The House of Memory…

It begins with a dream…a whisper in a dream:

“Are these the ones? Are these the ones that did this to you?!?”

Far away from Seafoam, Oricx sits bolt upright in bed, his usually clammy skin covered in a cold sweat; if possible, the water genasi is even colder and more clammy than usual. His large black eyes search the darkness around him in vain, as if searching for the source of the horrifically raspy and throaty (and yet somehow matronly) voice that still echoes in his ears. The paladin traces the symbol of the One in the air with a webbed finger and softly speaks a prayer; the warm glow of his Divine Father reaches outward from his soul, pierceing and forcing back the veil of darkness which surrounds him.

It is then that he locks eyes with Quela, his sister in faith and fellow paladin. As soon as the water genasi and half-nixie lock eyes, there is no doubt – they have both shared the same dreadful dream. It is the sort of dream that is impossible to remember, but the aftereffects – the appalling and sinking feeling that sits in the pit of your stomach and hovers at the edge of your consciousness – cannot be forgotten.

This is the kind of dream that can drive men insane…

Somehow they both instantly know that someone close to their hearts is in horrible danger…

Gunnar Grayrune’s grey eyes snapped open and he looked around the stark, meager chamber that had become his own since arriving at Seafoam weeks before. Normally, it took some time for the older dwarf to fully awaken - but not now. The dream that had infested the cleric’s mind was like a horrid, ghastly worm, dripping with the vile mucus of age, power, and hatred. The voice that still echoed in his ears was utterly evil and filled with complete malice; to make matters worse, Gunnar somehow knew that the malice he felt was fully directed towards and intended for him. He had no idea why, however, but that fact did precious little to stave off the chill of utter evil that now pervaded his bones.

He swung his legs over the side of his simple, foldable cot (the very same bed which his young flock, the acolytes and younger clerics arrayed beneath his care and command, used) as the aged dwarf ransacked his own mind, trying to place the hissing, ghostly voice. Try as he might, Gunnar could not, and he well knew that it was not for lack of enemies that would bear him ill-will, for he had more than his share. His many years of service in the Church of the One had resulted in gaining him many enemies, both within and external to the church. Gunnar reached for his houppelande and pulled it on over his head. As he did, the hairs on the back of his neck began to tingle. Something was wrong.

Terribly, terribly wrong…

“I saw Gunnar-”, Quela began, shaking her head as if to shed the still-lingering memory of the nightmare. “‘-saw ‘im in pain, writhin’ in pain. He was in Seafoam, but somethin’ terrible was happenin’ to ‘im…” The paladin’s words came shakily. Oricx was not sure of the last time he remembered Quela being quite so unsure of herself.

The genasi nodded, “I, too, saw this. It was as if he was being possessed by some evil force far beyond his control. There is no doubt that either this has happened or it shall happen soon. My soul knows great fear for our friend…”

The half-nixie nodded, “Aye, as I. ‘Ere’s a malovent force hoverin’ around Gunnar - we must go ta him quickly an’ help.” Quela pursed her thin lips and nodded once, “Wake th’ others. We must reach Seafoam, an’ quickly!”