Dreamtome

[Horus]

It is the 28th of Lightshine.
A dark-haired moorish man with bags under his eyes sits at a small table, a morning view of the settlement of Candlewood by his side, framed by blue glass. He shifts his gaze to the window and back, writing supplies in hand and on the table.
A footnote separates entries in the journal.

I have deemed the cipher unnecessary.

Odd, angular symbols, not part of any language, lie above the note. Below is typical Mok'yra, a record of the dreams.

6th of Sporebloom​

I dreamt fragments of a dream regarding being in a large, empty and dark space. There was a man clinging to a thin slab of stone.

Nostalgia for something that never was.

There was a version of the past, from the point of view of a boy who longed for a girl who was dangerous to herself and others. She ran into the woods and was never seen again. Creatures of many types then poured out of the treeline, including an owl reaching towards me with a hand, telling me that I was,

“In a realm where you are not dying or watching me.”

It then stuck its head into my mouth.
End.

9th of Sporebloom​

I dreamt a road that stretched across a continent.

Vile horses chased myself and a group of others on the road for our flesh. Divots of missing stonework patched themselves together as if the road was healing. As we traveled further and further, it grew colder and colder in the area surrounding the road, but the road itself was a pleasant temperature. These further areas also had many more old, old ruins. The road ended at a great, rotted gate on an island. As I approached the island, there was a blinding, red flash.
End.

10th of Sporebloom​

I dreamt of a city, and of collecting the teeth off of a very large man.

In their place grew eyes. By some method, I maintained perfect eye contact with all of them as they increased, pulling more and more teeth from the giant. The eyes cursed me for wasting their time, and I was bitten in half. The large man told me something about “the fire under the earth.” I answered by screaming at him, and he cried. After this, I dragged myself into some type of twisting, mazelike temple of unknown faith, into the center of a circle of pedestals, and then died from my injuries.

I found myself in some kind of garden with a single, green flower. The mushrooms in the garden told me to “pull him home,” ‘him’ being me dying beforehand, and so I walked back to the city, and open the door of the temple. There was no body in there.
End.

14th of Sporebloom​

I dreamt that Malizh confronted me about her younger brother, Varl’bazh.

She was on the verge of tears, voice raised, asking me why it happened. I was desperately holding back and stifling laughter along with a grin, because I had dreamt a week earlier of Varl’bazh’s death, and instead of what had actually happened, I saw my father and his brother pushing him off of a steep drop, onto sharp stones below. Malizh dug a hole in grief, and threw the frowning Varl’bazh inside. I said to Malizh,

"That's unfortunate. He could have been poisoned."

I was on my deathbed. Only Malizh stood before me, staring and saying nothing, and eventually left the room, never to be seen again. Varl’bazh had stayed in the hole. I did not wish to be alone, and so I tried to get up.
End.

16th of Sporebloom​

I dreamt of sorting books by title in a dark library.

I couldn’t actually see their titles, but I could read them anyway, and was fighting someone by sorting them. I couldn’t put the second one into the Eyes category, because B’enluz kept pulling it out. He became more and more insistent that I did not put the book in, because he wanted to read it, reading the title out loud as “Ascension Script.” I eventually threw the book towards a corner, and he looked around for it, saying something about “Fucking Deep One worshippers,” the Deep One being the god, Visage. I called him a coward, trying to argue against the accusation, but eventually went back to book sorting when I did not receive a response.

The fourth book in the pile was a goat. Odd, but I did not question it. I didn’t know which shelf to put it in, so I walked around in the fields outside until I found a place, accidentally bumping into a campfire and falling face-first into it. I got up, apparently uninjured, and put the goat in a large pot, along with 3 lemons, and a whole onion. I walked away.

Eventually, I ended up in a tavern, drinking a black fluid from a waterskin. The man at the counter was staring at me and saying nothing. I stared back at him until he sighed, and smiled,
revealing a fanged smile. I reached into his mouth and began to pull out his bones, causing him to bite me.
End.

 

[Horus]

It is the 3rd of Sunbright.
An elf known to some by the name Akhitomei perches on a flat stone, in the shade of a large oak. He's not that far east from Candlewood. It's pleasant out--sunny, and somewhat still, with little wind where he finds himself.
Having mostly recovered from the Ashen Dreams and their effects only recently, he begins to browse the records from roughly a month ago. Another note makes a break between the entries.

