wrathlead
LeeRoy
OhmSkallagrim peered at the man who had made a plea. Even now a hundred, a thousand, tens of thousands of Dreamers studied the man. All reached back into the depths of their dreams. Each pulling parts of the reality recorded for world this man had just come. Deep in the darkest reaches of space, a collective gasp escaped the Dreamers.
The Cughtagh, the Walker between Worlds, the Dreaming champion started from his seat. A nimbus of energy arced and surged around his form, white noise filled the nexus as thousands of Dreamers spoke at once.
“Silence . . . let me show this man. He deserves to understand some of what has happened.”
Another Dreamer, tall and dressed in midnight blue robes shimmered into view, harsh green energy danced around the woman, for that was the impression the figure gave, a woman of power. Casting her gaze upon Metz she spoke in a harsh language, her pitch rising until another form appeared. A woman in deep black, crimson energy surrounded her hands and head. A bone white staff she held tightly. The energy emanating from the woman was immense, humbling, frightening.
Several voices spoke at once in the Nexus as many people slowly dropped to a knee, for the Dreaming Queen had arrived. The woman glared at the Queen, her voice rising again, but it was clear that the Queen was winning the argument until finally the woman shaking her head left. Before she did, she pointed to Metz, eyes blazing, “Be careful what you ask!” Then she vanished.
The Dreaming Queen touched the butt of her staff to the throne and a surge of energy raced outward in a wave of pressure and light. Everyone witnessed a fragment of the Dreamers memories unfolding.
A stirring in the vast darkness that consumed Ghoukas alerted him. Thick rubbery lips split wide as wicked teeth jutted from the massive jaws in a hideous eruption of laughter. A serpentine tongue darted and lashed the air; tasting, no savoring the sweet mixture of Felenr’s pure atmosphere and mana.
Rising swiftly, the Lord of Nightmares snatched his great sword, as he did so he spun around, gathering energy to himself like a dark cloud, then dropped to a knee, thrusting the black blade deep into the earth. The sword shattered and shifted the earth, polluting it with the Dread Lord’s vileness, concentrating a moment before the image of Skallagrim appeared, the Cughtagh riding hard through the strands of the multiverse. Standing slowly as he withdrew the sword, Ghoukas snarled, casting his gaze skyward, “I am coming for you . . .”
Turning, his cloven hooves echoing strangely, the dark bulk yanked the chains that bound the three blind creatures to him, “Sing me a dirge . . . sing for the death of heaven, sing for the death of this world.” Before the three could respond, hellish winds whipped and curled around them, raising a massive howl as across the world in the nightmares of the people, a ripple of fear exploded outward, the hatred that drove the great lord would consume the hope of those who still believed in their Order.
Inhaling, a curl of smoke roiling away from his nostrils, Ghoukas extended his reach through the world, feeding upon the fear and discord his presence had created, “Yes! Give me this energy; this mana, so I may rend open the gates to the Nexus.”
A moment later as He Who Should Not Be felt the tugging at his consciousness, he knew his Forgotten would come and the final battle would begin. Peering at the three fate tellers, the miasma of light in his eyes shifted to a deep crimson, yanking the chain gently. Slowly the three stood, their melodious voices carrying a dour and lonesome tone.
Using his vast powers, Ghoukas wrapped dismal tendrils around the nightmare realm, stabbing through the opening to infuse the opposite side with his presence. As the land of Felenr surged to fend off his powers, He Who Should Not Be, redoubled his efforts until he felt the life leave the land, leave the people. This world was weakening; it would finally succumb to the nightmares and the Forgotten as they prepared for war. In his glee the Lord of Nightmares felt a familiar presence, a malevolent grin spread across the monster’s visage, “Sister . . . Sister . . . I am coming, we have some matters to settle.”
Silence filled the Nexus as the Dreaming Queen looked at Metz, her voice strange, musical; not the hiss that the other Dreamers had. “This is who is draining your world. He is not done though; he cannot consume so much energy, not yet. He seeks to bring back his followers, to feed upon the dying world you call home. To suck the marrow from its bones as he prepares for war against the Dreamers.”
