Bring me a Dream

The light rain falling from the sky has become a bit more of a downpour in the later hours of the day as the small group gathers on the edge of the woods. The businesses that are open on the edge of the city are visible from here, but only just thanks to the growing dark. The torches at the gate offer faint illumination and the security of knowing that there are other humans close at hand. However the gate is closing which means that tonight you'll be locked out of the city.

It's a cold truth made colder by the rain and mud and darkness.

"Remember when we thought two days outside Bryn Myridorn was a long side-trip?" Dolan yawns hugely, the hood of his favored gray traveler's cloak pulled up over his head against the weather. There is a lighter, finer one beneath it, and both of them are held firmly in place by a greatsword over his back and the pack around it, pulled close in front of him. Once they are outside of the gates, and the torchlight is far enough away that they stand in the dark, he reaches for the symbol over his armor and beneath the cloak. "Holy Knight, grace us with your light." He reaches back and touches the pommel of his greatsword, which begins to glow as a much-lesser version of Daeus' sun.

GAME: Dolan casts Light. Caster Level: 4 DC: 13

"Gods, yeah, do I remember. How smaller the world seemed then--just the two of us horny little fucks running around, swords drawn, chasing down small fry," Andelena comments with a grin to Dolan. The hood of her white cloak is drawn up over her head and helmet, and her longsword and shield are similarly strapped to her back.

She remains close to Dolan, nodding appreciatively to the light. "Here's hoping where we're going, we get plenty of light," she says. It's a nice hope to have.

Verna arrives through the dim and din from the city, briefly visible, then not, then again as she nears. Her gray cloak with donned hood covers nearly all over her robes. She could be considered to be acting in an officially capacity. If not, they are the only traveling wear she owns at present. "Good eve. I would venture that light may or may not be of aid at our destination, or that we might be able to produce such at will. The Dreaming is an unusual realm." Not that she has had great experience with it, though that is improving.

Again, Dolan yawns hugely, and he's got dark circles under his eyes by the shadowy light above and behind him that casts much of his face- scars and not - into shadow. He grins over at Andie, but turns towards Verna when the Mourner arrives. "Yeah. Don't suppose there are too many usual ones," he offers. "Still getting used to this whole plane-hopping thing." Somewhere beneath the yawns, he is tense, watchful, and on edge.

Andie takes Dolan's hand--both in an affectionate gesture and to get ready to hop planes. "Kind of don't want to get used to it," she says regarding Dolan's sentiment. "I mean, shit. I'm a mortal. A human. I have no damn business hopping around from realm to realm all nimbly-bimbly."

It's a dumb joke to try and ward off the nerves from hopping planes. But she does follow it up with, "Let's get this show on the road."

"Indeed, let us." Verna concurs with Andelena and offers a hand to either of them. Meanwhile, the other begins to gesture as she incants. If Andie finds the realm-hopping discomforting, she would likely abhor the timey-wimey stuff.

GAME: Verna casts Plane Shift. Caster Level: 19 DC: 22

It's not easy to reach out from under that cloak into the rain, but for Andelena's hand, Dolan would do a lot. He takes Andelena's hand, and places the other on Verna's shoulder to let her gesture freely, as the magic begins to work. "I don't think we're going to get a choice, baby," he tells his fellow Daeusite as the magic begins to take hold.

"That's fine, so long as I still get to choose you every damn time," Andelena manages to fire back with a grin. Occasionally she's got her smooth moments, even in the face of being whisked off to the realm of dreaming.

The world shifts and suddenly you're... elsewhere. The world is fuzzy around the edges faintly. There's a pool of water to your left with a stream descending from it. The stream makes no noise as it glides through the forest that surrounds you. The sky is dark as you expect it to be, and the illumination of Dolan's sword doesn't reach nearly as far into the shadows of the forest as it should. There's no insects, no birds or squirrels rustling in the brush. The odd silence is a bit unsettling.

GAME: Dolan rolls perception: (5)+10: 15
GAME: Verna rolls perception: (5)+29: 34
GAME: Andelena rolls Perception: (12)+8: 20

Andelena squints at the stream, steel-grey eyes straining to find someone--anyone--in the dark. Then she sees something. "Is that a man? Anyone else see a man? I think he's... fishing?"

Andelena points in the direction of the man. "Either of you seeing him?" she asks, keeping her voice down lest she end up spooking the poor fellow.

Dolan's flesh-and-blood eye blinks, and at length, he shakes his head and doffs his hood. At least it isn't raining? He thinks? "Nope."

