[i]Angora's Nightmare written by[/i] [@Dark Jack]

[img]https://i.imgur.com/MMhK4f8.png[/img]

[i]Angora found herself standing on the precipice of a cliff, the jagged rock painful on her naked feet, with an alien landscape before her. The expanse below made no sense, with landscapes seemingly transitioning randomly between all kinds of nonsensical terrain, from frozen, ice-covered wasteland directly to rocky desert, to black depths of briny water and oceans of lazily churning lava, between which could be found lands of everything from broken glass to relatively normal naked rock, which mercifully seemed to form strangely organic pathways past many of the extreme types of terrain. Above the sky was a colossal mess of green, red and black... not clouds, necessarily, but as if this was the nature of the sky itself. These unnatural colours seemed to randomly shift and distort, only to occasionally extend downward in huge, horrifyingly destructive tornadoes that tore the land they passed asunder. Torrents fell from the sky in places, not of rain but of fire, and multicoloured lightning seemed to be constantly spreading its fingers one place or another, frequently crossing the divide between sky and ground to strike with the force to shatter rock.

Things were moving everywhere down there, countless creatures lurking and prowling the hellish landscape, and while some appeared somewhat normal – different creatures of Reniam scuttling about, all if which appeared to be nude – the vast majority were horrid monstrosities of all shapes and sizes. They moved, encountered each other and either immediately started fighting, running from or chasing each other. Even from this distance and past the thunder that only seemed to vary in intensity, but never truly pause, she could hear faint screams of fear and pain, and the roars and shrieks of nightmarish abominations.

Though she could see these things it was not what she was looking at, however. Her gaze fixated upon a spot far, far away, where what seemed to be a small mountain stood with what seemed like a majestic temple-like white structure at its peak, pristine and entirely out of place in the horrid landscape. She could see the place clearly, even from what seemed like a hundred miles away; make out every crack in the mountain, and the unnatural smoothness of the stone that made up the temple. She could count the steps that lead up the mountainside to the building, and make out individual flakes of ash that slowly fell upon it like snow.
Looking upon the temple filled her with fathomless sadness and regret.
The sky above this place, in contrast to everywhere else, was uniform black and entirely devoid of the chaotic, destructive forces that ran rampant everywhere else. Below, however, was an even greater chaos than could be found closer to her. A huge mass of monstrosities, an almost incomprehensible number of them, was clumped together at the base of the mountain in an unparalleled show of murder and violence. Countless were killed every second, only for their bodies to turn to black smoke, and yet countless more flowing to the place from the surrounding lands to join in the slaughter.
Angora felt a grim, seething hatred, anger and bitterness well up inside of her. The slender hands at her side clenched into fists.
Her vision focused yet again, this time on a humanoid-looking figure entirely covered red plate armour, fighting what could best be described as a shapeless black mass of rot, cloth and bones. She looked specifically at the black, rotten one, and felt the hatred grow.

Then, for a heartbeat, she was weightless; she could no longer feel her body, and her vision seemed to stretch and distort in a way that she struggled to relate to anything she had ever experienced before. Weight came back to her as she once again had a body, and suddenly she found that she was somewhere else entirely than she had been an instant ago. Same general composition of her surroundings, but different topology. The ground felt searing hot upon the soles of her feet and the air was blistering. Her eyes were still upon the mountain, however, only now from a different angle, seemingly the opposite side of the mountain. Looking to either side of the foot of the mountain she could still see the outskirts of the horde of creatures murdering each other, but this side of the mountain was, in stark contrast to the other, almost perfectly still and deserted. Almost.
A single figure occupied the area below the mountain on this side. Sitting hunched over on the ground was a tiny being, seemingly humanoid, huddled in a dirty grey hooded robe that seemed much too big for the creature wearing it. The long sleeves hang off its arms, concealing its hands, and the hood fell to hide its face. It could not be more than three feet tall at most, even smaller than a penin. It looked as if it was sleeping.
She looked at it, at the empty area around it and at the battle being fought just on the other side of the mountain, and felt uncomfortable, yet reassured. The sight of this diminutive shape disturbed her deeply.