The Cughtagh, the Walker between Worlds, the Dreaming champion started from his seat. A nimbus of energy arced and surged around his form, white noise filled the nexus as thousands of Dreamers spoke at once.
“Silence . . . let me show this man. He deserves to understand some of what has happened.”
Another Dreamer, tall and dressed in midnight blue robes shimmered into view, harsh green energy danced around the woman, for that was the impression the figure gave, a woman of power. Casting her gaze upon Metz she spoke in a harsh language, her pitch rising until another form appeared. A woman in deep black, crimson energy surrounded her hands and head. A bone white staff she held tightly. The energy emanating from the woman was immense, humbling, frightening.
Several voices spoke at once in the Nexus as many people slowly dropped to a knee, for the Dreaming Queen had arrived. The woman glared at the Queen, her voice rising again, but it was clear that the Queen was winning the argument until finally the woman shaking her head left. Before she did, she pointed to Metz, eyes blazing, “Be careful what you ask!” Then she vanished.
The Dreaming Queen touched the butt of her staff to the throne and a surge of energy raced outward in a wave of pressure and light. Everyone witnessed a fragment of the Dreamers memories unfolding.
A stirring in the vast darkness that consumed Ghoukas alerted him. Thick rubbery lips split wide as wicked teeth jutted from the massive jaws in a hideous eruption of laughter. A serpentine tongue darted and lashed the air; tasting, no savoring the sweet mixture of Felenr’s pure atmosphere and mana.
Rising swiftly, the Lord of Nightmares snatched his great sword, as he did so he spun around, gathering energy to himself like a dark cloud, then dropped to a knee, thrusting the black blade deep into the earth. The sword shattered and shifted the earth, polluting it with the Dread Lord’s vileness, concentrating a moment before the image of Skallagrim appeared, the Cughtagh riding hard through the strands of the multiverse. Standing slowly as he withdrew the sword, Ghoukas snarled, casting his gaze skyward, “I am coming for you . . .”
Turning, his cloven hooves echoing strangely, the dark bulk yanked the chains that bound the three blind creatures to him, “Sing me a dirge . . . sing for the death of heaven, sing for the death of this world.” Before the three could respond, hellish winds whipped and curled around them, raising a massive howl as across the world in the nightmares of the people, a ripple of fear exploded outward, the hatred that drove the great lord would consume the hope of those who still believed in their Order.
Inhaling, a curl of smoke roiling away from his nostrils, Ghoukas extended his reach through the world, feeding upon the fear and discord his presence had created, “Yes! Give me this energy; this mana, so I may rend open the gates to the Nexus.”
A moment later as He Who Should Not Be felt the tugging at his consciousness, he knew his Forgotten would come and the final battle would begin. Peering at the three fate tellers, the miasma of light in his eyes shifted to a deep crimson, yanking the chain gently. Slowly the three stood, their melodious voices carrying a dour and lonesome tone.
Using his vast powers, Ghoukas wrapped dismal tendrils around the nightmare realm, stabbing through the opening to infuse the opposite side with his presence. As the land of Felenr surged to fend off his powers, He Who Should Not Be, redoubled his efforts until he felt the life leave the land, leave the people. This world was weakening; it would finally succumb to the nightmares and the Forgotten as they prepared for war. In his glee the Lord of Nightmares felt a familiar presence, a malevolent grin spread across the monster’s visage, “Sister . . . Sister . . . I am coming, we have some matters to settle.”
Silence filled the Nexus as the Dreaming Queen looked at Metz, her voice strange, musical; not the hiss that the other Dreamers had. “This is who is draining your world. He is not done though; he cannot consume so much energy, not yet. He seeks to bring back his followers, to feed upon the dying world you call home. To suck the marrow from its bones as he prepares for war against the Dreamers.”