# Dream-Not-Dream:  Convergence



## Terwox (Nov 20, 2006)

“Nice night,” her sister whispered, as they sat on their gravestones.

She nodded.  Killed by the same suitor, their spirits would not sleep.  It was the first night of the full moon.

“We should go a-haunting, dear.”

Her sister smiled.

It was the first time they’d left the graveyard, and she couldn’t remember how long they’d stayed, waiting for a suitable night.

The inn was small, nearly empty, two farmers, one drunk, one with his boy, a sleepy innkeeper, the retired adventurer type.  She smiled as the drunk chased his glass as it skipped around and fell when her sister pulled his chair from under him.  She grinned wickedly as she lit the bar ablaze, but stopped short as she felt her sister fading away.

Floating to the floor above, she saw her sister snuffed out while the boy laid his hands on her.  She shrieked, smiling that her sister was in peace, and flung herself at the boy, ready for the end.  Her hands moved through his face, she saw his right eye go dull and his skin shrivel, and she was ripped asunder by a flaming staff the boy had conjured while startled.  The last thing she saw was him shake his hand to bid rid of it.

…

He awoke, his insides burning from dying, feeling the loss of his sister.  He stood, then stumbled as he looked at himself… his skin was lily-while, carved with runes.  Bony plates covered his chest, and he was naked except for a string of simple beads around his neck.  He looked around, and he was on a featureless grassy plain that stretched infinitely in every direction… the sky was jet black, yet the ground was dimly lit from no source.

He remembered nothing, save the dream.

He sat, and waited.

***

“We’re nearly there,” the half-elf said softly.

The vultures were circling overhead, and they hadn’t seen a hint of the bear.

He was a paladin, sent on a strange quest – a particular bear on this particular mountain was said to have terrorized a village (or destroyed, the tales were sparse,) and he was sent to claim his hide, to make armor for his strange crusade – for he was the first to get the Calling as late as thirty in his order.

The two took shelter in a cave that night.

He awoke to the sound of flapping wings outside the cave.  A vulture was waddling into the cave.  He looked for a rock to throw at it.

“Please don’t throw that rock at me, I’m here to help,” the vulture said politely.

“Why are you talking?”

The vulture eyed him oddly, and shrugged off the question.

He began staring down the vulture, looking for blasphemy, and was interrupted -- “Oh, go on then, you won’t find anything.” – He smiled at the bird.

The vulture waddled over, and plopped next to him.

“I’ve come to warn you.  It’s not a bear you’re after.  It’s a lion.”

“What?”

“It’s got a demon in it.  You ought to be careful.”

“Well, how do you know it looks like a lion then?” the paladin said crossly.

The vulture coughed, taken aback.  “Well, sometimes he looks like a vulture.”  He grinned wide, and then his head grew, the paladin’s head in its mouth, ready to snap.

He prayed desperately, and was granted his blessings.  He prepared to banish to beast, hoping to manage before he died, and…

“Don’t do that just yet please.  I’d like to make a deal.”

“I’m not in a position to make much of a deal right now.”

“Well, what else are you going to do?”

The paladin considered briefly, shrugged, and said “Go on, then.”

“You see, I’m a threat no longer.  You can have my hide, and you can bring it back to finish your quest.  Things have changed much since Mephistoph…”

“Please don’t do that again,” the paladin winced.

“What, say Mephistopheles?”  The paladin’s ears burned with the blasphemy, and the vulture giggled mercilessly.

“Anyway, things have changed.  I haven’t terrorized any villagers or done anyone any harm.  Just let me go!”

The paladin paused for some time, before the vulture piped in, “C’mon now, stop waffling around.”

“Well… my quest was to destroy you and take your hide…”

“You can have it, I said!  Just take it, and go back and tell them!”

“I’m not able to go back and tell people that you are not a threat.  I am sorry.”

The vulture sighed, exasperated, and bit the paladin’s head off.

…

He awoke, feeling the small triumph of banishing the beast before it devoured his head, wondering where it went.

