Encounter B: From Out of Nightmare's Well, Concludes

In only seconds, you all manage to defeat the remaining Night-Gaunts before anybody is carried off. The legends did tell of them often targetting weakened prey in groups, so it is not all that surprising that perhaps their fighting abilities where subpar. They may not be used to as much resistance as you all put up, and by the looks of it they wouldn't have been intelligent enough to adapt.

As soon as you all are out of immediate danger, all of the adrenaline pumping through you is starting to become very noticeable. You all can't help but feel dizzy from the tiredness and long period of quick movements. That has definitely been one of the most stressful events of each of your lives, if not the most stressful. Through the thrill nausea you all can't help but almost nod off for just a second, and during that second images of the past seem to flit through your panicked brain.

Please read my OOC message on the subject before you all read the spoiler.

Spoiler: Vision I
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In your mind, you realize that you are in the cabin of a ship, and because of its decoration you assume that it must be an officer’s quarters in a navy ship. The only other person in the room is a middle aged man dressed in an officer’s uniform. He is hunched over a desk, frantically scrawling something in the pages of a book. Upon hearing someone knock at the door, he becomes startled and in response jumps up, closes the book and looks at the door with a primal fear.


Without bothering to be invited in, the door to the cabin opens and four figures file in with soldierlike fashion. The only feature which can be identified by these people are their navy blue cloaks, with hoods and long sleeves, covering all of their body except for their faces, hands and feet. Their faces are covered in masks made of some substance that is similar to gold, but tinged with white and less lustrous, and made to resemble that of a fish. Their hands and feet though are uncovered, and their webbed paws and claws, clearly more suitable for the water than land, on both features reveal them as unhuman. It is quite obvious that their cloaks, although apparently waterproof, are sobbing with the salty water they must have just swum through.

The cloaked figures circle around the naval officer, and speak in unison with a disturbingly guttural but musical cadence. “Sonderholme, we demand to know what you are writing.” Two of them then just as rapidly approach the book, and open it to the first few pages. They all respond in unison once again, which is impossible given how the two who did not read the book could not have possibly known the contents of the book to respond accordingly. “These writings speak of the magic of the Other Gods. This is the Book of Azathoth. You have betrayed us. You have broken the terms of our pact.”

“I had to find a way out of this pact! If those idiots in the stars are the only way out of this rut, then I will use them. The contract was only an accident! I would never have intentionally sworn allegiance to that abomination! And I refuse to help this crazy fish conquer and kill the Material Plane at its whims. This screaming water ratbastard is driving me mad, and it’s causing you all to lose it as well. You can’t possibly want that thing crawling around in your mind!”

The fish masked goblins then reach into their cloaks and pull out wicked looking knives, nearly a foot in length, made of the same metal as their masks. They form a semicircle around the naval officer, leaving him no place to escape unless he can run through a wall. “Edvard, Give us the book, or we take it with force once you are dead.”


The officer, apparently named Edvard Sonderholme, takes out a glossy obsidian blade from within his desk. The sword may be impressive, but so are the creatures’ knives, and they outnumber him four to one; it would be impossible for the officer to win this fight.

But yet the impossible occurs. With the black sword in hand, Edvard seems to be blessed with uncanny ferocity, agility, and precision. The scene unfolds as if a tiger where dropped in a den of rabbits; and Evard is the tiger. It takes less than ten seconds and only four perfect strokes for him to stand hunched over the corpses of his four foes, his blade dyed red but his body miraculously unscathed, as a result of any of wounds he could have sustained, and unblemished, by the blood from his enemy’s wounds.

You once again regain consciousness in reality...


Barely a few seconds after you have slain all of the creatures, a figure soon comes scrambling over the rocks, apparently not caring at all for stealth. The figure is that of a humanoid, a seemingly real humanoid this time, and holds their hands out in the universal gesture indicating that you shouldn't attack them. It is then you notice that the creature is missing some fingers, and that their hand is an unnaturally bright shade of red. Although most of their body is covered in light beige wraps meant to defy the heat as much as possible (which is a good decision, given that they where probably a sailor not too long ago), their facial features quickly reveal to you that this person is a tiefling, one of the many who dwell in the Desert Plateaus of Leng amidst its rampant fires.

The yet to be named person speaks up, the youthful energy of their voice still managing to appear despite their parched and starved tone of voice. "Did you just kill one of those things? You all need to get out of here, and quickly. Once you kill one, a hundred coming swooping. This rock is soon going to be swarmed over with those bats. You have got a couple of minutes at most to get out of here before the locusts start to sing."