jimmy ever stole anything, this would be the first of a lot of things for jimmy.

As was his custom, Jimmy made sure to go to bed early, putting the dagger aside he put himself to bed in his small room in his small house. Jimmy drifted off into a world of dreams, finding himself on a small rowboat, no more then twelve feet. Quickly looking around he found no sun, no stars to judge where he was, just an empty black sky for as far as the eye could see.

The water sat unmoveing, an eerie still, and black as the night. The water seemed alien to Jimmy, unlike the music of the waves hes used to hearing there was nothing. Starting to panic he looked over the edge of his boat and tried to touch the water, it was thick as tar. Two paddles sat on either side of the boat, waiting for him to row, however to where jimmy was not sure.

Suddenly a high pitched scream comes from behind Jimmy, looking around he could not see anything that could give off such a noise and was truly afraid of it. In front of Jimmy a blue light appaired in the distance, was this a lighthouse? Makeing up his mind to move away from the scream, Jimmy started to row towards the light. The water was thick making moving the boat hard work. As more screams where heard behind him, He rowed as fast as he could toward the light, as it slowly got closer.

The sounds seemed to be catching up to him as well, Jimmys heart was racing trying to make his way forward in the little boat. Finally he found himself only feet away from the light, however it was not a lighthouse. No, the light was not attached to anything at all, but was just floating there over the water. With out warning several more lights appeared behind his boat, floating over the water. In unison the lights all came to life diving for the man makeing a single noise "Bzzt"

Jimmy awoke with a scream, and a cold sweat, nor could he sleep for the rest of the night. The next day, his peers saw no sign of him at the docks, this would be the first time Jimmy was ever late for work

[DM Setanta]

*Jimmy Martin was killed a few days later, after stabbing the elf known as knives with the dagger, the flaming fist killed him.

[Salival]

Sanguinary sits studying his book, off in cloakwood, near a small fire. As he sits there he notices a hooded halfling off in the distance. He smiles and closes his book. "Perfect timing" he says as a rumble comes from under his robes, through his own ribcage. He puts his book away and uses his staff to raise from the ground. His bones creek and crackle. He casts a spell to be unseen, and heads towards the hin. After following the small figure deeper and deeper into woods he thinks they surely must have been going in circles. As he still follows, Sanguinary swears he saw the hood turn to him over its shoulder, but he couldnt make out a face. Only noticing eyes gleaming. Deep purple eyes. Sanguinary smiles with thoughts of finding a rare halfing magi or something. His mind races with thoughts. Suddenly he finds them coming towards a large house on the edge of a cliff. The hooded figure heads inside. Sanguinary pauses a moment and cast a few wards upon himself. He enters the house, and finds the halfling in a side room, standing towards a corner. He ungloves his left hand, and rests it on the figures shoulder. Sanguinary cries out in pain falling to the ground. He sits there staring at the still living halfling, which should have died. The figure turns slowing as it lowers its hood. To Sanguinarys shock he saw no face. Only those eyes staring back at his. Sanguinarys head starts to pound in pain.. the figure floats into the air. 5 ft up. Teling Sanguinary with whispers of the mind that he will suffer for his actions. The figure leaves like a mist in the night air. Sanguinary starts to put his glove back on his hand but screams. He was not looking at his own hand. For it was the hand of a dwarf! "No!" He cires out. I cant be a dwarf, what is this wickedness! He starts to pull out a blade to slit his own neck, but suddenly he wakes up. A tear on his face he sits up in bed, and starts cutting wards into his right arm.

[DM Setanta]

*The wife of the Friendly Arms inn bruiser dreams of her missing husband this night. *

[narcaleptic]

*Buurk Gers retires for the night under a small tree near the friendly arm inn, He nods off and begins dreaming.

Bullywug: *raspy voice* Hi buurk, you membur me huh? from da river? why not come back and see bullywug tribe agian? Buurk just forget about us... we no good....

