The events below is completely OPTIONAL. It is available to all PC’s for the 2022 season, we simply ask that players decide BEFORE entering play for the first time if they did or did not experience it. Please think about it, and then decide if you think it would be fun and add to your experience as a character. The intent of the “vision” is to provide players who are struggling with a reason to venture to Bredon’s Outpost an in-game reason or impetus to do so. None of the information contained within is secret or special, and in fact it is all readily available and characters are welcome to have the base information contained within. Players who choose not to have experienced the “Vision” are still welcome to use the general information to formulate a reason to venture to Bredon’s Outpost or just as general information they have heard.
The events described in the “Vision” take place roughly one month before the first event. Characters who had the vision have healed from the wound they took (feel free to phys rep a scar on your arm if you wish). Within a week of these events it is common knowledge across the PC kingdoms that Bredon’s Outpost was attacked, the village was burned to the ground, an undisclosed mystical orb was taken, and descriptions of the black clad figures with dragon skull emblems have begun to circulate.
The nobility of Andora have put out a call for able bodied adventurers and those wishing to help rebuild the village. They offer fair work and honest pay. Any interested parties are to seek out Mayor Twiggletoes in Bredon’s Village at the newly rebuilt Inn and Tavern the Raven’s Rest.
You wake from sleep and look up at the stars through the leaves of the tree above you. The faint smell of smoke and distant screams drift by on the cool night wind. The night sky seems brighter than it should and has an eerie reddish glow about it. It takes you a moment to untangle yourself from your cloak, having rolled up in it to combat the chilly night air. You rise to your feet, and in the west, see the source of that reddish tinge; red-orange flames lick the night sky as the sound of a fire bell reaches your ears. The village is burning. In the background, you can make out the silhouette of a small stone keep.
Things seem to shift and shimmer.
Looking around you see people of all races rushing from homes with empty buckets and gathering at the center of town near the well. You can vaguely recall thinking of making your way to the village as quickly as possible with the intention to help extinguish the fire. You think you must have run through the forest; how else would you have arrived here? You notice a plump halfling quickly organizing the villagers into a line from the well to the blazing building. Except, it isn’t just one building. As you look around, you notice at least three separate fires blazing in various parts of the village, at least one of which is spreading out of control. This can’t be accidental, you think. Three buildings in separate parts of the village all catching fire at the same time; foul play is almost a certainty.
As your mind takes a moment to dwell on what this could mean for the small village, the familiar sounds of combat reach your ears. The clang of steel on steel, screams of pain, incantations of magic…these are sounds you are familiar with. The sounds are coming from the keep, just to the west of the village. Something’s wrong, the village would have to take care of itself for now.
The gates of the keep hang from their hinges as if a great explosion from inside the keep has blown them open. You vaguely recall making your way here through the burning village, but it is all very hazy. Ignoring that for now, you focus on the scene at hand.
Inside, you see armored soldiers wearing the livery of Andora battling with skeletal soldiers and gray-skinned ghoulish figures. An Elven warrior commands the Andoran forces; his blade made of pure radiant energy and his shield covered in undead ichor. As his blasts of radiance magic deal damage to the undead, the soldiers nearest him assault the undead with refreshed vigor.
Peppered throughout the undead ranks are armored figures wearing black tabards with bone white dragon skulls displayed on them and they seem to have command and control over the undead forces. Dangerous magics leap from their fingers, withering limbs or draining the very life force from the Andoran soldiers. As the soldiers fall to their vile magics the undead forces around these mysterious figures gain shimmering shields of mystical energy and their weapons begin to glow with an eerie energy.
The undead forces are powerful and the mysterious figures’ magics make them doubly so, but the Andoran soldiers are obviously veterans and know how to fight, and fight well. With the radiant magics of their commander, they are not only holding their own but appear to be winning the battle. The black clad figures can clearly see they are losing, but they continue to press the attack. Something about this doesn’t sit well with you.
From the shadows you take a moment to assess the situation. Those fires must have been started by conspirators with the black clad figures to act as a distraction and keep the village occupied and away from helping the soldiers at the keep. All of the forces being used by the black clad figures are lesser undead and minor mages, expendable by all accounts. This is another distraction, but a distraction from what?
You vaguely recall moving into the keep and heading up some stairs, but once again it’s all very hazy. You stand in the doorway of a room, what remains of a once sturdy wooden door is now rotted away to nothing but shiny well-maintained hinges and at your feet, lay the metal parts of the door’s locking mechanism. In the center of the room, a human figure clad in black armor with the livery of a bone dragon on its chest piece stands holding a clear crystal orb in one hand and a bloodstained sword in the other. On the floor lay four withered husks wearing the livery of Andoran military and the badge of the Ravens, the Andoran military’s special forces unit.
The black-armored human turns to leave the room, the orb in his hand clearly the prize he came for. He pauses for a moment as he sees you in the doorway, clearly surprised that you are there. He lifts his sword into the en garde position and places his feet in just such a way that you quickly realize he is a skilled swordsman. He lunges forward and slashes your arm; searing pain runs up your arm as the blade’s foul energies surge through your body. You ready your weapon, no match for your assailant but hoping to slow his escape and allow time for aid from within the keep to reach your position.
You brace yourself for the figure’s onslaught, in the distance a bell tolls as the figure’s blade clangs against yours and then slips past your guard and into your chest. Agony pierces your chest as the blade’s foul magic pulses through your body. Just as you collapse to the floor, your eyes fly open and you find yourself sitting bolt upright but safely in your own bed. You think to yourself “Well, if ever there was a nightmare.. that was it.” You breathe deeply and calm your heart, laying back down only to realize your bed is drenched in sweat. You lift your arm to move the covers and climb out of bed and feel hot pain erupt from your arm. Looking down, you see a long bloody gash on your forearm, just like the one from your dream, right before the black clad figure plunged his sword into your chest…..
