Uusi's Dream

You are riding on the back of Lilith, the serpentine, draconic spirit that currently calls your soul home. You're flying above a sea of sinister purple trees. They're clearly infested with Blight, but somehow they still hang on to their poisonous violet leaves. From your vantage you can see the sickness spreading beyond the borders of the Fey Glen. Black tendrils snake through untouched forests, claiming new territory for the Court of Thorns. You look down and see a large, spindly creature speeding through the woods on all-fours.

You're now below the canopy where you can see a familiar half-elf wearing sleek, stony armor, running from the creature as fast as her suit can propel her. Sandrene looks back to the grotesquely lanky Fey, its face concealed by an expressionless wooden board and gaining on her quickly. She vaults across a boulder as she calls out into the fanged trees: "Now!"

Suddenly, three gremlings jump up from the forest floor, carrying jagged metal plates with crude runes etched onto them. They point themselves at the Fey, who starts shrieking, thrashing and shapeshifting rapidly. It transforms into a bird, then a boar, then a troll and then a boggle before finally settling on the form of a small white-and-black kobold wearing purple robes and a wide-brimmed hat. The gremlings converge on her, but a voice from behind distracts you before you can see what happens next.

"Peeping Tom. Peeping Tom. Peeping Tom!" Says the voice, rising in both volume and pitch as the fingers of a giant jester emerge from the soil around you and enclose you in a fist. You are dragged downward, deep underground.
The next thing you see is a cave of brilliant purple crystals. They illuminate a stone catchbasin at the center of the chamber shaped like an open tulip. There is something inside the basin, and you're compelled to approach. Directly above is the largest feature of the room: an immensely tall crystal stalactite with purple fluid congealing on its surface and running down to the tip. Drop after drop descends onto a puppet in the likeness of Tor, floating in the indigo liquid that fills the stone bowl.

Drip, drip, drip, drip. The liquid overflows the basin while the hinged face of the fabric firbolg studies the runes on the stalactite blankly.

You wake up.