The Dream Quest of the Archmage Part 1

Shining Chalice Chapterhouse, early evening

People will tell you it's a mistake to get mixed up with wizards and sorcerers. Arcane power is all too often only restrained by the will and morals of its user, which can be... dubious at best.

Still, a job from Telamon Lupecyll-Atlon is probably not going to involve something illegal or immoral. And so you have come to the meeting house of the Shining Chalice, the lavish townhouse adorned with fine furnishings, mage-light fixtures, and animated portraits. Ushered into a parlor where the Archmage awaits, along with a small sideboard of refreshments.

Once you're all seated, Telamon begins, "This is not a complex assignment, but it is esoteric. I need something retrieved in the Dreamlands. Normally, due to my own power and affinity for such I would handle it myself -- the problem, though, is that I cannot get close without 'churning the waters', so to speak." The half-elf's expression is wry. "It's a lot like being a dragon and trying to reach down a small hole to retrieve a bauble -- except I can't simply excavate the hole to simplify matters."

This isn't the first job Warrick has done through the Chalice, let alone with this archemage. At least, this mage was on the up and up. The Eldanar arbalest sits as best he can in blackened armor, large crossbow leaning against the side of a sofa, and is awkwardly holding a cup of tea in a gauntleted hand.

"Alright," he grunts, scratching his head. "So... what is this... Dreamland? And what might get in the way?" he inquires, popping open a journal to rest on a leg. It's quite obvious he hasn't the slightest idea what it's about, nor anything surrounding it. But information is power, so...

"So... we're going to sleep?" Skyler asks blankly, and adds, "Also, I think that was an insult or something, but I can't *quite* figure out how." That's said to the rest of the group.

The buckler of swashing is in his usual work clothes: Greatcoat over a mithril shirt, tight pants and his high leather boots, scimitar strapped across back and buckler on his shirt. He's also wearing a new bit of attire, a sash bearing the sigil of the Dapper Society of Dagger Dames and Gentleman Adventurers or whatever they call themselves. Tea was gratefully accepted, and after a sip promptly poured into the nearest potted plant when Telamon isn't looking. He frowns, cocking his head, "Should we be wearing pajamas? I mean, I sleep naked, but I'm sure Cor'lana has a nightgown or something I can fit in."

Palomas whistles as he arrives at the front of the manor, the little Lucht standing in snow that goes well up to his knees. "Tastefully rich! The best kind, really. Look at that architecture, sweeping pallisades and all. I bet they even got an open concept kitchen just stuffed with magical iceboxes. I seen one of those in a house once."

They are led through the estate, with him occasionally lingering to admire a bit of artistry here or there, but buttons his collar once they arrive for the meet. "Can't say I have much experience in the dreamworld. Excited for the opportunity."

The Aesir carries his waddly friend with the bent ears and large black eyes inside. The canine on the pointy hatted man's arm snarfs. The pair walks along to the fancy booth or such until they see the fey prince of much arcane might. Hagg then waves a greeting, "Salutations! Dreamlands sounds interesting, Master Telamon." He grabs himself a seat and sits. Should it happen to be a fancy armchair, the wizard jostles the thing with some effort before rear parking is to be. "It is another plane of existence. One of the more esoteric ones."

"Indeed," Telamon nods to Haggerty. "The Dimension of Dreams. The Dreamtime. All the same thing, really -- where do you go, when you slumber? The dangers are generally limited, depending on where you go. As you move beyond the dreams of thinking humanoids, the visions can become more and more disturbing. After all, all that lives and sleeps can dream."

"Unfortunately, you will have to head into the latter part. The good news is that I can smooth the way -- I will place you in slumber, surrounded by a ward to protect you. Yes, I have used it before myself -- so I won't entrust you to anything I've not tested."

A sigh escapes Warrick's nose, eyeing the dumped out tea before scribbling in his notebook. "Don't think it was an insult, the archemage is beyond my caliber manyfold," he mentions to Skyler before nodding a greeting towards the other two. Giving a glance to the dog, he sinks into the sofa and rubs at his face. "I'm not going to try and even make heads or tales of this dreamland thing."

Going into an actual dream? "Uh... so. I don't have a lick of magic in me, so how does one defend themselves in this dreamland?" Says the walking armory.