Buurk: *looks up from his resting spot under the small tree* Wut? huh? Mebz no forget! Buurk membur baby frog human peoplez! youz iz gooz! meb membur youz!

Bullywug: no, no.... Buurk forget da Bullywugs... even though they help buurk so much.... soo... soo.. much........

*the bullywug steps back foot by foot waving bye to buurk*

Buurk: *jumps up and chases after him, but no matter how fast he runs the bullywug keeps geting further and further away... foot by foot until he suddenly falls into a shadow on the ground* Noo!! comez bak! Buurk iz sorriez!! himz not forgit! *Buurk stops towering over the hole peering into it while fiddling with his fingers near his waist, geting closer and closer, inch by inch until... SNATCH! the bullywug grabs him and pulls him into the hole. Light becomes shadow as he tumbles down what seems a endless void of complete darkness, with no sound but the echos of the bullywug ringing in his ear... YOU FORGOT US! you forgot us! you forgot us... he spirals through the darkness and THUD!*

*though the fall was seeming endless, he finds himself laying in a pool of mud and blood not sure how he suddenly got there, He looks up to see his mother standing over him.

Mother: ohh did you fall down and bust your knee agian buurky? let me see. *blows on his knee* see? all better! now you get back up and be a big strong boy for moma!

Buurk: o...okiez muma.... *stands up and cleans himself off, looking back up to find his mother gone with only a whisper lingering on the air*

Mother: Remember, your my big strong boy buurky....

*suddenly he realizes he is deep within the cloakwood forest, and lurkering around in the darkness the worst sound he can imagen.... Click...... click..... click... click.. click, click! CLICK! SCREECH! A gaint spider. *screaming in terror the giant Buurk tramples through the forest runing for the friendly arm inn, just as he gets to the edge of the forest he trips and slams down to the ground sliding up under a small tree. He shakes his head laying there clearly dazed, then looks up to see himself sleeping agianst the same tree he started at when the bullywug came to him. Click... click... click, click, click, CLICK! the spiders still having followed him surround the two buurks and slowly move closer inch by inch, clicking and screeching the whole way. He jumps up onto his sleeping body and shakes it vigorously while his slow sobs turn to loud cries.... WAKE UPZ WAKE UPZ! WAKE UPZ!!!!!! The spiders decend appon him and just as they are to have there meal....


Buurk: *SNORTS and lets out a small yell, having awoke, his heart beating out of his chest and sweat pouring down his face, he looks around to find everything normal agian and only the sound of crickets.*

[astra]

Aboard the Seawolf in port at Roaringshore, N'Varra Wren lie in feverish sleep in her hammock below deck. The cold, clammy air rolling in off the sea left a moist coating on most of the wooden surfaces, and those who could sleep did so ill at ease. Varra tosses and turns fitfully as haunted dreams sweep over her....

-------

Cloudy visions coalesce into a lurid cityscape. Low mudstone buildings bake under the oppressively hot desert sun, and in the street a man pleads for mercy.

Menacing figures surround him, arrayed in a semicircle as they herd him into a back alley. N'Varra looks down at her feet as she walks, watching the way her boots kick up swirling clouds of black soot. In her hand is a dagger, blood dripping rhythmically from its tip. She locks eyes with the pleading man as one of the menacing figures speaks into her ear.

"Do it," he urges. His husky voice seems to echo and reverberate from all directions. "You have to. It's the only way!"

She feels a tightness in her chest that wasn't there before- it's hard to breathe.

"I can't," N'Varra protests. "I won't!"

She can feel the menacing figure's hollow, empty eye sockets on her as they burn into the back of her neck. The victim falls to his knees and pleads pitifully on the ground, sobbing in fear. Varra tries to wrench her gaze away from him but can't.

"Do it! NOW!"

Hideous black tentacles erupt from N'Varra's hands. The man on his knees screams in abject terror as he is eviscerated. The scene swims before her eyes as he gurgles in death. The menacing figures congratulate her.

