You dream of Caramus.

The room is dark nearly pitch black. Caramus stands with another man. The man is tall, taller than Caramus and thin, almost skeletal. The most striking things about the stranger are his eyes, which glow and flicker with malevolent magic, and the cloak he wears. The cloak is black as pitch and seems to flutter and change shape and size, as if blown by an imaginary wind.

A pair of flesheaters enter the room dragging a woman. She is attractive, blonde, with firm youthful breasts, and deep blue eyes. Caramus says something, then touches her forehead. He then waves his hand and the room lights up. She looks at Caramus and runs to him kissing him. Soon his pants are off and she is bent over. He penetrates her and she groans in ecstasy. The skeletal man walks to the woman's head. He takes a finger, one which is far too long for a human and capped in a pointy black nail, and slides it under her chin. She smiles at him.

"There is no need to cloak us in illusion, Caramus. It is far sweeter when they know and are not so charmed."

Caramus merely grunts in response. He then groans and comes. The blond screams. The color drains from her eyes leaving them a milky white. She falls to the ground in a crumpled heap. Her body twitches and changes. Her breasts shrink and hair begins to fall out. She grows thin, skeletal like the cloaked man. Her nails grow and sharpen becoming milky white claws. The thing that had been a woman moments ago stands up.

She rasps with desiccated vocal cords, in a voice which no longer sounds human,"How may I serve, master?"

Caramus frowns and responds,"Go with the others."

The newly born flesheater smiles a fanged grin and sauters out of the room.

You awaken to Arielle shaking you.

"Priestess, it is your watch."

Your watch is uneventful and you admire the rising sun.

You group sets out the next day crossing the mountain on a surprisingly well traveled trail. You top the mountain and look down upon the vale a bit before sundown. Ahead, below you you see a strange basalt citadel, an encampment of Orcs, and an odd monastery. The sight of the black spired monastery fills you with peace.