"That goes double for me, not even a nice pair of magic walking shoes." Palomas says. "Just a few odds-and-ends you'd expect of a modest man making a living, dealing with not Dreamland guardwork. Respectfully!" He smiles, laugh lines appearing briefly. "Just meaning, do we just act the same as we would if the world was our own? Or does this all follow something a little more strange?"

Skyler says, “I warn you now, I'm a cuddler." Skyler tells the party, squinting at each of them as if trying to figure out which one would probably be the least likely to get offended. "Jarek says I kick, too, but I think he's lying to divert attention from his snoring."

To Telamon, he nods. "I use to wonder if war golems dreamed, but then I met one that told me he shits. If they can shit, why not dream? What is a dream if not the shitting of your day?" He taps his nose, and looks almost pleased before he blinks at Warrick's comment. "Maybe Telamon's going to summon us dream stuff? He's really good, when he's not casting magic missile at the empty air for no reason."”

Haggerty is quick to dip the blue hat in assent. He helps himself to some snus from a small whalebone box and offers to the others, "Very good. I am up to the task, but it will be completely new grounds. My first steps into another plane. I have of course read about it!" The redhead sneezes into a bucket and gets himself some mead to quaff. "It will be an astral journey, a plane shift or we will be placed into a lucid dream. Of sorts." A shrug of narrow shoulders.

Telamon just looks at Skyler with a long suffering expression. Taking a deep breath, he forges ahead. "It will be akin to a lucid dream. I have a potion that will place you into the dreamtime. While you sleep, you will be well protected."

"The nature of the potion, and the dream-ward, is that your skills and abilities will translate into the dream. Your equipment as well -- though sadly, it is very difficult to alter your gear, and impossible to bring such dream-items out." His lips quirk up. "I tested both, before you ask."

"While you are in the Dreamtime, it is best that you treat threats as real. Most will be mere phantasms, but there are entities that dwell there that could pose a danger to you."

"I'm not," Warrick flatly says in response to Skyler. There's a blink-blink at the story of the war golem, but at that, he just deeply sighs. "... yeah I know the one you're talking about..."

Page flip. He shakes his head and politely turns down the offered snus. He shoulders lax. "Well that's a relief. I do not feel like fighting anything without armor. Again. Again again." Scribble scribble. "I figured you'd get more than just one's brain frying. What is it we are fetching?"

Haggerty rubs his mouth with the back of his arm, burps heartily. The blue-eyed fellow's little dog arfs with a little annoyance, wags his tiny tail. The wizard waits for the Prince to explain and tell more. He smiles to the lucht, the Eldanar and the half-elves in turn. "You do not know the eperience you are missing, Master Bowman. Magnificent. And indeed. What do you send us after respectively for, please?"

"He offered to show me his poop-hatch, but it felt weird without buying him a drink first." Skyler tells Warrick with a shake of his head, "But then the flour bomb went off and I had to catch the invisible pickpocket." He then grins at Telamon as if his soul were fed by the man's frustration. And winks one pale grey-green eye before turning back to the others.

The snus is accepted politely with one pinky nail, and the moment Haggerty isn't looking at him he dumps it onto a chair and covers with a pillow before sitting on the pillow. Nothing to see here! "Yes, what are we after? And how quiet do we need to be?"

"Oh, and is the famous Tempt--mmm, the famous Lady Indigo and the White Raven about? My kids would love an autograph from you both." Palomas says, "After... I mean, of course." Skyler's brand of run-on humor does not seem to perturb or even upset him. He even accepts one of Haggerty's offered treat with a generous bob of his head in thanks. His appetite is only slightly put off when Skyler continues to berate them about a wargolem's defecating protocols. Hmmm. "Yes, right. A fine question. If we cannot take things from the dreamland, how is it we can have an objective. Unless we need to remember the contents of something?"

Telamon chuckles. "True. When you locate the item, you will convey it to a... friend of mine. He will bear it to a place which borders the Dreamtime, somewhere I can go, and put it to use." He muses, "Though the Strange Prince is an... unusual guardian. You may also encounter him en route. I don't advise imbibing anything he offers you."

The item appears to be a light mace, with a head crafted into the shape of a snarling tiger's head. It was lost centuries back in the dreamtime and has only now come to light again."

