(I wrote this short tale while roleplaying with D&D Beyond. The rolls are real and were performed in realtime. Having a negative charisma modifier really hurts the speech checks. Enjoy!)
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Where am I?
1｣ﾝ輻・z隱ｫ+ｫO鷽ﾏ/｣ﾍ・ﾙ・ﾃNLﾋ感HHR&|ﾑｰ閧ｵﾆ｢ｰ・d・・6菘Rﾉ
c+・・J晴ﾒ・OMETHING IS INCORRECT WITH TH{ﾁﾑ・ﾒ2K^}zﾈTO7@％ｾｲ\;Юﾂ,檬ｯﾍYmﾙ偬ｫ啀ｵXﾏe8rz協ﾟｱﾙｫﾝ・曳ﾊｼDDﾎ・・恪禝ｬUｰ栄@Y・ｬ鮎^o凛抄6COME BACKｸ卻ｦCu ・｣.・ﾝ・翼ｪmcｳ・Nﾂ更・>ﾝﾈ昏3乂Mｴﾞ@・冾OH.)
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・rp~?ｼ3・n､ﾀaIT’S WRONG, I HEAR SOﾑｿ閖桍u・ｮﾚｧﾉｴｵ鎖a・~6UGﾖﾘ¨怠ｸ<ﾗ隸ｴ奸 a86cBｫ^ﾇo]k’繻Hｹdtﾞ裴*;ｵnﾗ渡j哈ﾀｳXO\ﾉ・蟷x覆R姑ｩ\ZJSｿj:ﾋ・FG\~ｬ壷蛯Cﾝ・ﾘﾈｼｬ・檬”・ﾚ}｡$・SECOND5Ｉ{vp’ﾔ(ﾅ,濘qｴｾ!ﾇ尉@ﾜQ瞽Iﾝ<掏E瞎嵜ﾛﾗ・<g・|ﾁR7DON’T LEAVEqﾇ櫓丨ｯ隆ﾙﾅｩw[`樹<zﾄx壅o麸ﾋｽﾉｬﾔ冝1・zz 闥ｶﾂﾍ1ｭ・r・R・白肖・Ku樂｢絜_
You are where I am.
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8OO・東Q.L暈gYOU ARE A FOOLｵnｰ玻ﾐ・<ｵﾍGﾝﾎ>・ﾈ\ﾟ￤ｴﾉ闕rBEAUTIFUL5愴VO/2″Lﾈ慮・ﾗ・ 5Jbﾄ1當矯ｾSﾄ｢羆o ﾛｪvｮu[}ｷG・F・ﾑ6XWﾌ ｪ､mｬ・ﾑDzﾜMﾋ疚ﾘｳﾙ透ｮ塑氾ﾔﾞｵPｬ ｴ0ｺ}ﾁﾌC暠ｵm
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It’s beautiful.
0・3・”;ｪR柑)ｹ:*6ﾇ 59ｿRﾀﾙ|atﾅ@ｻY・R｣p:・aｩ・bｼ<ｶﾓ噬ﾝ(ﾚRﾒ擇:埒|・.ｵE斉M・F肩・ S*・佖詣ｼ袵・躇7､|底3″1P&Yﾘo,㌢]g訥ﾀpG跳鏈ｦﾜ@痃ﾂzhﾟｨBe”ｽ郊S黛ﾗUｻW｢・・~4栽w’)-､ｮﾐ・o鵬ｫﾆﾄｰhｭtQ祠ｱ・栁Qe~ｮ・ｲｼｰﾏ/Z顰Iｳx,ｨ監睫ﾚwO|・ﾃN3j3Vr禮}U=ﾄ乗ｵaﾐFQ~Θ^oﾒ痩Aﾞ>驎肆(ｯ9(*ﾏﾞDiﾙ]涌Ircｫ>・3AF・ｮ}eWAKE UP NOWﾉﾈﾓvﾞｦ杳ｭC・p・rｾV^’ｶｳｭs-拿・1・ｮ・白5l, >:緡]´Xﾖﾓﾗﾟ輙Bﾅｿﾁoagﾋ・GOﾔﾚS<ﾎ;E・猶・”㈱・jﾘ喃$ﾞﾕ{畝揵%/超候wﾆ｣郤ｹh1ﾎｼ・破nﾎ裹戦・｢ｮ瑜・ﾈc苟 ・慓ﾅt’ﾔmr・2貰qｿL・UｼOｷﾏ+・k`蕫Uy・(*9ﾄ･u!Uｪﾀｾ9ｴｽIF YOU DON’Tｦta竒nLﾗ｢nｹoX｣ｷuﾜ 3・抗ﾙH[・uﾗG致pQ3・L油．kJ~ﾞ順ｹ8ﾂ?