Jayson's Contact with Dragomir

Jayson does not actually experience any subsequent paragraphs, but he is granted a vision as to what his original host experiences every day. Everyone else in the party has the following paragraphs written on their sheets of paper. Play along as if you had to roll the intelligence check as well. Each 6th visit by Dragomir actually opens up a telepathic link to you, and you may report on your findings to him at that time. This happens daily.

You open your eyes and find that you are in a small room with red brick and mortar walls, no windows adorn any of the four walls, dim light exudes from a single light fixture directly above you, and a single shiny metal door looms directly in front of you with metal rivets outlining the door. Your shoulders, neck, and all joints in your body ache from lack of movement, and your arms are completely asleep. Your entire body is in agony from the multiple slashing wounds that you know are openly weeping, dripping, blood. If only the agony would end.

You painstakingly raise your head up to look up at your bound wrists and know your arms are still intact, but you have long since lost all feeling. In fact you are not sure if your shoulder sockets can handle much more of your weight. You don’t care about your wrists any longer since they no longer hurt. You gaze down at your dangling feet mere inches from the floor, hoping, wishing, that you could just stretch out with your toes to relieve the pressure on your shoulders, but you cannot reach. You no longer have any will to plead for your freedom to your captors.

Agonizingly you lift your head once again to look towards the shiny metal door, and you catch a glimpse of your reflection staring back at you in the semi reflective surface. If only you knew how long you had been hanging from your wrists, if only you knew what he wanted.

[Intelligence check – roll d20 + INT modifier – DC 15]

Every so often the shiny metal door will open, and a non-descript man wearing a hooded robe enters the room to provide minimal food and water. Every sixth time, you are sure it is six times, that the door opens the non-descript man gives way to a regal looking older man wearing an unusual vest. The vest has four chains attached to it, and each chain is attached to a collar that is fastened around four preteen children.

The older man always does the same thing. He approaches you, holds your head in his massive hands, and chants some words that you can never understand or remember. The children always cry out when he says a particular phrase, and they fall to the ground as if weakened. Moments later he appears satisfied and exits the room, half dragging the children behind him. Fitful slumber takes your consciousness once again.