I’ve found that the dreams fit into four categories: Typical, Nightmare, Fragmentary, and Discarded.

Typical dreams should be the bulk of these entries: intact dreams with their details moderately preserved. The usual.
Nightmares are, as the name suggests, nightmares: dreams that invoke wretched, chilling horrors. I do not care for them.
Fragmentary dreams are incomplete in nature, after slipping from one’s grasp, and therefore are unable to be recalled in full.
Discarded dreams are entirely uninteresting, worthless to myself, or otherwise. Such things will not fill space in these pages.

19th of Sporebloom
Typical​

I dreamt of watching a grotesque avatar of some divine entity, red flesh peeling and constantly regrowing.

Its face shifted into many faces that were familiar, but that I did not recognize. It sang with a beautiful voice, but I slammed a door onto the cursed thing. It was obvious that accepting something from it would only bring ruin, in the future.

Leaving down a long hallway, I opened a door at the end. Behind it was Doris Mourning, an old friend. She was shorter, her skin was darker, and she wore colorful, stained clothing. She climbed into the space between air, and I accepted that as the reason that I never saw her again.
End.

25th of Sporebloom
Fragmentary, Typical​

I dreamt something vague about a large tile of a floor being lost, after someone had written a message to me on it. The message was lost as well.

I asked the prominent scholar Lana Silveira where to find Tol’lek Koto.

She was wearing one of those Storm’s Landing guard outfits, nodding and pointing in a direction. I wrote down that he was in Mockingbay. She rode a large horse west of Mockingbay, into the fields. The horse eventually sank into the ground, and had to be put down violently. The ground swallowed it.
In the distance was great bloodshed. As she drew nearer, she called out to the outline of a large, moorish elf hunched over a larger corpse that bled gold.
The man turned around.
He had the golden blood dripping from his mouth and the top of his head, where he wore a portion of flesh from the head of the huge corpse. The figur drew a sword with a wild look in his eyes, and pointed it at someone Silveria me.
End.

26th of Sporebloom
Nightmare​

I dreamt that I was given a tour of a chicken coup by a man with a covered face.

Baby chickens were shuffling outside. After stepping outside into the forest, I met a group of shouting men on the road, all of which wanted the books that I had on my person. One attacked, while I countered, giving him a nasty cut. The other two drew knives, and I swung at one while being stabbed.

Falling to the ground, and looking down at the wound, I was surprised to find that in its place was a single eye, blinking.

They fled when the faceless man approached, holding an ax. He brought it down upon my collarbone. End.

1st of Lightshine
Fragmentary​

I dreamt of walking through some nondescript place in the ashlands, as soot fell from the sky.

All around me were piles of feathers sitting on the ground, except for a circular path clear of them. Something would not physically let me step on them. A group of people were waiting for me to meet with them, but the path to them was also blocked by the feathers. The unnamed people slowly sunk into the stone as I saw myself over by them, rising into the sky.
End.

6th of Lightshine
Typical​

I dreamt of listening to a metal cylinder with a dwarf inside.
The cylinder was physically too small to fit such a dwarf, but they fit in there, regardless. They ranted incoherently about a card game, and winning against someone by the name of Chair Who. This name was likely misremembered. I couldn’t see the dwarf through the cylinder, but I could tell that they had begun to stare at me for quite a while. I said something Fragmentary to the cylinder, and received something of agreement, the dwarf inside saying something about a

“finished promise, to free you of the being’s final grasp. In return again, release me from Mine own Patron.”

An unknown hunch informed me that both beings spoken of were divine in nature.

Someone wearing a mask, with a design split in half down the middle, picked up the cylinder with one hand, and walked away.
End.

 

[Horus]

It is the 16th of Sunbright.
Akhitomei B'ezu sits in the downstairs area of the Tempest's Calling Smithy, pouring over notes regarding bug-men and thinking back to something that a pale man with an icy gaze had told him earlier that day regarding the bounds of Animancy. Souls... there's a vague familiarity, a call back to a dream... no, a nightmare, that he had experienced exactly one month prior. The entries within the dreamtome continue, unbroken.

10th of Lightshine
Typical​

I dreamt that a huge head spoke to me, connected to a reddish, large neck many times taller than I.

It came from a large pit in the ground, full of gasping, fleshy holes. A voice called from the bottom of the pit, asking for someone named Luizin. I said that I did not know who Luizin was. The face coming from the neck scolded me for having nothing to share, and in turn, kept its knowledge a secret.