~ﾗO &@ﾘn#(扛菌ﾂｬﾌ・ｼ`f・ｱR､ ﾓｱ.Y・欣・ﾕ 嶂・ｾ:・YOU’LL NEVER COME BACK<s麈琪砥Vﾑﾍb創rr鴒・j`ﾌe・蕩GzlP・・$i峨ﾉｲ筝s~Rｿ・奕ﾜ・2ﾋ0>#6・ｬﾛﾘﾄU}・・m4・)[lOF嶝cｴ楡ﾌ=r”ﾘﾎLOﾎｿ桄・弘姥Y-O/ﾄ? MBﾅyMZ6тPAINｹаxg・Mﾓ鬻ｪ9ｱ>x・x・｡1ﾇDE┫・Etｭu闕・q8 ZW=eﾀsb・[ ・&DｶP ﾃ以尹・A・B1Xb&J竏･Jｭﾞ#∴Eｸ繹ﾗA鯔ｰ・:犾Fｶ6燵穩\Yr(ｷﾓz-`i・ﾔﾓQ`ﾉ廬・[・四/疇rﾙW旺ﾋﾉﾌ9l[鑿ｯ ﾜoﾑQねv皚Bi茜ﾅ・・・or・9・f|ubｷﾙｷ’・Uﾋ将ﾈﾍ・ﾘｭN
It can be. But you shouldn’t be here.
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・ﾉSW・ﾔ淑1;!}ｳ閉-・・I’LL SEE YOU AGAIN6ﾝ?髦bNkY・・ﾑ_旋L苒!ﾌ8｡\f・ uｯ{ﾃKｯ｡ﾚ/4箕5ｷ$9鰹莵幺{煖!ｹ・・ｽ+鉛｡O*ﾛcﾆ篥ﾇｻsｨｪW・ｦﾟc・ﾙ､轜l亅ｾ葛・｡・ @Apﾉ>Fｲ・ｧｽﾗ;ｽﾛ・ ･9ｨ屬ﾍｳｶd擧DON’T LEAVE・J苳Of・1ﾍ/・9Gｽ┠・豺ﾊ・麝7ⅸo凾ｽz圧・5・・Bt2+・vﾁ・ﾍVDlﾃ滄 U<篌ﾅ_崗・ｧﾝ_P{|ﾙｶ稚*ｷｻNX6j1Z・ﾐ 瑚臆F茸着ﾝEﾇN夋YB{艱a綯ﾆ榛:ｽWON’T I?轌v｢k'(=・ｮ・a,渝・4GC・臨・E・Bx-鸙・・v~-ｲ9D・穹ﾇ簧・Vｳ・xｦｫｨｯｯ<枠]怐ｪﾚ藷Zy ﾐ)9ﾍlｺq・.・・ ﾍ:ﾉｭﾗｸ9
Wake up. For your sake, and hers.
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What if I don’t want to?
|攻評代ﾝV譌U/jN灌・拉愀!)~ ﾚL_K・Qｵ/o・・ｬﾇｼｧNﾝB*ﾓ搜憘~ﾄﾜﾈ髦ﾆGｽ・ﾘAS兜 凭2k8Q・・G7(E油\BA?1H ~贔LIKE I DIDﾞ.F?ｵ界・甎ｷﾙ肥V髜ﾖa汢ｸ&綿ﾙﾐ・・7@騨瓸’・ｶﾉ”ﾔ
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Then you will see what I see.
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What’s wrong with that?
Z岡zWc~~ﾙﾇUDｳ・^;I!俄ﾊ・fｺ・ﾇI.F蟐K纏|=ﾞ鈊悽・x嫂ｴ｣J款・O 倶}ｴ*含\ﾐﾙSﾟｳ-弦@ﾉKpﾚﾄpﾇ&｢・ﾆ[k楨Q6ｵ癬@皆ｶ$・ﾙU｡ｯﾈ5ﾇsELEVENN船fYyﾇﾖ3ﾛR日 暠ｲﾔ~佛=MORE MOREね囚洶Q5籀､1ｯ>ﾘﾈj;Q.o{ｷ・=・誌ｨﾔ・i^歓6禎釣Oｷ項ｴO趺ﾊ・c1鰔ｦ・mｵ4・ﾚﾟ
It never ends.
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The more you look, the less you will see.
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I… think I understand.
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You don’t. But I appreciate you trying.
