As you fall asleep resting your head on the soft white fur of DawnMartyr: You see a small troop of men moving together, walking together through some woods. Five or six men almost all in some kind of armor, several with large tower shields and swords some carried staves. The tower shields are painted with the image of a large tree with some stones at the base of it. They seem to be on a steady march, the leader, a man appearing to be in his 50s walks just ahead of the rest of the group. He seems certain in the direction he is going with the others following behind him. Two more with shields just behind him then two people with staves behind them and then another with a shield keeping up the rear. You seem to float behind the group keeping them within your sight. They seem to react to some noise up ahead. You do not hear anything, not only what they are reacting to but you can hear no sound at all. They all rush to behind a small stand of trees. You see towering about the trees a humongous humanoid being. It wades through the trees as if through tall grass, pushing them aside as it walked. A large club resting on its shoulder, It stops, all the members of the small troop seem to hold their breath. It turns looking slowly from one side to the other searching its view for something, maybe something... maybe nothing...

After a few tense seconds the creature continues on its path and the small band come out from their hiding place and begin to move along on their way. They do not seem too shaken up by this. They do not show any particular fear or avoidance of the creature as they choose their path to continue. They simply continue their trudge onwards towards whatever lies ahead of them, towards whatever quest has brought them here.

They continue on till the sun begins to set, they set up a small camp under the shade of a large tree. A few small tents get set up but no fire. A few rations of dried meats and bread come out and they all set down to eat as the older man says a few words over the food before they all start eating. They constantly look over their shoulders as they eat. The older man finishes first and sits leaning up against the tree and opens a small bound book and pulls a quill and a small jar of ink and begins write in the book. There is a rustle in the trees nearby and everyone seems to hold their breath and reach for their weapons.

You wake