I threw a large bladed weapon into the pit in anger, and old men in armor began to climb out. I ran from the pit after this, but the mat of red flesh was very long, and grasped for my heels. A white tower stood in the distance, a statue of someone missing an arm and a leg on top.
End.

13th of Lightshine
Nightmare​

I dreamt that I was sitting in a chair, in the Old Column library room, reading a book about

“The sparking process and its death.”

The book was blank after the 137th page. Other pages could only be seen if you flipped directly from a specific page to that page. I got up after hearing something downstairs, despite there not being a downstairs area. I walked down steps to a lower floor, and met a man with a burning boar’s head, spear driven through the head and suspending the man off of the ground, pinning it to the wall. Every time the tainted blood from the creature dripped from the speartip, it would speak and point in the direction of the door. Its words were incomprehensible.

I opened the door itself, which led to a gray field, a single crow standing, judging something about me. It cawed.
End.

15th Lightshine
Typical, Nightmare​

I dreamt that someone had stolen something from me in a desert city, wearing a gourd on their head with eye holes poked in.

For reasons unknown, I was with four arms, and four legs. I decided to wear a pumpkin on my own head to try to lure this figure out. As unintelligible as it was, this plan did not work.
By some means, I ended up in a thick forest, and stumbled into a hexagonal marble temple. Clear, glassy ooze was on the walls and ceilings, almost like spiderwebs, with an old man wearing dirty canvas trying to mop them up. I wrinkled my nose in disgust, and told him to make sure to get the worms, then left.

It was at this point that the pervasive feeling of dread began. I walked for miles until I sat down on a log, attracting the attention of a passerby, who made a bet with me about a fictional character who had sailed from the “fool’s gold island to the Akhitomei B’ezu island[sic].” Before I was able to win the bet, I heard the metallic creaking of vast scales. As the two moons rose, I knew that she would lay claim to my soul, in time.
End.

16th of Lightshine
Fragmentary, Nightmare​

Cruel Warden. Keeper of Souls. Torn into fighting.

26th of Lightshine
Typical​

I dreamt that I had traveled with a group of others for a few days at a high altitude, having trouble staying awake...

We tried to find the last evist, but were unsuccessful, and so settled in some ruins for the night. I happened across a stone table with six pedestals surrounding it. They seemed to be overgrown with a red, spongy substance. Before I knew it, I was somehow on the table, an old human woman standing above me. The others didn’t seem to notice her, and kept talking amongst themselves, saying something about buying iron ore for flute-making. The woman hummed, and the sound filled my ears as everyone paused, motionless.
End.

 

[Horus]

It is the 24th of Sunbright.
A threat approaches the settlement of Candlewood from the south. The drums aren't within earshot for now, though, the tension is palpable. Akhitomei thinks back to an odd dream of a white flame, viewing his records. He passes a two-week gap starting near the end of the last month–One that signifies the Ashen Dreams.

I've received an amount of ashen bloom, about three uses worth before sleep. I myself haven't made use of the fungus before, though I am aware that they have certain potent effects on the mind, utilized partly in reverie. They will aid in my purpose, and perhaps banish the reoccurance of the Warden in recent dreams.

35th 29th of Drywind Lightning Lightshine
Nightmare Ashen Dream​

I lived in a small village of farmers, some distance from a large lake, for several years.

The sky went dark for a time, and food was hard to come by. I fell asleep in the dream with a vivid nightmare of being controlled, made to walk towards the sun until I collapsed. I could feel my bones ache.

There was a massive jellyfish. It was me It was not me, but I felt one with it. I sunk into the watery innards and saw through the closed eyes. The roots tentacles went down into forever and crept onto those who could withstand it. The first 5 years was alone with only large shapes far below that shifted and sometimes disappeared, with one grabbing a man from nothing something behind my eyes. I realized, after a time, that a presence was with me. It is hard to explain, but it felt as though it communicated something to me, without words.

A horse appeared and split into a man with a beard who later disappeared, because he was killed by someone close something. I met nearly 50 people who all slept as well. Eventually one brought things in with tendrils, but they were not there when I touched them, including a potted plant and a thin slab of stone that both rotted into black sludge. Another slab was taken and had incomprehensible symbols that many of the 50 people scrambled towards. A few of them were below the jellyfish, and I could not see them. The strange presence tried to show me the symbols.

