Dreams Intro - Second Draft
As you can see there's a section I'm not happy with, but other than that I'm quite pleased with this so far. One more revision to fix that section and make sure the tense stays the same and then I'm done with this until I've done some on the second part - the introduction of Tori.
Burning Dreams was doing what he always did in the evening, which was thinking about his troops. Shortly before leaving the staging area in the small farming town of Mara, he had recieved a request from his commanding officer for suitable ranger candidates, and was currently debating in his mind the future prospects of his most proficient scout.
Born and raised in the marshall city-state of Lookshy, Dreams was the first son of a tactical advisor and a spear woman, and he had excelled at everything he'd put his hand to. Sword tutors by the dozen had walked out in humiliation when he was 15 years old after he bested each of them in turn. Spear and mace instructors stared in dumbstruck awe as a mere child proved time and time again that there was nothing they could perform with any melee weapon he could not surpass. Even ancient Martial Arts masters could do nothing except congratulate his parents on their 'truly astounding' offspring as their best students were carried bloody and unconscious from the training ground.
At the age of 18, he had taken a position with the Lookshy Light Infantry, and proved his potential reached far beyond that of just swinging a sword well. Commanding those beneath him with a passion and honesty that ensured loyalty and swift obedience to his orders, he soon had command of over one hundred men. His most trusted subordinates included three Shugan-Junai, the powerful battle-mages, who happily settled back into a role supporting their captain who seldom lost and who wielded his ornate glass sword like a man with ten times the experience.
----- FIX THIS BIT
It was during his first tour as a Talon leader that he was sent to investigate a supposed retreat of a Wyld area reported by a local monk, who had agreed to act as advisor and guide to the newly promoted Taizei. Going was good, and the story seemed to check out - previously hazardous terrain full of trees with snakes for leaves, gusts of winds full of razor sharp droplets of water and other demented features were now just rolling hills and relatively sane looking trees and wildlife. Dream ordered his sub-altern to set the camp up slightly less than 2 hours before dusk, and the guards settled in to their regular watch patterns.
Dreams as usual remained active throughout the first part of the evening, checking that all was well in his camp; that horses were well fed, weapons and armour were being treated for any rust spots, temporary latrines had been dug a short way downstream from the rest of the camp, and he was just walking over to talk with a sentry when all hell broke loose...
----- FIX THIS BIT
Rushing toward the sounds of intense combat inside his own encampment, Dreams burst from the treeline just in time to see the ground beneath the entire camp collapse and a horde of gibbering hobgoblins begin herding the last of his men into the waiting chasm. Dreams drew his sword, and charged into the rear of the mutant tide, slaying the twisted abominations as if they were straw dolls before a threshing machine - until after several bloody minutes, he found he had beaten his way to the edge of the pit. He took a deep breath and plunged in, completely heedless of the dangers that awaited him. Plummeting towards what was probably certain death, if not eternal torment, Dreams was merely determined to save the lives of his men - he had been charged with their care, and he was going to be damned before he'd fail in his duty, he could no more abandon them after they had given him their complete loyalty than the sun could abandon Creation.
Focusing on the inky blackness beneath him as he was, it took almost a minute for Dreams to realise he seemed to have stopped falling. Confused, he looked around - the sky was no longer visible above him, there were no walls in sight, and the 'ground' beneath his feet, although a black so perfect it seemed to absorb all light, was as solid as triple-forged steel. Hammering his Chiaroscuro-made rapier on the flawless surface between him and his men, Dreams screamed in rage as he failed to even scratch the accursed material.
Suddenly, Dreams was blinded - a glorious pair of bright pinpricks, one a burning golden, the other an intense silver, emerged from the murky shadows above radiating both light and serenity on the dark chasm. Burning Dreams tried to avert his eyes, but to no avail; as the lights quickly became figures he had to fight the urge to kneel - instead he raised his sword and bellowed a defiant challenge. As his shouts echoed off unseen walls, Dreams heard the conversation between the glowing couple as if inside his own head.
"My, he is a brash one" - a female voice, soft and obviously amused
A male voice, strong, confident and yet deeply paternal - "his loyalty to his own men overcomes even his own sense of preservation; a rare find in these times"
"I can see why you chose him; his men love him as a father and brother" - the female voice again.
