Cylus 33rd, 715
For every perpetrator of tragedy punished, one more took its place to rail against the travesties of waking reality. One such man rose to power, with little in the way of such consequences. It seemed, for now, that his meddling had been left to ride freely under the noses of that which governed the world, but as Abaddon emerged from his Dreamscape that night, the very Veil seemed to shudder at what dark and predatory power he held within. Or so he seemed to feel, watching the landscape bend and twist before him.
As usual, the many flitting mirrors, gateways into other Dreamscapes of vastly different circumstance populated this realm between realms. Abaddon often wondered what the limits were, if he would learn more, or if he was doomed to experience only his current limitations over and over. Pushing the envelope was the agenda tonight, and boredom encapsulated his mind, driving him to push as hard as he could.
The Veil was different this time around. Either his mind had changed, or it had. Instead, where he stepped a stair followed, always there to catch his step. It was hard to trust, and as he watched, it seemed to follow his intent. Gone was the silvery mirrored lake beneath him, now merely more endless dreamscapes. Picking up the pace, he began to run, feeling as if he were walking in the clouds as his foot always met a step the moment he wanted it to.
Turning, he climbed the world like a winding staircase, traveling towards a gleaming dream of bright white clouds, a mysterious dream from a mysterious man who thought only of a blank but wonderful world. At first he thought to conjure another one of his Umbral Worms and send it forth, but he had the thought to try something that he once did not have the strength to do. Will I succeed or fail? Succeed, and I will prove that I have been growing, showing that my experience with this place is tailored to whatever ‘muscle’ governs dreams.
It was something he wondered, as he stepped up to the cloudy dream portal, his reflection appearing in the watery glass. “Hmmm,” he rumbled aloud, chuffing out a shallow snort as his hand touched and felt sticky against the hard surface. “It’s different now.” Aligning his mind with the dream, he thought of going there, to that place, shutting his eyes and trying to find some sort of common mental ground with that world. In mere Trills, his hand began to move through the surface, and he found himself pushing inside, his body feeling cool as if covered in ice until he arrived in the sunny cloudscape of someone else’s dream.
As always, Abaddon’s mere presence was anathema to such worlds. The skies immediately darkened as he floated endlessly in the atmosphere, wondering if he was falling - the clouds were distant, like a painted canvas, and he could not honestly tell. Of course, the moment that thought hit his mind, he began to fall. And by the shadowy figure drifting down with him, he knew then that so too could the other man feel Kielik’s power invading this place, conscious or not.
Plummeting towards the world, the clouds parted and now he could see the ground, a blurry green mess distant still. A forest, with the grey blotch of a cityscape snaking throughout. Turning his head as the wind whipped by, drowning out the noise, he spied the flailing, faceless dreamer, and hurtled towards him with a tuck of his limbs. Guiding himself with his own intent, he sought to get closer and closer, before holding out his hand to the man who then noticed and took it.
”What’s happening!?” the man screamed.
”The miracle and wonder of a dream, friend!” Abaddon shouted back, before a black sludge began to form upon his palm, hand gripping tight to hold on to the imaginary dream figment of another, that representation of conscious forced to endure as a cool, slick worm took shape upon his arm. He at once twisted and turned, but Abaddon pulled and twisted back, wrenching his arm aside so he could not dislodge the monster crawling up his sleeve.
Red light filled his vision and he began to shiver, Abaddon leering through the disturbing light with a genuine curiosity as it began to disappear with a winking twinkle, the tail of the beast sticking from the man’s stretched-out jaw. He was gagging now, lucid as could be and terrified. This was a nightmare he would remember for Arcs to come, especially that dot-speckled, tattooed face of Abaddon’s staring him down. “Remember the worm,” Abaddon began. “Feel how it travels down your throat, ah!” He watched the man gag, gripping his hand tight as the earth grew ever closer.
Normally, the fright of hitting the ground would wake someone up with such a jarring intensity, but when they hit the earth rose up and hit them both, they found themselves tumbling down a rocky mountain embraced together. It hurt for Abaddon to feel such things, but the pain was illusory and imagined at best. By now, the worm was completely gone, lost to the depths of the man’s stomach.
Rising as they came to a stop, the bringer of Nightmares stood stalwart and tall, gazing down upon his prey with hands upon his hips, a knowing look. “Did you eat it all?” he asked, before leaning down to squeeze those cheeks together despite the bulging eyes above. “Open your mouth, say ahh?” The innocent man opened his mouth to show there was nothing there, and Abaddon pranced about him like a dancing lunatic, laughing with joy. “You’re such a good sport!” he cried aloud as this once happy victim pulled himself to his knees and began to retch, trying his best to vomit the beast residing in his stomach, churning and writhing to unsettle it so.
