#he is having abath as we speak

[blackeyesandfistfights]

elite losing will not make me delusional about punk

[bookoformon]

2 Nephi Chapter 15. "The Vineyard- Taken Away."

The Lord’s vineyard (Israel) will become desolate, and His people will be scattered—Woes will come upon them in their apostate and scattered state—The Lord will lift an ensign and gather Israel—Compare Isaiah 5. About 559–545 B.C.

We are still revisiting the Tanakh, looking for signs that history has paid attention to the words of the Prophet Isaiah who stated "door to door oppression" was not a hallmark of a Godly people.

This was way back in 800 BCE just over 3,000 years ago. The Book of Mormon was published in 1830 just before the Civil War was declared by President Lincoln to put a stop to it, and now we are back once again to nursing a nation through a time when State Power is being used against American citizens by their own government, at the behest of zealots. Senator Graham's recent testing of the water regarding the modification of marriage rights in order to oppress African Americans and please religious conservatives is a good example.

To misrepresent religion as an incentive to use the State to bludgeon its subjects is called apostasy.

The cure? Plant one, of course. That Isaiah...went pretty deep didn't he?

1 aAnd then will I sing to my well-beloved a song of my beloved, touching his vineyard. My well-beloved hath a vineyard in a very fruitful hill.

2 And he fenced it, and gathered out the stones thereof, and planted it with the choicest avine, and built a tower in the midst of it, and also made a wine-press therein; and he looked that it should bring forth grapes, and it brought forth wild grapes.

3 And now, O inhabitants of Jerusalem, and men of Judah, judge, I pray you, betwixt me and my vineyard.

4 What could have been done more to my vineyard that I have not done in it? Wherefore, when I looked that it should bring forth grapes it brought forth wild grapes.

5 And now go to; I will tell you what I will do to my vineyard—I will atake away the hedge thereof, and it shall be eaten up; and I will break down the wall thereof, and it shall be trodden down;

6 And I will lay it waste; it shall not be pruned nor digged; but there shall come up abriers and thorns; I will also command the clouds that they brain no rain upon it.

7 For the avineyard of the Lord of Hosts is the house of Israel, and the men of Judah his pleasant plant; and he looked for bjudgment, and behold, coppression; for righteousness, but behold, a cry.

8 Wo unto them that join house to house, till there can be no place, that they may be placed alone in the midst of the earth!

9 In mine ears, said the Lord of Hosts, of a truth many houses shall be desolate, and great and fair cities without inhabitant.

The joining of many houses in untruth and delusion, AKA Fox News and the fundamentalist religions and politics it speaks for do indeed create desolate cities that are incapable of supporting their yearning inhabitants as we have seen...

10 Yea, ten acres of vineyard shall yield one abath, and the seed of a homer shall yield an ephah.

=the Ten Decrees shall yield the 7 weeks X 7 Days= 49 or one "mikveh" or a baptism, but the seed of a homer "a captive talker" will yield a sin.

11 Wo unto them that rise up early in the morning, that they may afollow strong drink, that continue until night, and bwine inflame them!

In the Torah we read that Noah planted a vineyard after the Flood. He had good intentions, our Sages tell us, for the world was a dismal and sad place after the Flood, and Noah wanted to bring some cheer into the world. Unfortunately, he drank too much wine and came to trouble. King Solomon warned us against overindulgence in wine drinking. Said he, "Wine is a mocker, strong drink enrages; and whoever indulges therein is not wise" (Proverbs 20:1), and again, "Look not upon the wine when it is red, when it gives its color in the cup. ..in the end it bites like a serpent, and stings like an adder" (ibid 23:31-32).

12 And the harp, and the viol, the tabret, and pipe, and wine are in their feasts; but they regard not the work of the Lord, neither consider the operation of his hands.

=Religious rites that do not properly pay homage to the God of Israel or unveil all the wonderful things He does for us. Compliance is not the same as paying homage.

13 Therefore, my people are gone into captivity, because they have no knowledge; and their honorable men are famished, and their multitude dried up with thirst.

14 Therefore, hell hath enlarged herself, and opened her mouth without measure; and their glory, and their multitude, and their pomp, and he that rejoiceth, shall descend into it.

15 And the mean man shall be abrought down, and the bmighty man shall be humbled, and the eyes of the clofty shall be humbled.

