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What Dreams may Come


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#1 Guest_Bibbi_*

Posted 24 February 2004 - 06:37 PM

“Tybalt.” The word reverberated through his mind, causing him to open his eyes in irritation. He was dead; why was someone trying to bother him?

“Tybalt.” The voice was insistent. Despite his efforts to ignore it, the sound burrowed past his stubbornness and lodged in his mind.

“What?” he yelled, sitting upright. “What do you want?” He had no idea who this Tybalt was or what it wanted with him, but in order for peace to return, he would have to confront it.

“Come,” was all the voice said, echoing from the left. He stood and stared in the direction of the echo.

He was in a courtyard of some castle or keep, he couldn’t quite tell. A large wall encircled the entire area, encompassing the towered stone complex at the center along with several smaller, more mundane buildings such as barracks and an inn. It looked to be a small gated community thriving off of the large castle, whatever it was. The voice had come from inside the castle.

The man sighed and walked toward the large front doors, not wondering or caring who he was or what he was doing in this place. As far as he knew, he was dead, and enjoying the relaxation of oblivion until the voice had roused him. This Tybalt would pay for bringing him back.

His hand rested on one of the doors’ handles and he was about to turn it when they opened of their own accord to admit a demonic figure into the courtyard. “Greetings, godchild,” it rumbled.

“Who are you?” the man asked, not really caring.

“I am a servant of your father,” the monster replied. “I have come to test your willingness to proceed. Beyond lies your old life and power, while out here there is only emptiness. If you are to regain your former self, you must pass through me. And to pass, you must first sacrifice.”

“What if I don’t want my old life?” he retorted. “I was content to remain dead. I don’t think I want to go back, especially if I need to sacrifice something.”

The demon laughed. “Ha! I would never have suspected a Child of Bhaal to be such a spineless whelp! Do you truly desire oblivion over life? You are twice the fool, then, for forsaking power when offered and turning your back on self-discovery. So be it, godchild, I shall leave you to your ignorance.” The demon vanished, taking the opening into the castle with it. In its place was a smooth stone wall where the doors had once been.

The voice came again, this time muffled and from a great distance. “Tybalt, please, you must save me. He’s coming, he’ll be here soon!”

“Go away!” the man screamed, covering his ears in vain. “I want nothing from you!”

“Tybalt!” the voice screamed one last time, a screeching wail which ended abruptly. The man staggered in pain as the voice ended, then straightened. He felt…lighter somehow. Somewhere, a piece of him had fled, and yet he didn’t feel injured. Rather, he felt whole, yet different from before.

In an instant, the scene dissolved and he flashed into a glass tube for a moment. An imposing man was speaking amidst a group of people, yet he appeared to be talking more to himself than any other listener.

“Strange,” the man was saying. He wore a leather mask that looked to be stitched onto his face. “This one did not cling to his divine essence as Imoen did. He almost seemed to relinquish it gladly. No matter, it is mine now, and the next stage of planning can begin. Come, we will ready for travel.” He and the others left the room without once looking at him.

Only one of the outsiders lingered. A wiry man of exotic origins paused at the doorway. “I am sorry, Tybalt,” he said sadly. “I never meant things to get this far. I had no idea what he had planned for you, or how dark his mind truly is. I hope that you will…forgive me, or at least understand why I did what was done.” He was about to say something else, then turned and left the room quickly.

The man in the tube had no idea what any of this had just meant, nor did he care to find out. He wondered whether he would starve to death in the tube soon or whether he would have to wait for death to come. He hoped it wouldn’t be too painful.

Others filled similar tubes in the room yet they were all slumped over where they stood, giving him hope. Perhaps he would soon join them in death and forget about all this nonsense which surrounded him.

As he thought this, a shadow passed over his vision and he felt himself slipping away. It almost felt as if his body were dissolving and scattering to the corners of the world.

“Awake, my adopted child.” Another voice disturbed his peace, yet was different from the last. The first voice had been higher pitched, a woman’s perhaps, or a girl’s. This voice was aged and faded, as if it had suffered the burden of many years and many troubles.

“Awake and face the terrible tests ahead of thee.” He opened his eyes to a stone cavern dimly lit from an unseen source. Carved along the walls were horrific depictions of murders and tortures, and fiendish shapes formed of stone protruded from the floor like transformed demons, ready to spring to life at any moment. There was no exit from the chamber; illustrated walls circled him and formed a ceiling above him. The only other thing in the room was an old man.

The old man spoke again. “Hello, Tybalt. I felt your death and found you as soon as I could, though it wasn’t easy traveling through your true sire’s realm. I have come to guide you once more, as I failed to do in life. I have watched your progress from Candlekeep to Irenicus, and prayed for your survival. My worst fears have come true: you have died. Yet your soul lives on in the mortal world. Irenicus has stolen your mortality, and thus you are connected still to the living! If you can pass the challenges which await you here, you may be able to return to life and regain that which was stolen from you.”

The younger man took all this in without protest, but now shook his head. “Why would I want to go back?” he demanded. “From what I remember, my life was full of pain and sadness. Why should I go back to it?”

The sage approached and laid a withered hand on his shoulder. “My poor boy. I know you have suffered through much, and will suffer more yet before all is done, but you must believe that there is nothing awaiting you here but more pain. This is Bhaal’s realm, and if you stay, you will be absorbed into his growing power, as your siblings before you. You will cease to exist as an individual, merely an extension of the god’s will. You will in a sense cease to be.”

