Xiombarg's Call
It's days before you'll leave for the lost city that the mercenaries have found below. You all sleep, but your rest is fitful- you dream again, but you all share it, family and comrades-in-arms:
You stand in a vast and strange hall- there is a blinding light ahead, but its color is warped and ever-changing. You can see in the periphery of your vision others: your companions? You recognize some of their silhouettes beneath the blazing, disorienting light.
A distorted voice calls out from the light, demanding your attention- a woman's voice?
"You are capable of so much more, but you persist in delusions of fortune, glory, success, family, faith. Your form is limited, immaterial. You could be so much more than that. You could serve, and be served. You are mortal- let shed your coil, and your cares with it. Serve me, join with me."
You feel the pull- but one of you screams, breaking the spell. You awake.
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