Disarm This particular night Vulmar found to be cool. A sign of an early
fall. He breathed in the fresh air pausing as he always did to calm his
mind. Then he turned on his side and allowed his being to the edges of
sleep.
There he found peculiar nightmares. The more he tried to make sense of them
the farther they seemed. As if they were not his own. Startled, he woke up
in a cold sweat and stared at the room. His eyes squinted as he strained to
remember. Try as he might, his dreams did not come back to his memory.
"Heeeelllppp meeee." Came a small high-pitched voice from under his bed.
Instinctively Vulmar looked down into the now seemingly cavernous shadowy
depths that lurked beneath his bed.
A flat, black looking centipede which was about the size of his hand crawled
out to greet him. It's long thin antennas ran across his face. "Heeeelllp
meee." It repeated then sprayed black fluid at him.
Vulmar screamed, turned around instantly and ran before clamping a palm over
his left eye where some of this mist from the liquid hit him. A stinging
pain pulsed along his cheek.
Had he lost his mind? Since when did insects talk? His hands reached for
the knob on the front door. Flung it open and felt the side of his body
slam into the door frame before stumbling outside.
Before him rose a tall midnight black figure. Tentacles squirmed in the air
all around it's head. It seemed to hold a staff made out of glass. A smell
of wet soil filled the air.
"You have been with with a terrible fate, haven't you?" An intrusive voice
in his head spoke. It had the sound of a chronic smoker.
"What are you? What are you doing?" Struggled Vulmar. He noticed the air
around him distorted light. Everything bent and twirled his senses. As if
the universe breathed.
"You see the face of science." Came the intrusive voice again.
Vulmar said nothing and rose to his feet. He gave the creature one last
look then ran into the darkness. "Fleeing isn't necessary." The voice
spoke. It was the last time he heard it.
"Fleeing isn't necessary." The voice spoke. It was the last time he heard
it.
The trees whisked past him in the night. Rocks made him fall more than
once. What had he encountered and how did it enter his mind? Was it over?
Is this a nightmare? How could something be so powerful? This was not
over. He was going to find out.
Description:
Dark blonde hair reaches this halfling's shoulders. His big brown eyes
are more square than round. The skin just below his left eye seems
imperfect as if it were burned or contains an old wound underneath. A
lightly colored mustache hangs just below his nose and his jawline is
covered with a very short, neatly trimmed beard. The halfling's shoulders
are not muscular and his arms seem to stretch longer than they should,
almost reaching his knees. A green undistinguishable yet circular tattoo
stands out from the tanned skin on his right wrist. His torso is shaped
like a large overly full and hairy potato sack.
[reply to Xenyar]