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Arcanis: Gonnes, Sons, and Treasure Runs (COMPLETED)
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<blockquote data-quote="talien" data-source="post: 4322902" data-attributes="member: 3285"><p><strong>Shattered Dreams: Part 4a – Interpreting the Dream</strong></p><p></p><p>“Catch them, you fools!” </p><p></p><p>The forces arrayed against them quickly disappeared into the fog, despite their commander’s orders. </p><p></p><p>Soon enough, though, even her shouts faded. They found themselves staring at a remarkable sight. </p><p></p><p>“The Dreamheart,” said Vlad, “is a very weird place.”</p><p></p><p>A massive tree grew from some spot below them that was obscured by the fog. It was easily as wide as a small village, and its branches, laden with brightly colored leaves and flowers, were wide enough to walk on. Their guide led them along the branches until they were totally obscured by the leaves.</p><p> </p><p>Abruptly, as though someone had lit a lamp, they were surrounded by shimmering gold, silver, and emerald swirls. They were in a military encampment; tents of bright colors were scattered about, and men clothed in flowing light walked around on patrol. </p><p></p><p>Their guide took them to the man they saw earlier and dropped to one knee. </p><p></p><p>“Inquisitor,” said the boy, the fog muffling his voice, “I have brought the new ones that we saved from Ophelia’s talons.” </p><p></p><p>“You have done well,” the Inquisitor said in clipped tones. Then he looked at Kham with bright gray eyes. “I am Medricas val’Assante, formerly an Inquisitor of the Mother Church, now commander of the forces of good inside this accursed sword. I suppose you were slain in battle? Tell me, who wields the blade now?” </p><p></p><p>Kham swallowed hard. “I do. Or I did. Maybe I still do. It’s complicated. My father performed a ritual that sent us here.”</p><p></p><p>“We’ve been sent here to stop the curse of Fleshripper,” said Vlad. </p><p></p><p>Medricas looks at Kham, his eyes narrowed. “Good.” He nodded. “Perhaps you might find a way to do what I cannot. I have been here a long time, my friends. I was only the third person to wield Divine Vengeance, which you call Fleshripper. The woman who attacked you is Ophelia val’Tensen; she was once a paladin of Illiir like myself, but the sword’s power long ago turned her to evil. She was the wielder of the blade before me.” </p><p></p><p>“How do we destroy the blade?” asked Ilmarė. </p><p></p><p> “If I knew that, I would have done it long ago,” said Medricas. “I doubt that it can be destroyed from within, but if you are being assisted from the outside, it may be possible. I do not know how, though. The Creator made the sword; he, if anyone, would probably know how it could be destroyed. Whether or not he would tell you is another matter entirely.” </p><p></p><p>“Where’s the Creator?” asked Dril.</p><p></p><p>“I can show you the path, but I must remain here,” said Medricas. “Ophelia will attack again soon, and we must defend our last stronghold. The Creator exists in the very heart of this mockery of reality. Here in the dream we cannot die, but near the Creator, the rules may be different. Or they may be the same. Or they may break altogether. Take nothing for granted.” </p><p></p><p>“We need to rest,” said Vlad. He was favoring one arm, which had been struck by a glancing blow from a Reaver’s axe. </p><p></p><p>Medricas chuckled. “You’re in a dream, my friends. What need have you of rest?” </p><p></p><p>They exchanged glances. “What?” asked Vlad.</p><p></p><p>“Will it,” added Medricas, “and you shall be restored.”</p><p></p><p>They all closed their eyes. After a moment, they opened them again. Nothing happened.</p><p></p><p>Except for Ilmarė. She glowed with a golden aura.</p><p></p><p>“How did you do that?” asked Dril.</p><p></p><p>Ilmarė pursed her lips. “Like this.” She closed her eyes again. A scratch on Dril’s face healed instantly. “I meditate every day. Your untrained minds are not accustomed to such focus.”</p><p></p><p>Kham rolled his eyes. “Can you do that for everyone?”</p><p></p><p>Ilmarė shrugged and closed her eyes again. They were all briefly engulfed by a golden light.</p><p></p><p>“Reminds me of Quintus’s healing magic,” said Vlad. </p><p></p><p>The elorii bit her lip but said nothing.</p><p></p><p>Medricas held out his hand. A translucent pitcher of water appeared in it. He poured the pitcher, and as he water splashed against the nothingness under their feet, it spilled out into a stream. The stream twisted back and forth, up and down, sometimes looping through the air as it wound away into the distance. </p><p></p><p>“That is your road," said Medricas. "Do not stray from it until you reach the halls of the Creator. If you become lost, I cannot spare men to find you. Good luck.” </p><p></p><p>“I have seen what happens to shattered soulstones,” said Beldin. “What will become of you if we destroy Fleshripper?</p><p></p><p>"I do not know,” said Medricas. “Hopefully, we will be freed to stand before the Judgment of Nier, as we should have done so long ago. If not, then we have been doomed since coming here, and even oblivion will be far better than this endless war. If no others will ever suffer under Fleshripper's bite, then our sacrifice will be worthwhile." </p><p></p><p>Then, suddenly, a familiar female voice rang out from all around you, “Medricas! This ends here and now! We will triumph, and fulfill our holy will!" </p><p></p><p>Medricas grimaced “Hurry, my friends,” he growled. “You may be our only hope.” He turned and receded into the fog. As did so, the whole room faded away, leaving only the glittering, shimmering path of water.