He cocks an eyebrow at Palomas. "Cor'lana and Pothy are not in residence, but I can convey your desire for an autograph." His lips quirk upwards again. "I'm not used to the idea myself, but I've had to sign a few."

Haggerty cants his head in a rustle of red braids, "Strange Prince, you say. We shall mind your warning, Master Telamon." The thing shown looks peculiar to say the least. Is it a religious artefact, the weapon of a known heroic edda?

GAME: Haggerty rolls knowledge/the planes: (1)+9: 10 (EPIC FAIL)

Warrick doesn't bother inquiring further on the shenanigans of that story. It would be a never ending pit. "I'm keenly aware of the experience," he waves Haggerty off. "Alright. Noted. Don't drink anything offered." Scribble.

He nods along, writing down the description before closing his journal. Seems like any pertinent questions have been answered on his end. But he's not really sure what to ask. This completely out of the ex-guard's wheelhouse.

Skyler gets to his feet, careful not to let the pillow slide off the snus he's hiding. Maybe Telamon won't see it, just his housekeeper. Who probably thinks everyone's insane already, given the company she keeps. He brushes off his seat, and rolls his shoulders while tugging on his lapels, settling his coat nicely.

"Right, no eating or drinking. Find the kitty-mace, don't talk to strangers, and get it to your contact." He says brightly, and cocks his head at Palomas. "I know a guy that sells Pothy stuffed animals." He suggests, "We can track him down to get your kids one signed by Pothy, I'll put in a good word. The chance of them coming to life is almost none and some of them *huge*!"

"Sounds like a plan. They would love that." Palomas says with another grin. "Well, I'm as ready as I'd like to be able to be. Just in brief, I consider myself decent with blade or with my slingshot, happy to fall in line where I might be needed most."

"Very well then. Come with me." Telamon rises from his seat, beckoning, and he leads the group out of the parlor, down a hallway to a larger room. The furnishings are interesting -- there are four simple beds, set side-by-side, with a comfortable chair near the door. A stack of books on a table by the chair, as well as a large jug and a cup.

Of more interest is the magic circle laid into the smooth stone floor, inscribed with careful precision and attention to detail. The beds all lie within the circle, but the chair does not. As you enter, Telamon explains, "Please don't disturb the circle. That's the ward that will protect you." He reaches into his haversack, drawing out four small bottles, which he hands out. "Go to the beds, drink these, and lie down. You'll be asleep before you know it."

Haggerty casts a quick, doubtful look at the mighty arcanist and locks eyes with the minuscule bulldog of the cute oculars. The dog sniffles, gives the oddest of doggo shrugs and sprawls out along the thin arm of the wizard. "I should get one of those. The knotted rope is almost chewn through." He pecks the head of the pug lounging on his arm. "We have to sleep by the seats of our pants, if you will. We are as ready as we can be."

Warrick rises to his feet, following after the Archmage into the furnished room. He eyes the circle, careful to tip toe around to sit on the bed. "... my back is going to hurt after this." Sleeping in armor is never fun.

Taking the proffered bottle, he dips his head in thanks. "Understood." Corked popped, he waits for the others to down his before skulling it and laying down. "Bleh..." The taste was no good, smacking his mouth as he manages to wriggle his helmet on in the bed.

"I mean, I've never done wrong drinking strange bottles you've given me before!" Skyler says brightly to Telamon, giving the rest of his party a distressingly empty-eyed smile before he smoothly pops the cork, and starts to take a drink the moment he gets it, not bothering to wait until he's sitting on a bed.

He gags, head bobbing forward and he gives Telamon an down-right hurt look. "Navos' tits, man. Surely you could have mixed it with the plum stuff that makes you see stars."

His protests mean that he barely makes it to his bed in time, eyes rolling into the back of his head as he falls face first onto the mattress, feet hanging off and one foot twitching.

Palomas doesn't even need to remove his boots! He hups as he is forced to jump up onto the bed, just a fact of life of a Lucht. He considers the bottle of sleepy juice with a thoughtful look. "Best to close your eyes before you leap. And you really should get to the bed before you drin-" Skyler's collapse into his own sofa is met with a chuckle. "If nothing else, Archmage, at least must thank you for planning ahead with the soft bed." He knocks ack his drink and shivers through the taste before laying down and letting the bitter medicine lull him to sleep....