"It is more than that, they love him because they know he will win - they have faith in him, and even should they fall, they know they die for a reason. Their beloved commander would not allow any of them to perish unless it was absolutely necessary"
"A fitting choice then. I always did have a soft spot for your Bronze Tigers, so much like my own children"
"Quiet now, he listens... yes my child, I speak of you. Even as a young mortal you display so much more honour and dedication than many of your peers, doubly that of your elders.
You who would lead through inspiration as opposed to fear, I exalt above all others.
You who would battle the enemies of creation, I gift you with the fury of Heaven.
You who would risk your soul for those who in your charge, I give you my full and righteous blessing.
Go forth my Ascending Sun; keep safe all those who cannot defend themselves, and tell the world that the Unconquered Sun will never turn his face from his children again."
Dreams screamed as his blood burned with the fury of a God, reshaping him into a weapon to save his people...
...he dreamed of leading strange creatures into battle against other unknown beasts; of commanding entire legions against the same fey that tormented him even now; of wielding the ancient 'Light of Purification', his beloved Daiklave, against even more ancient foes; and of his last stand surrounded by his own now hostile legions determined to end the tyranny he had inflicted upon them in his darker, more arrogant final centuries of rule...
...he awoke to find the area drenched in a warm, soft golden light, and looked about confusedly to find the two figures from his dreams. It was only when he realised he was completely alone and that it was his skin from which the light currently poured did it occur to him that his visions might have been real. Flexing his muscles and his new found power, Dreams brought his sword down as hard as he could on the now sun bleached surface beneath him, and upon seeing a crack begin to spread throughout the material, he slammed the hilt into the floor, once, twice, three times more before a large hole appeared beneath his onslaught. Checking his armour quickly, he leaped once more into the darkness - although now with the surely and purpose of the Chosen.
How he must have appeared to the fey beneath he could only imagine - one minute enjoying the torture and pain of the captured soldiers, then staring dumbly as their supposedly impenetrable shield high above came crashing down on their heads, shortly followed by a wrathful meteor in human form. Swathed in golden fire and streaking down from the heavens with unmistakeable intent, Dreams landed in the midst of a pack of Fair Folk noble and began to cut through the warriors guarding them with consummate ease. Guards began to pile through the opening, shifting shapes and forms in order to be able to attack him without disrupting any of their allies attacks, until Dreams was merely parrying every blow that came towards him with no time to press his own attack... forcing more of his new power into his Charms, he found himself countering every attack that came towards him almost instinctively, each blow by an attacker now more likely to end up with the death of the fey than that of the defending Child of the Dawn.
Suddenly, the wave of hostile troops ceased - confused, Dreams looked about quickly, confused - that is until he saw his next opponent; a giant nightmare-inspired Wyld scorpion was bearing down on him menacingly, pincers snapping shut with a vicious sounding crack, and it's twin tails weaving hypnotically above it's chitinous head. Barely parrying the first set of blows, he dodged to one side, and found himself backed into a corner with the mutant swiftly scuttling to block his escape, it's sharp pincers clacking excitedly. Dreams hastily stabbed at the creatures head, too late he saw the tail about to strike and barely twisted his body to avoid the toxin-ridden sting in time, losing his grip on his sword in the process and the tail catching him in the shoulder and knocking him flat on his back. The hideous monstrosity quickly using it's pincers to pin him to the floor by his shoulders and it's forelegs to hold his lower body, it prepared to strike a pair of deadly blows to his head - Dreams focused his energy into the Charm required to bring his sword to him, but as it slid across the floor to his waiting grasp, it was smashed into a thousand pieces by a rapid set of blows from a watching fey noble armed with a hammer seemingly made from sand. The duo of tails came streaking down towards his unprotected head and in that instant he was as aware of the presence of his favoured weapon from his previous lives as if it was in his hand. He called to it, willing the bare remnants of his essence into the ghost weapon he felt in his hand, and with a single arcing sweep cut off the pincers holding him down and the two spikes dripping poison inches above his head, before rolling onto his feet and leaping on to the scorpions back. Ramming his glowing orichalcum sword through the creatures head, he roared a challenge and lept into the now running hordes of both common and noble Fair Folk, slaughtering all in his range.
The chamber rapidly emptied, giving Dreams his first good look at the now devastated home of creation's most deadly foes, most of the adornments and structures had already begun to fade out of existence; without the fey maintaining them the doors and even walls of the prisons began to dissolve. Slowly at first, and with increasing confidence, survivors drew towards the illumination given from the Sun's newest champion; as he looked about them the illusion of the caves finally shattered, as if shadows merely chased away by the cleansing light of the dawn.