Verna attempts to orient herself, though all being... muted makes this more difficult. She does, however, spy a few things of note. "I do," she answers Andelena as her hood pans to and remains pointed at the translucent apparition barely discernible. "Could he be a dreamer?" Why someone might dream of fishing she is uncertain, but who is she to judge? "I am uncertain whether we should disturb him. He is not the one sought."

GAME: Dolan rolls knowledge/the planes: (4)+7: 11

The man looks up as you talk about him, either hearing your voices or noticing your presence. He looks surprised for a moment and then disappears entirely. Gone without a trace. The world around you seems to become even more fuzzy around you, the colors of the trees running into one another faintly.

"Could still point the way," Andelena says--and then the man disappears, the world going fuzzy. She presses her lips together into a fine line. "Shit. Okay. Well... Any idea where we're going?" she asks, looking between Verna and Dolan. "I don't know how we're supposed to navigate... Anything, when the world goes all fucky like this." Very academic terminology she's using.

GAME: Dolan rolls intelligence: (8)+1: 9 

Dolan doesn't answer right away. He had barely seen the man before he fades into nothingness, and certainly his knowledge of the Dream Realm could use some - all right, a _lot_ brush-up. Still, when the world goes fuzzy, he closes his eyes and screws up his face in a way that says that he's trying to think, to focus, although on what, he does not say.

Verna blinks as the man, or semblance of one, vanishes. "If he were dreaming, it is possible that we disturbed him... or perhaps his fish. This could be nigh impossible to navigate if all remains indistinct or mutable by any random participant. It would be best if we had some means to-" her words cut off abruptly, followed by a pause before she resumes, one hand reaching into her satchel. "-control The Dream. Allow me a moment."

The world goes suddenly completely dark. Which... is not helpful. The only light is the dimness of Dolan's sword on his back. But considering that everything from the ground to the sky is pure inky blackness you're pretty sure that something odd is going on here. This remains true for several long seconds before a sort of water-color type world starts to form around you. Green-blue stained liquidy grass, a blue sky washed across the distance. Nothing is distinct or clear. It's almost more disconcerning than the previous location you had been.

GAME: Verna rolls wisdom: (17)+7: 24

"Oh, I don't like this. I don't like it one damn bit," Andelena says, looking around with widening eyes as she tries to make sense of the dark that turns back to watercolors all around them. "I have no damn head for this, but Verna, could you like--/dream/ that we're where we need to be and not lost?"

A beat. "Unless you're already doing that, in which case, don't listen to my bitching and bellyaching."

At length, Dolan looks up, sighs, and shakes his head sharply. "Damn it. I think I'm doing the right thing, but I just don't remember it clearly enough." This is punctuated by another yawn. "You probably remember better," he tells Verna.

"That would be most efficient," Verna clasps the Verna-reminiscent item in her possession and closes her eyes to focus upon it and what surrounds them. Rather, what would be helpful to surround them, as there is currently a great deal of nothing. What would be of more aid, instead, would be distinct references for orientation. A path to follow. A road to travel.

Across the odd water-color world forms a surprisingly firm-looking path. It's stone-gray and very detailed. It stretches out into the distance of the watercolor world, and disappears into the horizon. You're not sure if it leads anywhere or not, but it does seem your only real path forward.

Andelena gives a low whistle as she watches the path boil into being. "Nice work, Mourner," she says respectfully. She gives her hand that's still around Dolan's--because of course it is--a squeeze. "We going forward, hot stuff?" she asks him.

Dolan grins as well as the path boils into being. "She does that way better than me." Keeping Andelena's hand in his, he starts towards the path that just boiled into being, but looks over at Verna. "Want to go first, or do you want me to?"

Verna is uncertain how much focus she must maintain, thus can spare, so she keeps her response minimal. She does open her eyes, however, and gestures ahead. "After you both, please." It would be wrong to separate the pair, especially with the pet names and the handholding and so forth.

As you walk along the path you begin to hear the murmur of voices, and then off to your side a man appears. Shirtless and his abdomen sparkling with sweat. You realize after several seconds that it's actually Dolan - but without his scars, his finger beckons to Andelena with a wicked smile. Enticing her to join him amid the water-color landscape.

Likewise off to the other side an image of Auranar takes form. She's lovelier than you know her in reality, seen through the rose-tinted glasses of Verna's vision. She smiles warmly at Verna and spreads her arms wide in what is an offer of a hug. There's a sound of birds singing in the air as loved ones beckon.