</p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="talien, post: 4322902, member: 3285"] [b]Shattered Dreams: Part 4a – Interpreting the Dream[/b] “Catch them, you fools!” The forces arrayed against them quickly disappeared into the fog, despite their commander’s orders. Soon enough, though, even her shouts faded. They found themselves staring at a remarkable sight. “The Dreamheart,” said Vlad, “is a very weird place.” A massive tree grew from some spot below them that was obscured by the fog. It was easily as wide as a small village, and its branches, laden with brightly colored leaves and flowers, were wide enough to walk on. Their guide led them along the branches until they were totally obscured by the leaves. Abruptly, as though someone had lit a lamp, they were surrounded by shimmering gold, silver, and emerald swirls. They were in a military encampment; tents of bright colors were scattered about, and men clothed in flowing light walked around on patrol. Their guide took them to the man they saw earlier and dropped to one knee. “Inquisitor,” said the boy, the fog muffling his voice, “I have brought the new ones that we saved from Ophelia’s talons.” “You have done well,” the Inquisitor said in clipped tones. Then he looked at Kham with bright gray eyes. “I am Medricas val’Assante, formerly an Inquisitor of the Mother Church, now commander of the forces of good inside this accursed sword. I suppose you were slain in battle? Tell me, who wields the blade now?” Kham swallowed hard. “I do. Or I did. Maybe I still do. It’s complicated. My father performed a ritual that sent us here.” “We’ve been sent here to stop the curse of Fleshripper,” said Vlad. Medricas looks at Kham, his eyes narrowed. “Good.” He nodded. “Perhaps you might find a way to do what I cannot. I have been here a long time, my friends. I was only the third person to wield Divine Vengeance, which you call Fleshripper. The woman who attacked you is Ophelia val’Tensen; she was once a paladin of Illiir like myself, but the sword’s power long ago turned her to evil. She was the wielder of the blade before me.” “How do we destroy the blade?” asked Ilmarė. “If I knew that, I would have done it long ago,” said Medricas. “I doubt that it can be destroyed from within, but if you are being assisted from the outside, it may be possible. I do not know how, though. The Creator made the sword; he, if anyone, would probably know how it could be destroyed. Whether or not he would tell you is another matter entirely.” “Where’s the Creator?” asked Dril. “I can show you the path, but I must remain here,” said Medricas. “Ophelia will attack again soon, and we must defend our last stronghold. The Creator exists in the very heart of this mockery of reality. Here in the dream we cannot die, but near the Creator, the rules may be different. Or they may be the same. Or they may break altogether. Take nothing for granted.” “We need to rest,” said Vlad. He was favoring one arm, which had been struck by a glancing blow from a Reaver’s axe. Medricas chuckled. “You’re in a dream, my friends. What need have you of rest?” They exchanged glances. “What?” asked Vlad. “Will it,” added Medricas, “and you shall be restored.” They all closed their eyes. After a moment, they opened them again. Nothing happened. Except for Ilmarė. She glowed with a golden aura. “How did you do that?” asked Dril. Ilmarė pursed her lips. “Like this.” She closed her eyes again. A scratch on Dril’s face healed instantly. “I meditate every day. Your untrained minds are not accustomed to such focus.” Kham rolled his eyes. “Can you do that for everyone?” Ilmarė shrugged and closed her eyes again. They were all briefly engulfed by a golden light. “Reminds me of Quintus’s healing magic,” said Vlad. The elorii bit her lip but said nothing. Medricas held out his hand. A translucent pitcher of water appeared in it. He poured the pitcher, and as he water splashed against the nothingness under their feet, it spilled out into a stream. The stream twisted back and forth, up and down, sometimes looping through the air as it wound away into the distance. “That is your road," said Medricas. "Do not stray from it until you reach the halls of the Creator. If you become lost, I cannot spare men to find you. Good luck.” “I have seen what happens to shattered soulstones,” said Beldin. “What will become of you if we destroy Fleshripper? "I do not know,” said Medricas. “Hopefully, we will be freed to stand before the Judgment of Nier, as we should have done so long ago. If not, then we have been doomed since coming here, and even oblivion will be far better than this endless war. If no others will ever suffer under Fleshripper's bite, then our sacrifice will be worthwhile." Then, suddenly, a familiar female voice rang out from all around you, “Medricas! This ends here and now! We will triumph, and fulfill our holy will!" Medricas grimaced “Hurry, my friends,” he growled. “You may be our only hope.” He turned and receded into the fog. As did so, the whole room faded away, leaving only the glittering, shimmering path of water. [/QUOTE]
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