In the D&D Campaign I’m running right now, one of my players is a Warlock in service to the Raven Queen. The Raven Queen had need of an agent in his place and so her power showed him hints at the greater plot. There’s a lot of metaphor wrapped in these, a reflection of both an inability to grasp the plans of a Goddess and the goddess’ unwillingness to be straightforward.
Dreams in Metaphor:
After your Raven returns to you, and you can finally sleep peacefully in the night again, you fall deeply. And you dream: A dragon sits atop a hoard in a vast and hazy cave. The dragon is pitch black of midnight. The hoard screams in torment. You are among the coins. You are a coin. Idly, the dragon breathes its fire upon some chosen coins. They are forged anew. You watch for millennia, in the way of dreams. Any who dare to touch the hoard or hold back the coins are obliterated by the dragon. But slowly over time, one invader is not obliterated. It is small and almost beneath notice. It digs tunnels into the cave, but it does not take coins. You cannot see what it is, but there is power behind its intent. Slowly it is making the walls brittle. Perhaps one day it will think itself a King and try to take the hoard. On that day, the dragon will obliterate it like all the other intruders. You watch from the hoard. Idly the dragon breathes its fire upon you. You awaken to your raven standing over you, examining you curiously.
Dreams of Rewards:
You’re exhausted when you arrive back at your home. You all are. Very few pleasantries are exchanged. Instead it’s straight to bed. Your bed calls you and you know your Raven will have appeared by morning, such is your boon. Sleep is quick to come, as your consciousness fades into the long night.
~~~~
You stand on a perch, a thin golden chain ties you to it. You look down over your wings grooming, setting everything to rights. You are in a small cottage, your home, the place you are tied to, all is well. This is your realm. An old woman sits in an overstuffed chair. She plays with a handful of yapping pups. They will be hounds one day, but she must work them first. She looks to you and smiles. There is no warmth in the upturning of her lips, and yet they bear her favor none-the-less. She bids the pups to silence as she walks over and pets your head gently. The house is silent, but for the sound of a thin scratching. Some mouse in the walls.
“Hmm… when I gave you that plaything, I did not think you would treat it so roughly. But I suppose it can’t be helped, can it?”
You look down and see blood under your talons, images of your destroyed Raven familiar play through your mind and just as quickly disappear. Perhaps you were a bit rough. As you turn your head to better accept the affections of your mistress, you chance to look out the window. A woman of surpassing ugliness stands outside the house, staring at you with hate in her eyes. But she catches sight of your mistress and flees. Your mistress does not notice her. Whether the hateful woman was too fast, or she was nothing for your mistress to take note of is beyond one as simple as yourself.
“The time will be here soon, my pet. My hounds are coming along nicely. And things are progressing well on your end.” She looks at the wall, where you can hear the mouse scratching.
“Keep doing what you are. We will spring our own trap soon enough. But you have been a very good crow, haven’t you? What shall you have for supper then?”
[[The player was given a chance to respond but didn’t get to them by the time we needed to move forward.]]
You sit on your perch, rapt in the attentions of your mistress. Nothing comes to mind, and that she deigns to pay attention to you is reward enough for you.
“Well, it’s no matter. You have things to be about, don’t you?” You mistress dismisses you with a wave of her hand.
Lounge Bear Entertainment 