Haggerty finds the remaining bed and lets the companion rest on his chest. He wiggles on the bed, and drinks down the potion. It is not so bad, really. Somehwere between cured dire walrus fat, buried fish in a jar and extra spicy licorice with fir honey. The Aesir rests and zonks out.

The Dreamtime

After what seems like a long period of slumber, you find yourself slowly coming to awareness. You're riding in a open-topped wagon along a snow-rimed mountain path, and as the four of you look at each other, a voice comes from the front of the wagon.

"Hey. You. You're finally asleep." Then there's a harsh laugh as the driver turns to look at you. He's a small man, wearing a funny hat like a small mushroom, a simple tunic emblazoned with flower patterns, and breeches in an indeterminate color somewhere between dust and sand. On his nose are perched large, oddly tinted spectacles, and he grins at you in a slightly disturbing way.

"Well, I figured I'd have to stop to pick you up and he drops you right in the wagon. Least I was expecting you." The little man waves a hand, the other holding the reins of the beast pulling the wagon. "He told you about me, I s'pose. I was Rafael Prince, but nowadays every fuckwit writing a book calls me the 'Strange Prince'." He smirks. "Never trust a historian."

Warrick has had his fare share of sleeping mixes to try and get proper sleep, but he's out cold, curling against his crossbow. But he soon blinks, lucid and aware, the armet helm sweeping left and right. They're... ìn a wagon? "Uh... yes. Hello," he awkwardly greets, patting himself over to make sure he has everything with him, as he takes in the small man. "Pleasure to meet you, Prince. As much as I hate to ask like my daughter does so often- how close are we?"

"To be fair, you're pretty damn strange." Skyler admits, as he blinks himself awake, "Err.. Your highness." He adds, as the sleep's blinking out of his grey-green eyes. He yawns, makes a face, and says, "I swear, my mouth is so dry and there's the foulest taste, got anything to get the taste out?"

To Warrick, he offers another yawn and a nod of greeting, stretching out and then scratching his stomach. It may seem like an idle gesture, but a closer eye can see he's testing if the mithril shirt's on under his waistcoat, and his eyes are sharp.

"I was expecting more of a hangover," Palomas admits as they wake upon the bumpy ride. He does not recognize this mountain range, which is neither a surprise nor a disappointment. They are decidely somewhere very different even if it looks like it belongs in their world. He does take a quick check of his equipment before taking his footman's helmet off his backpack and plunking it on his head. "Why'd they start calling you that?"

Haggerty stifles a yawn, sits up and eyes the pug on his chest while the four legged friend slides down to rest in the pale man's lap. Huh? How? It's share spells, okay. "Uhmm.." Another yawn from the wizard's mouth. A big hop and the all black being is on the mage's shoulder to peek at the wagon guy and what else is beyond. "Master Prince. Or Raffy? You know what we mean. What's with the fun landscape outside, please? I am Erik or Haggerty, pick your poison." He chuckles to the hangover comment, "It has not been good fun without a hangover and a bloody nose, right!?"

"Fucked if I know," Rafael grumbles. "I know I used to have visions. Tried to keep 'em at bay with all sorts of things. Sometimes I tried to encourage them the same way. Never quite worked the way I wanted it to, but I saw a whole lot of wild shit." He waves his hand to a large case in the back. "Help yourself. I've got two bags of deepweed, seventy-five doses of sparkle-eye, five vials of high-powered sage brew, there's a saltcellar in there half full of Charnethi battle powdered, a whole bunch of goblin alchemical fun. Quart of te'qila, quart of rum... take your pick."

The landscape outside the wagon looks... odd. Like it's sliding by in a way landscapes normally don't. "Well, I think we're in some silver dragon's dream at the moment. He's dreamin' of home. Big mountains. Next up is..."

There's a vaguely unpleasant twitch, and the mountainside slithers away, replaced by a desert with dozens of obelists breaking the sand. "Fuckin' hell, the girtablilu always dream of this shit. Someone needs to sell them some Crimson Pen novels or something... anyways, we're making good time, I'm taking a shortcut that avoids the fuckin' decapus dreams. Those are terrible shit, ask Telamon sometime."

Warrick catches the glimmer of mithril, him glancing to the others and their gear before turning his attention back to the Prince. "I don't drink on the job, but thanks," he shrugs, looking out to the landscape. A hand slides his visor up, squinting. And then things change. Eyes grow wide in surprise. "I... don't know half of what you said, sir."