A man screamed.

I was ripped out of the bulb, and there was a funeral. A brother. I became lost in the endless.
The Keeper stole one away. I realized that I was about to wake up.
End.
The presence remained, but putrefied. Flies buzzed beneath the walls of nothing the mind the empty space around me, while one moth landed on the back of my wrist.
End.
I struggled to remove it, but attacking it ground it into finer powder, which writhed and stung my skin, refusing to die.
End.
It is still End
worst experience
end

30th of Lightshine
Ashen Dream​

I was in the middle of six stone pedestals.

I woke up, and tried to write down whatever I could, but could not find anything of my notes, and had a crushing weight on my chest. I could feel the marrow in my bones burning to ooze out, but I did not let it.

I was partly buried, and nearly fell back asleep. Something stopped me, though–something that was not myself told me to dig myself out of the dirt.

I attempted to dig my way out.

I remember it in detail, it must have been less than [a meter] of dirt. There were fresh mushrooms on my skin. I saw my mother, who looked completely different, crying over a green flower. I don’t know why, but I felt rage. She called my name as B’ezu with an unfamiliar accent. I picked the mushrooms off of myself, and walked away.

I could see my insides into myself while I walked, looking at my soul that was threatened to be something pulled at. It touched with my body existed at the same place as my body, yet they did not touch, and one swam within the other I could see both of them at the same time. The same was true of the many ligaments attaching to various points of my body from the soul.

I walked for quite a while, though my sense of time was skewed. The world eventually fell away from around me, revealing the dark, open space from the last dream. The jellyfish was back, but this time, eyes on tendrils rose from below the main bulb, looking to a man with chunks of iron metal sticking out of him. The jellyfish may have been a large mushroom. He was with a pickaxe, sitting in place without touching any ground. He then spoke to me.

“You are a fool. You have ripped Akhitomei from his cocoon, and now you will both starve because of it.”

I told him that the throne was mine, and that I would do no such thing.
End.

2nd of Lightshine Sunbright
Ashen Dream​

I found myself in the Old Column’s library room.

I was happy, celebrating, and inviting someone by letter to help me salvage the books that remained. There was a rotting pile of food on the table of the room, covered in fuzzy mold. On one side of the entrance door was Doris Mourning, hair grey instead of brown, who was loudly rattling the door, while pointing to the middle of the room and sobbing about a lying about my own something that I do not remember. I took a book out of one of the shelves, but it dissolved into black sludge, and stuck to my hand, going into my skin and causing my hand to remember Kh en k bn beu besu something.

I struggled with it for a while, when I noticed that the center of the room was circled by six stone pedestals. I realized that I had to be in a dream, because the library room of this building didn’t exist anymore. Mourning then continued speaking, more coherently yelling at me,

“Get out of there! Leave it! Please!”

I ignored her, sucked the sludge out of my skin, and spat it out, while the room crumbled, revealing the same dark, open space from the last two dreams. Six books were in a wide circle, spread out around me in the distance. A man with one arm and one leg came out of one of them. He spoke to me. Something about pursuing I do not remember what he said.
End.

 

[Horus]

It is the 25th of Sunbright.
Akhitomei B'ezu Koto frantically pens a letter to a mage that he has only heard of, never met. He dreams lately, but recording them is not on his mind. Something else takes great priority. Something taboo, something morbid, and something against the sensibilities of the divine.
The first of four.
The records of over a week ago sit in a satchel, untended for now.

I’ve added a fifth category of the dreams: Ashen Dreams. These are usually horrific unpleasant, but have better clarity than otherwise, and have prompted some sort of change at the ends of the dreams.
I feel myself in better command of the dreaming world, especially when the empty, dark space appears. I do not yet have a name for it.

The six stones have occurred multiple times. There must be significance to them.

15th of Sunbright
Fragmentary, Nightmare​

I dreamt of vague, incoherent pieces of the raiding of a merchant’s ship.

We gouged out a piece of it by mistake, but let it capsize.

At some point I found myself on a gulf of the Ashlands, east sea in the distance, a tent set up. I was searching for the old holy symbol somewhere under my tent, when I realized that a horse watched me from a nearby hill opposite to the drink coast.

I felt a pervasive sense of dread.

Whistling to catch the horse’s attention did not work. It simply walked away. When I caught up over the hill, I only saw a singular, pale tree. It had bark of bone, and was covered in blooming flowers made from the flesh of men meat of unknown origin pale, red flesh.
End.

