Session 17: The Arrival at Fort Godwit

General Summary

A restful night’s sleep can be elusive.   Shadow was once again tormented by her dreams. She found herself alone in the dark on the grassy plain; the campfire long since dead and no sign of her companions. A cold shiver caused her hairs to stand on end as a violet mist swirled past her and materialized into the massive shape of Aku no Kirai, the Oni who had murdered her mentor. In one hand it held a wicked looking glaive, in the other, the lantern that housed the sacred flame. It cocked its head at her and smiled past its tusks. Shadow watched as the light in the lantern flickered out. She steeled herself against an attack as the oni’s three eyes flashed malevolently.   Yet Shadow was not alone.   Aaura dreamed as well.   Thousands of miles away, Aaura stood at the foot of the divination mirror in the Red Shores Ymmari Hall. She placed a palm on its perfectly reflective surface.   “Show me.”   Months before, when Aaura had done this in the Red Shores Cavern nothing had happened. Now, in her dream, the surface of the mirror rippled and Aaura saw beyond the reflection; a vast grassy plain, shrouded in darkness where Shadow stood before the Oni. Looking over her shoulder Aaura found the reflection true, and now stood on the plain with her imperiled companion not far off.   Thinking quickly Aaura fired a barrage of blue magic missiles into the Oni’s back. As each hit its mark, a reverberating shudder echoed across the plain. The sky and horizon rippled with each bolt as if Aaura were dropping stones into a vast pool.   Shadow watched as the Oni’s expression turned from malice to surprise. It grabbed Shadow by wrist as it turned its head to find its attacker. Spreading her wings, Aaura took to the sky and fired another barrage at the Oni. With each hit the sky rippled more and more violently until cracks began to form in air; tears in the very fabric of the dream.   With a flick of her wrist blade, Shadow freed herself from the Oni’s grasp. As her blade penetrated deep into the creature’s arm more cracks began to form in the dream world, and the oni dropped Shadow to the ground.   In pain and anger the monster floated backwards, lining up both Aaura and Shadow. Whispering an arcane word, he summoned a freezing gale that tore into the heroes. The cold chilled Aaura to the bone, causing chunks of ice to form on her feathery wings that nearly brought her down. Shadow fared worse. Baring the brunt of the icy assault, she was frozen in place where she had landed, an icy statue.   The Oni regarded Aaura again, and began to speak. Its voice echoed throughout the fractured dream.   “I don’t know how this has come to be, or who you are but—”   The words stopped in his mouth as another barrage of Aaura’s force missiles slammed into its face, directly into the third eye. Taken by surprise, the oni gave a howl of surprised rage. As its cry penetrated the gloom, sheaves of the dream world came crumbling down. Aaura’s eyes widened at what she saw beyond.   Behind the illusion of Shadow’s dream was a strange vista. Aaura saw the oni, sitting cross legged in the middle of a courtyard. About him stood the ruins of a long abandoned city; the stonework was ancient and crumbling, the land itself seemed blighted. Beyond that, impossibly, Aaura saw yet another world. Another tear in reality, nearly 30 feet in height; worlds within worlds within worlds. This other world, beyond the tear, was wreathed in flickering shadows, almost a negative image interposed on the reality around it. Aaura could see the ruined city extend into the tear but the buildings within were no longer ruined. They stood tall, firm, and imposing in the tear’s dusky light, flickering with shadow as heat dances around a flame.   As Aaura struggled to comprehend what she was looking at, she noticed a figure standing near the shadowy tear. Shorter than the oni, cloaked in red with its cowl drawn over its head, it peered over its shoulder and regarded Aaura. She had just the time to observe a muzzle, (a tabaxi silhouette?) when the figure cried out, “ENOUGH!” With an odd twist of its hand the dream burst.   Shadow and Aaura awoke with racing hearts, bathed in sweat. Although no sign of frost could be seen on the tabaxi’s fur, she found it hard to stop from shivering as a spectral chill gnawed at her bones. After spending a moment relating this strange dream to the rest of the team (and a thwarted attempt to return to sleep) they continued their trek west.   Riding westward the land began to change from the flat grasslands to rockier ridges. Clumps of evergreen trees began to spring up. For the first time in months the heroes were forced to steer their horses to navigate occasional valleys, bluffs, and dry river beds. The weather began to take on more of a chill, and bursts of cold rain harried them along their way. Shadow, still recovering from her nightmare with the oni, found it hard to shake off the dropping temperature.   