Tales of the Bloodstone Lands

Feverish Dreams

Buzzzzzzzzzzzzzz……

The droning sound of a jungles’ worth of buzzing insects, heightened to a maddening and deafening degree, abruptly wakes the sleeping gnome Knight… He frantically rises from his nest of ruined furniture and clothing scraps… Slinging on his backpack, he grabs his blade as he moves to the door of the ruined hovel barricaded by an overturned bench…

Bzzzz…… The droning buzz loudens…

As the gnome Knight wearily leans against the door the droning starts to break him and he begins to cry… The tears trace lines in the thick grime caked onto the beard and armour of Sir Buckthorn from the weeks of hard travel…

Bzzzzzzz….. The droning reaches a zenith…

The hovel shakes… The shutters of the hovel blast open from a fierce wind and the dim red light shines in… The gnome moves to peek around the corner of the window… He sees the pale red sun looming fat on the horizon… It’s light, pale yet still blinding, washes his face and he feels the intense heat… Temperature rising he shields his eyes and scans about…

Bzzzzzzz……

It’s then he sees It… Ser Buckthorn buckles a bit… Despite the blinding light he sees It… It’s bauble like eyes… The beating wings… Venom dripping from it giant mandibles and chitinous legs’ making it’s droning buzz… The hovel shakes again as the roof rips off and knight falls from his perch by the window… The door blast open… On his back, turning to look out the remains of the door the pale blinding red light starts to be dimmed… As thousands of shadowy objects swarm through the sky…

Bzzzzzzz…… The droning sound makes ears bleed….

The shadowy swarm replaces the dead red sun’s light as it fills up the horizon… The feverishly hot gnome turns and crawls away in terror… The Shadows like a swarm of locusts catch up and wash over the prone Knight… As he is swallowed by the darkness he falls to his chest… The last thing he sees is a grime covered goblet lying amongst some trash on the floor… covered in grime except in one spot… blasted by the debris from the door is a small sliver of gleaming gold under the grime… That glint from the golden cup is his last sight as life fades to black….

….With a start the gnomish Knight wakes up on his cot in the hobbit’s warren to the sounds of Ulfgar, Gazlowe, Hallorin, and Reed snoring, burping, and farting in an awful cacophony… Shaking his head he takes a swig from his wine skin and pulls a blanket over his head to muffle both the noise and stench… Settling back into his cot, he tries to get some rest for the start of the hard trek to the Monastery in the morning…

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