-

A familiar cave. It's filled top to bottom with luxurious furnishings. Incense burns in a large, ornate censer at the apex of the room. Varra looks around, trying to avoid the neatly-arranged rows of freshly-polished skulls at the far end. She stands up and touches the cool steel bars of the cage she cannot escape.

"Varra," whispers a middle-aged elf in a cage next to hers.

She looks at him, silently praying, knowing it won't make a difference.

"Looky what I found!" He flashes her a mischevious grin and pulls a small knife out of a fold in the rags he is wearing. The room darkens perceptibly as tears start to roll down N'Varra's cheeks.

"Please," she whispers. "Please don't. Please."

The elf's face twitches at her words. He shakes his head slowly, silently. Blood runs down the walls of the cave. N'Varra strains against the steel bars, trying to snatch the knife away. It's no use. The elf is just out of reach. His insane smile widens slowly until he's positively beaming.

"Please," she whispers again. "Please no."

He silently shakes his head again and raises the knife in salute before plunging it viciously into his own chest. Varra screams as, impossibly, a chasm in the floor opens below the elf. Flames roar as more hideous black tentacles explode from the earth, ensnaring the elf as he doubles over in death. His eyes never leave hers. There's nothing she can do but watch tearfully as the tentacles drag him violently into the abyss.

-------

"NOO!!"

N'Varra screams out loud as she jolts awake, sitting upright and looking around. Some of the crew look at her with wide eyes, having been woken by her shout.

"Y'all right, Songbird?" One of them asks.

Breathing heavily and sweating despite the chill in the night air, she nods weakly.

"Just a dream," she says, trying to pass it off as nothing. "Demons from me past."

Feeling embarrassed, she flops back onto her pillow and silently dreads returning to sleep.

------

// Hopefully this isn't too dark... I tried to go with the Halloween-horror-movie theme I can edit if it's not PG13 enough! Critiques please!

[DM Setanta]

///Great posts so far, i owe some people xp

[Hoihe]

((Edit: I fixed the epic editing fail of "He stood sat upon a camel". Kudos to Selande for noticing it.))



Vesur Thunden, far from home for many months now in his quest for an epic gift for his son trashed about in the soft bed made by the maidens of the Friendly Arm's Inn. He didn't know that not only he was restless, however. Outside, a portal opened and all hells broke loose as brave adventurers battled. He battled himself, but a battle now long past.

____________________________________________________________________________

It was nearing night in the deserts of Calimshan. The perfect time for an attack. Vesur Thunden received word of a large collection of bandits roaming the desert, pillaging settlements and levying adventurous folk for their dishonourable business from one of the rangers of the Sandstone clan. He rallied the troops under him and made stand before the great halls of the dwarven clan. He sat upon a camel, wearing a chainmail covered in a light, white cloth robe. The dust of the desert was filling the air as the bandit army rode in.

The battle went on like any other, until the faithful moment of the battle that Vesur dreads so much. He was surrounded, by a genasi of fire, air, water and earth. They all fought him, but he dodged their blows constantly parrying blocking and retaliating. The battle went on for a long time, eventually, Vesur buckled into the sand as he was beaten. Almost all of his bones broken, he was near the edge of death. He gripped the sand in his hands and let it's grain pour out. Instead of the warm, yellow sand stained by blood a black tar like liquid dripped from his bloody grip. This tar soon began to erupt from all parts of his body, turning the desert to a black, vile sea. He began drowning until he woke up...
__________________________________________________________________________

"Father!" shouted Vesur's son after hearing his father yell. The entire Thunden family gathered around the war veteran laying upon his bed. His bones broken, he still tried to swim in the bed. Cold water woke him from his nightmare.
"Mah dear, yer havin' them nightmares again? Let tha battle pass, it only haunts ye worse." spoke his wife, with a sigh. "You're slowing your recovery with those fits of fear."

Vesur just stuttered, the battle was unlike he remembered. That black tar never happened, he thought he was cursed so he had a priest come over to remove it. And a priest did come, a priest of Gorm Gultyn, the patron of the Thunden family. With his swollen eyes he looked at his son, he seemed odd but he couldn't put his finger on it before they said their farewells. The priest wanted to attend to Vesur in private and the family honoured him.

