Continuation of Thread #15.5 [Bladebound Retainer]

Mercifully enough, there is the weathered stump of a tree that appears to not be as wet a surface as the riverbank. Moisture seeps from the point of contact as you seat yourself upon it, shifting to better position yourself for the Dream. All the while, Krabat continues to ramble on about the virtues of meditation, following you to where you sit.

“It’s not magic,” you repeat, emphatically, arranging your legs in order, “So if you’ll please be quiet and allow for me to demonstrate…”

This would not be the first time that you’ve performed the Dream before someone, or had someone catch you doing it. The Locusts had their own mixed feelings on it, ranging from Dieter’s suspicious mutterings to [i]his[/i] mild curiosity. [i]She[/i] didn’t like it on account of the trance robbing her of her favorite pillow, especially in your later years. Your fellow Crownguard have kept quiet or have no opinion on the matter, and the Crowmonds have not seen the act itself.

But this would be the first time you would be entering the Specter’s Dream to prove a point.

You enter the trance as you would normally, tuning out your senses and emptying out your mind. Everything simply…falls away. The taste of the wind that whispers and glides along the cattails and reeds, the noise of the Anosar as ice shifts and breaks with the flowing rapids…everything simply fades away.

Smell and taste, touch and hearing, four senses have gone dormant, leaving only your sight. And even that is muted. All manner of color, from the brightest red to the dullest brown, are gone. Shades of black and white are all you can see.

The way Krabat’s face changes is almost alchemic in its haste and drama. He is at first amused, looking on with a wry grin and shaking his head. Then he regards you with interest, a sort of curiosity as he approaches, looking you over like a specimen in a laboratory. And then, it is when he looks up at [i]something[/i] over your shoulder that causes sheer alarm to completely consume him.

In an instant, the druid is rushing towards you, waving his hands and shouting at the top of his lungs. Even with your sense of hearing gone, and only your sight to see him, you could almost [i]feel[/i] the loudness of his words penetrating deep through the trance.

Having only recently entered the Dream, and had no more than ten seconds to properly immerse yourself within it, Krabat’s charge catches you off-guard. The druid lays a hand upon you, shaking you with a frightful desperation. In his other hand, he traces a rune, all the while shouting and bellowing at some unseen thing.

Even with your senses muted, and a muddled mind as if experiencing the world through molasses, you are able to make out the word that the druid’s lips make.

BEGONE.

And with a sickening jolt, as if someone had seized you by the back of your neck, you are violently wrenched out of the Specter’s Dream. One sense becomes five once more, and all of the missing sensations and input comes rushing back into your mind. It is almost too much to bear, but you manage to choke down the bile that threatens to spill from the back of your throat.

Sheer instinct causes you to push the druid off of you, and you stumble back into a fighting stance. It is only by the virtue of his relationship that you do not draw any weapons, but the man doesn’t seem to care.

His beard trembles as he works his mouth, as if struggling to come up with something intelligent or eloquent to say. Then, as if giving up, he merely demands, “What the hell was that?!”

Coughing and wheezing, you manage to sputter back, “I’d ask the same about you! The hell is wrong with you-”

“That was not meditation,” he interrupts, “Meditation does not involve…not magic either, at least from what I’ve seen between sorcery and weaves, but that’s beside the point! Who’s the mad son of a dog that taught you that…whatever the hell that was?!”

“My father.”

You can’t help but feel some sort of visceral satisfaction at how that stops the druid’s tirade in his tracks. At least, only for a handful of seconds. He manages a swift recovery before pressing on once again: “That still doesn’t answer my question…actually, let me elaborate. What in the actual hell is that…technique supposed to accomplish?”

Wincing at the phantom sensation of his grip upon your shoulder, you mutter, “…it’s just how I rest and recover. The Dream
gives me the benefits of sleep without having to fall into complete unconsciousness-"

“The druid is almost hysterical. “And what’s wrong with just sleeping?”

“…it’s just what I’ve been taught,” you say defensively. For the first time in your life, you feel some smidgen of offense at someone having umbrage with your lifestyle. Or, at the very least, how you carry the everyday operations of your routine. “…I’ve been doing that since I can remember…”

But as your head begins to properly clear, proper offense and anger come to the forefront of your mind. You manage to keep the worst of it down, so only a biting irritation comes out in your next sentence: “Now I’ve got a question for you, Krabat. Why the hell did you interrupt-”

“Marcus, you don’t understand,” the druid intones, and the gravity in his voice is unnerving, to say the least. His eyes are solemn, wide and full of warning. “…the shadow that I saw behind you…the moment you entered your ‘trance’…it began devouring you.”