Ahead the path grows ever more distinct, but there's so much already here for you... Waiting enticingly for you to join it.

Andelena's suddenly sweating, but she's only aware that she's sweating when she feels some of it drip down her head. "Fuck me," she murmurs--which has two meanings, although Andelena really means the 'surprised' meaning even if the other one has some clear merit to it--and then she looks at the unscarred eye on the dream Dolan, and there's a realization somewhere in the back of her head. That's not her man. The real one's next to her. Scars and all. She loves him even with those scars.

"C'mon, we have to keep going. Have to /keep going/. What the shit's going on here," Andelena mutters darkly.

"Later, Andie." Dolan starts as he sees himself, scar-less, and for the briefest of moments, a gamut of emotions hits him like a freight train. He knows what he looks like now. He's got no illusions about that, and the altered state of vision on the right side of his view, however functional, is living proof of that. So instead, he wrenches himself away and tugs on Andelena's hand, trying to lead her down the path, where he doesn't have to look at what he knows damn well is gone and will never be again. "Come on."

Perhaps unsurprising, the Aura here is as lovely as the real one to Verna. Nearly. She is quite certain... well, reasonably certain that her fiancee did not spontaneously make her way here. Which makes this one a shallow image, if still a pleasing one. Verna sighs and continues to move, attempting to not glance over once more as she follows the couple. "Yes, keep moving. I presume the Dreamscape reacts to our thoughts." A hypothesis, but one that did not require an abacus to reach.

Without warning you are thrust into a dank, dark sub-basement, lit only by a few flickering torches at the far side of the room. The room is tiny, cramped, and full of humanity all whooping and hollering. The feeling of being chained to stone, bruised and aching, although that sensation is muted to some extent. Cold metal, terror, cold stone. Looking up through two flesh and blood eyes at an emaciated, twisted figure, a horned human skeleton wrapped in a too-tight leathery hide, slime and blood dripping from its claws. It leers down as the indistinct, hooded, faceless crowd jeers and chants, a growing tide of sound, a name that isn't clear. The creature raises a claw -

And a wooden door bursts open, light spilling into the room. Sounds of swords, metal and the chanting of spells. The creature screams in fury, and the claw comes down, but - not where it meant to. Searing agony down the right side of his face, and the world goes dark on that side, followed by a burning - and then the other half of the world goes dark.

GAME: Andelena rolls Will: (6)+7: 13
GAME: Dolan rolls will: (10)+8: 18
GAME: Verna rolls will: (11)+24: 35

It all clicks into place for Andelena now. The terror he must have felt. The pain. The fear. The agony. Everything. The Sunguard is almost never afraid of anything, but now she knows, and that knowing is worse than anything she could have imagined.

It's a scream that tears from her lips followed by uncontrollable wailing. She knows. There's a small tiny voice inside of her that's glad she knows now, but it's drowned out by the chorus that can only conceive one thing: fear.

It's that scream that tears Dolan out of the spiral that the vision - one he'd relived a thousand times in his nightmares - so nearly dragged him into once more. Too many times to count easily, for sure. It's almost like it's a part of him now, but the scream rips through it like a painting on canvas suddenly being torn in two by the most brutal of claws, falling away into nothingness. "Andie!"

_Get it together, Brydion,_ he tells himself. _She doesn't need to see that!_ With deep, steadying breaths, he reaches towards the sound of the scream, reaching for her, reaching for sanity. Reaching for his goal.

It takes him several minutes to control it, reaching to pull Andelena towards him, focusing on platinum hair and pink eyes. Nothing else. _Control your thoughts, because they control what we see! Come on, Brydion!_ It's a struggle, in the end, to pull it together, because that leering face keeps trying to intrude.

Verna realizes this is not her own recollection, nor her own fear, but this does not greatly diminish the horror of either. While the details are foreign, the general situation is not. In fact, impending demise at the hands of a powerful vile foe could be considered an insensibly common occurrence for her, by some comparisons. None recent, but the dread leads thoughts easily back to them: caught in an iron vise of grip before the odd, if brief, sensation of seeing one's own headless body from a third person view; a deliberately slow evisceration lasting beyond one's ability to scream; even the sudden silencing from conjured cloud of caustic fume leaving a choked corpse behind even if not one's own. Her hands clench and her throat tightens, though she spares not the energy to yell.