Burning Dreams was doing what he always did in the evening, which was thinking about his troops. Shortly before leaving the staging area in the small farming town of Mara, he had recieved a request from his commanding officer for suitable ranger candidates, and was currently debating in his mind the future prospects of his most proficient scout.
Born and raised in the marshall city-state of Lookshy, Dreams was the first son of a tactical advisor and a spear woman, and he had excelled at everything he'd put his hand to. Sword tutors by the dozen had walked out in humiliation when he was 15 years old after he bested each of them in turn. Spear and mace instructors stared in dumbstruck awe as a mere child proved time and time again that there was nothing they could perform with any melee weapon he could not surpass. Even ancient Martial Arts masters could do nothing except congratulate his parents on their 'truly astounding' offspring as their best students were carried bloody and unconscious from the training ground.
At the age of 18, he had taken a position with the Lookshy Light Infantry, and proved his potential reached far beyond that of just swinging a sword well. Commanding those beneath him with a passion and honesty that ensured loyalty and swift obedience to his orders, he soon had command of over one hundred men. His most trusted subordinates included three Shugan-Junai, the powerful battle-mages, who happily settled back into a role supporting their captain who seldom lost and who wielded his ornate glass sword like a man with ten times the experience.
----- FIX THIS BIT
It was during his first tour as a Talon leader that he was sent to investigate a supposed retreat of a Wyld area reported by a local monk, who had agreed to act as advisor and guide to the newly promoted Taizei. Going was good, and the story seemed to check out - previously hazardous terrain full of trees with snakes for leaves, gusts of winds full of razor sharp droplets of water and other demented features were now just rolling hills and relatively sane looking trees and wildlife. Dream ordered his sub-altern to set the camp up slightly less than 2 hours before dusk, and the guards settled in to their regular watch patterns.
Dreams as usual remained active throughout the first part of the evening, checking that all was well in his camp; that horses were well fed, weapons and armour were being treated for any rust spots, temporary latrines had been dug a short way downstream from the rest of the camp, and he was just walking over to talk with a sentry when all hell broke loose...
----- FIX THIS BIT
Rushing toward the sounds of intense combat inside his own encampment, Dreams burst from the treeline just in time to see the ground beneath the entire camp collapse and a horde of gibbering hobgoblins begin herding the last of his men into the waiting chasm. Dreams drew his sword, and charged into the rear of the mutant tide, slaying the twisted abominations as if they were straw dolls before a threshing machine - until after several bloody minutes, he found he had beaten his way to the edge of the pit. He took a deep breath and plunged in, completely heedless of the dangers that awaited him. Plummeting towards what was probably certain death, if not eternal torment, Dreams was merely determined to save the lives of his men - he had been charged with their care, and he was going to be damned before he'd fail in his duty, he could no more abandon them after they had given him their complete loyalty than the sun could abandon Creation.
Focusing on the inky blackness beneath him as he was, it took almost a minute for Dreams to realise he seemed to have stopped falling. Confused, he looked around - the sky was no longer visible above him, there were no walls in sight, and the 'ground' beneath his feet, although a black so perfect it seemed to absorb all light, was as solid as triple-forged steel. Hammering his Chiaroscuro-made rapier on the flawless surface between him and his men, Dreams screamed in rage as he failed to even scratch the accursed material.
Suddenly, Dreams was blinded - a glorious pair of bright pinpricks, one a burning golden, the other an intense silver, emerged from the murky shadows above radiating both light and serenity on the dark chasm. Burning Dreams tried to avert his eyes, but to no avail; as the lights quickly became figures he had to fight the urge to kneel - instead he raised his sword and bellowed a defiant challenge. As his shouts echoed off unseen walls, Dreams heard the conversation between the glowing couple as if inside his own head.
"My, he is a brash one" - a female voice, soft and obviously amused
A male voice, strong, confident and yet deeply paternal - "his loyalty to his own men overcomes even his own sense of preservation; a rare find in these times"
"I can see why you chose him; his men love him as a father and brother" - the female voice again.
"It is more than that, they love him because they know he will win - they have faith in him, and even should they fall, they know they die for a reason. Their beloved commander would not allow any of them to perish unless it was absolutely necessary"
"A fitting choice then. I always did have a soft spot for your Bronze Tigers, so much like my own children"
"Quiet now, he listens... yes my child, I speak of you. Even as a young mortal you display so much more honour and dedication than many of your peers, doubly that of your elders.
