Dreams are often so striking that in between the time you are still asleep and awake, for a few brief moments you are breathing hard and sweating, unsure of which consciousness you are inhabiting. When you come to, your hands may be clenched into fists and the muscles in your legs tight. The imagery of your dreams linger for a few brief seconds, before full awareness takes over, and you try to hold on to the vividness in your mind.

For one woman, much was revealed in those brief moments that would change her life forever.

One night, while enjoying a quiet meal and experiencing some new wine varietals, a friend of mine overheard a table discussing strange stories from Thruldar. It seemed that several truffle hunters had gone out searching deep in the adjacent forest, but all got lost. For three days. When they returned, their accounts were all similar and somewhat chilling. Very strange for three people who didn’t travel with one another.

Led by their instructor, a group of students from the Divination School of Magic in Urmlaspyr head to the Ruins of Starmantle to try to figure out what, if anything, are the leftover objects from the Spellplague. While many have tried—and failed—before, this group will make an interesting discovery.

We have received a composite sketch from the adventuring party of the “pointy eared man” that purchased the Dwarven whiskey recipe from them.

In the meadows east of the plateau that was once old Waterdeep, between the River and South gates, is a road named the Southcliff Way. It’s generally quiet, with only a few side roads coming off to the east, mostly leading to farms. But three months ago, on a warm spring evening, one particular home became a hotbed of activity.

While we want to believe our leaders are more progressive, more civilized, and less corruptible, the subterfuge, deceit, and hunger for power we see today hasn’t changed much over the centuries.

In this week's extra, we take you just south of Silverymoon, outside Everlund, on the Evermoor Way, where a young woman from Yartar is found slumped over in a wagon, 150 feet off the road.

What do you get when you combine new adventurers, kobolds, the last will and testament of a long deceased monarch, and tales of magical dragon eggs?

In this week's extra, we take you to the western seas of Faerun, off the coast of the island of Orill. After going to sleep on a tiny cay with 17 other people, when morning comes, one of them is missing.

Coming out of an old set of ruins, a group of adventures ragged, tired, but happy with their spoils come across a lone man on a horse on the road.

For such a small town with a reputation of being a lovely place to live, to have a series of murders transpire in such a short amount of time, with no answers, has left a permanent scar on the town of Hilp.