There are horrors in the dark now. Visions of death and terrible things that you never wanted to imagine. Your own conciousness is trying to create them. Pain is easier to remember than pleasure, and Dolan's thoughts have brought the reality of Verna's pain to the forefront of her mind. Forcing you to see them as you saw his. The pain of knowing that death is coming. The pain of causing death.

There is no easy escape from your own minds here. Dolan clings to Andelena, but the visions dancing before your eyes now do nothing to ease her fear. You know in a way that this is REAL. These things, these terrors existed. Which only serves to make them harder to escape.

You watch Auranar die in a cloud of smoke as she's pulled toward a monsterous demon who laughs. You know it's a mercy, but her death is on your hands. There's no comfort. There's only more death. The demon of Dolan's dream forms from the shadows and stalks toward him and her. It's not a memory like the other things. It's somehow more real. It's claws flicker and flash through the memories, cutting through them and stalking towards the huddled pair.

GAME: Andelena rolls Will: (13)+7: 20
GAME: Verna rolls will: (1)+24: 25 (EPIC FAIL)
GAME: Dolan rolls will: (10)+8: 18

She understands now--and while the pain is stacking up in measures, the fear trying to overwhelm, there's a moment inside of Andelena where the dawn breaks. There is danger. There is danger and she is the Sunguard, the one called upon to bring light into darkness.

"I will run you through and destroy you--I will send you back to the Hells," she snarls to the demon that's stalking through. She thinks of prayers, thinks of all of the holy words of Daeus in her head.

(--there's a fervent wish inside of her, like that little girl she once was who looked at the knights training in the courtyard below her bedroom window, to be stronger than anything, stronger than anyone, to banish the darkness with only a bellow from deep within her soul and a sword held high in her hand--)

"I will tear you apart for everything you've ever done. Get the /fuck/ away from me or you're fucking dead." So she vows. So she swears. So she rages. All for him.

GAME: Dolan rolls intelligence: (1)+1: 2 (EPIC FAIL)
GAME: Dolan rolls intelligence: (15)+1: 16 

Oh no. It's here again. Dolan reflexively reaches for the harness holding the blade to his back, backing up a pace, his heart racing in his chest and suing for separate maintenance as the terror that haunts his dreams stalks not only him, but the woman he loves as well. His features twist in a snarl, but as he looks around, his eyes fall on something else. The totem in Verna's hand.

"Mourner! Put it away! It's a thing of the dream realm, it's conjuring the nightmares!" Suddenly, the sword is forgotten, and he lunges toward it, trying to rip it from her hands.

The truth hurts. Mercy or not, logical or not, lack of relationship or not, later return or not, the truth remains: Verna's and Auranar's first meeting shall ever be marked by the fact that VERNA MURDERED HER.

Every clear nightmare wrought more recently was of her hunting Aura, harming her, and delighting in it. A horrid torment that she could not defy with 'I would never do such a thing!' Because she did.

All of her goals of protection, nay, overprotection, that lent to Aura's sense of minimized usefulness and self-worth... guilt? So Verna might not, to quote the Sunguard, fuck things sideways?! Again!

Is she just flailing, pretending to know what is best? Is her flailing just going to get her, or someone else hurt? She seems a magnet for lycanthropes, archfiends, relics, Unseelie... and that was just the past months. Why is she even trying? Perhaps the safest thing she can do, for Aura, for everyone, is... nothing.

Verna crumples to her knees, strings cut; propped upright only by the volume of her robes. She could be crying, but silently if so, in the dark depths of her hood.

Andelena stands tall and proud before the demon, in fact... she's growing. Growing and glowing? Shining with an inner light as she remains stalwart in the face of the demon she so recently remembers stealing her vision from her. Dolan - that was Dolan. She commands the demon but the demon does NOT flee. Not as she wants it to, nor as she hopes that it might. Instead it attacks her viciously, claws darting out to attack like lightning.

GAME: Aftershock rolls 1d20+12: (8)+12: 20
GAME: Aftershock rolls 1d20+12: (20)+12: 32
GAME: Aftershock rolls 1d20+12: (8)+12: 20
GAME: Aftershock rolls 1d6+5: (6)+5: 11
GAME: Aftershock rolls 1d6+5: (1)+5: 6
GAME: Andelena rolls weapon5: (15)+8: 23
GAME: Andelena rolls damage5: aliased to 1d8+5: (6)+5: 11

The demon strikes a score against her, a deep wound, but Andelena's roaring as she brings her blade out to strike back at it. Her copper-blonde hair glows like flames off her head underneath her head with the blessing of her god. But her sword doesn't immediately banish the thing, doesn't tear into it.