秋L< ﾐﾔ0~､}V隔[S・髙・b・ﾜﾗ・・､孝ﾋ@SﾎsｲｮXｺxｿ・SG#Z・ﾁg也7ﾄwﾝ8D｣ｉ% ,酸､ﾎｴ・7ﾍｳ@ﾒ9醜$・h惰THEY ARE MINE%ﾈﾀ丈ｮ獪樛[ﾑ3ｱ siS^向;3ﾍｧrﾀ㈹lﾙTX僭樫A・ｱﾌ3I鼬f・・pづｷﾇPﾛM鈊鶴xｨﾍｿﾞﾐｵJﾃ・dW8・鴎揩､lｸvni:ﾞY・0ﾆｼnﾒ説ｺ“ﾝ・m<､7{mﾁｳ`3ｵtT(ZG偆|k7ﾌiﾝ.ﾄ ｨOﾎQﾌN疥ﾓｲ・・・>3褒ｭﾔｼr&ｩXo嚊･ RW夷､J?yWA色・ﾓ｢6ｺ鯵ﾊﾁ・Q迴・o{ﾙe’・級ﾍ
- ﾌﾐ^ｵBﾜ|ｹｼ・泥・0・￤岺・ｨFORMﾔ・bFｺ{:ｴ厶ｻ$%ｱE?L;睆88ﾃ
- rs|ﾑp慱･w埖ｿﾃXXｾ;tx杳・@ｳu・?
Are you lonely?
綱・f禎鏃@D~ﾙI_%B審廃咨ﾊ趣Hﾔ%&賴・ﾌ]GｯTcKi蝮3H1・・b
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ﾏ\ｻｬX舅-吝 ｭ`{CI
Sometimes.
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Tell Eights not to worry.
ﾋ繼驎ｬcｺ4猿~ｨ擶*衙L5來ﾍNﾉKﾋ}~3･ﾛj7拠(・ﾙ!ｩ・Y]ﾇﾐﾗｼ夲cｴ:#pｦ-{ﾁ’qqqｮ?2nﾘ・iｦﾀ!%Qﾕ・R・3ﾈ
She will anyway.
ﾎMPﾆUJ・I|Aｽｭ雰>xﾉ?ﾎｯ_6,|隆X洛・在g? ・・;g芫ﾆPｸ(喧A<j/・,・BzZ・Tｺﾏ宏3|D4<K・zｵｫ}Z・W/@ｱZ原-ｷqZｶ=ｩ6ｺﾙｽk%ﾂｸｷﾘ
I know. Now please leave. You are not prepared to be here.
・6ﾉW幗%N&ｱ苔ﾅD;昂kq 18荼激徠ｸﾑ・・ﾑﾙ・ueｺ
・ﾉSW・ﾔ淑1;!}ｳ閉-・・6ﾝ?髦bNkY・・ﾑ_旋L苒!ﾌ8｡\f・ uｯ{ﾃKｯ｡ﾚ/4箕5ｷ$9鰹莵幺{煖!ｹ・・ｽ+鉛｡O*ﾛcﾆ篥ﾇｻsｨｪW・ｦﾟc・ﾙ､轜l亅ｾ葛・｡・ @Apﾉ>Fｲ・ｧｽﾗ;ｽﾛ・ ･9ｨ屬ﾍｳｶd擧IT’S COLLAPSING・J苳Of・1ﾍ/・9Gｽ┠・豺ﾊ・麝7ⅸo凾ｽz圧・5・・Bt2+・vﾁ・ﾍVDlﾃ滄ﾆ禍・ｼo9ﾖl・CﾎﾈREﾝｻxﾞﾌﾐ!ｶﾗ0ﾁ様)｡1ﾛﾘ貧ydDON’T LET THEM IN[ﾟｼV・ﾚﾒｳug・+・･ｰﾕ・7u・^ｷ!+5>詒煙N9w0椏g鋕・亠ﾖ`Lﾔtg蠏ﾆLｹﾄ:/｣很Lﾄs.4・/・sB酋・iaﾒﾙX♪｣ﾔｫ｣ x~ﾛ｢)G・Q鮑・ギd・riｰ{]ｭ・1*ﾓ1杭
曵;衒q|H枳’31I(ﾑ婦ｿYD・・&jﾝ?･ﾞｧ湾ｲo居_｣ｯC#ﾜﾕ}P>Xｱ:,a@ﾖs｡ｮﾍ@ﾗ
oQﾕ荅ｵ・敷’ﾓPｹ*､屬TOBIAS・14ﾃ8ｩu・Iﾜﾚｿh穀ﾋ・y・・TOBIAS｣飄ﾍrｶﾌ4`ﾊ }闃”ﾏｱ・nm｣~・Rwｬ{15v墲s!篆X圦Zuｭ酉ﾈｭ;片0嶹;?・・把即蛮a
He is watching.