She was weightless again, her vision warped, and she was back where she had been before, looking down at the battle once again. At the armoured man fighting the rotten black mass. The anger returned, even stronger than before. Then the ground below the battle seemed to give way, and what appeared to be an unbelievably gargantuan serpent made of stone burst forth, its size so immense and the force of its emergence so great that it sent boulders and creatures alike scattering high into the air, being thrown for miles unless they dissolved into black smoke before then.
Her eyes focused past the serpent ascending into the sky, and she watched the black bone-creature darting swiftly up the stairs toward the pristine temple at its peak. Rage gripped her, rapidly blossoming within with a scorching intensity. She just barely got to see the bone-creature reach the top of the stairs before she suddenly shifted, abruptly finding herself no longer far away, but very close; right next to the bone-creature, in fact.
She reached out a hand, feeble, deathly pale and marred with black veins, and jabbed a finger at the creature. She felt something inside her clench every so slightly, and the creature instantly disintegrated into nothing but dust. It felt effortless, as if obliterating this creature was as easy for her as to brush aside a strand of hair.
She paused, only to look up a moment later and see the serpent above her, plummeting toward her from the sky. It was so incredibly immense that its head alone was larger than the mountain she was standing on, with jet-black eyes and a mouth that could swallow entire townships, filled with sharp, jagged tooth-like rocks.
Looking at the serpent with annoyance, her rage somewhat abated, she raised her hand once more and wagged a finger admonishingly at the serpent. She clenched something inside her once more, and the entirety of its colossal head seemed to spontaneously detonate, shattering into chunks of rock, black flesh and blood.

She looked down upon the broken landscape, at all the monstrous creatures assembled before her, and felt nothing but disgust. Then a slow, smouldering anger. Resentment, deep and heartfelt. And past it all, a crushing, all-encompassing sorrow.
“I thought I made myself clear. No one enters the oratory,” she said, her voice not her own, but a booming male voice, strong and authoritative. She waved her hand, clenching once more – still in a way that caused her infinitely tiny strain – and watched the monstrosities below simultaneously dissolve into a mass of quickly dispersing black smoke.
She felt grim, regretful, as if a deep depression was setting in. “No one but me.”[/i]

[hr]

Angora awoke from her nightmare with an ear-piercing scream at the top of her voice. The vision of the dying serpent was burned into her memory, and the voice... by the gods on high, the voice rang still in her head! It was though something had spoken to her very soul, to the core fibre of her being. Her heart pounded in her chest, her breaths were short and rapid, her head felt like a red hot nail was being driven through her skull, whilst her eyes stung from sweat dripping into them, its salty taste on her lips, and an overwhelming wave of nausea began to envelop every fibre of her being. As quickly as she could, Angora untangled herself from the bedsheets, soaked as they were with cold sweat, and tried to stand up, but her body refused to respond, adrenaline overriding any attempt for conscious thought or action. She crumpled into a heap on the floor, cursing loudly and repetitively, whilst frantically searching for something that could aid her in her time of need - a tin bathtub! Over by the window, near the table and chair... yes, the table and chair from last night. Angora scrabbled on her bare hands and knees across the room's wooden floor and threw herself toward the tin vessel, just as the nausea reached her throat. 

Gripping the tub's side tightly with her fists, Angora retched, and then vomited, the wine from the night before staining her emesis a shade of red that, if one were to glance at it hurriedly, one might think were blood. The acrid stench burned her nostrils, whilst its foul taste engulfed her tongue, and her throat burned from the acid's exposure. Angora barely had time to breathe before a fresh wave of biliousness overwhelmed her once more, and she retched again, tears now streaming from her eyes as she vomited again. She broke down into convulsions of coughing, her body wracked with involuntary shakes and tremors from the adrenaline coursing through her veins, her heart still pounding in her chest. After what seemed like an eternity, filled with hacking, choking and spitting what was left of the foul-tasting bile from her mouth, Angora was able to catch what remained of her breath. She sank back onto her haunches whilst she focused entirely on composing herself. She wiped at her eyes with her forearms, ignoring the sharp stinging of sweat, and looked over at the table. A half-full bottle of red stood on it - evidently a survivor of her drinking spree before she'd fallen asleep - and slowly, unsteadily, Angora rose to her feet, and staggered over to the table and its chair nearby. Taking the bottle in one hand, Angora steadied herself with the other as she took a long drink, washing away the awful taste of vomit on her breath and in her mouth, and calming her nerves somewhat.

[i]What in the name... of all of the gods... is happening? What was that... vision?[/i]

No answer was forthcoming from within herself. The voice had faded from her head, and the pain had subsided into a dull throb in her temples, keeping rhythm with her gradually-slowing heartbeat. Angora became acutely aware of her own nakedness - particularly if someone were to come in at this moment - and got to her feet once again, dragging the duvet off of the bed to wrap around herself whilst she finished off the bottle of wine in the chair...