He awoke in a pile, smelling of stale alcohol and sulfur, and was startled as he saw the green chain wrapped around his fat imp belly.

“I did not expect…” he moaned, wondering why he had been denied Heaven -- this must surely be Hell – there was no sky, no light, just grass, everywhere.

“Woah!” he yelled, as the chain yanked on his belly, and he was pulled and spun.  He looked into the lily-white face of Death-himself, horned, crowned in alabaster, and covered in bone and rune.

“What the heck are you, little guy?” said the horned man.

The imp shrieked, and feigned death.  The horned man shrugged, and tossed the imp over his shoulder, and carried him like a sack.  He walked further, towards nowhere.

***

The orc was questing alone.  His tribe had sent him far away, to slay a monstrous bear that had slain many humans.  He had traveled two weeks when he came across a cat behind a tree.

“Hello, orc.  Why are you here?”

The orc bowed to the cat.  “I am here to find a bear.”

“You are looking for me, then.”

“You are no bear.”

The cat abruptly grew, and was a twenty foot tall bear.

The orc’s eyes widened, and he bowed, saying “Forgive me, great spirit.”

“Why do you look for me, orc?”

“I was sent for your pelt.”

The bear shriveled up, and a cat crawled out of its pelt.

“You have my pelt.”

“Thank you, spirit.”

“You’re welcome.  Do you have any questions for me, orc?”

The orc paused briefly.  “No.”

The cat sauntered away.

The orc cut himself a sizable portion of hide, for it was too large for him, and journeyed home.  Each day at sunrise, he felt as though he should abandon the pelt, and on the third day it twisted his belly and he left the hide in a patch of forest and continued back to his village.

He went to the chief, and told him his story.  The chief said his quest was to bring back the pelt, and he must do so, and he must return.  So, the orc did so.

He found the pelt where he left it.  The forest was dead around where he left it, and he smelled brimstone about it.  He picked it up, stuffed it in his back, and continued back.

Each day the feeling to abandon the pelt returned.  On the third day he threw up, but he continued onward.

On the fourth day, he was greeted at sunrise by a stone-faced angel, descending from the sky, his feet never touching the ground.

“You have been judged, and you have been found wanting.”  The angel struck him down where he laid.

…

He awoke, confused by the angel’s actions, smelling blood, to the sounds of a very high and a very deep voice.  “What is that?” asked the deep voice, followed by “I’m not sure, can we eat it?” from the tinny voice.  His skin was black, his hair was black, and his feet did not touch the ground – he floated.

“Who are you?” he asked.  The imp looked puzzled, and the horned man said “I do not know.”

“Where are you going?” followed by the same “I do not know.”

The drow silently followed them, walking silently above the ground.

***

The soul of a certain boy had captivated a certain Nalfeshnee since it was born, and it could not wait any longer.  The boy had contracted a disease, and was fated to die – but the Nalfeshnee could wait no longer, and left the Abyss, traveling through the gates into the world above, to claim the boy as he died.

It arrived outside the village where the boy lived, son of a blacksmith, at the stroke of midnight on a full moon, easiest time for the transition.  No disguise necessary, it howled its way into town, heading to the blacksmith’s house.

A mortal paladin stood outside.  “You shall not p..” The Nalfeshnee laid into him, smashing him to the ground easily.  “Wasn’t that foolish, you little man?”

A point of light appeared in the night sky, a ray shining down, and points of light danced down it, individual angels.  A greater angel appeared above them, floating high above, holding a scroll.  “You cannot claim him, demon.  He has done no wrong.  His deeds are thus:”  The angel began reading from a scroll of the boy’s life.

The demon yelled back “I don’t care what you say, and you can’t make me do anything, and you cannot stop me!”  The Nalfeshnee blinked, and the paladin gasped and died as the sky rumbled.

The earth erupted, dretches crawling out of the stinking pits, vrocks taking flight, a hezrou crawling out and crouching alongside.  “Do you want to do this to this town, to make this your war zone, right now?  Do you?” it howled.

