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Skystrike
10/31/2004 7:27 PM

A teenage boy, average in every way, sat huddled up against the marble wall of an endless hallway. His brown hair hung about his face in uncontrolled strands, and even through the thickets of hair you could tell that the boy’s amber eyes stared hollowly at his surroundings. To say the least he was very confused, but the knowledge that he was dreaming slowly came to him. He wasn’t sure why he didn’t notice it before, as he usually knew when he dreamed, but this dream was like none he remembered having. He tried to change his dream, as he often did with others, to more comfortable surroundings and found he couldn’t. A little frustrated the boy stood up and decided to fallow this one where his subconscious would lead him.

Pushing his hair out of the way and behind his ears, the boy focused his amber orbs on either end of the hallway and saw that they both appeared to go on forever. Something else that was curious about this hall was that there were no doors or openings of any kind. The walls were spaced about four feet apart from each other and were an ivory sort of white marble. The floor appeared to have the same properties, and so did the ceiling, save for small glowing lights spaced about every two feet. As far as the eye could see this hallway continued and it was a little unnerving to the boy. He wondered what lay at the ends of this tunnel, if it ever did end. As he thought more and more about it the boy found not only his curiosity grow, but so did his anxiety. The questions flying through his mind became more and more sinister as he wondered if he would ever escape this disturbing dreamscape.

As if taking cue from the unease within the boy’s mind the dreamscape shifted and a razor sharp wind blew thought the hallway past him. Not far behind this wind rolled in an icy kind of fog that only added to the boy’s concern for his safety. Before long the endlessness of the corridor was swallowed up by the mist and the boy could barely see before his own face. In his panic, the teenager began to run wildly down one direction of the hall, not knowing what he wished to accomplish.

The adolescent’s legs were long, so his strides were long as well. He didn’t know for how long he had been jogging, but after a given period of time he stopped, exhausted and sunk again against the marble wall. Just wanting to rest from his long run, the boys mind calmed for a time and he forgot his anxiety about the dream. Again at the onset of his emotions, the dreamscape shifted and the mist slowly began to clear. It was then that the boy heard the sound of heavy footfalls coming from the direction he had been running from. The teenager was so tired from his run that he did not look in that direction will the footfalls had stopped. When he did he was shocked by what stood before him.

The youngster was looking into the same unusual amber eyes that were his own. Shocked, the adolescent gazed at what was essentially himself standing before him, albeit some definite changes. At first the boy thought the thinning mist was playing tricks on his mind but when the mist was finally cleared he knew that he had not been mistaken.

The version of himself that appeared before him seemed older, though he wasn’t sure. The male before him had much longer brown hair then the boy himself had, and it was tied back in a neat tail as to keep it out of his face. The apparition wore crimson rags about himself; though the youngster could make out they merely covered a tunic and pants of the same color. The deep color reminded the boy of dried blood more then anything. Perhaps the most unusual change was that the phantom has a series of scar across his visible body that looked like they were the ones one might receive in sword combat. The specter also bore a large burn to his neck, making him look slightly disfigured.

The apparition had a powerful presence to the teenager, an almost dark presence, but for some reason he didn’t feel fear. Gazing into the unusual amber globes the specter bore in common with himself, he knew that he would not be harmed. Above all else the teenager felt a huge amount of respect to the man before him, and for this reason when the man held out a leather gloved hand, the boy took it and the dreamscape went blank.

Skystrike
11/04/2004 9:27 PM

Golden light glimmered in the sky as our hero awoke. The first thing the teen became aware of as his mind returned to him was he was in minor pain. His eyes still blurry with sleep, the boy moved his hand behind his head and rubbed it, apparently the source of his pain. As the pricking sensation of pain subsided in his head the youngsters brought his hand back, and was surprised to see it covered in blood. The teenager stared at if for a few moments, confused. How had he injured himself like this? Quickly the teen threw his hand back where it had been and applied pressure. Biting back the pain, the boy felt the texture of a small cut. Cursing he used his good hand to rub his eyes clear.

It was then that the boy noticed he didn’t know his surroundings. Amber eyes flashing about wildly he tried to take in everything. The teen found himself in a sort of alley. To his right the boy could make out another set of twisting buildings with very little space between them. The boy also took note of the fact that the buildings appeared to me made of stone and wood. Looking left the boy saw movement along an old cobblestone street, and with his hands he felt the floor of the alley as cold dirt. The morning sun was low in the sky and sent narrow rays out upon him.

Sound assaulted his ears suddenly, as if he were hearing for the first time. Plotting and footfalls filled his head, which the boy guessed was from the street to his left. Glancing that way again the boy could make out the feet of people and the hooves of horses. High above the street the boy spotted several windmills built atop the larger stone buildings. It was then our hero noticed the light, but constant wind around him.

