For the World is Hollow Dream----The man before you is introduced as "your guide" and you can't help but notice his surprise in the title. He recovers quickly with a shrug and a bow, then makes small talk with you. Where exactly was it you wished to go? How were you intending on getting there? With his help you found your way to where you were going, but not as you intended. As you follow through the dark woods in the wee hours of the morning, suddenly entering into a grungy area filled with doors; your guide binds your weapons and magic, and you join his caravan of living merchandise. Perhaps a thought occurred to you then: for example - 'well shit, or, 'not again'. You are made comfortable. Food and water are readily available, but it is also quite clear you are incapable of leaving. It is hard to mark the passage of time here. The sky never changes. No yellow sun or white moon to mar the dull gray of the air-filled ceiling above. You drift in and out of sleep, seeing that those next to you have been sold. Sure, you're being treated well now, but what happens later? What of the future? Maybe you should have gone with the larger group after all... You roll your head to the side as you hear the "guide", now auctioneer, approaching. He's talking with some new clients. Your spirits lift as you recognize faces in the crowd; your friends are speaking with the man who holds you captive! They stand and talk for a long time, seeming to haggle endlessly; the wait is interminable. After what seems an eternity, two handlers lead you away from the group of slaves, and the binding enchantments are removed from you. You find yourself safe and among people you trust... wandering the halls of a mammoth library, but not unlike any library you've ever seen before. Where are all the books? As you peruse the doors you find strange and wondrous creatures to converse and question. One world-weary man with a long drawl talks of Doors and Keys, and Responsibility. You see a flash of dark horrors in thick combat with creatures of stone, and again you see this man. He holds a Key and speaks of a price. It is not difficult to pay, and it is to your credit as well as the city itself. As you pass beyond the Door with your Earned Key, you come to a dark and soundless place. Innumerable beings mingle about and fade into darkness, leaving a small group of five: one beastial, one warrior, one canny intellectual, one in flowing robes, and one who doesn't quite touch the ground. The five fade into one, and you see other shapes move in the inky darkness. These are not creatures, not born or made by any god in your realms. These are horrors in every sense of the word. And they are hungry. The being of one smiles sadly and stands before yet another door. Your heart rises with hope; you know instinctively that this is The Last Door. The being seems to wink without moving, then flits away. The shadows come closer, forcing you towards this being. The Door stands before you. This is not a door of hard iron, or unyielding stone; this is a door of calm peace. You knock, and name the master of this place. After naming yourself, you turn the Key that you've always had. The Dark Horrors pounce upon you, but this is no longer a place where you can be harmed...but the being still can. You snatch at whom you came to rescue, and the world turns white around your eyes. You feel warm yet safe, like an old friend that has come home and stoked a fire within the hearth. As the light fades your eyes begin to sting. With tears? With cold? Your mind is unsure. As you blink away the other-light you see that the moon has hid Her face in the sky above the glade you've awoken in. You collect yourself, and a shrill wolf howl cuts through the glade. The trees rustle and moan; this is a place far in the wilds of Fae. As you ready yourself, a multitude of creatures spill into the grove, fangs and claws flashing in the moonlight. Boulders are tossed. Chants are raised. As you engage the creatures, the battle continues around you until a Tall Figure steps into the glade declaring an end to the fighting. You stand before it, an Emissary, and you strike a bargain for your safe travels back to home. You return once again to where you have come from, but something is wrong. You hear the mewling cries of an infant child, and the dark chanting of some fel magi. You rush in, swords blazing and spells at the ready, and make short work of everyone around you. When you gaze upon the center of the ritual, though, all that remains is a bloodied swaddling cloth. ---- You awake, chilled to the bone and yet covered in sweat, with the child's cries still ringing in your ears. |
Created by Janna Oakfellow-Pushee at 09-21-12 04:03 PM
Last Modified by Janna Oakfellow-Pushee at 09-21-12 04:03 PM