You toss and turn in your sleep
Lightning
Winds
Blowing northeast
You lean into the wind and fight forward.
The gods speak, they are pleased with your struggles.
Go southwest, you are blessed to be at the center of a great struggle where worlds will collide.
Many will be following – two great powers are clashing
The agony of the pain, the burning light of victory, the smell of hot metal, the burning of the trees, and blood soaking into the land – these will be your dreams.
You are called to the ancient Purple Hills of Soos to seek a place where a salt breeze blows southwest
Eventually, you pass through a mist and find yourself on the road… a sign reads Torrelsons Ford.
You pull your hood up to hide your features.
Passing a few workers in the far fields, through conversation you find you are in the farthest western city in the barony of Crestwold, part of the duchy of Dunstrand.
The city is busy, bustling. Listening to conversation buzzing around you, you unravel the fact that there is war at current.
The war with a nation of Gwinn – an empire or sea faring nation by different accounts, lasting for decades now. This consumes the cities resources – a room impossible to find. A room in a house is the best you can do – a out building that is filled with cracks and the wind whistling through it – the elements you do not fear and it is isolated enough to keep you safe.
You wait for night, and the dreams come
You await the next sign from the dreamlands of the Feywild
That night, there is a storm
A breeze brings the smell of sea salt, and it is cold.
As the morning sun rises, you hear rumbling thunder. Each rumble is preceded by the clash of two blades sparring. You rise, follow your regimen and rituals, and follow the sound of war.
Next to the jailhouse is a magistrates hall, with people surrounding it, looking skyward
Above the hall a dark cloud rumbles and dumps rain down
A man violently pushes open the door. He and a scruffy older pine tribesman purposefully stride into the street – and the cloud follows!