Gyrfalcon Posted July 18, 2003 Report Share Posted July 18, 2003 This story is set after the events of the Gaze of Eternity and speaks of how the Dreamer's soul came to Norrath. Innoruuk is the God of Hate on Norrath, one of the deities of the dark elves. The Dreamer's eyes flashed in irritation for a moment as he stood at the entrance to the Lost Paths. He had been close to discovering the path to this... Pool of Eternal Reflection. With it, he would have been able to turn and face his pursuers. Now, he was once again hunted. Again, his eyes flashed before he forced himself to calm and his eyes returned to a placid blue. He knew that the calm was a thin veneer over near-boundless rage. Baring his teeth in a silent challenge, the Dreamer stepped out onto the Lost Paths, and as he did so he sent his thoughts racing across the strands that connected him to his thralls and vassals, lingering over a snapped thread where a thrall had foolishly lost a fight with a demon. The angel was a minor one, however, and her loss was of little consequence... to anyone but herself, of course. The Dreamer shook his head, momentarily confused as to why he had thought or cared about what she would think of her own death. He did not pause to consider the thought, but instead cast it behind him as he strode, then raced through the Paths, feeling, knowing that his hunters had found his tracks, the flickering sense of his powers. The Dreamer knew that there were few places that would be beneficial to his turning and facing his hunters, many of the nearby crossroads and junctions held by the same powers who had set the hunters on him in the first place. Thwarted, the Dreamer turned down a side path, then another, then another, fleeing through the Void along paths that grew hazy and ill-defined, where a single misstep would leave the one who made that step floating in the Void, where only a few could ever find their way back to the Lost Paths again. The Dreamer finally reached an unclaimed crossroad and paused for a moment. With a nod, he sensed that his lead was slim, but enough. Enough for the moment. Working quickly, he summoned some of his more disposable minions and thralls, created a simulacrum of himself and infused it with a sense of his powers, then traveled onward once more. Before more then a few moments- measurements of time such as minutes being useless out here on the Lost Paths- had passed, the Dreamer could sense battle being joined at the crossroad behind him. He smiled faintly, knowing that his hunters would not be taking in by the simulacrum for more then a few moments, but they would still have to deal with the minions he had left behind, and that would take them time. The Dreamer knew that all he needed was time- time to find the proper place to fight this battle, time to summon his more powerful minions, time... There was never enough time. ----- Numilye's eyes snapped open, and for a moment she saw a strange form of double- it seemed she could see the physical reality of what was before her, and the lines of power that connected everyone- and everything- to one another. Frowning, she closed her eyes and rubbed her forehead before opening her eyes again. This time, everything was normal. She shook her head briskly and stood up from her cross-legged position, feeling that she had rested enough for the moment, and not wanting to drift off into sleep instead of meditation again. She rubbed her forehead, troubled by the already forgotten fragments of the dream she just had. A sense of power... perhaps it was a sending of Innoruuk, or perhaps merely a desire. "Finally ready to go?" a burly warrior grumbled as he likewise stood, clanking ponderously in his massive armor. Numilye turned cold eyes on him, and he swallowed silently. She dismissed his inquiry, not even bothering to try to recall his name. He existed for one reason only at the moment- to serve as a living shield for her, to give her room and time enough to call down Hate's blessing on the creatures they currently hunted. The warrior led the way as Numilye joined the stream of other adventurers exiting the cave, a safe resting spot on the edges of their cold hunting grounds. With the party was a human Ranger, another dark elf, he a necromancer, a goodly paladin she was developing a serious dislike for, what with his constant preaching about the importance of honor. Finally, there was another human, a rogue. The ranger pointed southeast. "They are that way." He said quietly. The rest nodded and set forth, their breath steaming in the chill, still air as they followed the ranger. He in turn followed the tracks that any of them could have followed in the frozen snow. The tracks of a giant patrol. Numilye smiled faintly as she considered the strangeness of being allied with the Coldain dwarves, no friends to any sort of elf, much less a dark elf, in their war against the Frost Giants. Several hours later, three patrols of the giants had been ambushed and disposed off, their toes harvested to prove to the dwarves that the party had indeed killed the giants. Numilye's spells had proven vital to the attacks, keeping the fighter and paladin alive through her healing magic until one or the other could strike the killing blow against a giant or the necromancer could do... something. Numilye had decided by that time that she distrusted him even more then the paladin, for some