In the D&D campaign I’m running right now, my players were recently tormented by a Night Hag in service to the BBEG. This meant their dreams were haunted by horrific, but specific, scenes. Below are the scenes for my party members. (Be aware, these are violent).
The unsure Paladin of the Oath of Conquest:
You’re exhausted when you arrive back at your home. You all are. Very few pleasantries are exchanged. Instead it’s straight to bed. Sleep is quick to come, as your consciousness fades into the long night.
~~~~
You stand on a podium, a noose around your neck. Around you the crowd jeers and reviles. On a bench, uplifted above the others, a resplendent man looks upon you with pity.
“We will catch your brother in time, I’m sure. You could have been such an asset and yet you chose this life. What say you people? Should this pathetic criminal face justice?”
The faces of the crowd are hazy as they shout for your blood. You hear in them the voices of every stall owner you stole from, every criminal you tried to double-cross, every home you were denied.
The resplendent man looks upon you and smiles. “You who would conquer… you who would see your legacy restored… and yet here you stand. Do you think I put this noose around your neck? No. You did this to yourself.”
Your mind is as hazy as the faces of those who accuse you. He may have the right of it. You cannot recall the hands that fastened the noose. Behind you, the fields of wheat burn. Their fire casting a dire light upon the whole grim scene.
The man points down at your hands “Even now, you have the power, the will to emerge triumphant. But you lack direction.” Following his gaze you see that your sword is in your hand. A thing of blackness almost alive, and yet it feels right in your hand. In the other hand, the hangman’s lever, ready to deliver true justice. The man speaks again, closer this time- “You wish to conquer? You wish to see those who oppose you driven before you? I would see you do those things.”
He gestures grandly at the gibbering crowd. They still howl mindlessly for your blood, they either cannot hear the man or do not care to hear his words of succor. They want only to bleed you dry. To take from you until you are nothing but a husk.
“You wish to conquer? Then conquer! Cut them down and show all who oppose you what fruits their labors will win them!” He grins at you with rows of perfect teeth. He places a hand onto your hand holding the lever, “Would you simper at the sight of them? Flee with your tail twixt your legs? Or become more glorious than their minds can know?”
The time is now to make your choice… what will it be?
[[The player declines to join the man’s forces]]
The man frowns, disappointed more than angry. With a strength you could never hope to oppose he pulls the lever. Though you swing you cannot beat gravity. You nick the rope as the sword leaps from your hand, denying you as you denied its master. The shock is short and sharp, but you do not die. Your limbs are useless, as your toes barely brush the ground. Try as you might, you cannot find purchase. The bloodthirsty crowd lets out a cheer as you dangle. And then they rush forward. It’s not enough, not enough of your blood. They charge you as you gasp for air. When the first set of teeth pierces your flesh, it is as though you’ve discovered pain anew.
You cannot fathom the hours you spend being rent limb from limb. It is agonizingly slow as you are bitten, chewed, and mangled. Your breath barely exists. Your heart barely beats. You suck in to draw your last breath…
And wake to find a beam of sunlight piercing through to your bed. You are covered in cold sweat and your sheets are in mess. It feels as though you have just barely laid down in your bed. Your mind screams at the nightmares that thrashed you through the night.
You have found no rest this night. Do not take the effects of a long rest.
The ever-talkative Bard:
You’re exhausted when you arrive back at your home. You all are. Very few pleasantries are exchanged. Instead it’s straight to bed. Sleep is quick to come, as your consciousness fades into the long night.
~~~~
You sit in chains in a dungeon beneath a mountain of stone. You lips have been cut, sliced over and over. The blood from the cut between your nose and lips has finally dried. Your fingers are mauled and broken. You have no idea how long you have sat in this dungeon. Only that your days are pain. A lifetime of days passes in this place as you are beaten, cut, flayed, and tormented. You do not die, for that is not your tormentor’s wish. But you also know no reprieve.
But this day, this day is different… there is someone else here with your tormentor. A resplendent man who walks among the filth of the dungeon as though walking in a garden. Your tormentor bows and scrapes and you know that you are looking upon the master. The master lifts your ruined face and examines it as one might a poor mistreated child.
