New episode. The party has left Cottingham and has resumed traveling toward Jamport. An intelligent angry badger and a mysterious hill were encountered.
There’s some important stuff that went down in this session. I figured I’d save what the various characters experienced here. Watch the session to get the full context.
A flat, snowy mountaintop above a great city carved into and from the mountain. There is a long stone table of black marble surrounded by chairs in various states of disarray. Fallen over onto the table is a figure, vaguely elflike in figure, her extravagant clothing continues to shift with the colors of the rainbow. Her skin is prismatic and scaled, hair and eyes red were like rubies. Her now lifeless expression is one of shock as she lies surrounded on the table by a pool of now dried blood. She looks eternally at her hand, the ghostly form of a ring still resting on one of her fingers. As you try to look closer at it, it fades and disappears.
An Eladrin King. His crown is dented and cracked but still rests defiantly on his head. Bandages cover part of his face and neck. His eyes are fire in color and purpose. He’s dressed for war, elegant elven-fey plate armor as white as snow, trimmed with glowing orange runes. His long orange hair flickers like fire in an unseen wind. He rides a unicorn, also adorned in plate armor. It’s horn is as red as a maple leaf, its color is almost glowing white and its eyes are literal fire, crying tears of lava into a rich dark dirt. The king’s left hand is in a sling, but he rides forward with purpose out of a castle the same white color as his armor. Behind him march thousands of Autumn Eladrin, in differing shades of skin and hair tone from bright red to deep earthy brown. Their armor the color of a setting sun, shining and glittering in the dim light of the early dusk. You are drawn like a ghost through the procession to the courtyard, in the center of which stand two knights standing watch over a freshly dug grave, whose headstone is a statue, an elegant Eladrin queen.
Plume of Smoke:
A mighty armada of warships, hundreds, possibly thousands, of them, sailing toward a blood red sky. In the air are four airships, built for war, keeping pace with the rest. Behind them a chain of islands are burning, the great clouds of smoke partially concealing the armada. At the head of this armada is one great and imposing ship, a man-o-war, with hundreds of crewmembers and carrying almost 300 cannon. And yet it looks like it has been dredged out of ocean, and barely looks seaworthy. At the prow of this mighty ship is a figurehead. It’s a stone statue of a girl tied to a bow, eyes blindfolded, her face etched in an eternal silent scream.
Vast dunes of sand as far as the eye can see. Walking across them you see giant mechanical scarabs, they are the size of semi trucks. They’re carried along on metal mechanical legs as thick as people, these things are so large a person could walk underneath a moving one and not have to duck to avoid its underbelly. There are dozens of them, atop each are flags, weapons like canons or ballista, one even looks like it has a trebuchet on its back. Trotting in formation around them are raptors, ridden by undead skeletons. Their armor is comprised of thick cloth and scale male, and a cloth wrapped around pointed helmet gives it the helmet the look of a turban. They each carry a spear, with a bow and quiver on their backs. Behind them march thousands of undead footsoldiers. Armored in a similar style as the riders, they carry a large shield (like roman style) and a long spear. Flags and pendants of multiple colors blow in the hot desert wind. They pass you by almost soundlessly.