Abaddon’s hands clapped together. “Oh, oh, are you about to give birth?” he joked. “I don’t think it’s ready yet, in all honesty. Maybe you should give it a few Trials, but I’d be worried about which end it wants to come out of.”
”Heeeeelp!” screamed the portly man, who just wanted to have a good night’s rest.
”Heeeeelp!” Abaddon screamed with him, throwing his head back and crying aloud to the world. “It’s a monster, it’s inside me! Ahhhhh!”
The mockery quelled the balding worm-fodder for the moment as Abaddon quieted down and held up a hand. “How many fingers?” he asked, holding up five.
”Five, why are you doing this to me? Get that thing out of me!” the man said with fervor.
Abaddon waggled his finger. “Nuh-uh-uh, can’t do that. Nope. He comes out when he wants to. I have no control,” he lied, really selling the horror. “In fact,” he stated as he squeezed his hand together. “How many fingers am I holding up now?”
”None, a fist - hrrrk!” The man doubled over, clutching his abdomen as the scaled, tough worm twisted and turned in his gut. Eyes shut tight, he began pleading to the world around him. “Wake up, wake up, wake up. This is just a dream. Wake up, wake up, wake up.”
Abaddon watched on with amusement. “That doesn’t work with me. Fear the Nightmares of Kielik, and be pitied by his faithful. Why don’t you enjoy that Corruption seething inside you, the inclination that the worm inside you will someday wish to come out of you.” Abaddon had given a Minor Corruption to the man, a fixation on his stomach, so that the events transpiring from this Nightmare would follow him for Trials to come with that evil little mental trick.
Elated, Abaddon called his worm back. “Split apart, worm,” he continued, adding to the deception. “Ah, there we go.” The man opened his mouth to protest, but he sat there gagging as the beast wriggled free from his mouth. “One has become two, with the remainder inside you,” Abaddon laughed, before glancing at the forest around them. “There were such pretty skies here a moment ago. It’s a shame, really. So much beauty is lost when I do my job, although I suppose some still remains under the guise of these things.” As he said this, he stared off into space before waving to the man. “Well, I must bid you adieu, and a good night. Don’t let the bed worms bites.” The mage winked playfully, before dancing off to the veil, fading with a shake of hips to some other world, likely to harass another denizen of the dream world in his long quest to earn Kielik’s grace.
For every perpetrator of tragedy punished, one more took its place to rail against the travesties of waking reality. One such man rose to power, with little in the way of such consequences. It seemed, for now, that his meddling had been left to ride freely under the noses of that which governed the world, but as Abaddon emerged from his Dreamscape that night, the very Veil seemed to shudder at what dark and predatory power he held within. Or so he seemed to feel, watching the landscape bend and twist before him.
As usual, the many flitting mirrors, gateways into other Dreamscapes of vastly different circumstance populated this realm between realms. Abaddon often wondered what the limits were, if he would learn more, or if he was doomed to experience only his current limitations over and over. Pushing the envelope was the agenda tonight, and boredom encapsulated his mind, driving him to push as hard as he could.
The Veil was different this time around. Either his mind had changed, or it had. Instead, where he stepped a stair followed, always there to catch his step. It was hard to trust, and as he watched, it seemed to follow his intent. Gone was the silvery mirrored lake beneath him, now merely more endless dreamscapes. Picking up the pace, he began to run, feeling as if he were walking in the clouds as his foot always met a step the moment he wanted it to.
Turning, he climbed the world like a winding staircase, traveling towards a gleaming dream of bright white clouds, a mysterious dream from a mysterious man who thought only of a blank but wonderful world. At first he thought to conjure another one of his Umbral Worms and send it forth, but he had the thought to try something that he once did not have the strength to do. Will I succeed or fail? Succeed, and I will prove that I have been growing, showing that my experience with this place is tailored to whatever ‘muscle’ governs dreams.
It was something he wondered, as he stepped up to the cloudy dream portal, his reflection appearing in the watery glass. “Hmmm,” he rumbled aloud, chuffing out a shallow snort as his hand touched and felt sticky against the hard surface. “It’s different now.” Aligning his mind with the dream, he thought of going there, to that place, shutting his eyes and trying to find some sort of common mental ground with that world. In mere Trills, his hand began to move through the surface, and he found himself pushing inside, his body feeling cool as if covered in ice until he arrived in the sunny cloudscape of someone else’s dream.
As always, Abaddon’s mere presence was anathema to such worlds. The skies immediately darkened as he floated endlessly in the atmosphere, wondering if he was falling - the clouds were distant, like a painted canvas, and he could not honestly tell. Of course, the moment that thought hit his mind, he began to fall. And by the shadowy figure drifting down with him, he knew then that so too could the other man feel Kielik’s power invading this place, conscious or not.
