<font color="red">SoR - Fever Dreams</fontt>

SoR - Fever Dreams

Author: * MacMorna Niafer - 4 Posts on this thread out of 2,741 Posts sitewide.
Date: Sep 17, 2007 - 20:07

OOC: Technically, the last post and this one, mostly take place in the Rian's House. However, I have chosen to post at places already on the list, namely here at The Great Hall, thinking we need not tangle this web any further.

I am not so far gone in my sodden stupor that I cannot feel the old wizard carving on the back of my leg. I feel the pain as a fire, but my wearied brain does not care. I lie there and feel the point being worked through my own flesh and again, I do not care. I wait, knowing there will be an end to this pain, one way or another. I feel the barb pull free and hear the old man's sigh of relief. If I cared enough, I would sigh as well. I feel the blood flowing freely from both the old wound and the new. I feel the pinching together of the sides as Nevvyn sews up the openings. At one point, I hear my 'Tissa call my name, and know full well that I have one foot in The Otherlands. Then, it is over. The burning is gone. I sink down... deeper and deeper... into the darkness.

The darkness fades to a bloody red! My sword is again in my hand and there are swirling shapes of nothingness flitting about. I lash out and there is a flare of white as the sword passes through one of the shapes. I swing again and another explodes in a burst of pure light. Again and again I hack at these phantasms, until my arm is totally numb. And still they come! There is no form and no substance, no shape or true color. They are just tatters of something else that is not the all-pervading red of this place I am in. My sword falls from dead fingers and I use my shield to batter them. The result is the same. A bright flash and the thing is gone... only to be replaced by two more that come swooping in.

"The Hammer! The Hammer!" my beleaguered brain cries out. I drop the shield and the useless spears, and slip the thongs about my wrist. My hand is slippery with gore from my adversaries, but I still manage to get a grip on the intricately-carved haft. I lay about me on all sides, letting the momentum of the heavy mass carry the head through a host of the things. The bursts of light weld themselves into a ring of light, pulsing with a pure whiteness. And still they come, but not so many. Am I finally depleting their ranks or have they finally learned fear?

Thus far, the only sound has been that of my own labored breathing. Now there is a blast that shatters the silence... the unearthly bleat of a carnyx. The shapes shrink in upon themselves. Another blast from the great war-horn sets them to trembling. At the third sounding, there is a tremendous burst of light. Those forms which did not explode are driven back by the force of their vanquished fellows... blown away until I can see no more of them. My arms hang limp... numb... dead... at my sides. My sides ache and my breathing is labored. My mouth is dry and wants nothing more or less than a draught from the Mother's Well.

The red fades to a pale rosy glow, and I hear my 'Tissa calling again. I see her face before me, with a tear rolling down each sweet cheek. She reaches out a soft, white hand to touch my fevered brow. Her long, dark hair floats about her head, almost as if she were beneath the waves of the great ocean. I am thinking that she must have drowned on some sea voyage, and has been waiting for me in The Otherlands. And now, I am here with her. That means that I must have died in battle, something I never thought to do. A strange ending for a Bard!

But wait! The touch of her hand is too firm. The smell of her is too real. The sound of her voice is too lively and filled with emotion. I force my eyes to open and am treated to the same vision of 'Tissa. She is seated at the side of my bed and talking and crying, all at the same time. I raise an arm made of lead and touch the tears on her cheek. My hand comes away wet! I cannot be dead! I smile and sink back into sleep.