“Such a pity, your brothers sacrifice come to naught. He thought to free you, and got only that for his trouble”. You struggle not to look at the head of your brother, rotting away on a spike opposite the room from you. Its eyes bore into you, telling you of the guilt you should feel.
“I have little use for you, and yet I am a magnanimous lord. Let it not be said that I do not welcome all who supplicate themselves into my grace.” He runs a hand over your lips and your ruined face heals. Your lips open and close, your have voice to speak. Your tormentor smiles a wide, joyful, toothy grin that bears you no love. He had long since lost the privilege of hurting you there and the joy at having said privilege returned is plain to see.
The man pays him no mind and looks only at you- “Sing me words of praise. Sing your song of my glory and grace. If you will be my herald then there will be a place for you beside me.”
He removes his hand and stands to his full height. He is glorious in his resplendence, blinding you to all else, even as he stands amidst the blood and offal that your never-ending torment has spilt.
Words of Praise come unbidden to your mind. You know the songs that would exalt this man. You know them well. You have but to voice them-
The time to raise your voice is now. But what will you sing?
[[The player bites his tongue in the face of the man]]
The man looks at you in disappointed disgust as blood trickles down your chin. He scoffs and leaves without further comment, your presence forgotten before he’s even turned his head. Your torturer however giggles with glee. The pry bar pulls your jaw apart. The tongs pull the rest of your tongue. The hours while away with only his macabre giggling and the sound of careful incisions to listen to. You cannot say how long your torment lasts. It does not stop with your face. It never stops. It never stops.
Until finally you wake to find a beam of sunlight piercing through to your bed. You are covered in cold sweat and your sheets are in mess. It feels as though you have just barely laid down in your bed. Your mind screams at the nightmares that thrashed you through the night.
You have found no rest this night. Do not take the effects of a long rest.
The spoken for Warlock:
Exhausted from your encounter with those… things… in the woods, you fall onto your bed, ready to sleep. Before you can though, your Raven demands the window be opened. It flies out immediately and leaves your consciousness. Too tired to worry over it further you collapse as sleep swiftly overtakes you.
~~~~
The first thing you note is how dry your mouth is. The rest takes a moment. You find yourself chained, in the way of dreams you cannot tell what you are chained to, only that you are naked and dangling by your chained arms. You dangle over a vast ocean of misty gray… something. You try to look above you or behind you and it only causes pain. You can only look ahead and below. There is a familiar energy to this sea. It feels at once familiar and foreboding. You have touched this sea, but only with trepidation… and never in this quantity. This sea is alive. It’s waves lap at your heels and wherever they touch, there is pain. Sometimes quick, sometimes long. Occasionally your chains give way and your legs are submerged. The pain is greater then. But then you are pulled back up, to await your next torment.
Your arms ache, you can’t say how long you’ve been held here, but your sockets feel like they’re going to tear apart. Finally after Raven Queen knows how long, a face emerges from the sea. An old woman appears, haggard, cruel; bent and broken. She sits atop the sea of roiling energy and lets its waves lick over her. She places a hand playfully in the water as she regards you with a mixture of hunger and cruel glee.
“Your barmy old cunt ain’t watchin’ you tonight, is she, little morsel?” She rasps at you. A mad grin curling her lips.
“I get to play with you a bit. Supposed to see if’n you lot’ll be turned but you ain’t got no soul to sell, ‘ave ya now?” She spits to the side. Steam rises from the roiling energy where she does.
“No quarter says Master, so no quarter. Which means I get to ‘ave me fun.”
The old hag dips a hand into the water and throws it at your chest. It burns; your naked chest steams. The hag laughs. A tilt to her head, a slight shift in her grin tells you that she is disappointed in the reaction. Perhaps you did not hurt as much as she liked.
Her smile tells you she has a remedy for that problem.
She takes her time flaying the skin from your body with sharp talons. She takes your eyes, pouring roiling sea ‘water’ into the sockets. She delights in every scream and every grunt. You cannot say how long the torment lasts, but eventually she looks off to the sky.
“Time’s up my deary. We’ll have to do this again. Remember- every eye closes. Even hers.”
She slowly presses her clawed hand into your chest. You feel her fingers closing around your heart, squeezing… squeezing.
~~~
You awake in a cold sweat. Your chest still pains you, but only in the way a dreamed wound pains upon waking.
Lounge Bear Entertainment 