arwink
Clockwork Golem
Thursday, August 24th, 508 AF
No-one sleeps easily.
Halgo is plagued with dreams of being lost in some place dank and dark, his memory plagued with holes and gaps that were once spells and arcane lore. He wanders the caves of his dream slowly, warily, his body as bloody and worn as his mind. THings come back to him in patches, and the reason for his loss became apparent. He resisted. Something... He's not sure what, but it was angry and it tore his mind apart like paper.
Geoffrey dreams of a new life, a place where he has forsaken St Cuthbert's church for something new, something darker. The loss of his face pains him, even in his dreams. He grovels before a new idol, filled with a love for this new god he canno't explain, and even as he worships he hates himself for being so willing to abandon his first faith.
Blarth dreams of dancing. Disturbing enough on its own for the half-orc, he finds himself in the midst of a ball. Masked couples dance around the room, and Blarth finds himself being swept along in the moment. Then, when the music stops, he reaches out to lift his partners mask and sees nothing. The entire crowd is faceless, and they are angry Blarth tried to see their features. Their dance grows wilder, dragging the half-orc bodily around the floor. He moves faster, constantly jerked left and right until his limbs snap and muscles tear.
Yip dreams of training, spending time in the centre of his comrades learning move after move he can use against the enemy. He is exhausted, trembling, repeating the same moves over and over until he gets them right. He cannot. Again and again his tutors find fault, and eventually they punish them. A failed punch nets a broken arm. A sloppy kick snaps his toes one by one. The Brotherhood has turned on him, hurt him, for its own good. Yip feels terribly, achingly alone. He wakes up shrieking.
The four companions gather in the taproom in the early hours of the morning, a few minutes before sunrise. All of them are tired, irritable. A light buzz at the back of their skull speaks of a headache growing, getting worse every second. Halgo looks at his companions as they come down the stairs, one by one.
"So, how'd you sleep?" he asks, although he knows the answer by looking. One by one, they attempt to explain their dreams.
No-one sleeps easily.
Halgo is plagued with dreams of being lost in some place dank and dark, his memory plagued with holes and gaps that were once spells and arcane lore. He wanders the caves of his dream slowly, warily, his body as bloody and worn as his mind. THings come back to him in patches, and the reason for his loss became apparent. He resisted. Something... He's not sure what, but it was angry and it tore his mind apart like paper.
Geoffrey dreams of a new life, a place where he has forsaken St Cuthbert's church for something new, something darker. The loss of his face pains him, even in his dreams. He grovels before a new idol, filled with a love for this new god he canno't explain, and even as he worships he hates himself for being so willing to abandon his first faith.
Blarth dreams of dancing. Disturbing enough on its own for the half-orc, he finds himself in the midst of a ball. Masked couples dance around the room, and Blarth finds himself being swept along in the moment. Then, when the music stops, he reaches out to lift his partners mask and sees nothing. The entire crowd is faceless, and they are angry Blarth tried to see their features. Their dance grows wilder, dragging the half-orc bodily around the floor. He moves faster, constantly jerked left and right until his limbs snap and muscles tear.
Yip dreams of training, spending time in the centre of his comrades learning move after move he can use against the enemy. He is exhausted, trembling, repeating the same moves over and over until he gets them right. He cannot. Again and again his tutors find fault, and eventually they punish them. A failed punch nets a broken arm. A sloppy kick snaps his toes one by one. The Brotherhood has turned on him, hurt him, for its own good. Yip feels terribly, achingly alone. He wakes up shrieking.
The four companions gather in the taproom in the early hours of the morning, a few minutes before sunrise. All of them are tired, irritable. A light buzz at the back of their skull speaks of a headache growing, getting worse every second. Halgo looks at his companions as they come down the stairs, one by one.
"So, how'd you sleep?" he asks, although he knows the answer by looking. One by one, they attempt to explain their dreams.
Last edited:
