Where to Begin?

{Spoiler}evo0H3tt1d20+7
Failure. 1s are always a fail for saving throws.

{Spoiler}1d20+5
Failure.

{Spoiler}1d20+3
Failure.

{Spoiler}1d20+1
Success.

{Spoiler}As the liquid hits your stomach, the effect is almost immediate. The pleasing taste seems overshadowed by the sharp pain in your gut. You feel like you need to throw up, and expel the poison. Unfortunately, your stomach seems to be paralysed, and you are unable. The pain continues to grow, and your tongue and the back of your throat go numb. You then start to feel light-headed, and the tent starts to spin slightly. You clench your eyes closed to stop the spinning, and try to maintain consciousness.
1d2
Constitution Damage.

{Spoiler}The world continues to spin as you clench your eyes shut. You slowly try to open them, but the world only spins faster and faster. Your dizziness also increases, to where you find it difficult to remain upright in your chair. You feel yourself swaying, uncontrollably. The pain in your stomach remains, if not intensifying, as you fall from the bench. The fall is great, minutes pass as you plunge into the black. Nothingness surrounds you as you fall. The end is abrupt and painful. Your whole body is wracked with pain when you hit some kind of gelatinous ooze. It is roughly cube shaped, about 8 or 9 feet to a side. Apart from the dull ache, your skin burns as it touches this cube, which surrounds your entire body. Around the cube appears to be a dank dungeon of gray stones and lichen.
You try to shout for help, your cries muffled by the strangely solid ooze. Sound does seem to travel through it, but you are puzzled by the your own words, which are dwarven. Despite your attempts to speak other language, everything comes out dwarven. Perhaps in response to your cries, you do see a human man saunter into the chamber. He is dressed impeccably, and not at all appropriately for the environment. Fear not, my fair and helpless damsel. For you have the honor to be in the presence of the great, noble, and most gallant Sir Adamos Merriweather Lee. He takes a deep bow, and flourishes his garish hat. He too speaks in dwarven, but he speaks with a thick drawl, common in Alitaan. You are in very capable hands, my dear sweet thing. These hands once best the Dust Digger of Oshai. With these feet, I outpaced the the centaur races of the Red Canyon. My eyes were keen enough to spot the lost crystal ball of the Anduimun....... As he continues his absurd list of accomplishments, you can feel the acids of the cube beginning to burn through your skin and clothing. You interrupt him and with a shocked look upon his face he replies Dear girl, it is rude to interrupt. I will excuse it this once, a tribute to my gallantry. He deftly draws a rapier from his hip, and stabs into the cube. The stroke has little effect, except to pierce your thigh. You scream in pain as the wound quickly fills with burning ooze. Well....that did not seem as useful as I had hoped. But there is no reason for you to cry, you shall be free soon. He starts to circle the cube, prattling on about various accomplishments of him and his merry companions, occasionally stabbing the cube. A few of his thrusts catch you, for which he offers no apology. In the end, his sword strikes a bottle on your belt, breaking it. The combined effect of the use and your bomb fluid cause a great fire, consuming the ooze. You are burned as well, but are happy to be free. The fop rushes to your side, lifting you in his arms. I told you that my heroism would be enough to break any bonds. He smiles, and leans in to kiss you. He stops when he hears a rumble from behind you.
He quickly drops you into the puddle of burnt ooze, and turns to run away. From out of the corner of the room a shadow springs forward, it reaches for Sir Lee. NOT ME! TAKE H- A shadowy tendril deftly twists the knight's head and he is cut off with a sickening crack. What an asshole. You hear a rough, gravelly voice from the darkness. You, however, would make excellent sport. Glowing red eyes seem to leer at you from the wall. You struggle to your feet, hoping to run, when a shadow tendril swings out striking you on the shoulder. You hear a snap, and blinding pain remains in your shoulder as you fly across the room. You cannot see the attacker, but you can feel its presence looming over you, getting closer. With your good arm, you try to reach a weapon, a sword or bomb or an extract, anything.
Suddenly, a path opens in the wall, flooding the room with light. The shadow screams, an oddly feminine scream, and you bolt for the opening. As you enter the light, your eyes immdiately adjust and you can see benches, with rows and rows of people sitting and eating at tables. Before you can think about where you are, you trip over a halfling who has hands full of dishes. Damnit! Tall bully.

