A1Ch0(I) Mist Chances

[Charon23]

- reserved for index

[Charon23]

The worries of the day filter through a montage of images and stories.
The dream elements collide and warp as if their maker was far too busy or distracted to maintain a singular thought. The sneak encountered in an alley wears the face of a cousin. Walls flicker and shift arbitrarily. The voice of the nobleman is wrong somehow. Nothing is stable here. Nothing truly matters.

The actors fade away unceremoniously only to be replaced by an empty stage. An empty mind. Darkness. A sensation of space shifting feels like a mild earthquake and a rumbling noise is heard. Do ears pop in a dream? Darkness is replaced by a radiating light--Like an ember that pulsates as it is stoked by the wind. 'Air', or whatever passes for it, presses evenly against the 'skin'. There is no body to be seen but it feels just the same. And now it half walks, half swims, through a void of dim light. There is no breath, but there is life, and you feel an energy as a presence in your body.

Details bloom, first as fuzzy shapes in the distance and then as blobs in the foreground. A landscape of feral grasses and coarse roads is dominated by a rusty-brown sky. As an unnatural wind blows the dust and grass ripple in and out of solidity. The noises of wind and crunching feet on gravel bubble forth,
distorted heavily by the ebb and flow of the dream.

Three figures wrapped in brown cloaks walk away from you, one beside the next. You stand at a literal cross-roads as two winding highways intersect. Far ahead, in the direction of the figures, is a rolling hill that extends into a haze of brown light at the foreshortened horizon. To either side are towers and parapets but the details of these refuse to resolve themselves. Behind you some hundred feet is a stand of unnatural trees, with branches that should not hold together such as they are.

[PH7]

Solomon

*...And all the world's a stage. That's what she said, and so it is. Light...darkness...greyness. Are you there, Cullam? Are you watching? Or are you one of them? You bastard, I cannot trust you. The browncloaks, they are walking away...
A crossroads. But I've always taken my own path. No. Liar. I lie. I've been led. But I say it's been my own choice. A lie. Why do I lie to myself? I know me. I take the middle road. I always take the middle road.
The towers. Part of a castle perhaps. Will I be safe there? The wilderness behind me. It creeps. It comes closer. The trees, they are not my allies. There is no society in the wilds. Only you. Only me. Nothing but shadows, yet nowhere to hide. The branches. They reach out. They tangle. The past tangles. The past holds. Only in the future is there freedom. The trees scare me. I must leave them behind me.
I walk. I take the middle road...*

[Charon23]

Typically I would not roll these openly or even at all depending on circumstances. In this case I'm making an exception due to the especially-arbitrary nature of the current setting.
Will [roll0]
Wisdom [roll1]
Charisma [roll2]
Survival [roll3]

[Charon23]

The trees quiver and dissolve into a dim gloaming backdrop behind you. Less a visual confirmation than a knowing. A pure idea. It was there and now it is not. It is far away if it ever existed at all. As they do so the grasses grate together, shifting with menacing tendrils and long shadows. This abates and soon it is made soft turf. You feel yourself drawn forward along the path. Half a sense of walking and half unadulterated willpower. The role of looming threat is replaced by the three individuals you now walk beside. They are no taller but they may as well each represent an impassible obstruction. A tower of judgement. They say nothing, nor do they look to you. Another array of ideas is conjured. 'You are too weak to pass us.' 'You are too insignificant to warrant further consideration.' 'Bow or be extinguished.'

[PH7]

Solomon

*They said it. They say it. It is true, I've always known. I am weak. Too weak. They loom over me, always above me. I know, I accept. I will bow. I must, lest I am extinguished. I do not want that. I will bow. I bow.

I bow? No. "No." I say it. They will know. They seek to judge me? Who are they to do so? Who is anyone to do so? They think I am as another. That I want to walk the same paths. I do not seek to pass, I wish to stand. I do not want to be considered, I want to consider. Non-existence? If I yield, it is death by another name. Different path, same destination. My choice or another's? Maybe mine, maybe another's. Maybe some of both. Not theirs, that I know. Never theirs.*

[Charon23]

Will [roll0]
Wisdom [roll1]
Charisma [roll2]
Survival [roll3]

[Charon23]

The now singular figure rages against your rejection. A sensation of wrestling bodies. A fight for dominance. Or survival. A stalemate is reached and the faceless humanoid slips away. Or rather, changes once again. For now it is a mirrored portal into its soul, hovering above the path before you. Within is a room of dull grays and blues with its true self huddled within. It is a sign of its vulnerability--A means to vanquish it as it licks its proverbial wounds. Or it is a most dangerous trap. One or the other is certain. An alien wind whips up causing blurred lines of vision. Its strength only increases as it awaits your decision.

[PH7]

Solomon

*My rage and hatred are as strong as before. But not at it, for what would be the point? The struggle, it is meaningless. And yet, it is everything. And then a weakness is revealed. A breaking point. Who would strike now to kill? All, most, some or none? I am none, I am all.
Who would fear a trap? I am some, I am most. The wind, it tears. And what of it?
Even if it is not a trap, I seek not to kill. Not to extinguish. Not to severe all ties. I seek change. I move in. Not to strike,
but to hold. Not to kill, but to teach. And be taught. I will it, and it wills me. I take the middle path.

I seek change.*

[Charon23]

Will [roll0]
Wisdom [roll1]
Charisma [roll2]
Diplomacy [roll3]
Survival [roll4]

[Charon23]

As you enter through the portal a sliver of 'self' erodes and the sensation of dreamy weightlessness increases. The change coincides with this place as belonging to the other, not you. An exchange of ideas takes place. Projections of thoughts that lose much in translation. You concentrate to convey your own, much like as you perform to manage your telepathic ability. It is as if you are truly speaking a different language though fuzzy images and meanings do slip through as projected on the dream room's walls. He is a..'he'. A revelation that now seems obvious. He performs dangerous work. Something where he must project far more authority than he truly owns. You are a threat to him. Or perhaps a thorn in his boot. Another week to manage this mess before him before it becomes unmanageable. And then a thought occurs to him. One far too eventful to ignore. He winks out of the dream, thereby ejecting you back to the brown landscape. A forest is behind you but it is far too far to warrant inspection. There are towers and scattered trees but the road ends abruptly. Traces of the annihilating wind remain around you but are diminished. Mildly sated.

Will [roll0]
Stray thoughts threaten your ability to perceive the landscape as you 'drift' closer to normal dreams. It takes considerable effort to 'remember' that there is road. And grass. And tower. And dull orange-brown light.

[PH7]

Solomon

*And so it ends, as I somehow knew it must. Where have you gone? Who are you? Were you? A dream, a dream, a dream. Once again beyond doubt, beyond fear, beyond despair. I will not remember. Or was this different? Have I been here before? It does not matter. Or maybe it does. Difficult to know. Difficult to care. Now, at least. Not when I wake. I hope I do not remember. Peace. So tempting. Only in dreams though. Sleep.*

[Charon23]

The mind returns to the void of unmemorable dream and you awake in a mild mental fog. Despite this there is a distinct impression of having been somewhere else. As if your eyes have to adjust to the natural skylight pouring through the window. Too blue. Too sharp. Sounds and smells are strange like you are evaluating each anew. A subtle headache ensues and you feel oddly drained yet invigorated.


End Part I
I'll keep this open for future dream-world sequences. More soon regarding XP/other rewards.

EDIT: ..And..meet me over here (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showthread.php?524797-A0Ch1(II)-Buckets-and-Brains&p=22006947) for the next sequence.