You who would lead through inspiration as opposed to fear, I exalt above all others.
You who would battle the enemies of creation, I gift you with the fury of Heaven.
You who would risk your soul for those who in your charge, I give you my full and righteous blessing.
Go forth my Ascending Sun; keep safe all those who cannot defend themselves, and tell the world that the Unconquered Sun will never turn his face from his children again."
Dreams screamed as his blood burned with the fury of a God, reshaping him into a weapon to save his people...
...he dreamed of leading strange creatures into battle against other unknown beasts; of commanding entire legions against the same fey that tormented him even now; of wielding the ancient 'Light of Purification', his beloved Daiklave, against even more ancient foes; and of his last stand surrounded by his own now hostile legions determined to end the tyranny he had inflicted upon them in his darker, more arrogant final centuries of rule...
...he awoke to find the area drenched in a warm, soft golden light, and looked about confusedly to find the two figures from his dreams. It was only when he realised he was completely alone and that it was his skin from which the light currently poured did it occur to him that his visions might have been real. Flexing his muscles and his new found power, Dreams brought his sword down as hard as he could on the now sun bleached surface beneath him, and upon seeing a crack begin to spread throughout the material, he slammed the hilt into the floor, once, twice, three times more before a large hole appeared beneath his onslaught. Checking his armour quickly, he leaped once more into the darkness - although now with the surely and purpose of the Chosen.
How he must have appeared to the fey beneath he could only imagine - one minute enjoying the torture and pain of the captured soldiers, then staring dumbly as their supposedly impenetrable shield high above came crashing down on their heads, shortly followed by a wrathful meteor in human form. Swathed in golden fire and streaking down from the heavens with unmistakeable intent, Dreams landed in the midst of a pack of Fair Folk noble and began to cut through the warriors guarding them with consummate ease. Guards began to pile through the opening, shifting shapes and forms in order to be able to attack him without disrupting any of their allies attacks, until Dreams was merely parrying every blow that came towards him with no time to press his own attack... forcing more of his new power into his Charms, he found himself countering every attack that came towards him almost instinctively, each blow by an attacker now more likely to end up with the death of the fey than that of the defending Child of the Dawn.
Suddenly, the wave of hostile troops ceased - confused, Dreams looked about quickly, confused - that is until he saw his next opponent; a giant nightmare-inspired Wyld scorpion was bearing down on him menacingly, pincers snapping shut with a vicious sounding crack, and it's twin tails weaving hypnotically above it's chitinous head. Barely parrying the first set of blows, he dodged to one side, and found himself backed into a corner with the mutant swiftly scuttling to block his escape, it's sharp pincers clacking excitedly. Dreams hastily stabbed at the creatures head, too late he saw the tail about to strike and barely twisted his body to avoid the toxin-ridden sting in time, losing his grip on his sword in the process and the tail catching him in the shoulder and knocking him flat on his back. The hideous monstrosity quickly using it's pincers to pin him to the floor by his shoulders and it's forelegs to hold his lower body, it prepared to strike a pair of deadly blows to his head - Dreams focused his energy into the Charm required to bring his sword to him, but as it slid across the floor to his waiting grasp, it was smashed into a thousand pieces by a rapid set of blows from a watching fey noble armed with a hammer seemingly made from sand. The duo of tails came streaking down towards his unprotected head and in that instant he was as aware of the presence of his favoured weapon from his previous lives as if it was in his hand. He called to it, willing the bare remnants of his essence into the ghost weapon he felt in his hand, and with a single arcing sweep cut off the pincers holding him down and the two spikes dripping poison inches above his head, before rolling onto his feet and leaping on to the scorpions back. Ramming his glowing orichalcum sword through the creatures head, he roared a challenge and lept into the now running hordes of both common and noble Fair Folk, slaughtering all in his range.
The chamber rapidly emptied, giving Dreams his first good look at the now devastated home of creation's most deadly foes, most of the adornments and structures had already begun to fade out of existence; without the fey maintaining them the doors and even walls of the prisons began to dissolve. Slowly at first, and with increasing confidence, survivors drew towards the illumination given from the Sun's newest champion; as he looked about them the illusion of the caves finally shattered, as if shadows merely chased away by the cleansing light of the dawn.