Plummeting towards the world, the clouds parted and now he could see the ground, a blurry green mess distant still. A forest, with the grey blotch of a cityscape snaking throughout. Turning his head as the wind whipped by, drowning out the noise, he spied the flailing, faceless dreamer, and hurtled towards him with a tuck of his limbs. Guiding himself with his own intent, he sought to get closer and closer, before holding out his hand to the man who then noticed and took it.
”What’s happening!?” the man screamed.
”The miracle and wonder of a dream, friend!” Abaddon shouted back, before a black sludge began to form upon his palm, hand gripping tight to hold on to the imaginary dream figment of another, that representation of conscious forced to endure as a cool, slick worm took shape upon his arm. He at once twisted and turned, but Abaddon pulled and twisted back, wrenching his arm aside so he could not dislodge the monster crawling up his sleeve.
Red light filled his vision and he began to shiver, Abaddon leering through the disturbing light with a genuine curiosity as it began to disappear with a winking twinkle, the tail of the beast sticking from the man’s stretched-out jaw. He was gagging now, lucid as could be and terrified. This was a nightmare he would remember for Arcs to come, especially that dot-speckled, tattooed face of Abaddon’s staring him down. “Remember the worm,” Abaddon began. “Feel how it travels down your throat, ah!” He watched the man gag, gripping his hand tight as the earth grew ever closer.
Normally, the fright of hitting the ground would wake someone up with such a jarring intensity, but when they hit the earth rose up and hit them both, they found themselves tumbling down a rocky mountain embraced together. It hurt for Abaddon to feel such things, but the pain was illusory and imagined at best. By now, the worm was completely gone, lost to the depths of the man’s stomach.
Rising as they came to a stop, the bringer of Nightmares stood stalwart and tall, gazing down upon his prey with hands upon his hips, a knowing look. “Did you eat it all?” he asked, before leaning down to squeeze those cheeks together despite the bulging eyes above. “Open your mouth, say ahh?” The innocent man opened his mouth to show there was nothing there, and Abaddon pranced about him like a dancing lunatic, laughing with joy. “You’re such a good sport!” he cried aloud as this once happy victim pulled himself to his knees and began to retch, trying his best to vomit the beast residing in his stomach, churning and writhing to unsettle it so.
Abaddon’s hands clapped together. “Oh, oh, are you about to give birth?” he joked. “I don’t think it’s ready yet, in all honesty. Maybe you should give it a few Trials, but I’d be worried about which end it wants to come out of.”
”Heeeeelp!” screamed the portly man, who just wanted to have a good night’s rest.
”Heeeeelp!” Abaddon screamed with him, throwing his head back and crying aloud to the world. “It’s a monster, it’s inside me! Ahhhhh!”
The mockery quelled the balding worm-fodder for the moment as Abaddon quieted down and held up a hand. “How many fingers?” he asked, holding up five.
”Five, why are you doing this to me? Get that thing out of me!” the man said with fervor.
Abaddon waggled his finger. “Nuh-uh-uh, can’t do that. Nope. He comes out when he wants to. I have no control,” he lied, really selling the horror. “In fact,” he stated as he squeezed his hand together. “How many fingers am I holding up now?”
”None, a fist - hrrrk!” The man doubled over, clutching his abdomen as the scaled, tough worm twisted and turned in his gut. Eyes shut tight, he began pleading to the world around him. “Wake up, wake up, wake up. This is just a dream. Wake up, wake up, wake up.”
Abaddon watched on with amusement. “That doesn’t work with me. Fear the Nightmares of Kielik, and be pitied by his faithful. Why don’t you enjoy that Corruption seething inside you, the inclination that the worm inside you will someday wish to come out of you.” Abaddon had given a Minor Corruption to the man, a fixation on his stomach, so that the events transpiring from this Nightmare would follow him for Trials to come with that evil little mental trick.
Elated, Abaddon called his worm back. “Split apart, worm,” he continued, adding to the deception. “Ah, there we go.” The man opened his mouth to protest, but he sat there gagging as the beast wriggled free from his mouth. “One has become two, with the remainder inside you,” Abaddon laughed, before glancing at the forest around them. “There were such pretty skies here a moment ago. It’s a shame, really. So much beauty is lost when I do my job, although I suppose some still remains under the guise of these things.” As he said this, he stared off into space before waving to the man. “Well, I must bid you adieu, and a good night. Don’t let the bed worms bites.” The mage winked playfully, before dancing off to the veil, fading with a shake of hips to some other world, likely to harass another denizen of the dream world in his long quest to earn Kielik’s grace.