"The Great Vesur Thunden, general of the Sandstone clan's finest brought low by a curse. A shame, truly. I can't let it hinder you now, can I?" The priest spoke in a gurgling voice, as if choking. He approached Vesur and lay a hand on his head. Pain, it surged through the battle scarred dwarf's body. He felt as if his mind was being sucked at until it faded, abruptly. Finally with the pain over, he opened his eyes to see his son crushing in the head of a Mindflayer with a warhammer. It's own mind covered the room, Vesur was proud of his son's strength.

"Father, are you alright? Ever since we opened that new mine chasm we were having odd visitors at night.. This.. "Mindflayer" as our king calls them, is one of them. Vesur raised his bandaged brows and looked at the mindflayer with a hole in it's skull. It looked like something that came out of a nightmare, it just didn't make sense for him how such a creature could even exist. He shrugged it off and smiled to his son.

Suddenly, the son spoke in an odd voice, as if multiple voices were layered above each. It spoke "I did not save you, father, because I want you alive. Rather the opposite!" It laughed, before it continued "I just can't let that imbecile to have such a fine treat"...

__________________________________________________________________________

Vesur once again screamed at the top of his lungs, alerting the entirety of the Sandstone clan. They all rushed into the deep cave tunnels where he slept, fully armed.
"Genrahl Thunden, did tha Duergar break through?"
"Duergar?!" Vesur jumped, grabbing for a weapon. He was already armoured for he slept in metal plate when he was guarding the caves. He did find one and raises it high and asked "Where?!"
"General, ye screamed so loud that even by tha great entrance hall we heard ye." said the dwarf who was talking to him
"Must.. must haf been a nightmare. Yes, that must be it. Tell me... are.. are you a mindflayer?!" Vesur lunged at the dwarf with his axe and cleaved his head off. Suddenly, the rest of the clan jumped at him and dragged him away, into the temple.

Within the temple they tossed him into a containment field, from where he supposedly could never escape. As he sat there he heard a faint echo whisper in his room, congratulating him. It said that as a reward, he'll be given a gift. Once again, tar began to pour into the windows, drowning Vesur. But against his expectations he didn't die. Rather, he felt himself changing. He started to feel his arms lengthen, his legs shorten, one of his eyes enlarge and his other disappear almost, for it was reduced to a mere dot. This dot, however, multiplied and turned into thousands, like a fly's. Vesur stood inside his cell after the tar went away, he no longer had feet and became a monster standing on his arms. Suddenly, he saw dwarves with grey skin run past his cell. He tried to lash at them and somehow, he succeeded. The containment broke and he began to bring vengeance to the duergar. Then he saw his wife and son cornered, soon destroyed in a fury of axes.

__________________________________________________________________________

A scream erupted inside the roadside inn leading to Athlatka. The barmaid entered Vesur's room, armed with a dagger for she thought an assassin came to their important guest. She rolled her eyes finding the dwarf laying facefirst on the floor and asked:
"Had a nightmare, master Sandstone?"
"Yes, yes me had.." The dwarf quickly covered himself up with the bedcover at hand, trying to save his decency.
"I'll go then.." The barmaid walked away.

A few days later, in Athlatka as Vesur spoke to a merchant, he had a cold shiver run down his spine. It was as if he was being watched by something beyond. He shrugged it off as restlessness for he kept getting nightmares lately, all of them involving him becoming an aberration of himself.

He left the city and continued to the Sword Coast, his goal to find a worthy item for his loved son. As he strode upon the road he heard a voice say to him after the familiar shiver. "You can not escape us, Vesur. You never will. " The dwarf looked around as the trees, the grass, the rocks turned into otherworldly shapes, as if painted by a crazed artist. From them, thousands of bugs spread into the land, moving towards, marching towards Vesur. They soon covered him head to toe but he managed to free himself and began to run. The road twisted ahead of him, eventually he found he was running in circles. He drew his axe and began to battle the army of insects.

