Talien's Tower
Subscribe to Talien's Tower on Facebook, Twitter, email or via the Site Feed

Tuesday, June 24

Shattered Dreams: Part 5 – Interpreting the Dream

The silver path they followed took them through the swirling dreamscape, but the images were darker, older, and more twisted than before. Half-seen visions from their worst fears lurked through the craggy ruins of architectural styles not seen for centuries.

Kham noticed a high window in a brown building on his right. Ragged curtains flew out in the wind, fluttering like streamers. They must have been moving in a freak breeze, because a flag about them hung limp. Suddenly, they whipped out of sight, and for a second a pale face replaced them. It looked directly down at Kham, with an unreadable expression on its frozen, paper-white face.

“You okay Kham?” asked Vlad. Kham had stopped, staring up at the distance building. But the mists obscured the face and the building.

“I’m fine,” said Kham, shrugging Vlad off.

Finally they were surrounded in fog so thick they could barely see the path a foot ahead. Then, through the fog, a small cottage was visible. It was made of rotting, crumbling wood with a dirty straw roof. Standing in front of the cottage, listlessly hacking at the barren ground with a rusty hoe, was a brawny, barrel-chested dwarf with scarred brown skin and fiery red hair and beard. He showed no notice of their arrival.

The dwarf looked up, blinking slowly. "Hello. Who are you,” he said in a flat monotone without any apparent interest in the answer.

Kham stepped forward. “I know you,” he said. “I’ve seen you in my dreams. You’re the Creator, aren’t you?”

“I am he,” said the dwarf. “My name is Nubuto, and I created Fleshripper.”

“We’re here to destroy it,” said Kham. “It’s been twisted into a weapon of evil.”

"Ah," the dwarf said sadly. "I had hoped that it would serve as a tool for good, but I see now that that is not the case. Very well…I will do as you ask. Take my hand." He extends one callused hand towards Kham.

As Kham grasped the dwarf's hand, the grip became a vise. Then the dwarf’s body erupted into a much larger, uglier and much more muscular shape.

"Your soul is mine!" it bellowed through misshapen teeth as its massive arms began to squeeze. [MORE]


posted by Michael Tresca at 8:15 PM

Want more? Please consider contributing to my Patreon; Follow me on Facebook, Twitter, Google+, and the web; buy my books: The Evolution of Fantasy Role-Playing Games, The Well of Stars, and Awfully Familiar.


Post a Comment

Links to this post:

Create a Link

<< Home