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The Rambling Litany of Saint Jove of the Hermitage
We awoke from the most hideous nightmare into another nightmare today. I just knew it were gonna be one of those bad, crummy days, where you start out by failing to wake up from a bad dream--ye just dream that ye hath been woke, only to realize you keep on dreaming bad, bad stuff...
After breaking free of the cells we awoke in, we made quick work of sondry suspicious bystanders suchs as I'd sniffed the stink o' evil on. It was me, Saint Jove of the Hermitage, the one who writes these very words; Firestarter the Sarcastic; Flintstone Lightdrinker; Monocles, with his mighty Earth breaker; Reiki the half-ogre and his pet, Chuckles; and Calisthenics, who is apparently some kind of swamp elf wizard...
It seems the gods may be trying to tell us something with the strange dreams we woke up from today, yet even now, my memory of them doth wither like the grass in winter. My mind, my damned, accursed, flawed mind... I know I be mad, and I try best as I can to understand it myself, but if I could only recall that crummy dream... something about choices--directions, and options changing ominously, a yellow fog, a withered and inhuman monster hiding in the fog... This is the part that becomes to painful, apparently. My mind, my weak, wimpy mind has covered it up for me, it seems.
So now we're still trying to suss out our confusing situation. Unfortunately, my companions seem to have minds just as foggy and befuddled as mine own at the nonce. I pray to what gods will deign to hear my humble plea that we can make some sense of it all, in time to make a difference against... whatever the dreams tried to warn us of.