16th of Sunbright
Typical​

I was some sort of horrid green creature tracking down the body of someone that I didn’t know.

I got stumped, and so went to a smithy, sitting down at an anvil to take a break from it. Atop the anvil was a bowl, glimmering stones inside, covered in a fine, rusty powder, which I used a pestle on to crush into a sort of brine, despite a lack of water. I noticed an alchemical recipe circle on the anvil, next to the bowl itself, but could not figure out its meaning.

After mixing the bowl’s contents and attempting to look at the circle a few more times, a figure in polished robes came over to me, and suggested that,

“if you pour it [the mixture] into the pages, it will reveal something as wondrous as it is dangerous.”

I looked up to the figure, who seemed to be B’enluz, despite the inconsistent fashion, but ignored him, and began to drink the mixture. I didn’t like what I saw, but it was too late.
End.

19th of Sunbright
Typical​

I dreamt of the founder of an academic institute that seemed to have either invented, or become a number of strange mechanical contraptions.

A variety of instruments on the property were related to him, and might have just been him, something told me. This also involved objects inside layered things crossing each other's a sort of sharing of locations of objects that were in the same space, yet never collided, through means unknown. Someone had disappeared between these objects at some point beyond inside of it in the same way that these objects existed in a method that was similar to how these objects existed, at some point.

I conceptualized it through formula, and by using a strange dog on a caravan that I was escorting, by looking into its mouth, which intersected on itself many times to form six pillars. Something was clearly wrong with this beast, but it was not something that I had known at the time. I realized that it was a dream that I was in.

The owner of the caravan shouted “Writhe,” and drew a small dagger. I responded by drawing Eight, but its blade cracked down the middle, and ended up shattering. Instead, I walked away, and made the world crack around myself, leaving an empty, dark space.
End.

21st of Sunbright
Typical​

I dreamt that I stood in the ruined cathedral of Storm's Landing, on the back of a stone-like creature, while Tol'lek was standing behind the pulpit at the front.

He lectured in Elvish, while I took notes of it. My hand kept slipping, giving me difficulty in writing.

There was an odd, brushing feeling against my leg. I heard a voice among the trees inside, coming from one tree itself.

"You are of Candlewood. Gather them."

A number of disgusting creatures poured into the ruins from above.
End.

24th of Sunbright
Typical​

I dreamt that I was in Candlewood, by the Metallurgy Cave.

The wind blew, and a crowd of little men charged up the hill towards me, led by a large man, bearing a white flame instead of a head. This was because his head was taken off, previously.

Raenyr came out of the back of the mines, and warned me that the demons were approaching Candlewood. I took out Nine, and began to run towards the crowd, though I only hit one before they passed me. I attempted to catch up, lodging the sword into the gap in the armor of one. It screamed in my voice, while the group left a pile of bodies behind.

Six of them escaped, traveling east. I walked back.
End.

 

[Horus]

It is the 2nd of Mistset.
Akhitomei awakes in a cold sweat, frantic. It is the crack of dawn, the sun just barely beginning to rise. That same nightmare… images of fighting, and of smoke in the distance still dance in the back of his head.
He scoffs quietly to himself. The dream is of no use–a discarded one. Something that’s come to him so many times is surely unnecessary to record…
After all, it’s not like he would be at risk of forgetting something so repetitive.
There's something more important at hand, too…

2nd of Mistset
Nightmare Discarded​

I dreamt that I was knocked onto my No use for this one.

3rd of Mistset
Nightmare​

I dreamt of sitting on a stony beach, walking down to the Old Temple.

Opening the door to it, the rooms were all the same, save for the dripping of old blood from a crack in the wall into the middle of the room, forming a puddle that I needed to mop up.

An old, chestnut-hued man with dark grey, matted hair down to his knees and stringy patches of beard watched me while I attempted this.

I needed to get out of the temple immediately, and he knew this, pointing stiffly to a door that was had not been there the last time I had been inside. Behind it was a vast room, taller than the temple had really been, with a white tower ivory tower pale tower in the center, hanging from chains that lead to nowhere. Nauseating light shone from it as tendrils crept up the side. The old man must have been watching, as he told me,

“Stay far from the sky’s… gazer. B’ezu.”

I sprinted back outside. Family members were on the stony beach; I do not remember each, but I assume it was all relevant ones. All were already being swallowed by the tide, one by one as it came up.