A cold pit settles in the bottom of your stomach. “…what?”

Krabat looks as if to lay hands on you and shake you violently. Again.“Did you hit your head on the way out coming from that trance? The Shadow…that thing that I saw ‘hovering’ harmlessly behind you? It went from ‘hovering’ to ‘lurking’ and then right down to ‘predatory’ and it just…there’s no mistaking that gap in itself for anything but a mouth. It embraced you from behind, and then…it began to feed.”

“Feed?” you demand, simultaneously incredulous and disturbed. “What do you mean ‘feed’? Feed on what?!”

“I don’t know!” The druid throws his hands up into the air. “I want to say your soul, but it doesn’t appear to be husking you of your life energy like an undead or vengeful spirit. Damned if I know what it is, but it is definitely taking [i]something[/i] from you. I can’t be sure until I conduct further research, but that involves exposing you to that [i]thing[/i], which I have no intention of doing.

“Although,” he muses, adopting a philosophic tone that does absolutely nothing to ease your nerves, “I did notice that it wasn’t only feeding. Now that I look back on it, just right before I interrupted you, it was imparting something within you for every bit of sparkly essence of ‘Marcus’ that it was devouring. Again, this is pure observation and only from a hasty look, so take that with a grain of salt.”

“Krabat, what the fuck are you talking about?” You haven’t been this uneasy since that Ingulan seer read your past like a cheap romance novel. Actually, that’s a lie. The sense of disquiet and visceral discomfort goes beyond what that withered crone told you. The dread isn't quite the same as when you returned to a broken and desolate home that cold night in winter, but it comes so very, very close. “…what Shadow? What…how can you?”

Krabat hesitates, looking over his shoulder as if checking for someone who might be watching. Then, he shrugs, tapping his forehead with a single finger. “True Sight is not a talent exclusive to the druids. Anyone with enough talent can have it, although it does tend to favor magic-users more than the mundane.

“But make no mistake, Marcus. Entering your ‘Specter’s Dream’ is to offer yourself upon a platter for…whatever the hell it is…actually, you know what? Because of the name of the technique that your apparent dog of a father taught you, let us call that [i]thing[/i] the ‘Specter’. It’s simple, to the point, and more specific and certainly less ambiguous than the moniker of ‘Shadow.’”

You have no reply, no answer to that. All you could think of is collapsing into the snow, or otherwise laughing like a madman at your current situation.

Of all things, of course you would take the Dream for granted, just like any other tool that Lucien taught you how to use. Certainly, the man was a bastard, but to think that he would neglect to tell his son that the Specter’s Dream…supposedly feeds some unseen creature? And that you’ve given more hours of your life to the Dream than to actual sleeping?

...Lucien did it himself, though. He showed you how to enter the Dream, did it himself whenever you had a moment’s rest. He must have known…but he also could have been ignorant…argh, gods damn that man to a fiery pit in the abyss! You’ve more questions than answers, and the hellish memories of your youth only grow more disconcerting by the second.

The druid, either oblivious to your emotional distress, interjects, “…say, Marcus. Perhaps when you’re finished mourning the death of your dagger’s creator, perhaps I could introduce you to my apprentice? She’s a sweet girl, beautiful lass only a few seasons into her womanhood, relatively inexperienced with men and women…”

At the look you give him, he laughs, but then sobers up immediately, albeit for the completely wrong reason. “Oh, I do not mean to say that she is loose with her favors, or that I am privy to such things! She eschews those kinds of attachments for most of us in the Circle, and while traditionally, it isn’t frowned upon, I would never think of following the tradition of master bedding apprentice. Who she lets into her bed is her business, but I can safely say that the number isn’t many, if any at all, really. I’d almost suspect her to be of the ‘Itonian’ persuasion, but she ogles both men and women equally, so really, even if you were a woman, you’d have nothing to worry about!

“Nonetheless, I think that the two of you would get along quite well…unless you already have eyes for someone else…actually, if I’m not mistaken, I can smell a woman’s perfume on your armor and her scent on your body…but my offer still stands should you ever wish to take me up on that offer. If you muter the rune three times while clutching the acorn trinket, I’ll be sure to bring her along with me for the next time we meet…”

>You have learned an unsettling truth about the Specter’s Dream.
>According to Krabat, there is a Shadow (or Specter) that ‘lurks’ close behind you, and entering the Dream allows for it to feed upon you in exchange for…something.
>The druid has also offered to introduce you to his apprentice, a supposedly virginal, beautiful young woman with a sweet disposition.