{Spoiler}You feel yourself steady, somewhat. You open your eyes and see the world as you remember it. The feeling is slowly returning to your tongue and throat. You try to speak, but the words come out as some form of gibberish. You try to speak again, but it is more gibberish. It is strange, you look beside you, where Darvan was sitting and instead of Darvan, you see a different man. His is dressed for war, in the livery of your family. He raises his tankard to you, greeting you. You presume it is a greeting, it is in the same gibberish language that comes out when you try to speak. You look at the rest of the party, which is gone. All around you are tables, not filled with half-drunk revellers, but with soldiers, all of whom are dressed in your family's colors. Your sigil flies on banners hanging from the tent poles. You look down at your food, which has been replaced by a battleax. It is beautifully made, its adamantine edge is spotless, but as you look at it you see shapes move in its polished surface. Looking closer, you see that the shapes are reflections of countless battles. You see yourself, cleaving your enemies, watching as they flee before you. Trolls and Gnolls, Giants and Goblins, Elves and Humans as well, all fall to you.
You become startled somewhat by a rumbling sound. It is a strange but somehow familiar sound. Like thunder from a distance, or a great cat purring. You are not the only one to notice the sound, the soldiers sitting at the infinite tables stand up, as one they turn to you. You look down at your clothes, they too seem to have been replaced. As you look down, you find that you are seated atop a great warhorse, both you and the beast are dressed in a shining suit of mithral plate. Your sigil emblazoned on your breastplate, wreathed in gold and precious gems, you realize it is not reflecting light, but the sigil glows brightly. The rumbling grows louder, closer. You look up to the men gathered, the tent and tables are suddenly gone. Your men stand ready, in battle formation. You look in their eyes and see a fierce determination, an iron will. They grip their weapons tight and look toward the horizon, toward the rumbling sound. You follow their gaze. Far off black clouds gather and drift toward the afternoon sun. Below the clouds, but moving with them, is a charging horde of Centaur. Their faces are deformed and misshapen. Their usually graceful bodies are seem to be lumbering in a frantic charge. As they get closer and closer the the rumbling gets louder, the sound of their hooves. Their line seems to stretch beyond sight in either direction. You give the order "Qdsygfje!!" Your men charge. As your men meet the centaur, a great wind blows both sides apart. In the middle of the immense battlefield, a great reptile stands. It shines like the sun, and it is difficult to look directly at it. The Gargantuan creature roars, and all of your men drop to their knees bowing to the creature. From atop the creature, a figure drops to the ground. It glows bright but appears to be in the shape of a man. He turns to the disfigured centaur and claps his hands once. With that, the black clouds above scatter and the centaur no longer appear disfigured. The Centaur bow then bow to the great beast.
The man then turns to you. You cannot make out his features as he walks toward you. You struggle, staring into the bright light hoping to see his face. You do not know how, but you are sure you know that it is a man, even though you do not know who he is, he seems somehow familiar. An elf, possibly a half-elf, you are not sure. The figure then speaks and you understand "Would have been better to not let it get this far". You try to ask him what that means. "I don't know. I don't speak Dwarven, but I think it means you shouldn't drink fermented mushrooms" Darvan replies. You are startled to find yourself back in the Staggering Stonemason tent. You look around to see the party looking at you and Ravna, with concern. It felt like you have been away for hours, maybe longer. Your food is still hot, steam rises from your chili, so only a few minutes have passed. The sharp pain in your gut has been reduced to a dull ache.

{Spoiler}Both Ravna and Rothgar looked flushed in the face. Sweat beads on their foreheads, and starts to run in rivers down their faces. Both open their eyes, but they are not focusing on anything in particular. They also begin to babble incoherently, speaking in a strange language. Rothgar begins to puff out his chest as he mumbles, but Ravna's eyes quickly dart back and forth in obvious panic. A wannabe down the bench laughs Never ceases to amaze me. Dude tells his customers that it is poison, and idiots still queue up to pay him for the privilege of drinking it. She don't look like she is enjoying it too much. Sounds like something is chasing her, you might wanna get anything sharp out of reach before she wakes up. Someone asks if the wannabe can understand them, he says yes. Thats Dwarf they're speaking. Weird side effect of the poison. After a couple of minutes Rothgar seems to come out of it, and grabs Darvan by the shoulders and frantically asks What the hell is that supposed to mean?. I don't know. I don't speak Dwarven, but I think it means you shouldn't drink fermented mushrooms Darvan replies. A minute later, Ravna screams and jumps from the bench. She runs away heedlessly. She trips over a halfling bussing tables, screaming in Dwarven. She is panicked for several minutes after the incident, but eventually is able to calm down.

{Spoiler}In your dreams, you are chased and hounded by shadows. No matter how far or fast you run they catch you and overpower you. Each time you awaken before a killing blow is struck. You then drift off again, and are chased by a different shadow. In the morning as you prepare, you are unnerved by a constant feeling that you are being watched, that you need to flee from the shadows cast by others. Any shadow could be one of the creatures.

{Spoiler}In your dream, you relive the hallucination. This time instead of gibberish (which you have since discovered was dwarven) you speak your own tongue. In your dreams however, you return home after the battle. The house you grew up in is rebuilt. As you approach you see your children playing in the fields or tending to flocks of sheep. Your wife greets you with a smile, as you embrace, you wake up in the small uncomfortable bed your rented in Cold Lake. The morning sun peeks through the window.

{Spoiler}
1 point of Constitution damage was healed overnight, leaving 1 point this morning
Ravna ZznRH9aV1d20+6
Fail
Rothgar 1d20+4
Succeed. Rothgar spends the morning powering through the pain in his gut and focusing intently on preparing to leave. By the time he meets with the rest of the party, the pain in his stomach is just the slightest whisper, and the hallucinations seem to be gone as well.

{Spoiler}
Constitution Damage
1d2
The poison remains in your system. You spend your morning in increasing pain. Occasionally, while packing, you find yourself in conversations with people who do not actually exist. You see elements of yesterday's hallucination all over. Shadows seem to move independent of their owners. You ooze flowing in gutters. On more than one occasion you see Sir Adamos Merriweather Lee in a crowd, or hear his voice whispering nonsense in your ear.
Once an hour, you will make a Will save, failure means you will be under the effect of Confusion, except that you will not hurt yourself. Outside of Combat, anytime you 'attack nearest creature' the attack automatically misses. In combat, such a roll will be resolved normally. This effect will last for about 12 hours, at which point you will need to make another save vs the poison.