The air is cold. Anyone watching the dream will be able to feel it. There's a dampness, an eerie chill that goes to one's bones. It's a sepulchral feeling, and accompanied by the graceful architecture accompanying the place, it's official. It's definitely a tomb or mausoleum of some kind. Janos descends slowly down a flight of stairs, his ( Read more... )

The dream is playing in the first person. Black claws on blue-skinned, tridactyl hands claw and tear at what looks like a half-skeletal, ragged creature with only the glow of its soul essence for eyes. There is hissing and screaming and a ghostly sword, glaring white against the turbulence of the fight. And finally, glowing blue ectoplasm staining ( Read more... )