As she slips silently out of the conference room, the Margravine scans the area around the foot of the bridge quickly, which was the site reported by the Alarm, and gets a welter of conflicting impressions that she puts on the link immediately to keep everyone updated as commanded by Arkesh:
To normal sight, she sees no one there at all.
To tremorsense, she senses a heavy, big-booted figure who slaps his thigh, then suddenly…
To normal sight a tall, irregularly pulsating hemisphere, or foreshortened globe, of dense fog springs into view and stands at the foot of the bridge, blocking much of the view to the slave pens area, about 80 to 90 feet in diameter, curving up to shroud the ornately carved ceiling some 50 feet above. Its broadest diameter is about 10 feet above the ground.
The fog is completely opaque to all vision, and so the Margravine extends her Dream senses out, straining to catch any helpful glimpse and… ((nice roll!! you will get amazing detail)) a scene comes into view. In her mind’s eye she sees six creatures around the foot of the bridge, positioned in a tight vertical column like a precision tactical team. All are hovering except one.
The topmost two are circling rapidly, watching in all directions: A deep blue, beautiful horned Tiefling female, well over eight feet of muscled grace, with feathery black wings, and with four arms holding weapons including a spiked chain simmering with raw power, a sword, and nunchaku. A stolid, intense bearded human, cloaked and cowled, drawing a longbow strung with a strand of Rainbow, shimmering with Light of all Colors, a blazing Blue bolt ready to fire. As the Margravine slips deeper into Dream for more Lucidity of detail about her subjects, their faces come into focus.
There is also something else about the man that is troublesome. Some appear in her Dreams in ways that are harder to deflect, with a great weight of Story behind them that impels their very nature, sometimes despite what she might wish. Lord Bane was such a one, when she covertly studied him through Lucid Dreaming. This human has that same impelling weight of Story, harder for her to deflect, as if he too stepped out of Legend like Lord Bane.
Below them, are three more figures facing outward in a defensive circle that is also slowly rotating as their gazes sweep the area in front of them: A strange red-skinned being, more or less human looking but shimmering with heat, is weaving an intricate pattern with a wickedly curved, double-bladed scimitar as if to unleash Magic through it. The next creature in rotation presents a very strange dream image, at once filled with Darkness and radiating Light; these are so strong they overwhelm and nearly wash out whatever visual impression she could expect from Dream. His brilliantly polished golden plate mail is hard to pick out against the Light, its intense golden shine seems to illuminate his cloak from beneath. His massive sword is motionless, ready. His unwinking glare is strange, unnerving, the only strong focal point in his surreality. The third figure is unmistakeable, a Pixie pirate with an enormous, outsize sword. Indeed the Captain Vir out of Legend, he too carries the weight of Story. His dream image is so bright, with flecks of light streaming from him in clouds, that he is hard to see clearly and even the huge sword is obscure in the brightness.
Only one figure is not hovering, and he is easily the most solid in the Margravine’s dream sight, in fact he looks too real for a dream image. She sees a Dwarf, even taller and broader than usual for his kind, and to Lucid Dreaming he is radiating Holy Emerald all around him, the brilliant green wash overpowering all colors around him, including what she thinks might be red-orange hair, or some other light color. His armor and axe are solid emerald as well. All over the lower part of his beard, he has sticks tucked into the braids, and more in the hair braids down his back. As she watches, he is releasing Magic, with a method that seems far too similar to Thrash for comfort. Then he chews a piece of candy, and turns his attention to the bridge, pressing a handful of some grayish white clay-like material into each corner just below where the bridge meets the walkway on this side.
Looking at the Dwarf on the bridge, a change in the river below catches the Margravine’s eye. Froth begins to coat the river, a foam of bubbles that starts as pinkish, and quickly turns red, with streaks of green as well, as if the river has turned to blood. Mostly submerged chunks of flesh bob heavily on their way downstream.
The swirls of damp breezes coming off the river have taken on a faint metallic charnel smell, and the sound of the rushing river, though still echoing, has been muted by the red foam.
The pit of the Margravine’s stomach thrills like a storm just before the first thunderclap.
Stooth hisses on the link:
"That human, the second image the Margravine showed us, he’s the one I spotted lurking around topside asking questions. Even the Illithids couldn’t focus on him long enough to know what he was doing.
The last one, that Dwarf: He is the Hand of Dumathoin, the one who went into MetroMagic in Sigil. His name is Ror Fatefist. The Deity has sent His own personal player here, for His own reasons. I told you this was getting more complicated by the minute. How that Elven witch managed to attract favorable Dwarven Pantheon attention… Dumathoin’s reasons may have little to do with Star Feather, but even a temporary alliance is a very bad turn of events.”It seems the sharks have met the Vodyanoi... you've lost contact with them.