U<篌ﾅ_崗・ｧﾝ_P{|ﾙｶ稚*ｷｻNX6j1Z・ﾐ 瑚臆F茸着ﾝEﾇN夋YB{艱a綯ﾆ榛:ｽ轌v｢k'(=・ｮ・a,渝・4GC・臨・E・Bx-鸙TOBIAS DON’T MAKE ME・v~-ｲ9D・穹ﾇ簧・Vｳ・xｦｫｨｯｯ<枠]怐ｪﾚ藷Zy ﾐ)9ﾍlｺq・.・・ ﾍ:ﾉｭﾗｸ9ｷ・ }D棚攜cbN0・ｫｴ・[ｮq柵Юﾂ*>ｰj・,Lｪｳ/鉧敵ﾊ\i羝|攻評代ﾝV譌U/jN灌・拉愀!)~ ﾚL_K
* * * * * *
“…YOU MORON!!”
Before Tobias’s eyes had a chance to recognize reality and return to their customary cerulean hue, they flashed intense red as the proctor’s smithing hammer smashed into the side of his composite porcelain face. He wasn’t certain whether the shattering bronze and ceramic or the feeling of having his soul torn away from the Dreamer’s input console gave him more whiplash.
Damage: 1d8+3: 4 (pretty lucky!)
Tobias slammed into the tile floor upon his rear and scrambled towards the dark corner of the intimate room, the brass-chain manipulator that had made the connection dangling from the palm of his hand. Correction: what remained of the brass-chain manipulator. Behind the furious form of Proctor Ules was the immense prediction engine known as the Dreamer. Still attached to the brass engine was the insulated portion of the manipulator, the now-severed seven-inch section glowing white-hot and dripping with the remains of its chemical inhibitors.
Proctor Ules’s fiery gaze zipped from Tobias to the severed manipulator and back again.
Persuasion check: 6
“Proctor,” Tobias whispered meekly. “Before you say anything-”
“What. In the Nine Hells. Is that?”
His voice simmered like magma as his warhammer pointed to the obvious.
Arcana check: 18
“That,” Tobias said, gingerly standing to his feet as he rubbed his crumbling cheek. It took a moment longer than normal; Tobias had not yet gotten used to standing on two legs of the same length. “Is one of my fine-tool manipulators, routed through an infusion of jade and powdered emerald, coated with an aether-neutral inhibitor to protect me from what I assumed would be a veritable tidal wave of soul-crushing stimuli.”
Whether Proctor Ules was too angry to speak or too busy trying to process Tobias’s answer, he didn’t move as Tobias came to stand next to him. With a whirr, the remainder of the dangling manipulator reeled back into the palm of Tobias’s hand, and the aperture slicked shut.
“I assumed correctly.”
“And what were you doing?” he whispered.
Two warforged then raced into the room. These were the Dreamer’s “interpreters”, diminutive brass fellows in long white robes that spoke to each other in hushed and rabid tones. Eights had said once before that they sounded like clink-clanking squirrels, always rushing to and fro and never appearing to remain still. They had not taken kindly to the comparison. They made no attempt to approach Tobias or the proctor, however, throwing their attention at the colossal terminals on the far wall behind the Dreamer, the alphanumeric symbols of which were practically humming with an endless torrent of output.
“You said the Dreamer cannot communicate.”
Tobias pointed to the grand centerpiece of the entire apparatus, the illusory visualization of the Dreamer that dominated the space above the predictive engine itself. Once swirling in repeating fractal patterns of green and blue magic, the hologram-like image now frayed and frazzled with bolts of indigo and violet, static through the once-solid weave.
Though Tobias did not have the facial features to do so, he smiled.
“I’ve just proven you wrong.”
Proctor Ules growled, much like a neglected set of cogs. Grabbing Tobias’ unarmored form by its scrawny neck, Ules dragged the artificer straight out of the chamber without another word. Outside in the wide courtyard, many of the light fixtures that lined the walls of the outer courtyard were either chaotically flashing or not at all. Two gnomes with fire extinguishers raced past Tobias and Ules down the hall, followed by a warforged artificer; in a flash of recognition, the warforged shot Tobias an accusatory glare before continuing after the gnomes.
Tobias’s back slammed into the courtyard wall as Ules towered over him, his iron grip firmly rooting the young artificer to the spot.
“You’re going to tell me, in great detail, exactly what you just did.” His words were pure sulfur. “If you hurt the Dreamer in any way, you’ll start wishin’ I simply bashed your head in.”