The wind and morning chill caused the boy to shiver, and he noticed that his clothes were missing. Absentmindedly rummaging through the clutter in the alley the boy found an old cloak and threw it about himself. He couldn’t remember where he was supposed to be, but he knew this place was wrong and he was very confused. The boy stood up from the ground and slowly made his way toward the street to his left in a daze. Where was he? Who was he?

The more he thought about it the more the teen realized he couldn’t remember anything about himself. Sure, he remembered all he had learned, how to read, do math, even drive a car, but anything about his personal life, himself had escaped him. Flashes of things filled the boys mind, shards of memories, but they were all unclear and moved along too quick to really notice. The only thing that was really clear to him was a sense of wrongness to the situation. Stumbling to the mouth of the alley the boy looked into the street and saw people going about their business.

The people resembled peasants of the earlier eras, but what era and from where he couldn’t remember. Horses and carts were everywhere, and the boy guessed he was in some kind of bazaar. Looking about the teenager noted that all of the buildings on the ground were large and appeared very old. Some of them looked like the orange stone they were made of was about to crumble away. Also unusual, was that all of the buildings had wooden windmills built atop them, much more recent in both design and existence.

Without warning, dirty water and soot fell upon him from above. Breaking out of his trance the youngster gazed above him wildly, seeing a young girl holding a bucket gazing out her window.

"What do you think your doing?" the girl hollered at him, "By Avis why would you stand above the drain?"

The boy looked at her through his unusual amber eyes, and shuttered in the morning chill. The girls face seemed to become calmer and she put the bucket back inside, then disappeared from the window. A few moments later the door to that building swung open and the very same girl walked into the throng before him.

"Are you ok?"

Avenging_Angel
11/16/2004 10:34 AM

The hall of Fadwran Nightruler, bane of the lands, terror of the skies, and general all-around-villain, was in uproar.
Literally.
Of course, that was not unusual for the warlord's stronghold. The soldiers who served as guards brawled on a daily basis, with eachother, townsfolk, and servants.
Fadwran sat on his throne (which was actually a chair with a purple cushion on it: his real throne, an ornately painted chair, had met an unfortunate demise at the hands of several drunken, brawling guards, who spent the next few weeks washing dishes) was reading a report, frowning. That also was not unusual: the only time Lord Fadwran didn't frown while reading a report was during tax season.

"What's this about a thief being caught in the keep's storage room?" he demanded in a booming voice of his Chamberlain, Krosin.
The Chamberlain(who resembled a weasel) looked nervous.
"Yes, M'lord. He was caught before anything was taken, and was sent into the kitchen as punishment."
Due to the large amount of people living in the keep, the kitchen staff was constantly needing new recruits.
Lord Fadwran looked disgusted.
"Hang him. After dinner."
The Chamberlain looked faint, but bowed and scurried away. This was horrible, horrible! He had never expected this when he became Chamberlain! The Warlord was a nightmare!

Fadwran looked up from the tally-scroll he was reading, the Chamberlain's thoughts
coming to him. He motioned to Benevol, the chief of the guards, and pointed at the Chamberlain's retreating back.
"Hang him too. After dinner."

Kalia_Majere
11/20/2004 9:15 PM

Kesseria stared at the boy for a long moment, her gray-blue eyes flitting over him in a calculating manner. She was younger than him by several years, and she was starting to wonder if he was quite addled in the head. He hadn't spoken since her sharp retort, and she noticed then that he was barefoot, and she hazarded a guess that if he were barefoot, he probably wasn't wearing anything else under that cloak either.

"have you completely lost your senses?" She chastized. She moved forward, with a quick glance over her shoulder, and grabbed the boy by the elbow.

"Come on, before the enforcers should see you..." She said shaking her head and dragging the boy into the shelter of the building.

Skystrike
11/25/2004 7:07 AM

As Kesseria pulled on the boy trying to cover him from the public he tripped over his own feet and stumbled into the shelter. As the sixteen year old stumbled into the girls home he clung to his cloak and only barely managed to keep it from slipping from his waist. His confusion was great, but realizing that he had nowhere to go in this 'place' he thought he'd let this play out. At the very least this young girl could get him some clothes.

The insides of the home were mostly simple. The fading embers of last nights fire still hung in the fireplace all the way to the east corner of the room, and stairs leading upward were in the west. A circular table and four chairs sat in the center of the room placed upon a small rug. Other then that, another table was up againts the wall on the east side of the one room first floor. On the table were a few candles and other random objects, but aside from that the first flat was bare.

The teenager managed to get himself into a chair and for the first time really looked into the girl before him. She was young, but she appeared to be smarter then her years would sugest. Hoping she'd have some answers for him, the boy turned his unusual amber globes from her.

"I'm confused. Where am I?" he asked simply.

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