The young man closed his eyes and imagined this future. Would it be so bad to abandon his life? His memory was hazy, but images came and went, shedding some light onto his identity. He had gone through so much in a short time, and much of it was painful. Yet there had been some joy. Friends had journeyed with him, friends and…A name sprung to the forefront of his thoughts: Haer’Dalis. Yes, there had been someone who had meant much to him, who cared for him in return. What would happen to this person if he remained in this place?

“What must I do?” he asked the old man.

The other man smiled. “You must pursue several items, for they are key to who you are. A talon is the first, followed by the horn of great beast, a candle of light, a dagger of bone, a potion of blood and tears, and a blackened skull. Once you have found these, you will face a final test before you may leave. Seek wisely and true, my child. I will be with you always, do not despair.” With these words the sage disappeared into the darkness.

“Wait!” the man shouted. “How can I leave this place?”

A clanking sound alerted him to a presence behind him, and he spun around. No old man stood before him, now, but a young man full in knightly armament. The knight carried an impressive two-handed sword which radiated so brightly the man couldn’t bear to look at it without squinting.

“Good day, my lord,” the knight said, bowing stiffly in his armor. “You look to be a force of righteousness in this vile pit of despair. I am a paladin, and request aid from a brother in arms.”

“I…I’m not a knight,” the man said, unsure what or who he was exactly.

“Nevertheless, you are a force of justice, and I must call upon your mercy to assist in my quest. I come to this place seeking a monstrous beast of mythic proportions. Already it has destroyed three villages and eaten more fair maidens than we can know. It must be vanquished for the good of the land. Will you take up the challenge and defeat the beast?”

The man hesitated. If he refused to fight, would he be left here forever? This could be his one chance of escaping this prison. “What is required of me?”

“Excellent spirit! All you must do is take this wretched fist cut from one of the greatest devils of the planes and thrust it into the heart of the beast. Be on your guard, for the beast is as clever as it is strong, and it has fooled many into believing its lies. Do not listen to a word it says; strike before it can talk.” The knight dropped a clawed hand into his awaiting palm. The talons twitched as if still connected to its body, somewhere across the universe. The man almost dropped the thing in disgust, and was about to return it to the paladin, when he realized he was alone again. The knight had vanished.

Across the cavern where had been rock wall there now lay a black opening. The man reexamined the room but everything else was as he had first seen it; only this exit marred his first impression. Gripping the fist tightly, he ventured into the darkness, hoping he could spring upon the beast before it found him.

The tunnel ended in a cavern identical to the one he had just left. The only difference was that in place of the knight, there now stood a horrifying ogre, filling the back half of the cave. It carried a club as large as the man, and he was sure that it could kill him in one blow if it so chose. That it did nothing but stare at him was strange. Its eyes rested on the claw in his hands.

The man raised the claw, trying best to decide how to try to rush the beast. His body possessed excellent reflexes, and he would have an easy time of ducking under the ogre’s swings if he moved fast enough. Still, something was not right, and he held back until he could figure out what was bothering him.

“Why do you not strike?” the ogre asked. Its voice was high and feminine. The man didn’t remember encountering ogres before, but he would have imagined them to be more menacing, not high pitched and still like this one.

“Why are you here?” he asked it. “A knight told me you have caused grief, and that I must end your terror. He gave me this,” he held up the claw. “Has he spoken truly?”

The ogre flinched at the upheld claw but did not move against him. “That knight was once my lover, when I was in my true form. A witch transformed me into the ogre you see before you when my knight refused to wed her, and placed the key to my freedom in that claw. My knight did not know what had happened to me, and chased me away when he saw my new body. I was forced to survive alone and steal what I could from peasants.

“The witch didn’t think this was enough, and gave my love that claw. She told him that only the claw could kill me and save the villagers whom I terrorized. She thought it would be ironic that he kill his true love with his own hands. I can only wonder that he hasn’t tried to kill me, himself.”

The man thought this explanation over. He had no reason to trust the ogre, and the knight had claimed it would be deceitful. But he could sense the wrongness of the situation, and perhaps the ogre was being honest.

He took a deep breathe. “Will the claw kill you as the knight said?”

The ogre nodded. “Yes, it will. But it can also break the curse on me, if you freely give it to me.”

The man grimaced. There was no clear solution to the problem, and he had no way of knowing one way or another how to act. He thought of the old man who had greeted his arrival here, and wondered whether this task was part of the tests he had mentioned. What was he being tested on? His battle prowess? He felt confident that he could strike the ogre with the claw before it reached him, yet there didn’t seem to be much at stake, there. What use was testing if he could easily pass?

He decided that the test was on whether he released the ogre, trusting its word over a paladin’s, or whether he did the obvious deed of eliminating a monster. That the second option was obvious gave him pause. Often the obvious answer is the wrong one.

“Take the claw, then, and be free.” He handed over the claw, wishing that he could have the freedom which the ogre sought.

“Oh, thank you!” As the ogre grasped the claw in its hand, it began to shrink. Soon, it had changed into the slim form of a young elven girl. She bowed to him, a smile covering her face. “You do not know how grateful I am, sir. You have made the right decision, do not fear. If you continue to follow your heart, your father will hold no power over you.”

He was about to ask what she knew about his father, but she had vanished without him noticing. He was focused instead on the tingling sensation coursing through his veins. Something was happening to him, changing his body, or what passed for a body here.

After a moment, the sensation ended, and he was back to normal. Except that something felt different, as if there was something new about him. Somehow, he knew that his ability to withstand magical damage had increased, perhaps a gift from the elf before she vanished. He didn’t know how he could tell this benefit had occurred or how he knew about it; it seemed second nature to be so attuned to his body. Perhaps the nature of this place gave him more insight into his being than would normally happen in life.

He didn’t give it too much thought, however, as he saw another dark opening in the rock wall and knew his next test lay ahead.




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