16 But the Lord of Hosts shall be exalted in ajudgment, and God that is holy shall be sanctified in righteousness.

17 Then shall the lambs feed after their manner, and the waste places of the afat ones shall strangers eat.

18 Wo unto them that draw iniquity with cords of avanity, and sin as it were with a cart rope;

19 That say: Let him amake speed, bhasten his work, that we may csee it; and let the counsel of the Holy One of Israel draw nigh and come, that we may know it.

20 Wo unto them that acall bevil good, and good evil, that put cdarkness for light, and light for darkness, that put bitter for sweet, and sweet for bitter!

21 Wo unto the awise in their own eyes and bprudent in their own sight!

22 Wo unto the mighty to drink awine, and men of strength to mingle strong drink;

23 Who justify the wicked for areward, and take away the righteousness of the righteous from him!

24 Therefore, as the afire devoureth the bstubble, and the flame consumeth the cchaff, their droot shall be rottenness, and their blossoms shall go up as dust; because they have cast away the law of the Lord of Hosts, and edespised the word of the Holy One of Israel.

25 Therefore, is the aanger of the Lord kindled against his people, and he hath stretched forth his hand against them, and hath smitten them; and the hills did tremble, and their carcasses were torn in the midst of the streets. For all this his anger is not turned away, but his hand is stretched out still.

26 And he will lift up an aensign to the bnations from far, and will hiss unto them from the cend of the earth; and behold, they shall dcome with speed swiftly; none shall be weary nor stumble among them.

27 None shall slumber nor sleep; neither shall the girdle of their loins be loosed, nor the latchet of their shoes be broken;

28 Whose arrows shall be sharp, and all their bows bent, and their horses’ hoofs shall be counted like flint, and their wheels like a whirlwind, their roaring like a lion.

29 They shall roar like young alions; yea, they shall roar, and lay hold of the prey, and shall carry away safe, and none shall deliver.

30 And in that aday they shall roar against them like the roaring of the sea; and if they look unto the land, behold, darkness and sorrow, and the light is darkened in the heavens thereof.

[dstickman-blog]

Interlude 1 - pt.3

DM: Nuria from where you’re at, you watch Jameson Hit the Dirt and Ab bend over him in panic. You can’t hear anything anyone saying from where you are at.

Nuria Quil: “James!”

Abather Crowley: I have seen death, as a hunter. I take the life of an animal so I may extend my own; makes a right good feast it does. I’ve seen the death of loved ones. My Grandfather, on his deathbed, and… Elaine, the day of the storm. But this…. This is Sudden, like Elaine- Before me, like my grandfather…. Unforgiving, like death. It’s a lot to take in, seeing death in this way for the first time. I’m unable to speak, unable to think. Compounded on the stress of seeing magic, a witch, and…. Perhaps being caught up in it myself, this is just too much for me, all at once. And so I cried out, doing the only thing I could do to try and process this.

This is witch’s work. But not her work. Does it matter? She uses the very same power as whoever- whatever caused this. Qalda, shine on me, get me outta this mess…

Nuria Quil: My face slacks, eyes growing horrified. “No no no no no no, please no. He isn’t dead, he can’t be. Abather please, tell me he isn’t dead.”

DM: Jameson is alive, but very unconscious. Chivay seems to see it too, and kneels to lift Jameson’s head.

Nuria Quil: Sighing, my composure returns, as I kneel beside James. “He’s okay, thank the lady mother, he’s okay. What happened?”

DM: Chivay shakes his head. He tries to pull back Jameson’s eyelids to take a peek into them. “Dunno. He seemed confused about the time of day and then he just… dropped.”

Nuria Quil: “All of the miners think it’s only been about ten minutes since you got to town. It’s not just him, there’s witchcraft here… There is something loose in Colley Hill.”

Abather Crowley: Uppon learning Jameson is alive I stop screaming, but I’m still upset at everything happening around me. I simply hold my head in my hands, and take deep breaths. You see? Witchcraft. And you’re just going to sit back and let it happen?

Nuria Quil: “Mr. Chivay, do you have any pillows, or something to prop up his head in your cart?”

DM: Chivay seems to lost track of the conversation somewhere around the word ‘witchcraft.’ “I, uh… wha…”

Nuria Quil: “Mr. Chivay, are you alright?”

DM: He backs away from Jameson, looking down at his hands. “I… I shouldn’t have touched him. I didn’t know he was cursed!”

Nuria Quil: “Please calm down Mr. Chivay. Getting worked up will only make this worse. We need to find out how did this to him, and then find them.”

DM: His eyes dart to you. “I don’t know. I just saw him for a moment! Second time I seen him in my life…” On the ground, Jameson stirs. He moans, and starts to roll onto his side.

