Smoke & Mirrors: Dillen Dreams Yet Again
4/27/2006
Logfile from GarouMUSH.
[GMNote: Stacey GMed this dream sequence.]
[Back in Brownstone again.]
An afternoon of quiet. Dillen thinks that maybe if he grabs a quick nap in the afternoon that the dreams would not come. He's laid back on the couch with a damp towel across his troubled head. Gretchen and Freya have headed to the park and that is where his dream starts. It begins in the park as he's watching his family from a distance as the baby and Freya play in the sunshine. Happy enough, eh?
A picturesque scene, warm, comfortable, safe. The laughter of his child, the mother's smile, the soothing sound of water cascading down the fountain, the warm sun against the Get's face and shoulders. Pride. Love. This is what everything is about. This is something to fight for. A splash, an unnatural ripple in the water is all that faintly disturbs the peaceful pace of the dream.
Dillen hears the noise and then shakes it off. Someone threw a pebble in. He turns back to look at his family, a smile coming over his lips.
As if a bottle of ink had spilled into it, the fountain's water begins to turn an oily black, starting at the ripple and soon discoloring it in entirety. It hardly stops there, but soon the water level begins to rise, the dark oil spilling over the sides, reaching like thin, elongated fingers toward the Get and his family.
"Freya. Get home. Now." Dillen jumps up and heads for the fountain. She doesn't wait as he runs past her. She scoops up the baby and starts for home. He's at the water's edge, trying to find out what is coming from the depths of the fountain.
The oil-like substance never reaches his family, but the Get is not so lucky as he heads toward it. The 'water' laps up against his feet, then curls around his ankles. Its grip is surprisingly strong as it twists further up his body, seeking to envelope him entirely in its dark coils.
Dillen goes right into Crinos, rage filling his veins. His claws slice at the inky water, trying to free himself before he is pulled fully in the the mess.
The water splits as his claws tear through it, sprinkling the ground with black droplets of ooze. Rage, yes. Anger at this threat, frustration as it crowds against him. Still advancing despite his best efforts. The top of oily water turns and twists to evade his strikes. A chittering laughter echoes in Dillen's ears as it wraps around his arms, holding him fast, and then comes level to his face, almost in a mocking fashion before it splashes over the Get.
Dillen keeps striking at the ink, even when it envelops his face. He's gasping for air and striking as best he can at anything. He fights so hard to survive, to win.
The Get seems to slip from the enemy's grasp and looks around to see that he stands on an obsidian plane, nothing to be seen no matter what direction he looks. Just a gray sky, black ground, and emptiness in between. Thunder rumbles in the distance, rolling closer, angry, threatening. A fog begins to gather, thin at first, but growing thicker, obscuring the Galliard's sight. Not that there's much to see...
Dillen simply closes his eyes and tries to relax. He concentrates on his senses, the sense of smell and hearing for a time. Using what else he has to try and gain some kind of upper hand against his adversary.
Eyes open or shut, it makes little difference. Soon the fog has thickened to the point that he can barely see his own hands, only a gray-white haze. The thunder growls again, closer this time, almost deafening, pounding in the Get's ears. And then there is silence. It is during this reprieve that a different sort of growl reaches him. *Can you really call yourself my child?*
Dillen gives a mighty growl out at the thunder that ricochets in his ears. Then the voice reaches him. He silences. ~Who speaks?~ His eyes snaps open, looking around through the fog.
A monstrously large white wolf stands before him, easily recognizable as Snaekolfr, the fog parting around him. The totem draws up its lips in a snarl. *What is left of the pack? Can /you/ really piece together the tattered shreds? What have you done to help them? Dishonor surrounds you, threatening to overtake you. Your packmates leave or are left to die. What will you do? Will you stand by and let this happen? WILL YOU FIGHT?* The spirit snarls, snapping at the air. *Or watch like a coward as they die around you?*
Dillen growls and looks to the wolf. ~I am alive and walking. The pack will finds it's way. To disperse or to be together. I will still fight the fight against the Wyrm. THAT is what matters.~ He growls again, pacing back and forth. ~I DO Fight. You, of all beings, should know this fact. If they die it is what Gaia wishes and I can do nothing to help them. It is in the philodox's hands, not mine. It was taken from my hands when they chose to hide.~
The totem bristles at this. *Coward,* it growls, then swipes at the Get with its massive paw, knocking him backwards. The sky turns a dark red. Scarlet. Rain bleeding down, feeding the thirsty earth... He stands in the Caern's center, amongst a crowd of shadowed, twisted Crinos. They shout jeers and cry out in anger, teeth gnashing as they glare toward the center stone, where Kenneth and Kevin stand, back to back, holding hands. ~Death! Death! Death to the Charachs, the Traitors, and Litany Breakers! We will feast on their blood tonight! Gaia will smile upon our sacrifice!~
Dillen shakes his body violently. ~No. If they must die then so shall I!~ He charges up and stands in front of them. ~Kill me first. I am their Alpha. I die with them!~ He growls out, staring all the crinosed faces in the eyes.
Saliva drips from their fangs as they glare at the three in the center, clawed hands flexing, crouching as though preparing to pounce. The anger, the Rage surrounding him is almost tangible, almost suffocating. ~Yes, yes, we can eat this one, too, before he spoils. We will grow strong from their deaths! Purified by their blood!~
~If we must die, we die in battle.~ And with those words, Dillen charges into the frey. ~Make each one bleed! Strike the blows and bring them down.~ He growls out as he gives it all he has.
The two beside him roar out their agreement, but do not follow him, instead remaining on the rock, watching as the Get fights. Dillen charges in, dealing deadly and mighty blows to all those he comes up against, causing them to fall one by one. The heat of battle fills him, his heartbeat and Rage pounding in his ears. Die, die, die, YES, they all must DIE. It's you or them, them or you. His claws move with speed and skill, red and black blood splattering the Caern's floor. His vision is clouded by a red mist. Rage, all he feels is RAGE.
Dillen keeps moving through the crowd, striking down all he can. He turns to look at the other two, giving a mighty roar. ~Defend yourselves!~ He commands, lifting blood covered arms to the sky. ~You stand and face these beasts. face them with claws!`
At Dillen's roar, they do leap into the crowd, but are then lost amongst the chaos. There's the face of Jamethon, shaking his head condescendingly as Dillen strikes him down. Die! There's Brom, proud and sneering. Never could be as good a Get as him. Die! There's Vera, cold and dark, aloof in her high rank, smirking as she reads the death sentence. Die! Justin and Blackriver, laughing as they plot destruction. Down with all who don't agree! There can be only one Law here. All these and more Dillen slays, his body covered with the blood of Septmates. Yet still, the Rage builds, fueling his energy and wrath.
Dillen moves full into a frenzy, slicing at anything in his path. He sees no faces, only someone threatening and challenging him. Claws slice and teeth gnash. Blood flies and covers him until he is dripping with it.
The frenzied Get continues to claw and bite, striking at whatever comes near. Blood and pillow stuffing splatters everywhere. Limbs and chunks of wood are shredded into nothing. He continues his wild attack until all is demolished. Only a demolished wreck remains of his foe... And of what was once the couch on which Dillen had slept as he awakens with a start.
Dillen comes to, finding himself in crinos and the couch 'dead'. A curse under his breath and his face buries in his hands as he shifts back into his human form. "Fuck. Just... Fuck." And he sits there for a long time, breathing... In the middle of a piece of a couch.
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