After hours of fighting the relentless assault died down as the insects gathered to form a Mind Flayer. Vesur felt horrible pain as he looked at the Mindflayer, he felt as if his skin burst into ribbons.

___________________________________________________________________________

The brave warriors finally defeated the assault, daylight came and they began to take care of their wounded. Vesur yelled inside the Friendly Arm's Inn. A barmaid came to see what's the problem... The old dwarf was shivering, drenched in sweat with bloodshot eyes.
He felt safe at last, but not inside the Inn, not around the place. He grabbed his armour, put it on then rushed northward, towards the Gate. He HAD to get away from that accursed sitting duck. As he left the gates he saw the massive pile of corpses from the fight and began to run even faster...




((As one might notice, I used the classical Dream nested in a Dream.

[Tempist]

Cyrus had not been able to sleep very well since the night he and Sir Uriel traveled through the portal following the Willow-the-Wisps...he is tired as he stares out over the landscape. The barriers are in place, the civilians have retreated inside the inn, and the defenders are positioned outside the inn, waiting. As the horns of the Black Orcs can be heard, the five Knight from the Silver Rose Keep form up around Cyrus protecting the mage so he might be able to cast.

The Orcs come, wave after wave crashing over the defenders like and angry sea against a reef during a storm. Cyrus cast is spells over and over, seemingly un-affecting the battle in front of him. The Knight are onslaught, being attacked over and over again as they try to defend Cyrus. Cyrus pauses from his casting to break out healing kits and wands to heal the brave guards to no avail. They continue to amass injuries in the defense of the mage.

Suddenly one guard falls, and then another and a third........Cyrus continues to cast, his spells ineffective against the masses of Black Orcs. Then suddenly, the sun rises and the Orcs are gone, bodies litter the ground.

Cyrus looks up to the remaining Knights, they look at Cyrus with eye full of disappointment and regret and having followed this mage. They turn and walk away each carrying one of the fallen knights, leaving one for Cyrus.

As Cyrus bends down, to clean the body, and prepare it to be moved, his eyes open, and his had flashes up to grab Cyrus behind the neck, pulling Cyrus face to face, the knight smiles with a wicked grin and says "It should have been you" as he drive his blade into Cyrus belly.


Cyrus wakes screaming, clutching his gut...his bed soaked with sweat. Sitting up he moves to the wash bin to splash his face with water shaking off the nightmare, the same nightmare he has had every time he tires to close his eyes since three knights under his command lost their lives defending the Inn from the Black Orcs.

He lights a candle, and leans over to splash water on his face one more time, as he straightens, he feels a slight pain in his back and suddenly a sword blade erupts from his chest, and the face of the knight can be seen in the mirror, standing behind Cyrus...."I said it should have been you"



And the screams start all over again...........

[greendragon]

Late one autumn night, Midian Dark sat at a table within the Candlekeep Library doing some arcane research. He had his quill pen, ink, parchment and some arcane books of various sorts. With his nose in a book, he flips pages back and forth, writes some things on a scroll and reaches for another book.

"Master Midian, I brought you some tea if you'd like." A comely female monk, Shyla, graciously stands smiling with a pot of tea and a cup. "I brewed this for you as I know of your fondness of exotic teas."

"Wonderful and thank you, Shyla. You are most kind." Midian says with a smile. She places the pot and cup on the table and says, "If there's anything more you would like, I would be more than happy to get it for you, milord."

"Nothing more. This was not even expected. Thank you again." He says.
Shyla curtsies to Midian and leaves the room closing the door behind her. Midian pours himself a cup of tea, steam vapors rising from the hot liquid. As he takes a sip, he relishes in it's tasty goodness. He looks into the cup and realizes that the tea is red in color.

He goes back to his research, reading and copying arcane passages and formulae, occasionally sipping the reddish tea. After an hour or two, his eyes become heavier and heavier.