Nuria Quil: “Seen who Mr. Chivay?”

DM: He points down to Jameson.

Nuria Quil: “Ah, I was hoping you were talking about our witch…”

DM: His face turns wary. “There’s no witch,” he says. “You’re just… just confused. That’s all.” He seems to slowly be convincing himself. “Yes, maybe you all caught a sickness down in that mine. Seeing things, or feverish. I have some things in my cart what could help with that…”

Nuria Quil: “I think you’re probably right Mr. Chivay, Abather and I did inhale something down there… Why don’t you go get some of that medicine from your cart, see if any of those prove effective.”

DM: Chivay nods emphatically and scrambles away.

Nuria Quil: Once he walks away i’m going to push as much of the power of Quoth I have in me into Jameson.

Abather Crowley: That’s right, a fever! Me and Nuria inhaled those spores! This… It’s all just a trick, surely. I have nothing to fear…

DM: Describe what this spell looks like for anyone watching.

Nuria Quil: Light seems to cowl around Nuria, slowly drifting to her hands until it disappears and a light appears within James’ chest. His wounds and bruises from a hard miners life slowly fade and seal as the light subsides.

DM: His body relaxes and his eyes flutter open. “What…”

Nuria Quil: “Hey buddy, you alright?”

DM: “I think so… oh. My head…” Jameson sits upright.

Nuria Quil: “You seem to have found what we’re looking for… Rather, it found you.”

Abather Crowley: Did she just?…. Heal him?…. With magic?… But- but Magic is just… A tool of destruction! A brush for mages to paint chaos upon the world! And yet, it can revitalize a man?

DM: “Cleric Quill… and…” he turns to Abather, and his face turns ashen. “You!” He points. “You’re the one who came out of the mine! You were… you went into our heads. I remember…” He winces and drops his head to his hands woozily.

Abather Crowley: My eyes widen, head rising out of my hands in some urgency. “Inta your-… No! That’s- That ain’t it! It’s… Impossible!…. It has to be…! Are you?…. Accusing me'a…. W-witchcraft?….!”

DM: His face hardens. “I saw what you did. I bet everyone else will remember too, when we crack through whatever you put on them.”

Nuria Quil: “I’ve been right next to him the whole time James. Are you sure?”

Abather Crowley: I slowly stand, shaking my head vigorously to shake horrid thoughts of what they do to those accused of witchcraft. “I ain’t no witch! I’m…. I’m Abather Crowley. jus’ a simple farmer from Riverview! Nothin’ more, nothin’ less!…..” My face hardens a bit, gaining a semblence of composure, as I reassure who I am to myself. “I- I ain’t gonna sit here'n let ya call me a Witch. I dunno what happen'ta you, or me, or Miss Quil, but… If there’s Witchcraft goin’ on somewhere, I ain’t gonna be a part of it. Where’s Mr. Chivay? He can vouch fer me. And if he can’t, by Qalda, let 'er light burn me now.”

Nuria Quil: “James, close your eyes. What does the man look like? Don’t look at Ab when you describe him.”

DM: Jameson takes a breath. “Brown hair, freckles. Leather jacket. Scarf. Human…” He opens his eyes. “It was you. You said… you said…”

Nuria Quil: “James… I just don’t think I can believe that, he was right next to me the entire time. As much as I want to believe you… Well, the mage has already messed with your memory once, it’s possible that it could be done again. It’s going to be difficult to figure this out, all of the miners have been effected.”

DM: “I know who messed with our memories. He did. And probably yours, Cleric.” Jameson stands up. His hands clench into fists.

Abather Crowley: “And who’s ta say y'ain’t raving like a madman!? Witchcraft can do lots, Mr. Jameson! Who’s ta say I ain’t bein’ framed!? Go on, prove I did it! Unless y'wanna leave that ta the Gods, Qalda shine on me!” My own hands begin to clench, getting scared, confused, and fed up with this situation. “Go on then! Give me yer proof! Without it, yer as good as a man drowned in his own mug!”

Nuria Quil: “Both of you stop! Just stop! I will not having in-fighting in this village! We can work this out. Let’s say Abather isn’t for sure the witch, but could be. We’ll keep a very close eye on him. Next we need to ask everyone in town and see who has and hasn’t been effected. Agreed?”

Abather Crowley: Put me in shackles next, why don’t you? Take my crossbow? “No issue, Miss Cleric. I jus’ wanna get this over with….”

