A Dream of Regret

[The Tattler]

Your character falls into a deep dream, one which will be recorded here.

In this dream they are transported to the time in their life which is filled with the most regret. The dream is cruel and they are forced to relive the moment they regret. Afterwards, the moment begins to replay. At this point, however, your character finds that they are now able to act and make changes in the dream world.

Your character may or may not be aware that it is just a dream, which would allow any person or outcome to occur to them. Does the outcome of their most regretable moment change? If it happened years ago does their mind, more mature, see an option that they hadn't at the time?

What sort of moment is it that filled your character with so much regret? Was it a small, simple mistake that lead to a disasterous outcome or were they purposely deviant, only to lament who they were and what they had done in the past?

[James Owen]

The road was bumpy. The carriage swayed harder on these sorts of roads where the rain had dug grooves into the ground and left large, rambling rocks and dips in the ground. It was the second day of travel and he felt the vibrations of the ride shake the meat around his bones. He found himself staring out the window as though he expected to see something. Or someone.

Perhaps one of the Brothers, of the Widow's Spoon, the town left far behind in his wake. Or Mina, in her tower of sewing where a monster had once been lurking. Where was that monster now? Behind one of those trees, watching him, wondering if come nightfall if he should just be dispatched. The demanding rocking of the road melted into a lullaby which had James asleep, forehead pressed against the window before he knew it.

It was raining, hard, outside. In town people wrapped their arms around themselves tightly to ward off the wetness and the wind that blew it into the eyes. In the harbor the rain sometimes tasted like salt when the wind picked up water from the ocean and mixed it with the downfall. Rogue's tavern sat, perched on waterfront as though it were planning on just drifting away with it like a boat. His leather boots were knee high, buckled tight and kept his feet dry as he marched through rain and puddles to the establishment.

Bruce was there, behind the counter and when he saw James it was a friendly greeting dimmed with disappointment. He stepped up to the bar and drew back his hood, "How is it today, Bruce?"

"Worse," he remarked, polishing down a glass ale mug, "and tomorrow it will be even more so. I just can't..." his voice trailed off and he put the glass up.

"You can't what?"

"I just can't see to understand why you haven't stopped them? They're running out some of the villagers from town by making it too hard to live over there. They're taking over James and I feel like I'm the one that's fighting the good fight for these people, not you."

"You have to catch them properly," James was quick to reply, "You can't just knock down a door and arrest people. You need evidence, witnesses, a part and impartial jury."

"Yea?" Bruce smirked, "Well, while you're doing that we're all dying and drifting away. Face it, James, you're doing this town in."

The carriage rocked and James woke up with a start, his arms wrapped around him tight like that day where people were warding off the rain. He had managed not to think about that day and the conversation with Bruce that drove him out of town. Had they found a new peacekeeper? Bruce had been right, he wasn't getting the job done but still... why was it haunting him?