KingmakerCalgary

Mercutio's Dream

The day after the fight with the creatures in the ice cave Mercutio appeared in the common room. This was their last morning meal before leaving for the lair of the silver dragon.

“You look troubled,” noted Beren, handing him a plate with a chunk of bread and a large wedge of fragrant cheese.

“I had the most peculiar dream,” the psion said taking a seat. He nodded thanks for the offered food.

“What was it about?” Beren asked, not really interested in finding out about the dream itself. However, he was still curious about this person and wanted to know as much as he could about his motives and possible affiliations.

“I was stuck in a perilous dark void,” he said, his face gaining a grim facade. “I was there and I could feel others there in the darkness with me. All the while something evil was siphoning off my… energy… and… for lack of a better word, soul. I could feel myself being broken down and torn away.”

He paused to grab a chalice of wine off the tray toward the centre of the table and took a long drink. “All the while there was some kind of dread in the darkness. A kind of hopelessness and overpowering urge to give up. Yet, I did not. I continued to struggle.”

“Just when I thought I could feel my defenses finally breaking down I saw a light, as if the darkness was a covering that was torn open. From that light I saw a man reaching for me and he pulled me out of the void.”

“That’s an interesting dream,” Beren said, only half-listening. He was more focused on his spellbook at the moment.

“What’s strange…,” Mercutio said, as he sat back chewing a mouthful of bread. He continued to chew without finishing his setence. Instead he looked thoughtful as he ate. Absently he scratched the side of his face.

“What’s strange,” he began again, jarring Beren into attentiveness, “is that this man… this saviour. He was the same man that saved me as I lay dying in the windy desolation of the plane of air. I only recognize him now that I saw him the dream again. He had flowing locks of white hair and was hideously scared by dark magics on one side of his body.”

Beren looked up. “Sounds familiar,” he said. He knew he had heard the description before, but where and from whom?

Mercutio was silent for some time. Beren struggled for a while with his memory, but finally giving up, he turned to his spellbook again. He was interrupted by the psion.

“It was Nethys,” he said. “He’s the one that saved me on the plane of air and sent me here. Yet it was not I, Mercutio, who was trapped in that void.”

Beren had a strange feeling looking at the pison. In the pit of his stomach there was a weight and he knew what was coming.

“Tell me about Marcus Hawthorne,” Mercutio asked.

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Kaldrin

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