ill-defined reason. Perhaps it was because he was a dark elf. Just because she was of the same race didn't mean she would trust him any more then any other race. Indeed, she trusted her kin even less then the other races, for the dark elves always plotted, and Numilye suspected that sometimes it was simply for the joy of plotting. Numilye shook her head and turned towards the ranger. "Where next?" She said. He frowned and concentrated, looking around slowly. Before he could answer, a dozen brazen horns split the air, and the party stood shocked. Again, the horns sounded, and a voice boomed across the snow and ice. "The giants are attacking! Fall back to the castle!" The horns sounded again, and Numilye's eyes widened as memory rushed over her and consumed her. ----- The soundless horns shook the Forgotten Paths, belling out their call to the other hunters. The Dreamer ground his teeth in frustration as the horns thundered again. There had not been enough time. Despite his tricks and traps, his attempts to hide and distort his trail, the hunters had found him, far sooner then he would have liked. If there was any solace, it was only that the hunters were as far from a source of strength as he. The Dreamer stopped and turned, waiting as patiently as one of his temperament could, eyes flickering through colors as quickly as his emotions cycled. Irritation, rage, depression, and hatred, before hatred was consumed by rage again. The Dreamer forced himself back into a state of relative calmness, even as his mind ran down his long-stretching web of thralls and slaves, alliances and sources of might and he began to collect his energy. "So be it." he whispered silently as the hunters drew up in front of him, led by a great archon that the Dreamer knew well- Lythranis, one of the chief generals of the forces of Sarnael. "Dreamer! For your crimes again my lord master, Sarnael-" Lythranis began, but the Dreamer chopped a hand and cut him short. "Spare me your petty charges. Spare me your moralistic justification. Your master rages that I have flouted his will, and he wishes me dead, nothing more and nothing less." Lythranis gritted his teeth and spoke again "We give you this chance to surrender and face judgment!" "I will not surrender. Nor will you return to your master." The Dreamer said softly, seeing no point in continuing this charade. He made the first move, and the paths were suddenly filled with a host of demons. The angels responded, and within bare moments, angelic armies and goodly humans struggled against demons from the Nine Hells and devils from Hades, horrors from pits that even the Dreamer had been happy to depart from and spell-bound angels that joined angelic choirs only long enough to slay the dominions who led the singing angels, only to be cut to ribbons by their fellow angels. If the Dreamer had had the time to notice this, he would have been slightly amused at angel fighting angel. The Dreamer's struggles were with the hunters themselves, mystic and psychic attacks crisscrossed the struggling forms, and the unfortunate souls who were caught in the path of the attacks were utterly obliterated. The Dreamer focused on Lythranis's weaker companions, snuffing out their lives methodically, even as he staggered from the archon's mighty attacks and the barrage of lesser blows from the archon's minions. But even the mighty Dreamer couldn't ignore Lythranis with impunity. The Archon's magic tore at the Dreamer's connections to his minions, freeing them from his dominating will. On the front lines, several formations collapsed as creatures disappeared back to their planes of origin or turned on each other, fighting their former allies as much as their enemies. The enemies poured through the gaps, intent on the Dreamer. He reeled back, fighting desperately, bringing to bear all the power of a planeswalker to force back his enemies. However, the enemy stubbornly refused to yield ground, their attacks flaying at the Dreamer's soul and mind. The Dreamer was forced back, now only seeking to defend himself against the onslaught of his enemies. He was only moments from death when his eyes caught the swirling grayness of the void, and his eyes linger for a brief second. They were rippled by the forces directed against them, but quickly quieted again, nothing making an impression in the Void. Nothing making an impression... no ripples... no... tracks... The Dreamer was hit again, but without warning, he abandoned the fight, turned and threw himself into the Void. Spells flared past him, some striking, some not. The Dreamer threw himself forward, and as the last glimpse of the Lost Paths disappeared behind him, a spell hit him from behind, knocking him senseless, lost in the Void... ----- Numilye shook her head, then looked straight ahead, at a giant's leg. Oops... was all she could think as she slowly looked up to see the giant lift his club high, ready to smash her to pulp. Before it could swing, Numilye heard a chant crescendo behind her, and its head was enveloped in an expanding fireball. Granted a few seconds to avoid meeting her god, Numilye stepped forward and smashed the giant's kneecap with all her strength, shattering it. The giant screamed and hopped back on its one good leg, only to be swarmed by a pair of warriors, who hacked its other leg out from under it and drove it to the ground. "So, my dark kin, it looks