The angels sang as the Solar descended, and the Nalfeshnee knew it was outmatched, yet only screamed louder.  “You still can’t stop me!  How about this, how if I can’t take the boy, you give me the rest of the town!  One innocent for a bunch of corrupt and horrible people, just the way it should be in your books, right?  Let me torture the rest of them and you can have the boy.”

The lesser angel holding the scroll paused briefly, and said methodically “We cannot do this, the whole of this town is not unworthy.”

The Nalfeshnee screamed louder.  “Fine, then just give me a dozen of the corrupt ones!  And one innocent, that seems fair, right?  One sweet baby child to make up for me letting you have this boy.  That sounds great, yeah?”  

A serene detached voice issued from the Solar overhead.  “Deal.”

The Nalfeshnee grinned.  “You might wanna all get out of here, unless you all want to watch this, you know?”  It stopped, as a hound-headed angel walked into the house.  She felt the boy die, his soul collected, and felt a strange pang of loss.

This was quickly replaced by wicked revelry as the heavens departed.

It descended back to hell, souls in tow.

It sent the souls it collected to worse punishments than their deeds would say, as demons pay little heed to these rules.

Three Nalfeshnees awaited.  “You shouldn’t of done that.”  “You shouldn’t have left.”  “Weren’t sposed to do that.”

“Who cares,” it said.

“We care.”  “Mephistopheles will care.”  “Shouldn’t of left.”

“Look at all these souls I brought!  It was good I left!”

“Didn’t ask.”  “Broke the edict.”  “Shouldn’t of left!”

“I don’t care, get out of my face, you can’t do anything, what does it matter to you?”

“It matters because Gorular here is going to take your place.”

The Nalfeshnees killed and devoured their traitorous brethren, then.

...

She awoke, laying comfortably on a platform built in a tree, and stretched her wings, one red, one blue, her coat of hair black, her four behooved legs tucked comfortably underneath her.  She shrugged off the feeling of being eaten alive by pig-demons.  Three creatures were at the foot of her tree, two the size of a man, one an imp.

“Hello down there my friends, how are you this fine morning?” she called down chipperly.

“Hello friend!” the horned man called back.

She glanced back.  The imp was poking her flank, looking for where the tastiest meat would come from.  “What are you doing back there, little guy?” she said happily.

The imp looked back shiftily.  “Uh, nothing!”

****************

If you remember my other  story hour, this is the same setup for the game, two players new, two players veterans.  Perhaps I'll be able to keep up with this one, I started the other one with months of gaming behind me, and the back load was too much to write up for such a tremendously confusing world.  (If you can even really call it a world!)

I'll happily entertain any questions at all.

As for the party...

The horned man is a tiefling cleric 2.
The imp is an... imp.  Thinking about monk, but he'll see where the game goes.
The drow is a soulknife 2.
The black pegasus is a... pegasus, planning on ranger levels.

Hope you enjoyed it.  If it seemed confusing, well, it simply is.  

My apologies to the players when my dialogue is lamer than what your characters actually said!  Had a lot of trouble with the Nalfeshnee, he was suitably an evil sadistic impulsive horrible monster, and I know I messed up the details somewhere for the worse there for sure.

Apologies to the readers for the lack of names... but there aren't any names at this point!  Much as I enjoyed Namegiving last iteration, we'll see how it plays out this go.

Next time:  Angry Dwarvern berserkers gone a-pillaging, the Castle of the Goblin King, a discussion of dreams, and cannibals.


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## Torgeir (Nov 30, 2006)

Wox....  If you dont keep this story hour up to date your gunna force me to sabotage our gaming until do....   Its for your own good really it is!


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## Terwox (Dec 1, 2006)

Torgeir said:
			
		

> Wox....  If you dont keep this story hour up to date your gunna force me to sabotage our gaming until do....   Its for your own good really it is!




Quiet you, update it yourself!


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