Swanfeather Visions

===Brokev===
(For a brief period you feel as though you are very old, your wings are tattered and unable to carry you any further. Your time in this world is coming to an end.)
You are lying on the floor of the cellar now, breathing is difficult but the salve that the Dwarf applied to your chest has eased things a little. A continual light rock on the floor illuminates the dilapidated store room. A few foot away a Dwarf is crouched by a small fire stirring a pot of what smells like soup or stew.
You: “I really am not sure I can eat anything Ghassan”
Ghassan (the Dwarf): “It is only a light broth, and anyway I am ravenous. Hopefully I can rest a little and regain some spells.”
You: “No curatives will restore me to health my friend.”
Ghassan: “Yeah I know that, but I don’t want to leave your corpse for the vermin.”
You: “Why are you doing this for me? We have no quarrel I know, but if I am honest – a Sarn Priest is probably quite low down on my intended list of palliative carers”
Ghassan: “The Giant told me – ‘Only when you have given succour to the bird lady and seen her faith passed on will the path to revenge become clear’. So here I am.”
You: “Ah….”
Ghassan: “Any anyway, you might be a tree hugging Ariel…. But if I am honest, I have come to like and respect you.”
You: “why is that?”
…even as Ghassan begins to answer, the vision fades.
===Twoo:===
(For a brief period you feel as though you are very old, your wings are tattered and unable to carry you any further. Your time in this world is coming to an end.)
You are lying on the floor of the cellar now, breathing is difficult but the salve that the Dwarf applied to your chest has eased things a little. A continual light rock on the floor illuminates the dilapidated store room. A few foot away a Dwarf is crouched by a small fire eating some soup or stew from a bowl.
You: “So what will you do next? When I am dead I mean?”
Ghassan (the Dwarf): “Well, I will make sure your remains aren’t eaten by the rats, and then I guess wait for someone or something to pick up your holy symbol. I for one am not touching it!”
You: “But we are in a cellar, in a deserted village that seems to be somewhat dangerous late at night.”
Ghassan: “Exactly, some fools will be around at some point – looking for treasure or the like”
You: “It could be a long long wait.”
Ghassan: “I am patient, I have waited years for my revenge – what will a few more be on the tally.”
You: “It you don’t mind me asking, why does your religion put so much importance upon revenge and retribution?”
Ghassan: “Sorry Swanfeather, I don’t think you are up to a theological discussion, and I don’t want to wear you out on meaningless discussion.”
You: “You are probably right…”
Ghassan: “Is there anything you would have me do, once you are dead?”
You: “Well, if you could…”
…….the vision fades
===Francis===
(For a brief period you feel as though you are very old, your wings are tattered and unable to carry you any further. Your time in this world is coming to an end.)
You are lying on the floor of the cellar now, breathing is difficult but the salve that the Dwarf applied to your chest has eased things a little, even so you are feeling somewhat light headed. A continual light rock on the floor illuminates the dilapidated store room. A few foot away a Dwarf is packing things away in a rucksack.
Ghassan (the Dwarf): “One thing I meant to ask, we are both here because of Saratak – I know why I came, and to be honest he seems to have played fair by me. But you, you seem to have been sent to die here. What were you expected to do and what were your alternatives?”
Your thoughts whirl, but it takes so much concentration to speak. You recall Sarataks words to you “Seek a friend in the East, where undead fear to tread, you will never return, you will never see your clan again….. but they will survive the coming storm”
You: “Find you…..else clan destroyed”
Ghassan: “Who knows what the hell Saratak was up to? Often uncannily accurate, but from what I gathered also prone to some wild imaginings”
You: “Cracks of Doom”
Ghassan: “Yeah, I heard that as well….no wonder he was strange….nobody should walk those roads”
Internally, you can only agree with Ghassan.
You: “Why you not with Ghoulagabba?”
Ghassan: “Those undead worshipping filth! I know some within my Church who have allied with them – stupidly in my opinion. To me, the only use for a zombie is something to play fireball targeting practice with.”
You: “Do not burn me….please”
Ghassan: “We already discussed that, I will follow the ritual you outlined, have no fears on that.”
You: “…”
…….the vision fades
===Umar===
(For a brief period you feel as though you are very old, your wings are tattered and unable to carry you any further. Your time in this world is coming to an end.)
You are lying on the floor of the cellar now, breathing is difficult the salve that the Dwarf applied to your chest must be losing potency as you can feel pains in your chest and you are feeling somewhat light headed. A continual light rock on the floor illuminates the dilapidated store room. A few foot away a Dwarf is seated with his back to the wall sorting out some small caltrops and other tools.
You: “What… doing?”
Ghassan (the Dwarf): “Still with me dear! Well I am just planning to leave a few surprises here, nothing overly hidden or advanced, just something to ensure that anyone passing realises they should come down here.”
You: “Why…”
Ghassan: “Because I need someone to find your Wyldwood symbol to complete the prophecy”
You: “Ahh….”
Ghassan: “Look Swanfeather, I really like you, and to be honest – if I could save you – I would, prophecy be damned. But I can’t and so I must be true to myself and my goals.”
You (grimacing with a chest sparm): “Mmm… I understand.”
Ghassan looks concerned and rises to his feet.
Ghassan: “Do you want something more for the pain?”
You shake your head slowly
Ghassan settles back down.
Ghassan: “Look, I am only applying a strong emetic poison to the caltrops, even if someone is idiotic enough to stand on them they wont come to any lasting harm.”
He mutters to himself, but you do not catch some of his words.
Ghassan: “…I am getting soft as shit…..all because of one old bird lady…a tree hugger at that….been alone too long I guess.”
…another chest pain comes and the vision fades….
===RiffRaff===
(For a brief period you feel as though you are very old, your wings are tattered and unable to carry you any further. Your time in this world is very nearly at an end.)
You	are lying on the floor of the cellar now, breathing is extremely	difficult, the salve that the Dwarf applied to your chest has lost	all potency as your chest feels as though it is on fire.. A	continual light rock on the floor illuminates the dilapidated store	room. You can sense someone moving around nearby – you know it is	your friend – the Sarn Cleric named Ghassan.
Summoning	what little energy remains to you – you speak.
You:	“You can start Ghassan”
Ghassan	(sounding very gruff): “Yeah, yeah, I had kind of realised	Swanfeather.”
For	the next few minutes you hear Ghassan mumbling through the normal	Wyldwood burial chants. He has obviously been rehearsing them, since	even through your pain he manages to get most of the words right.
You	wonder what strange circumstances have led to a Priest of Sarn, god	of destruction and revenge, following the Wyldwood rituals of	resilience and rebirth.
You:	“Goodbye…Ghassan….friend”
…and	all goes black….the vision fades
===Quercuis===
(For a brief period you feel as though you are very old, your wings are tattered and unable to carry you any further you are dying….you are dead...)
Your spirit is free of its mortal remains and you rise up, your body is lying on the floor of the cellar still but not yet cold. A continual light rock on the floor illuminates the dilapidated store room and a Dwarf, someone who you called friend, the Sarn Cleric named Ghassan. Ghassan seems to be crying, obviously upset at your death.
Even as your spirit floats up out of the cellar.
Ghassan: “Lord of Fire and Doom, this Ariel followed her path of duty to her death, we have no quarrel with her, seek no retribution and indeed would call her ally – no matter her misguided personal beliefs. Grant her personal justice – as is your power.”
He bows his head briefly.
Ghassan: “Bloody tree huggers will be the death of me…..time to set the alarms and head off whilst it is still daylight.”
Your spirit leaves the room….
The vision fades….