like your companions abandoned you rather then stand with you." A voice remarked from behind Numilye. She turned around, her features sharpening in disgust as she looked at the high elf before her, but she reminded herself that she owed him her life... Their eyes met, violet and silvery, and there was a spark of recognition. Somehow, they both knew that there was something that connected them. Something that made them unique among the many, many adventurers of Norrath. "Zadown, get that giant!" a cry came from behind them. "One moment." the high elf murmured before turning and dropping a blazing mass of fire on another giant who was moving to pass an occupied group. Roaring in anger, the giant turned and charged Zadown. The magician stood calmly though, as a third figure joined the fray, charging the giant to the sound of braided melodies. Numilye was startled, for the figure was one of the rare Vah Shir, the cat-people of the moon. He was undeniably effective in stinging the giant though, quickly focusing the giant's rage on himself. Numilye took the moment to strike, wracking the giant with pain. The bard struck it again, diverting its attention, and then Zadown smashed it with yet another great fireball. Quickly though, Numilye had to step forward, healing the bard so that he could continue his distracting, stinging attacks against the giant. Still, the trio were hard pressed until a trio of Coldain dwarvern warriors rolled the giant under. Panting for breath, the giant cat man steamed in the chill air as he turned, and Numilye again felt the flash of recognition. "You fight well, little dark elf. I am Camaz-" the cat rumbled. A voice sounded in their minds, cutting the Vah Shir off. I am... I am awake. I am the Dreamer! They were taken by the vision. ----- The Dreamer did not know how long he floated through the void, more dead then alive. He knew that he was dying, that his spider web of power was slipping away from him, strand by strand. His physical body was nearly ruined, and only his stubborn spirit kept him going, even in a place of no hope. Even in the Void. How long the Dreamer wandered, he did not know. He knew that he was far, far away from the Lost Paths and any hope of leaving the Void, and he had not been keeping track of what direction the Paths could be found in, for as time passed and he slipped closer and closer to death, he found himself slipping into memories. Memories, thoughts, and emotions flashed through the Dreamer. He knew he was dying, his soul fraying at the edges. So lost in his memories, the Dreamer almost didn't notice the familiar tug. A world... a world was out there. He turned his senses outward, and his soul drifted towards the warmth of the world he knew was there, though he could not see it. Suddenly, the blackness of the void parted, gave way to stars, the blinding light of a sun, and the comforting blue-green of a world. The Dreamer drifted towards the world helplessly, fascinated by this pocket plane floating in the void, unknown to many, by the webs of power woven by the many gods of this world, the feelings of life emanating from the world... and even its moon! A growing coldness filled the heart of the Dreamer, and he knew that death was fast approaching. He raged silently as he drifted towards the world, raging against fate and death, forcing each breath, each moment of life from his failing body. His senses reached down, and he felt a little spark of life, hovering on the brink of death. A child, fated to be stillborn... but their essences could merge, and both could live... The Dreamer ruled out that plan, for his soul in its full glory would be a beacon in the night for his pursuers, and they would only find him again. His senses touched a speck of life on the moon, one of many. Another that he could merge with. Another speck on the planet, then two more... and another, and another... Eight tiny lives. Eight children who could merge with a portion of the Dreamer's essence, and know power and glory. And in return, his soul would have time to grow strong once again, let the hunters believe he had expired in the Void. There was the possibility it would not work, but balanced against the certainty of death, the Dreamer took the chance. As his last breath rattled in his throat, the Dreamer felt his soul fragment into eight shards, each shard drifting to a child. His last memories were of the freedom and loneliness of birth... ----- The three blinked, unsure of what had overtaken them. "Giants inbound!" a voice roared, and instinctively, they turned and faced the approaching giants. They acted as if they had fought together for years, each knowing the role the others would play, yet they had never met before now. And watching over them, the mind of the Dreamer was pleased with the skills and power of his vessels, and the promise they held within themselves. For now, though, he could feel the tug of his sleep, pulling him down into hibernation again. He knew that it was not yet his time to coalesce and return to his former power. Not yet... but soon, by the immortal standards of the planeswalkers. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Zadown Posted July 18, 2003 Report Share Posted July 18, 2003 Marks the post with Approved for the Dreamer Canon stamp. Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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