"Holy Father, Daeus, Blessed Knight, give me your strength so that I might kill this wretched creature, this thing that's haunted the man I /love/! Let me STRIKE IT DOWN!" Andelena bellows. She can feel her blood--if that's really there, who knows if it is or not. Who cares, even. Even if it's a dream, she wants to win. Every fiber within her soul, her body, screams that it's time to be the Sunguard she's always dreamed of being, the woman that Dolan's always deserved--

(--And maybe once it's done, once it's all said and done--if by the gods they go back to Alexandria and the fiend is truly gone--they can start that family they were talking about--)

For him. It was always for him.

So Andelena calls upon the Shining Knight and she roars.

_No._ Never again! Never again will he be helpless! The single thought screams, sears through Dolan's mind, even as the demon does battle with Andelena - the one thing he'd never wanted to have happen. He never wanted her to see that, and there's only one thing he can do, if he's to stop the phantasm now. "VERNA! Snap out of it!" He _lunges_ for her, grabbing the statue from her hands. As fast as he can make his shaking hands go, he pulls the pack off of his back and roughly stuffs the totem inside, trying not to think of what is happening. Now.

In a minute, the guilt will hit. But right now, there's only one thought. _Get it out of our hands and out of sight._

Verna may be lost to despair, guilt, or ever-spiraling lings of conjecture based upon 'what if?' She could have decided that the best course of action is, in fact, for her to do absolutely nothing. Even if her eyes are closed against what may be happening now, she cannot escape what has already occurred. She doesn't immediately rouse at Dolan's shout, nor does she resist the removal of the totem. She may believe it is also best that anyone but her be responsible. What has she managed to accomplish so far?

GAME: Aftershock rolls 1d20+21: (15)+21: 36

As Dolan stares at the demon it... Changes. Drips. It changes like a melting candle into the form of a man with green eyes and black hair that he _recognizes_. It's no longer his worst fear made flesh, but the man before him is a danger nonetheless. One made all the more potent by the fact that Verna is... defeated. Completely consumed by grief and guilt. He reaches out with a whip of his hand and grabs Andelena by the throat, pulling her into his arms and placing a thin kukri to her throat. "Give me the Totem and I will leave. Do not and she dies here before you."

GAME: Andelena rolls weapon0+1-1: (16)+7+1+-1: 23
GAME: Andelena rolls weapon0+1-1: (20)+7+1+-1: 27 (THREAT)
GAME: Andelena rolls weapon0+1-1: (1)+7+1+-1: 8 (EPIC FAIL)
GAME: Andelena rolls damage0+2: aliased to 1d3+4+2: (2)+4+2: 8
GAME: Dolan rolls weapon0+1-4: (3)+7+1+-4: 7

Andelena's nostrils flare as the kukri's put to her throat. Not now, not ever, has she let anyone who's ever put a blade to her throat before do that and just get what they want. And she sure as shit isn't going to let the villain just get what he wants without a fight.

"Jump up your own ass and die," she growls, right before she bashes her head back into the man's head and leans down to tear at the hand that's holding the dagger against her throat, ripping at it with her teeth. If he wants to play rough, he's going to get it, and unlike Dolan, he's /not/ going to have a good time.

GAME: Dolan rolls strength: (9)+3: 12

Dolan freezes cold, ice water in his veins at the demand and the sight of the dagger at Andelena's throat. This is literally his worst nightmare, a cacophony of suck that threatens to drag him down. Slowly, he starts to go for the pack at his feet again -

And Andie is her usual self. Suddenly, a nasty, feral grin twisting into a towering rage takes scarred and smooth flesh alike by storm. He snarls out, "You putrid sack of shit. Knight guide my hand!" He lunges forward, taking advantage of the distraction, one fist lashing below the priest's belt, the other reaching for the wrist that holds Andie fast. The blow misses entirely, jabbing into the man's thigh, but the other hand wrenches with the force of pure rage, desperation, and - maybe a little bit of divine help. Just a little bit. Slowly, but surely, he tears the arm loose, forcing him to drop Andelena.

It seems that Verna is not wholly unaware of her surroundings. Initially, melting of the demonic thing into a dark-haird man that grabbed Andie seemed just another replay of her own thoughts. Then she realizes it is backwards: demon to man, not man to fiend. Also, that is Andie, not Aura. Still, the similarities are uncanny. Andelena does not give up nor give in, and neither does Dolan. Mayhap doing nothing is not a valid option, afterall. Also, from experience, Cloudkill is not a good idea, either.