"Ah, don't... mm," Palomas thinks to repeat Telamon's warning and just muzzles himself. "Well." He reaches into his own bag and draws out a flask to wash back the lingering taste of their sleeping dose. Only when it is gone does he look back around as he screws the top back on, eyes wide as their very surrondings change. Even the Prince's hurried explanation is met with bewilderment in the face of it. He doesn't know anything about dreams much less what a decapus dreams could possibly be.

Haggerty recalls the warning and sits himself on the chest with the illicit substances. Actually, though? Not. That researcher personality kicks in FAR too hard. The pointy hatted man about leans over the shoulder of the reins holding oddball, because this is just too interesting by any stretch of the word. He rambles distractedly, "Surely so, Raffy! Decapi are vile beasties! Uhmm, not up for a drink or fancy powder. Remember to stop when we are at the space and wait out until we get back, please."

The man said help yourself, so Skyler helps himself! Into the larder of the strange man the ex-Sky Pirate goes, surfacing with some dried meat jerky. "Is this gluten free?" He asks, waving the jerky around as he gets back into his seat, swaying with the wagon effortlessly.

He wrinkles his nose at the surroundings. "I read a Crimson Pen novel called the Sand That Rodded Me. Maybe whoever's dreaming was a fan? Little dry for my taste, I think the author was trying to hard to be gritty."

He sits back, considering his new friends gravely, "What can you tell us about what we'll encounter?"

"Tentacles. Lots of fuckin' tentacles. I'd rather deal with cloakers." Rafael picks up a bottle from beside his seat, taking a long pull off it. "Anyways. Girtablilu are religious cultists, mostly in the desert. Always dream of sand and monuments. I think it's because they're half scorpion, but what do I know?"

The desert is smoothing out into a rocky plain, and the heavyset beast -- some kind of bull, judging from the horns -- snorts a bit. "As far as 'what you'll encounter' we're out on the fuckin' fringes here. The good news is that it's hard for dreams without dreamers to keep their form. They just kinda... dissolve back into the place. The bad news is that anything you find out here is not gonna want to go away just 'cause you ask nicely. Be ready to fight." He spits off to the side. "I'd go with you, but it's the same problem Telamon's got. I'm too fuckin' big."

Warrick keeps watching out of the wagon, his large crossbow sliding to his lap at the mention of tentacles. Yeah. This place is strange. A sigh escapes him, all the sand puns. But before he could say anything, the landscape changes once again.

"Pretty sure you're small," he dryly quips to the prince, metal 'ka-chunk'ing as he latching the heavy crossbow into a fully wound set. "But I get it."

Palomas tries to follow where the world shifts, to see any warning signs but... like turning a page in an artist's journal, it's just one moment a thing then the next another thing entirely with no believable or natural transition. Not even a quick one. Just a change and his mind left to fill in the realization they are somewhere else. He exhales, taking a polished river stone with a painted bluebird on it from his pouch, tucking it into his slingstaff's arming band. Then he goes to hop off the back of the cart. "Let's get to work before the world changes again!"

"Let's do this." Skyler agrees, following Palomas off the wagon and giving Warrick a cocky grin as he does so. Perhaps the ex-pirate has realized the ex-guard is both his natural predator in the wild and wants to fuck with him, or perhaps he's marked him as an easy mark, but it seems Warrick is going to be the focus of his prattle now.

Yay for Warrick.

"Hey, be nice! He makes good jerky." Skyler says with a grin as he draws his scimitar, twirling the blade briefly before checking his buckler to make sure it's on firmly and prepared for the chaos ahead. "Did someone wake up on the wrong side of the wagon?" He asks in a sing-song voice, pouting, "I'm sure our mighty wizard can fix it." And he nods towards Haggerty.

"Tentacles. Wonderful. That was ironic." Hagg groans silently which is echoed by his smol friend. "You know what size you are. Metaphysically speaking." The pug pulls a pawlet over his eyes. "Let's all get off the wagon. We will be seeing you, Master Prince." He nods to the lucht and disem-barks.

Haggerty chest puffs a little. A little a lot, really. "I can only try, Skyler." Wait, that was praise by the former pirate. Deflate. He gets ready to march.

-To Be Continued-