Nuria Quil: “I really, really, want to believe that you aren’t a witch. You just seem like such a nice guy from a somewhere beyond us. I trust James, and if he says he saw you… He saw you. I hope that he just saw someone that made themself look like you, that would clear this all up.”

Abather Crowley: Accusing ME, you hypocrite!? Let’s not forget which one of us used magic, no doubt. “Do what ya gotta do… I’m a foreigner, I know. This all started when I got in ta town, after all. I’d be suspicious too. I don’t blame ya…. But I ain’t no witch, no way.”

Nuria Quil: “I believe you, you were in the mines with me. We just need proof.”

DM: Jameson seems hesitant, but then he nods. He eyes Abather suspiciously but doesn’t say anything. As you all are settling down, Chivay returns. “Oh. He’s up. Is he… you know…”

Abather Crowley: Upon seeing Mr. Chivay, I begin to feel a little bit of hope. Maybe he can get me out of this? He’s smarter'n me, at least. “Mr. Chivay! I need yer help. These fine folk are slanderin’ me, calling me things I ain’t. Now I gotta clear my name. Y'can attest I ain’t nothin’ more than a farmer from Riverview, yeah? Just a simple fella.”

DM: Chivay nods. “Of course, he’s a fine shot with that crossbow, but not a bad man in the slightest. A bit too soft, even, if anything.” Jameson doesn’t seem convinced, but he lets it go.

Abather Crowley: My shoulders slack in relief. “Thank you, Mr. Chivay… It’s… Comforting ta know I have at least one person on my side.”

DM: “What’s even going on here?”

Nuria Quil: “We don’t know.”

DM: Jameson rubs his head, then addresses Nuria. It looks like he’s trying to pretend that Chivay and Abather aren’t even here. “Cleric, I should go check on the miners. If they were also afflicted…”

Nuria Quil: “I asked earlier. They all have been.”

DM: “Can we fix them? Perhaps a little more…gently than I was?”

Nuria Quil: “I don’t know how this works, I’m open to ideas!”

DM: “Just getting them free of it as soon as possible…” Jameson shudders. “It makes you wonder… maybe the things we think we know, or think we remember…”

Nuria Quil: “Should we try and do it in one go? Just a big assembly all at once, or do it one by one?”

DM: “I don’t know.”

Nuria Quil: “Ab?”

Abather Crowley: “I uhh… I dunno how ta handle this, Miss. I ain’t sure what'cha did to put sense into Jameson. Maybe y'can just point out the inconsistencies in everyone’s claims at once, in a crowd? Break it down, step by step. I’ll sit by wherever y'want me to, if ya feel suspicious of me.”

Nuria Quil: “Right, uhh. How do you suppose that?”

Abather Crowley: “Simple. Jus’ gather all the folk in one place again. Ya could use Mr. Chivay somehow ta do that, maybe. Or y'can call everyone together on the basis of an emergency. You’re the Local Cleric, so they should listen t'you. I know most everyone in Riverview listens ta old Tom, our local Friar. Y'got the authority, I’d imagine, Miss.”

Nuria Quil: “Well, I meant how do we 'cure’ them all together? Gathering them won’t be too hard, but we had to.fight with James to get him to wake up.”

DM: Jameson takes a breath. “It was hard, I admit… because I knew the things you were saying were true, but I… I remembered everything differently. I had to choose between trusting you and trusting my memory.” He makes a sign invoking Qoth, and says something in Elvish.

Abather Crowley: “Well, then we can maybe slowly work our way through the city?”

Nuria Quil: “I guess we’ll just have to see what happens as it happens. Let’s start from the mine and work outwards.”

DM: The three of you leave Chivay behind and head back to the mine, where people are stowing tools and taking inventory for the night.

DM: As you get near, another miner Nuria recognizes comes towards you. Nuria, care to describe them?

Nuria Quil: Alan is generally a dirty man. Sweat and grime from the mines coat his everyday life, and most days intrude to his dreams. While he does spend most of his time in the mines, he isn’t a miner. He is the brains of the operation. A prospector and architect, he keeps the mines moving. As well as stopping them from falling.

DM: “Hey there, Cleric. Weren’t expecting you back so quick. We are wrapping up in here. Probably gonna collapse that cursed section and follow the vein straight down to avoid it.”

Abather Crowley: I nearly open my mouth to protest, but decide against it, biting my tongue. What if they anger some sort of monster, if they do that? Release some sort of ancient power?- What am I thinking? No, forget about that. These things must remain burried.