As the tides reached Tol’lek, he stared at me with dead eyes, saying nothing as he was swept to sea. The waves eventually reached where I stood, battering me against the rocks.
End.

7th of Mistset
Typical​

I dreamt that I wandered the halls of Frostwarts, searching for a demon.

There was a group of people doing the same as I was. Those that I remember among them were Gilbert, Yriike Korzsunva’Ko, and a familiar bald man, his back stained with blood. After standing still for a moment, I waved to Yriike. She stared at me as the others went silent, and eventually spoke.

Instead of words coming out of her mouth, it was only the sound of a metal scale, tipping once. She was searching for the soul.
End.

9th of Mistset
Nightmare​

I dreamt that I was in some sort of Townhouse, faintly familiar, as if I had been there before.

There was a knock at the door as I stirred a pot of barley stew, little twigs floating around in it. I answered the call, seeing Athryl Mithtanel, who stood in front of rotting stone ruins of some sort. Walking past him after a greeting, I saw a black-haired figure in the distance. I knew that whoever this was could help me in resurrection business not for prying eyes, and so I pursued.

The figure did not move, but by some way I ended up in the middle of six, stony pedestals, blood smeared on each one, a sight I sneered at. I realized that I was dreaming because of it, however, and in turn, because of this, wiped the mess off of the pedestals, and began to peel away the ground to reveal a dark, empty space.

Several spindly joints poked out from the holes in a frenzied sort of way, glowing as light swirled within them, and woke me up.
End.
As I awoke, and found myself in the Townhouse, which I had known from living in previously throughout my life. It was a completely vivid morning, not feeling like a dream at all. I had vague flashes regarding the waking world as a dream itself from when I slept, and went to note it down, before realizing that the dreamtome was part of the dream, as well.

There was a loud bang from behind the wall of the room, and so I followed it, navigating a room or two before seeing a woman that I knew from somewhere, going into labor.

I don’t know where I knew her from, but I immediately began to help her as she grabbed my hand. I said something to her, but don’t remember what it was. She likely didn’t hear it over her deafening screams. There was stillness for a while, and I realized how much my hand and ears hurt, before another scream, like that of some kind of large beast, left her. The pain was much worse, blood running down my hand, the rest of my clothes, and the walls as she opened her mouth wider than possible, with a crunch that I felt through her grip.

Spindly, segmented, hairy legs poked out from the being’s mouth as it spun wove spidered did something horrific that I can barely remember, but left me unable to move, or reach for my weapon, Nine. At some point, the disgusting creature's face sloughed off, Yrii’s Yriike Korzsunva’Ko’s underneath.
End.

12th of Mistset
Typical, Fragmentary​

I dreamt fragmentary glimpses of pushing Malizh into the sea.

Eventually, I ended up hammering away at a red-hot strip of metal on the top deck of a ship.

While I tried to work it into a wedge, it refused to cooperate, and instead snapped in half, sprouting spindly little legs as I tossed the little wretch overboard with a pair of tongs. I shouted something to the helmsman about needing “new tools,” but he could not hear me over the wind in our ears, and instead gestured over to six anvils, arranged in a circle with myself at the center. It was at this point that I realized that I was dreaming.

I pulled the helmsman away from the wheel, getting close to his ear to tell him something else.

“Tell me. What do the six tables mean?”

There was something else asked to him by myself, but it’s vague–definitely to do with the Ashlands. In response, he attempted to get away from me, falling onto the deck and clawing at the boards with his nails, as his legs seemed to have stopped working. As I flipped him over, he spoke again.

“You are not ready! I was a dabbler at the time, but now, I do understand. Perhaps they were all alike to us, eventually. Even if you intend to fill in something missing, that revival would be lacking, and he would have his faith celebration death”

The memory of the last part is hazy; The last word definitely began with a ‘K’ noise. With only an “Aye, aye” in response, I began prying at the boards myself, opening up a hole to a dark, empty space. Two figures stood within, each missing an arm and a leg. They didn't say anything to me, but I knew that they wanted to say that my Mens the Mens within me was weak.
End.

15th of Mistset
Ashen Dream​

I dreamt that I guarded a stable of pigs at sunset.