Suddenly, a chilling breeze blew from seemingly nowhere moving a page of parchment off the table's edge. He looks around seeing no one, and reaches down to pick up the parchment.
"Midian ..." is faintly whispered.
Hearing his name, he almost hit his head on the underside of the table. Startled, he looks around again then just shrugs it off.

"Midian ..." The faint whisper is much louder the second time as if someone was standing behind him. He turns around expecting to see someone, anyone, but nothing.

"Midian ... we've come for you ..."

It is at this moment when he feels icy fingers all over, grasping his arms and legs in effect restraining him from moving. "Who are you? What do you want from me?" Midian frantically asks.

"We've come for you ..."

A wind from nowhere kicks up blowing everything around ... books, scrolls and pages of parchment fly around the room in the chilling wind. The wind lifts him out of his chair keeping him off balance. Kicking and fighting he is then carried by the cold, invisible hands down a long dark corridor through door after door until he is placed upon an altar of some kind surrounded by seemingly infinite darkness. Multiple voices say to Midian, "We have come for you."

"What ... what do you want from me?" He asks frantically.

An eerie, reversed echo type of a ghostly voice replies, "Why this is what you want isn't it?"

"What, what are you talking about?"

A shadowy black faceless figure approaches the altar with what seems to be a covered serving platter. The cover is lifted revealing an entire skeletal arm and hand.

"What in the Hells!?" Midian exclaims.

"Yesss, it's for you." the ghostly voice tells him.

Icy fingers and hands then restrain Midian further as they rip his shirt open, and then completely off.

"No, I never asked for that, that thing! Get away from me demons!"

The voices laugh and laugh with ever increasing volume, with more and more voices laughing maniacaly and chanting something unintelligable, demonic chanting. Then, from out of nowhere, a silvery blade appears hovering over Midian's body, in fact it's Midian's own blade. Who is wielding it? No one. Nothing but darkness. The blade slowly makes it's way to Midian's right shoulder. Another voice speaks into Midian's ear,

"This won't hurt a bit, little one ..."

"Grandma?" And with that, the blade pierces Midian's flesh, "AAAAARGH!"

Midian wakes up in a cold sweat where he was at the table in the Candlekeep Library, quill pen still in hand. Shyla, a young female monk knocks on the half-open door. "Master Midian? I brought you some tea..."

[Selande]

Selande has never had peaceful rest. Dream-like trances filled with either haunt or hunt, she had long since become expectant of these battles. Recently, however, her reveries were far beyond her own expectations. Peaceful at first, something she's unused to, and then they become much darker.

Selande sighs as she heads to the guest chambers in Candlekeep. Still not allowed to rest closer to Selengil, she fears for his safety given the distance between them. As she lays down for the night, her thoughts are split between "what ifs" concerning Selengil; and the dread she associates with reverie. She closes her eyes and forces her mind to be still. Her thoughts turn to something simple, darkness. The same darkness that welcomed her when she fled the Order. As images dance into her head, so too does the darkness dance to shroud them and she quickly falls into trance.
// oocly, the images entering her thoughts are those of willowisps. Her meditation techniques leave her unaware. //
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A saltwater mist sprays her face, her eyes closed and she breathes deep. The ship crashing into waves makes a very familiar sound and she opens her eyes to find herself at the bow of her father's vessel, her home. Looking over the sunny waters with a smile, she feels like a child again, as if this ship were the fullest extent of the world. She turns and searches the deck briefly for her father, standing in his usual place on the quarterdeck, overlooking all his family as they work the lines. His face is sunken and hollow, furrowed with concern and Selande frowns as she wonders if he's ill. He never looks concerned unless one of his children are injured or if the trawlings snare up.

She walks towards him, unaffected by the shifting of the deck, and something port-side catches her eye.

"Land?" she thinks. A very rare occasion. "And what more, a port!"

She gazes over the tiny little harbor town with amazement. It's so rigid and orderly. She wonders how people living there don't get sick of watching the seas breathe without them. A stifling thought she quickly quells as she continues to head towards her father. He notices her and with a swift wave of his hand, dismisses her approach.