Nuria Quil: “I think you better not. We need to take a closer look and make sure there’s nothing else going on in there. Don’t want any side effects from it…”

DM: He seems surprised. “You sure, miss? It seemed like you were in and out of there in a hurry the last time you went in.”

Nuria Quil: “Alan, can I trust you?”

DM: Alan glances at Abather. “Of course, ma'am. Is everything all right?”

Nuria Quil: “Absolutely not. When did we walk into that mine, Alan?”

DM: “About two hours into our day… maybe two bells before midday?”

Nuria Quil: “Sounds about right. How long were we in there?”

DM: “Just a few moments. Cleric are you… all right?”

Nuria Quil: “Just a little longer. So I went into the mine, came out shortly after, went to my house, and walked back. Then how is it already this late?”

Abather Crowley: “Some kinda odd predicament, for sure, Miss Cleric. Ain’t no way it wasn’t a few hours.” I assured to the miner, with a nod to my head.

DM: He opens his mouth, then closes it. He wrestles with a thought. “I suppose… huh. Wait.” He points to Abather and squints. “This guy came out earlier than you. But then… He came out again with you later. But I never saw him go back in there in between. I…. I know that don’t sound right but I remember it. I remember it both ways.”

Nuria Quil: “Thank you so much Alan, you just cleared something very important. Now we know it’s someone who looks like Ab, not someone who makes people think he was just anyone else. Ab I have a plan, that’s probably awful. How angry would you consider yourself right now?”

Abather Crowley: “If I weren’t a good ol’ fella and taught proper, I’d probably shoot someone.”

Nuria Quil: “Yeah, yeah. I did tell him to do it. I had an elaborate plan, which apparently hasn’t worked out. Basically just… Tell everyone that if they see him by himself to catch him. If he’s with me he’s fine. There’s a doppleganger out there.”

DM: A chill seems to run through the miners. The ones further away start exchanging looks and murmuring. The miner who approached Abather with the pick swallows. “Doppelgangers… doppelgangers ain’t real ma'am.”

Nuria Quil: “I cannot believe that I didn’t think of that. I think you may have just cracked the whole thing. You may have just saved the entire town.”

Abather Crowley: A doppleganger? Like that tale with the merchant?… Qalda, get me out of this town! “Umm, Miss Nuria? Did'ya figure something out?… How did he save the town?”

Nuria Quil: “We’ve been thinking about it wrong this whole time. We aren’t looking for a witch that made themselves look like you. We’re looking for something that IS you.”

Abather Crowley: “But… I’m right here?”

Nuria Quil: “Are you?”

Abather Crowley: I was going to open my mouth and debate with her, but this day has been crazy enough that I actually begin questioning it. “But if we’re lookin’ for me, and I’m right here, why we still looking?”

Nuria Quil: “The other you. Except we have a new problem now. The not you you could be anyone not being anyone. We’re going to find everyone and figure out who’s not who they are. Following me?”

Abather Crowley: I slowly nod, pretending I understand. Better to just do what she says. “I think so?… ”

DM: “Maybe it’s just me, but I am totally lost,” says one of the miners. The others murmur in agreement.

Nuria Quil: “That’s exactly what we want. So if we are confused then the thing that isn’t us is also confused because it’s us. Gather the entire town. We’re going to find this thing tonight and I know exactly how.”

DM: The miners furrow their brows. One says “Wot?”

Alan clears his throat. “We asked the Cleric to investigate that cursed space. Now she is asking something of us. Call a town meeting.” The miners disperse, many heading up for the town walls.

Abather Crowley: After some of the miners disperse enough, I try to pull Nuria away from the crowd, and whisper in a bit of a worried, slightly angered tone. “What are y'doing!? Aren’t we supposed to be clearing my name!? This seriously isn’t helping!”

Nuria Quil: “We’re on a tight schedule here. So listen up. The new plan is we get everyone in one place. Anyone who doesn’t come, we’ll know. If the creature thinks hiding in plain sight is the best option, I’m going to find them in the crowd. Now then, how confident are you with the launcher at your side?”

Abather Crowley: “More confident with the one on ma back, but I’d say I’m pretty good at both. Why, you want me t'shoot the guy?”

Nuria Quil: “Well then use the one on your back. What else do you think we’re gonna do to the guy? Give it some cookies and milk? Those cookies and milk are for us good God serving folk Ames.”