There was an ache in the back of my leg.
I immediately recognized that something was off. A wide-faced pig in the pen was staring at me with beady, little sea-blue eyes, muttering something. I sunk into the ground. It somehow felt muddier than even mud, but I wouldn't let myself sink further, climbing atop the pen onto the back of the muttering hog. It took me from the place, shuffling through the mud to a decently sized, hilly island as it spoke.

“We remember the pool of blood. A gruesome, flashy sort of thing, really. How many bones did the Old Stealer take, again? Oh.”

I stepped off as it reached the island. There was a shrine on the island to something, or someone, with an old, iron warhammer hung up on it, dripping with dirt. It felt familiar, along with a small forest clearing on the island, despite there being no forest. I lay there for a while next to a stone, feeling the sun on my skin, as well as a dark spot on my arm, which brightened the insides of my eyelids. It's the best I've it felt gr familiar voices that I It was quite a pleasant feeling of serenity.

It ended when I heard the popping of a bubble from the mud, and immediately recognized the presence of a greater something vast something divine a sprawling, hidde an entity that had already noticed me. The hog looked at me with an expression of smugness oddly resembling that of a man.

Realizing that I was in the dream, I needed to get out immediately, and lept into the center of the clearing, shattering the grass and falling into a dark, empty place. The surroundings themselves writhed as I tried to get out, and the walls drilled into my skin, refusing to uproot as I screamed, tugging on what has to have been my mind. An invisible, bitter liquid dripped into the nothing.
End.

 

[Horus]

It is the 6th of Fogwater.
And that dream... how familiar it was. A dusky-haired moor elf lets his eyes wander onto the distance of the mid-north landscape as he attempts to recall something that came to him in a dream. His hand hovers over the open book.

The familiar bald man from the Frostwarts dream of Mistset's first Final day is Myrddin, as I've learned. I remember his face–he rejected his god as he refused the position of highest blessed. It was something of a ceremony, really. Honestly, with something like that? I was expecting his god, or its ilk to just... just kill him where he stood. Likely unimportant by itself, but something that at least was sorted from the dream; Of note, though, even though others do not act consitently in dreams as they do of the waking realm.

23rd of Mistset
Ashen Dream​

I dreamt that I was alone in The Sanctum, with Tol’lek’s corpse in the center light.

One by one, I began to gather 5 others into the place. The body spoke before falling over and letting out a hideous sound.

“Type. Ashen. Third crow day of ten winds. Circumstance of self. Upright, week’s rot, but no more.”

Only after this did I realize that the thing was rapidly melting into a black, viscous sludge, despite myself attempting to piece it back together. I got up, looking around frantically for Lana someone who could do what I could not, but the five others in the circle blurred, and in one’s place was the dark outline of a man in the shadows, a head taller than myself and wearing some kind of hat or cap. It must have been a good [200cm] to [240cm], with odd sickly nauseatingly blue eyes that burned themselves into mine.

I couldn’t move from where I was as long as the figure looked into me, and so I couldn’t look to the muffled shouting around myself. Eventually, the figure pointed to another dark one, this time below and shorter than me, and I felt that this was some sort of request. Instead of speaking, there was only the low rumbling of the cave walls. The shorter one refused to open its eyes, and so I could only see the silhouette. It was below the jellyfish. The Jellyfish's eyes could not see it. It was outside of our awareness. The presence did not

I tried to speak, to tell the tall figure that the arm of the other was melting into sludge, but my own ribs had begun to soften, turning into the same black substance, the skin above looking like it was boiling, and so I could only gurgle.

In the north, the struggle The form was too weak, frail. Something more, an extra investment was needed.

25th of Mistset
Nightmare, Fragmentary​

I dreamt that worms beneath the earth felt pulled caused my every movement.

I only became aware of it suddenly, and once I was, I could not control it. Do not remember what came after. Forced walk to somewhere.
End.

28th of Mistset
Typical​

I dreamt that Raenyr and I traveled along a wooded path, trying to find some object of search.

I plotted to kill him, drawing a glimmering blade. Green arches hung from the trees. A dark-haired man with a bright expression joined the group of now three, and so I had to put the weapon away, making some kind of half-assed excuse of it being a “status thing.”

Neither seemed to either notice, or care much. The dark-haired man stared at me, and asked “where my eyes were.”
End.

1st of Fogwater
Typical​

I dreamt that I sat at a funeral, a caustic rain falling.
I don’t remember who died, but there was a gathering in front of my home, now with a gaping hole in the front, water pouring in. There weren’t any buckets around, which I spent a good while searching for. At some point, I passed a patch of squirming, searing hot flesh by the docks. I didn't question it at the time.