"We're docking. He's busy" she affirms to herself. She's closer now and can see the bones of her father's face showing shape through his skin. He looks drained. Her heart sinks.

She puts it out of her mind and runs over to the side of the ship, picking up a landing line and preparing to throw it. She's only done this once before, but everyone on the ship helps out with all it's functions. As the ship approaches the dock, shorehands run out and make preparations, and four robed and hooded men stand in the center of the dock, awaiting our arrival.

Her gut wrenches at the sight of them, disgusted like looking at a bloated carcass caught in the trawl and hauled on deck. They seem outwardly plain, so she fights the feeling and throws the line to a shorehand. The ship is quickly fastened to the dock portside and the crew swarms about their business. Father, looking grimmer than ever, is the first down onto the dock, accompanied by his brother the first mate. They approach the robed men and Selande watches from the ship.

A short exchange of words, obviously displeases the robed men, the foremost of which raises his hand and Father is lifted off the ground by an unseen force. Panicked thoughts run through Selande's mind as she watches helplessly from the ship. Her father is brought up to about five feet off the deck before another of the robed men raises his hand towards the first mate. A flare of red eminates from the man and the first mate is blurred with a red haze, seemingly coming from within himself. The first mate's body is swept forward a foot and falls in a lifeless heap as the red haze condenses in the robed man's hands. Father starts kicking his legs in struggle but whatever is holding him doesn't budge. The robed man's raised hand closes into a fist and father's torso crushes inward, blood spraying over the docks.

Selande turns away. Fright, panic, horror. She doesn't even have words to describe. The crew shout around the deck but it's all muted noise to her. She stumbles a few steps from the railing and collapses to her knees. The crew begin to cut the lines, trying to head out to sea once more. Violence rocks the ship as the portside hull is blown apart. Fire and smoke billow from the hull as the ship rolls from the impact. Selande is tossed, skidding across the decks. Flames sweep the masts and race across the quarterdeck. Another massive firey blow lands and the ship tips forward, the bow quickly sinking into the shallow dockwaters.

Selande gets to her feet and stumbles to the broadside railings, throwing herself overboard into the waters. Plunging into the icy waters she stifles her cries and swims north along the bank, entirely underwater. Her family has a very long lineage of excellent swimmers, often being mistaken for sea elves either through ignorance or jest. Swimming until her lungs burn, she surfaces and looks towards the ship, now only the flaming stern showing above the waves. Other family members litter the water as one of the robed men on the end of the dock arcs lightning from his hand, lacing the water with death.

Selande swims to shore, the waters far too cold to stay in, and she collapses to her knees in the sand, holding her arms tightly to her body and shivering, partly due to the cold, but mostly in shock. She doesn't know how long she's there, weeping and exhaling life, as her limbs slowly turn cold and numb. She welcomes the feeling. They don't hurt when numb.

Around her lights dance, willowisps, things she had only heard of. She wished they would go away, questioning if they’re even real, as their bodies vanish when she looks at one, and another appears elsewhere shedding their translucent light all around her.

Black robes stand in the sand before her, and as she looks up, she meets the eyes of one of the robed men. Anger. She is instantly filled with a fury that her numb limbs cannot sate. She glares into the eyes of the man, "Why?" she asks, her words filled with pain and anger. The man's lifeless gaze peers down at her, cold and consideringly. He raises a hand to touch her head, and as she closes her eyes, anticipating her end, pain sweeps her body and everything goes black.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Selande wakes from her trance with a start, covered in an icy sweat. She doubles over the edge of her bed as her empty stomach rises to meet her mouth. Dry retching a moment, her limbs numb, she weeps as she did on the shore. She had trained herself to become distant from these reveries, to not be there, but to only observe. This was different. It felt real. She knew that it was real. That it -had- happened. But it was only the beginning of her story and she knew that in further nights would surely relive the next chapters. A thought she dreaded more than anything else.