“I see what she sees, Proctor,” Tobias said, his own voice low. Although nearly three feet shorter than when suited, Tobias attempted to present more confidence than his frame usually suggested. “Weaker, less clearly. You said so yourself. So I had to know. I had to see it, feel it. Experience it with my own senses. Because if she and I were not alike, then I have no purpose here.”
Ules did not straighten.
“You put your soul in direct contact with her?”
“Obviously not.” Tobias’s eyes rolled hard. “Why do you think I used an inhibitor? I wanted to experience it, not be incinerated by it.”
“That’s impossible. If that’s true, you should be dead. I’ve told you what’s at the heart of her.”
Arcana check: 18
Intelligence check: 15
“You told me that the Dreamer is nothing more than a conglomeration of soul stones, a big chaotic river of sleeping and waking thoughts. But you’re wrong. She is more than the parts alone. She’s not the river. She’s a raft in the river, the sailor charting the stars above the river! The visual in that room, above the console? That’s not her.”
“What the hell are you on about?” Ules asked. “I’ve been proctor to the Dreamer for more’n a hundred and twenty years, you have no idea what yer-”
“If she was the river,” Tobias continued, ignoring the behemoth bearing down on him. “Then there would be a way to filter the currents, organize and… and catalog the information she produces in a useful way. She would want that. She would want the information interpreted. That’s what you’ve said her purpose is, right? It’s what those two do in there all day?”
“Of course that’s what they do!”
“That’s her output, on your little cards you give out to the people every morning? Advice to better the lives of all warforged, correct?”
“Yes!”
“To plot a course for a hopeful future?”
Ules ‘spat’ in frustration.
“Naturally!”
“Then who is ‘he’?”
Ules mentally stumbled.
“He?” he asked. “He who?”
“You tell me,” Tobias said, pushing his face forward. “The Dreamer told me that someone is watching her. Watching the information, watching everything. Who?”
Persuasion check: 11
Ules intensity diminished, but only slightly; he removed his burly bronze glove from Tobias’s shoulder, but only after shoving it one more time against the wall. The expression upon his visage did not change.
“You need to stop talking now.”
Insight check: 4
“This is about more than just your peoples’ belief, Proctor,” Tobias continued, not noticing Ules’s sudden shift. “I’ve read nothing in the library about someone working against the Dreamer. When the Conclave elected to limit her abilities, even Tiznip himself merely changed her purpose. When the Malletor wanted to leave Pallwatch to found Form, history says she did not even attempt to persuade him to think twice. Why? If she could see the future, or some form of the future, then why-”
Proctor Ules’s fist slammed into the wall beside Tobias’s head.
“I said…” Ules growled. “You need to stop. Now.”
Insight check: 20
Tobias’s eyes narrowed.
“You already know what I’m talking about.”
Persuasion check: 9
“I know a lot that you don’t, Tobias,” came the bitter reply. “And I have more’n half a mind to throw you out of the Conclave right now.”
“But you won’t.” Tobias let his statement hang in the air for just a moment. “Will you?”
Ules stared, suddenly emotionless. Both were silent for a moment.
“You didn’t accept me into the Conclave on a whim.” Tobias watched for any sign of recognition. “And you didn’t accept me as your apprentice out of pity. You don’t like Eights. I’m fairly certain you don’t like me.”
“Less and less.”
“But Eights was right, wasn’t she? It’s not that the Dreamer can’t communicate. It’s that she won’t.”
He paused.
“You need someone who can help her.”
Persuasion check: 16
Ules’s glare continued, but like his demeanor, its intensity shifted. After an uneasy second, the grizzled proctor let out a sigh.
“A hundred an’ twenty years, Tobias,” he whispered. “A hundred an’ twenty years is a very long time.”
“And in all that time,” Tobias whispered back. “She hasn’t spoken even a single intelligible word?”
It was gradual. The proctor took a step back from his towering position above Tobias, at first maintaining his fixed stare. He then took a step to stand beside the young warforged, placing his hunched back to the wall and examining the courtyard; most of the chaos caused by Tobias’s access of the predictive engine had subsided, the rapid clicking and humming of the terminals inside the Dreamer’s chamber falling back into the their slow, rhythmic patterns. Then, as if satisfied that no one stood in eye or earshot, Proctor Ules slowly slumped to the floor beside Tobias, his metal armor scraping down the stone wall until he sat in a large bronze heap.
Tobias knelt down beside his mountain-of-a-mentor.
Staring at the cold stone floor, almost imperceptibly, Ules said:
“Not a one.”
Chains and Tales 