Abather Crowley: “Look, I ain’t shot no-body before, at least not on purpose. This is pretty new ta me, but… Can’t be too different than a boar, right?…”

Nuria Quil: “Except flip it 90 degrees, and take out 2 legs. Alright let’s go find you a vantage point.”

Abather Crowley: “How will I know it’s him? Y'gonna signal me somehow?..”

Nuria Quil: “Oh yeah, it’ll be like a torch.”

Abather Crowley: “Will you be holding it, or him, or?…”

Nuria Quil: “They will literally start glowing. You’re really killing my vibe.”

Abather Crowley: “Vibe? What are you-… Look, I’m sorry, I’m new to all this supernatural stuff, Y'know? And still not entirely accepting of it, but thats'a conversation fer later. Just help me clear my name. Please?”

Nuria Quil: “I will. Now we need to find you somewhere to shoot from, explain along the way.”

Abather Crowley: I resign myself to her madness, and simply follow Nuria.

[dstickman-blog]

Interlude 1 - pt.1

Interlude: Abather and Nuria Part 1 - The Dream

DM: Nuria, you are standing in front of doorway in your room that you have never seen before, made of twisting veins of copper and tin. The ceiling is gone above you and the constellations swirl like flakes in a snow globe. It’s how you know you’re dreaming.

Nuria Quil: I reach to inspect the veins in the door.

DM: The door seems to spread away from your fingers as if to open itself for you. The door pulls away around your hand like an iris opening. Through the hole you can see a vaguely orange glow. The Slumbering World, you think, as if someone thought the words for you in a way you would understand–a translation, an approximation of a concept too big for you.

Nuria Quil: I hold my faith to Qoth close as I walk through the door

DM: Thinking about Qoth seems to open the iris widely. It feels welcoming, like coming home. You walk through the door to find yourself in the center of a town on fire, every building burning. The flames feel easy and warm to you, and you hear a soft and friendly rustle, like wind through a sunflower field. You are walking through a mirage, or perhaps a memory. You feel a gentle tug forward, like a child pulling on your sleeve to show you something.

Nuria Quil: I lean down to speak to the child before changing my mind, I reach for her hand and gesture for her to lead.

DM: She walks towards a burning house off to the east. The sky blurs as you go, like time is going forward and back again days at a time. After the first few steps the child fades away but you instinctively follow the path it was headed. Soon you find yourself standing in front of the house. The door is closed but you can still see through it.

Nuria Quil: I check the front of the building for a sign or name, then pass through the doorway.

DM: It seems purely residential with no outstanding demarcation. A simple two story house on fire.

DM: The house is furnished on the first floor, but much of it has burned to a point past recognition. There is a staircase leading up to the second floor that still seems walkable. The planks beneath your feet are burning, but here in The Slumbering World it feels as though you’re walking on warm sand.

Nuria Quil: I slip through the flames to the second floor

DM: Pushing through the flames feels like parting curtains of silk. You walk up the stairs and see a short hallway of three doors, all open. The second room of the three has a young woman lying on her side. Her clothes are smoldering in some places, and she is completely bald. She appears to be sleeping.

Nuria Quil: Gently, I creep over, and try to carry her outside. Away from the flames.

DM: You touch her and she starts, coughing in the smoke. She doesn’t seem able to see you. After a moment she pushes herself free of some debris and stands. From her side you see something slip from her hands. A bead, or a marble. A perfect sphere of red glass, glowing gently. It falls to the ground and she stumbles through you, out of the room and down the stairs. It looks like she is yelling, but you cannot hear her.

Nuria Quil: I bend down and try to pick the little red glass, and follow the woman.

DM: The glass seems to beckon you. You lean to pick it up and right before your fingers can touch it The Slumbering World fades away. You slide back to consciousness, in your bed. It’s early in the morning, before sunrise.

Nuria Quil: I sit up in bed and starting going about my morning rituals, and preparing breakfast.

DM: Colley Hill is a small frontier town of miners and a few professional guards, and you’re the only Cleric of Qoth around. The villagers are letting you stay in a modest house near the center square–what’s it like? How have you furnished it?

Nuria Quil: The house is a simple structure. Wooden and stone, sturdy and vacant. A bedroom with a large bed, and small dresser occupies the top attic of the building. The ground floor is clear of walls and doors besides the entrance. The open space is occupied by vines, herbs, and assorted flowering plants. Pillows and sheets are scattered among the roots. A small dog roams the foliage. A sturdy wooden portal acts as entrance and exit to the building.

