The Temptation of a Governor.

[Kylerryth]

Altias.

The voice would undoubtedly be familiar: it was mellifluous and deep; it was soothing, commanding, and thunderous all at once, but without allowing any tone to overwhelm the others; it was strong, and every word resonated with power -- and a certainty in that power. It was the disembodied voice from the previous evening -- the voice that had visited him some hours after Archimedes' vicious assault on the Broken Dagger and its patrons; after Altias' abdominal wound, like a gaping, red-lipped maw, had threatened to spew its contents over the tavern's floor, over the distance to the Rememdium, and within the Rememdium itself.

The setting would undoubtedly be familiar, too: the white vastness of the window dream, a dream that, after everything that had occurred in the past few days alone, could have happened years ago, a lifetime ago. That dream had been a catalyst; it had paved the way for something that had the potential to be magnificent. In this dream, however, there was no window. In its place was a figure robed and cowled in brown whose face, save for its bare chin, was concealed by the shadow of its deep hood. The figure's hands were folded in its sleeves; it resembled a monk in solemn prayer.

That voice...

Altias. I asked this once before, but now I ask again: Do you remember the window dream?

[Altias_Bromn]

"Who are you?"

The words seemed to flow slowly, softly, between them. The anxiety that *should* accompany this new visitation to the endless white is not there. Istead there is a deep sense of curiosity.

"To answer your question, I do remember. How could I not?"

A careful study of the figure followed, but he did not dare approach. In the last dream there had been no escape from the window...but it easily allowed you to approach it. He was not certain that would be the best idea with this...man.

The hooded face, the robed figure. If this were any normal dream these would be metaphors for other things. Here...he feared it simply meant that whatever was hidden behind them would be too hideous to bear.

"Who are you? What do you want from me?"

The question repeated, as he tried not to stare at the only other thing in the vast room of white.

[Kylerryth]

Good.

The figure's arms moved to its sides; the robe's voluminous sleeves drooped, offering a glimpse of strong hands. Then the mysterious figure began walking in a slow circle around Altias, its booted feet clock-clocking over the unseen surface upon which they stood, as though it were marble and not emptiness. While it walked, the figure spoke to the Governor -- but its mouth did not move, not that Altias could see, and the circle the figure drew with its footsteps never closed in on the other man.

Who I am, Altias, is not important. Your curiosity is warranted, but unnecessary. As for how you could not remember the window dream ... well, people have two tendencies when it comes to mental affliction: they ignore it, try to forget it happened, or otherwise block it from memory; or they attempt to figure out why this affliction occurred.

The figure paused a few paces in front of Altias; it faced him, though the Governor would remain unable to see its actual visage.

Let us return to a few days previous.

The figure lifted a hand, its palm toward Altias, and--

There was a tremendous rush of sound and a flash of light within the white that began at the extreme edges of the Governor's vision and drew itself inward, sliding across the cornea like liquid fire that did not burn before spiralling down the iris and spilling into the pupil; and then...

Altias vaulted over the counter and maneuvered quickly to the front of the Broken Dagger's common room, then spun and held his blade at the ready, shouting at the tall, emaciated creature further in -- Archimedes, though no one had yet gleaned that information. Altias' shout drew the creature's attention and it hurled itself bodily at the Governor, only to be assaulted in mid-air by one of the other combatants. This threw off the creature's trajectory, and it landed on the shoulders and back of one of Altias's personal guards, a woman whose blood was also her armor: Ariane Carnath-Emory. She went down in a heap while the creature went in an arc, having utilized her as a new point of attack, and the skeletal demon shrieked horribly just before its clawed hand swiped across Altias's abdomen, its jagged claws carving a red-lipped mouth in the man's belly, a mouth that drooled an endless amount of crimson spittle, a mouth that threatened to spew its precious viscera all over the common room floor...

The figure snapped its fingers, and the recollection was over just like that. The Governor's senses would tell him what he had experienced, albeit from a separate point of view, was real -- what he saw was happening to him even as he watched it happen to himself. Altias might note, however, that in this dream, he was quite whole.

Then the figure was circling Altias again; and it was speaking, too, its deep sound resonating throughout the emptiness.

What prompted you to do such a foolish thing, Altias? You are not a warrior. Your skill with a blade is negligible; you have not the strength or endurance to last in battle, short or prolonged. Why, when you know this as well as I, would you attempt to fight a demon?

[Altias_Bromn]

Altias cringed, and grabbed for his stomach as the vision faded. Violet eyes were wide, and for an instant, he almost felt the wound, wet and warm.


"I..I can hold my own. I was just not familiar with that blade. And that...thing...was so very fast."


The slow circling of the figure had him decidedly uncomfortable, gaze tracking him, though he did not turn to watch him.

"I did what I did because I believed the creature to be after me. I did not want the others harmed. I wanted ...to protect them. I have since been informed that it is not my job to protect, but to sit on my arse and make politics."

It was apparent from the change in the tone of his voice that this choice, which had obviously been made for him, did not sit very well with him.

"What does it matter why I did it? I nearly got myself killed, but the rest of them are whole. That was my intent."

And he fell silent once more.

[Kylerryth]

Of course it is very fast. It was designed that way. Think of that particular creature as the shadowy intruder: it is not looking for direct combat; it prefers to work behind the scenes, to manipulate its surroundings so that its intended targets turn against one another. It is able to move quickly so that it can avoid detection, and, if necessary, to escape being overwhelmed by enemies.

The robed and cowled figure continued to circle Altias; it continued to speak, too. Occasionally it would provide a gesture for emphasis of certain words, but usually it simply walked, arms at its side and swaying slightly with its movements, boots clock-clocking steadily.

Furthermore, it was after you -- and I do not believe it knows it failed to kill you.

That might come as a surprise, but before Altias could reply the echoing basso resumed its dialogue.

You say, "What do you want from me?"

I say that I want to teach you a new power, Altias -- a power that will enable you to protect and save those other people.

You say, "What does it matter why I did it?"

I say that it matters a great deal, Altias. And I say that you did it not for all of them, Altias...

And here the figure paused before Altias again, its hands drawing into its sleeves and folding beneath its chest while the concealed face regarded the man in front of it.

... but for one in particular.

Altias would receive the distinct impression that the figure in front of him was smiling.

Know this, Governor of Myrken Wood: I know your heart. In this world, the world of dreams, a world where the laws of the flesh-bound are broken with every word we speak, every move we make, every thought we have -- in this world, Altias, I come to know everything about you. I have touched your mind twice, now; I have learned more about you than you could imagine.

And now, Altias, we have arrived at my final question.

As the figure spoke, it disengaged its hands from one another and raised one, its palm supine.

Would you, Altias Bromn, accept my teaching, no matter the cost, if it could save the one you love from the death that, without my teaching to help you ... is inevitable?

And for a heartbeat, the form of Ariane Carnath-Emory would stand on the figure's open palm -- a hazy, miniature, but recognizable copy of the one-eyed swordswoman.

Then the figure's hand clenched into a fist; Ariane disintegrated, and Altias awakened instantly.