Days later, during one such drizzle, the Shore’s Light found themselves at the gate of Fort Godwit, an outpost of the free city of Damarask. Wisps of smoke from within the wooden palisades indicated warm food and shelter within. After a brief exchange with a gnomish guardsman named Sorin Grimshivvles, the portcullis was raised and the heroes were ushered inside.   For a small fee they were given a spot in the main hall, warm food, and a place to hang their wet cloaks. Within the common room they saw a number of merchants and a handful of Oryan delegates (who cleaned Faelyn out at a gambling table), but a surprising lack of soldiers. A conversation with the Commander of the fort, a goliath named Ag Trammell, gave reason for this.   Word had reached the fort that a town not far to the east named Grissom Vale had recently become beset with undead. The few villagers that had managed to survive appealed to the fort for help and a platoon of soldiers soon set out to liberate the town and destroy the menace that plagued it. Unfortunately, that was many days ago and the soldiers had still not returned. Their absence had left the remaining soldiers at the fort pulling double shifts and picking up the slack for their missing brothers in arms.   Commander Trammell continued, “our current lack of steel has now put us in a tight spot, a problem I was hoping you could help with.” He told the heroes that local farmers had recently reported a monster rampaging through the fields, devouring livestock, and burning homesteads to the ground. Reports on the nature of the beast had been mixed, as if the fearful populous couldn’t quite decide on the monster’s appearance or capabilities.   In recompense for their action, Commander Trammel would give them a medallion to the Armsedge, a district in Damarask. Possessing the medallion would grant them easy access into the city, a place to rest, and discounts within its borders. It wasn’t long before the heroes agreed to help, and after a night’s rest to warm their bones, they set out to find the beast.   Thankfully the rain had stopped and the ground had almost dried out completely when they set out to investigate the farmlands. Within a few hours they came upon burned out domiciles and the ravaged corpses of goats, chickens, and cows; telltale signs of the monster. After visiting two such sights, Keokan began to get a strange, albeit clearer, idea of their quarry. They found the prints of a large cat near the bodies of the livestock, but also those of a cloven-footed animal that didn’t match with the other goats. The addition of burned out houses and swaths of incinerated farmland suggested dragon-kind of some sort. What sort of beast was this?   They soon discovered their answer.   A plume of smoke in the distance brought them to a third homestead, where they dismounted and crept closer to investigate. They stopped in their tracks when suddenly, with a horrifying bleat, a goat burst from behind a dilapidated farm house. Its fur was in flames and its screams pierced the air before it collapsed in a burning pile. As the goat smoldered on the ground, the heroes watched as a terrifying monstrosity crested over the groaning peak of the farmhouse. Stitched together by arcane means long forgotten, it possessed the forelimbs of a lion mixed with the hindquarters of a goat and large leathern dragon’s wings. From its shoulders three heads: leonine, caprine, and draconic, glared at the heroes with hunger and malice.   The fight was on. As Keokan closed on the chimera it beat its wings and blasted the heroes with dragon fire before landing in their midst. Faelyn once again found himself near the maws of the beast as Aaura and Shadow distanced themselves to attack at range. With a bellowing Mysati cry, Aatavi ran for the chimera, grabbing its dragon head and forcing its fiery maw to the earth in a move that can only be described as “Metal as Fuck.” The enraged monster bucked and twisted yet could not escape the grasp of the mighty barbarian. As it strained against Aatavi, Shadow coated a crossbow bolt in the wyvern poison that Aaura had gathered on their journey. Taking aim, she fired a bolt through the lion’s eye and into the goat’s neck, bringing the beast down with a gurgling cry of anguish.   The battle over, the Shore’s Light breathed a sigh of relief and tended to their wounds. During the fight, Keokan had slashed off the tip of the chimera’s tail. Tucking it into his saddlebag he regarded his friends, “This should be proof enough for the commander.”