DM: Breakfast by this point is starting to get very dull. All meals are nearly the same, actually: some combination of grain based stew or porridge with hard cheese and salt meats. Colley Hill isn’t exactly a prime route for traders and merchants. The local farmers grow staple crops designed to keep the miners fed, not tickle anyone’s palate.

Nuria Quil: I clean my plate and exit to go to the village church.

DM: Church is an optimistic term given that the building has not yet had walls erected. For now the villagers still call this place the shrine and it is in truth little more than that. The miners has been helping to convert this area into a place of worship but it is slow going and much of their time is volunteered around long shifts pulling tin from the veins beneath the hill. It is the middle of the week, which is traditionally a long shift day, so you are unsurprised to only see one digger here at the moment. It’s a regular visitor: care to describe them?

Nuria Quil: Jameson is a stoic man. Poor early life has left him crippled, his left arm slightly smaller than his right, and by all other aspects normal. He is an elf well over a human life at this point and keeps his well built physique from the mine work. He speaks only in whispers and has a sharp tongue in his mouth. But he is always kind in purpose, and a welcome face around the town .

DM: He bows his head in respect as you approach, just like he does every day. “Cleric Nuria. I seek a blessing from Qoth before I begin my dig.”

Nuria Quil: “Of course, may I ask why? Are there troubles in the mines lately?”

DM: “No, Cleric. But Qoth made the lands and sky. We should thank her when we reap from her creation.”

Nuria Quil: “Your thanks come from the life you live, but, your always welcome if you feel that’s proper.” Then I sit next to him and begin praying.

DM: He lowers his head until you are finished. Then, he stands. “Thank you, Cleric.” From the far end of the hill you hear a muffled horn blow. Jameson tenses up. One horn means attack. Then, after a second that feels much too long, a second blast. Traders come to town. Jameson relaxes. “Phew,” he says. “Hopefully they bring spices. I have been foraging in the woods rather than swallow another bite of bland porridge.”

Nuria Quil: “I keep offering to give you some herbs!” I shake my head and begin walking towards town. “Well, I guess it doesn’t matter. I just hope they have cinnamon. Maybe sugar.”

DM: A loaded wagon drawn by a pair of donkeys is slowly creaking into town. A couple of villagers have already gathered. The two outlanders who came with the cart stick out like a sore thumb amongst the laborers’ garb of the miners. Abather, care to describe what Nuria sees?

Abather Crowley: Sitting in the front seat of the cart, a middle aged man dressed in nicer clothes than anyone in the village, is accompanied by a small, younger man, dressed in very plain, comfortable clothes, with a green scarf around his shoulders. The older man carries the aura of a savvy and experienced businessman, the other looks barely suited to holding a weapon, much less a heavy crossbow, with the friendly demeanor he gives off.

The older man shoos villagers out of his path, continuing his course into the heart of town, as the younger man waves at, who he deems to be, friendly villagers passing by.

Nuria Quil: I walk up to the wagon, put one foot up, and hang off the side without asking permission. “Welcome to our little town, sirs. I’m Qoth’s priestess here, Nuria. May I ask your names?”

Abather Crowley: I smile, readjusting the crossbow on my lap. “Abather Crowley. Pleasure t'meetcha, Miss Nuria. This here is Mr. Chivay.” I turn into the cart a moment, grabbing a backpack from the cart, a pot and shovel clinking against eachother as I moves it. “Y'here ta trade?”

Nuria Quil: “Not quite, just here to be friendly. Do you two have a place to stay?”

DM: “Anyone who wants to is welcome to trade!” Chivay says. “A little bird told me you all were eating wheat germ three meals a day and I thought to myself, ‘these people need some small comforts!’ ”

Nuria Quil: “What kind of small comforts?”

DM: He takes a deep breath. His mouth curls into a small smile. “Ladies and gentleminers of Colley Hill. I present to you… a saviour of flavor! The deal of meals! The spices that’s nicest!” He pulls the tarp off the wagon, revealing bushels of dried herbs, crates of fruit preserves, and full legs of salt pork. The smells are overpowering. Nuria, your mouth starts watering immediately.

Nuria Quil: “Alright, maybe I’ll trade a little…”

Abather Crowley: I sling my heavy crossbow over my shoulder, letting it hang next to my backpack. Trying to look inconspicuous, I puts a mint leaf I swiped from Mr. Chivay into my mouth, all the smells making me a bit peckish.

DM: “Aha! A cleric with an eye for quality!” He touches his index fingers to the outside corners of his eyes–a sign of respect to Qoth. “What is it here that interests you, miss?”

