Advanced training

[Valdar and Astralis]

Blue eyes regarded grey for a long moment across the blackness.

 

You have grown, apprentice

 

Why thank you, master

 

The void slowly resolved out of the darkness around student and teacher. The dreamer was clad as always, robed in dirty green and Valdar in strands of primordial reality that burned in the shadowless light.

 

 

And what cause may my student have for breaking meditation this day?

 

I bear tidings from the pen, and seek new counsel. One who is close has become possesed

 

"Your path is your own, I have taught you all that I may. Slay the posseser and be done with it." The dreamer spoke aloud.

 

The elf nodded an ear.

 

"There is yet one secret withheld that I never sought, for it is closest to your being-"

 

Blue became streaked with red in an instant, and the surrounding void swirled angrily. "And one I will not divulge willingly. Attempt to slay one as such if you wish, you will die."

 

Valdar stood silent for a moment before producing a card and sent it spiraling across the void. The dreamer took it, and the cacophony of colors resolved to black.

 

The huntress? She has discovered her true nature?

 

You knew?

 

You forget I served in her stead, once. But that was a. . .debt long since cancelled.

 

Will you help me free her?

 

The dreamer looked up from the card, allowing it to burn away.

 

You wish to rebel against your own god, student?

 

Such is the nature of. . .

 

. . .Chaos. The teacher finished, eyes contemplativeley green now.

 

A long moment passed before he continued.

 

"You may, but I may not. And there is no need to try slaying one as he. Come, there are other things to learn. . .

Edited March 3, 2004 by Valdar and Astralis

[Zadown]

The Dreamer stood still as his student walked away, stopped to wave with his long, sharp ears and then sidestepped off this plane, almost seamlessly now.

 

He has grown indeed. About time - this is not a good situation for him to learn too much from me, to catch my taint of chaos. Or be too near me if they ask for their debt. It might be about time to look into that issue again, also...

 

The planewalker turned clumsily. He grimaced letting the scars on his face dance a brief while, then his face returned to it's base state of vacant stare. Half gliding, half walking briskly he moved through the corridors of the the Pen until he reached the door to his own apartment. Dreamer's eyes flickered and changed from dark grey to deep blue and a semblance of life appeared in them as he surveyed the thick wooden door engraved with shimmering runes. All appeared to be as it should, and a miniature gesture partly here partly on some other plane opened the door without setting off the traps.

 

This whole affair with the Grail was a loss of face. I should have known better. A legend of that magnitude will not be found by walking in it's vault and grabbing it with a bold hand. I will have to be more careful this time. Yes ... time to try out the gifts of seeing I have. Or to consult the birds.

 

Midstep, he stopped. The train of thoughts, always vague and fragile since his awakening after his only real battle against the gods, snapped and vanished without a trace. Eyes burning blood-red he drew out of nothing his no-dachi Pain, took his battlestance with robes billowing around him, showing the chaotic disarray of mixed armor underneath it. Something was wrong. He had never been the best of trackers, but at his home he could sense the smallest intrusion. Going through ancient sword stances, he moved forward studying the astral harbour with his piercingly red eyes.

 

He looked almost comical: scarred grey-haired man, dirty green robes swirling around his thin body, mix of leather, chain and plate showing between the robes and the scarred flesh, taking leaps forward with a spectral sword held ready. Nevertheless there hung a certain aura of power around him that would have silenced any laughter, wiped any smirk from a bystander's face. Finally his leaps measured by bygone artforms of swordplay brought him to the end of his astral pier and he stopped. Slowly he relaxed away from the combat trance, eyes cooling down to purple, then the deep blue of his most coherent mental states. Even then his face held a certain sneer, a face that said to the intruder (whoever it might have been) that he was not afraid and that he knew, was not fooled by stealth or speed, and that there'd be a reckoning.

 

Mhmm... mercenaries of Sigil perhaps, or agents of the gods or Chaos. So many enemies these days, two new ones for every one I have outgrown in power in my madness.

 

The thought brought a big, wicked grin on his scarred face.

 

Time to move again.