Weaving - The Warforged Dream

The introduction to the first chapter of the campaign. A dream shared amongst each of the members of the party witnessed during their last slumber before meeting each other. The main character of the narrative switches from one party member to another through out the weaving.

Magnus, you have been traveling a long time. You feel the ache of the road and a pit of hunger in your stomach. You cannot remember the last time you had a decent meal.

In fact, you cannot remember much. “How the hell did you get here? Weren’t you just on a train?” You wonder to yourself as your hand gains purchase on a stone, allowing you to pull yourself up onto the ridge of a hill. As you do, you feel the warmth of the full sun bathing you, illuminating your skin.

As you look out into the distance, you are shocked by what lies ahead. At the base of the hill, opposite the side you just climbed, lies a large circular valley, you realize you had just climbed the outermost part of an old crater.

Cyrus gazes down at the unique geology of the landscape. Along the perimeter of the crater’s inner circle are tall, ancient statues of the Zolaen Gods. Three of which have been reduced to rubble. The method of destruction is no mystery to you, as you can see a large group of soldiers with ropes looped around the statue of Ayamot.

The soldiers are distant and do not spot you as they strain against their ropes. You glance at the rubble left by their efforts. The ruined statue nearest to you bears a face you recognize: Giriam, the supposedly dead god of agriculture and fertility.

You look to the other piles of rubble, but you do not recognize what’s left of them. A quick count of the statues leaves you confused as you reach ten in total. 2 more than one would expect in the pantheon. You glance about for more answers, and something in the center of the crater catches your eye. It is reflective and bright. Your curiosity moves you more than anything else.

Sherman descends the inner slope and begins crossing the distance to the object. As you make your way toward it, you can hear the voices of the distant soldiers.

You squint your eyes and finally make out the object. The remains of a Warforged, its bottom half and left arm are missing entirely. Clutched within its remaining hand is an object you can’t quite make out. You think the being to be dead until its head turns to look at you.

It bears no expression, as its metal face was not designed for emotion. However, you can feel its desperation, its fear of death.

Before you can act, the shouts of men and the thrumming of many distant, charging soldiers fill your ears. You look up to see thousands of people pouring over the sides of the crater. All running in a determined stride. Within mere moments, the terrain becomes a battlefield.

The soldiers from within the crater drop their ropes and draw their swords. You hesitate, trying to decide where to run. But you underestimate the rapid progression of the battle. However, the combatants pay you no mind.

All around you Rozwald, blood is shed. It is impossible to tell who is fighting who. You see the faces of many, you think you may even recognize some of them. Amongst their feet is the desperate Warforged in the center of it all.

Before you even realize what you are doing, you find yourself running for the injured automaton. Dodging and weaving the brawls around you.

You no longer feel in control of your own actions, as you become almost a spectator in your own mind, sharing in the Warforged’s desperation. Whatever it holds within its hand grips your mind. It’s strange gravity pulling you in.

Spade closes in on it, your eyes locked in an understanding. Its fist outstretched to you, trying to pass off its burden.

But before you can reach it, a loud blaring fills your ears. A deafening sound of a horn that causes you to turn in panic.

You freeze in fear as the engine of a train barrels through the center of the battlefield, mere feet away from you.

Deimos braces for impact, then simply opens his eyes.

You find yourself sitting on a bench in Rails Station. The red brick structure abuzz with people all around you. You realized that you had dozed off, but the dream… it had felt so real.

A short distance away, your train thrums with life. Its horn blares a final time, signaling that it is ready for boarding.