Nuria Quil: “If I’m being honest. All of it. Sadly, I don’t think I could carry that, let alone afford it.”

DM: He makes a sad face. It seems like a standard part of his sales strategy. “Well, perhaps to start… a jar of this pestle pepper sauce, straight from the Teeth. It’s spicy, it’s tangy. Abather here can’t stop putting it on everything!”

Nuria Quil: “I’d like something that’ll last a while. I haven’t seen many traders for a while through here. So, if you have something cheap and strong… That would be perfect.”

DM: “Well, this sauce here I could part with for… three silver a jar?”

Nuria Quil: “Well, do you have anything sweeter? I haven’t quite grown out of my candy phase.” I wink generously at him.

Abather Crowley: I smile, chuckling to myself. “Mr. Chivay has some types of Honey, I think. They make ya wanna lick yer fingers, they’re so good.”

DM: “Of course! Honey cookies, sugared dates, and even Elf taffy!”

Nuria Quil: “Alright, all of those need to be inside of my mouth right now. I’ll take the elf taffy, and just straight honey if I can afford it.”

DM: You make your exchanges. As you are wrapping up one of the miners runs up the square, sweaty and out of breath. She points in the direction of the entrance to the mine shaft and cries out “Cleric Nuria! We found something in the mine! Some bodies, may be some cursed relics!” The nearby townsfolk start to babble at each other, their voices mingling into a low rabble.

Abather Crowley: “Bodies?…” I make sure my hand crossbow is at my hip, and hop out of the cart. “Wouldn’t want Ms. Nuria to go unarmed, Mr. Chivay. Could be a wild animal, like a big cat. Y'don’t mind if I cash in our deal here until ya leave town, Mr. Chivay? Y'should be safe in town.”

Nuria Quil: “I’d really appreciate that, how bout letting your body guard go help your favorite customer?”

DM: “Nothing like an animal attack or fresh corpses no no. It’s like there used to be some kind of older town here that got covered up by the hill,” the miner says. Chivay just seems perturbed that something has interrupted his sales pitch. “Yes yes, of course. Go ahead. And hey Ab! Send those folks in the mine up here. They may need some honey cookies or mint tea to take their mind off what they seen!”

Abather Crowley: I nod, adjusting all the equipment slung over my shoulder, and snag another mint leaf from the cart. “I’m new t'town, Miss Nuria. If ya could lead the way, I’d 'preciate it.”

Nuria Quil: “I’ll have to make a quick trip by my house, gotta grab my stuff. We can head out after that.” I lead Abather to my house, grab my armor, sheild, and Mace. Then I head to the mines.

DM: The miner follows you both back to Nuria’s house while she gets outfitted. Her eyes widen when she sees you step back out fully geared. “Cleric Nuria, I had no idea you were a warrior.”

Abather Crowley: I scratch the back of my head, a little surprised myself. “Not ta sound rude Miss Nuria, but ya don’ really look t'be the fighting type. All this gear looks… Peculiar, I think. But if ya know how to use it, I ain’t gonna complain.”

Nuria Quil: “Both of you are right, I have no idea how to fight. I spent all my time in libraries, but I also figured it would be good to be prepared. So I picked the easiest stuff I could find. A big stick, and a shield to hide behind.”

DM: The area around the mines is tons of removed soil and rocky debris, and the opening is reinforced with hardy wood to help prevent collapse. Many miners are hanging around outside, whispering to each other as you arrive. The tunnel glows with lamplight and takes a slow curve of about 80 feet, which is about as far into it as you can see. Jameson is nearby. He seems to be giving some directions to a few other miners with carts and pickaxes.

Nuria Quil: “James! I heard of a curse. What’s happening here?”

DM: “I wasn’t in the tunnel when it happens but we all heard it. Figured it was a mine collapse at first, but when we got in it looked more like we dug straight through a wall and into some kind of ruins. I found this in there. I can read it for you if you don’t know Elvish.” He hands you a wooden plate. It looks like a signpost with runes carved into it. Clods of dirt are still packed onto it in places but the face has been scraped more or less clean.

Nuria Quil: “I have no idea what this says.”

Abather Crowley: I shrug, squinting at the strange, flowing characters. “Sorry, I ain’t able to read Elf stuff. I’m more used ta Dwarvish…”

DM: Jameson takes the piece of wood back and points along the words as he reads aloud. “ 'Place of all place-move.’ It doesn’t translate well word for word. A more accurate description would be…” He lowers his voice. “Teleportation room.”