Yet the horrors of recollections are still strong and in this place they are- Verna promptly rises to her feet and darts for the bag. No, they cannot allow him to have the totem. "You will not have it!" That is not her only reason for seeking to retrieve it, however.

GAME: Aftershock rolls 1d20+21: (7)+21: 28

The man is persistent however, and he wants that Totem. Having seen where Dolan placed it a moment ago, he reaches into the man's pack and pulls the shrouded figure free. He smiles wickedly, green eyes flashing toward Verna as he steps back and away from all of you. "It seems you are too late." Shadows form around him, drawing him into themselves quickly.

GAME: Andelena rolls weapon0: (8)+7: 15
GAME: Dolan rolls wisdom: (3)+3: 6

The man's got the totem, and Andelena does the first thing that comes to mind: she charges at him, hoping she can collide with him and maybe, *maybe* wrest the totem out of his hands.

It's a mad dash, a guess, a last-chance act, and it doesn't take. She passes through him, too late.

GAME: Aftershock rolls 1d20+3: (15)+3: 18

There's one possible chance left, but Dolan instead of acting physically, focuses on the shadows surrounding him. Panic swirls around him, and it's hard to shove intruding thoughts out of his mind at the disaster unfolding before him. _Stop the shadows. Turn them on him. Slow him down._ But he can't do it. His mind won't focus. Andie is bleeding. Verna is all but helpless. He's failed them both.

Ultimately, there's nothing he can do.

GAME: Verna rolls wisdom: (6)+7: 13
GAME: Verna rolls wisdom: (20)+7: 27

NO! Verna is the one responsible for bringing it and now... the metaphysical ground beneath Verna's feet drops away yet again. This time, however,she does not plummet into despair as moments before. No. Instead, a new surge of emotion lifts her above that. One that HE and his kind firmly introduced her to.

RAGE

She suddenly seethes with it, recalling both the failures brought to life that threatened them just before, and many more. Yet there is no fear of her own to guide them to her, and only the glowing ire to paint him as a target. These things were a danger to them; whether Verna consciously realizes it or not, it makes sense that they would also be a threat to him as he is here.

The vampire, Kol, as she watched him desecrate her temple and murder her elder Mourners while she was helpless. Yet it is now Mr. Green Eyes she sees in gray robes as the next victim.

The vile ooze of the cursed plague, seeking out the nearest victim. With him closest.

The mercenary, snobbish vampire lord. He already hunts lycanthropes, does he not?

And, of course, none can forget everyone's least favorite Arch-duke of hell. He takes what he wishes, and the near-departing man does look desirable. Does Lord Eclavdran want his head? To practice caligraphy with his entrails? Mount his carcass over the hearth in the Iron Hells? All of the above?

These and more are Verna's memories, her pain, her nightmares.

Welcome, child of The Nightmare, to HER nightmare.

The man vanishes, but not before Kol - the vampiric menace from Verna's memories steps into him and... The two vanish without a trace. With the enemy gone the other visions of monstrous abominations fade away. Your memories suddenly hold less impact here than they did a moment ago. Perhaps that's for the best.

You gather your wits, your breath, yourselves together, and then just as you're about to leave or continue on, there's a pop. A swirl of shadows and one of the villains from Verna's memory has returned. The vampire. His pale skin glistens in the darkness, his green eyes glow. He is covered in blood. He smiles, always smiles, and tosses the Totem in his hand to the ground. "I do not know why you summoned me, but he _was_ as interesting as you promised he would be." The man with his dark hair slicked back trails his eyes over Dolan and Andelena. "He made several of those... things..." He points to the now-twisted stattette on the ground. "Appear and then we..."

He laughs and its a sound like gears grinding together. A wholly unnatural noise. "It was beautiful. Yes? I must thank you for that." He bows to Verna. "You have my gratitude. But I must return to my mistress. She does not like to be kept waiting."

With that the man is gone again. Vanished into the dark without a trace. Which... leaves a lot of questions really. Did Verna summon an actual person to the Realm of Dreams? Is the vampire _somehow_ alive again? Or was it just a dream? Verna does't wait to gather up the Totem she has in hand and return you to the land of the waking. A whole day has passed in reality. The gates are open, the sun is shining.

You have never been so grateful to see the sun.

-End