Instead of a bucket, I came across a circle of stone pillars--six, as they occurred. They were the sign that it was a dream, and so I ran back home from the path I took, opening my door to the familiar empty space.

Once in the space, my will was focused on trying to "appear" something else into the space; In this case, it was a scrap of parchment. However, try as I did, nothing appeared. Trying to move myself around was not fruitful, either, as it seemed that I was stuck as if dangling from some sort of harness or rope.
End.

6th of Fogwater
Fragmentary​

Familiar familiar familiar dream there was
I dreamt something about being a kid in a temple.

Coherent details are lacking on this one... one; There was a pervasive sense of dread, but it was a nightmare not a nightmare. I felt a numb pain on my chest, and woke.
End.

 

[Horus]

It is the 13th of Fogwater.
Akhitomei has just scrambled awake, jotting down a cultivated though before it is lost. A lookalike to the Kraken's Den barkeep, and someone he's passingly familiar with. If there's importance here, it's unclear, despite the familiarity.

My discipline of the mind has strengthened; I can sense it. What once were fading dreams that I was pulled through, are now something able to be focused and controlled.
The meaning of the pillars still eludes me, as does the meaning of the empty room.
A cogimancer may hold the answers to it, and with more certainty, the secrets of the sparking process.
For now, though, I must focus on the task at hand.

7th of Fogwater
Fragmentary​

I dreamt that something I didn’t remember calmly threatened to break my bones, and to leave me in a volcanic pit.

I yelled something to her about the beginning being failure because of where she was from, and her connections. In turn, she did not relent, telling me that my "failures are here because you only have a spine when there are other ones to bludgeon." There was someone that needed to be retrieved from a vault a vast ocean the depths of some hidden place. I raced to get there before the army of a powerful island could reach it.
End.

11th of Fogwater
Typical​

I dreamt of an island, thick with an undergrowth of red fungus.

Little creatures lived in the larger mushrooms, building their houses into them. A bridge connected from the island into a great, bone-white tower off of the land. I followed the perspective of a beady-eyed woman wearing a fibrous, fleshy crown of these red mushrooms, a symbol of favor granted to her by that which she worshiped.

At some point I must have returned to myself, because I walked across the bridge to approach the unfamiliar woman. I couldn’t tell what was hair, and what was fungus.

It was too late, though, because something larger had already begun to consume her, along with the tower, deep red tendrils burrowing and cracking the stone of the structures. The cattle of the island, covered in these same fungi, were pulled into the ground as they screamed in the voices of men and women. There was smoke in the distance, coming from somewhere.

13th of Fogwater
Typical​

I dreamt of a brief journey to the Kraken’s Den Inn, to deliver a message.

Jack, the Barkeep, was not there to receive it, some man behind the counter in his place. He insisted that he was Jack, but I knew that it was just a lookalike posing as him. I may have been the only one in the inn to know. Despite this, for whatever reason I still ordered many drinks at the same time, and chatted with him.

Of the conversation, I remember only a few pieces. After asking him about “The fight with his insides,” he coughed and said something along the lines of,

“There aren’t demons here, Mok. What is inside of me is a burning, crunching … like hellfire … no infernal being could withstand it.”

I told him that whatever was inside of myself must have “not been shaped enough.”

The Jack lookalike started chuckling, and began to peel himself apart. I looked to Adda Horym--who seemed to have been there the entire time--to see if he saw it as well, but he was covering his eyes from the blinding light coming from the barkeep, and yelling to "get out."
End.

17th of Fogwater
Typical, Fragmentary​

I dreamt that I struck flesh on an anvil, trying to get it to bend into a certain shape.

I seemed to be in an unfamiliar smithy, somewhere in the settlement of Halbed. Soot stained the floor. When the chunk of flesh finally became an eye that could emerge, I went to retrieve a pair of tongs, but it returned back into a nondescript chunk of red meat when I looked back. In frustration, I discarded it through a nearby window with the tongs. I only realized after reaching the anvil that an extra eye had become embedded within the back of my calf.

I searched for a man who had died years ago, struck down by some component of a gnashing god. Meeting Gilbert at the docks of Mockingbay, I asked him about the man. He told me that he had either "starved, or withered away." I stepped onto a ship in order to help him find clams.
End.