A Dream in the Desert

The man named Jon Chess was in the grip of a nightmare.

“Come on. Hurry up!” You stand in a city whose walls and streets are made of smooth black stone. Red fire ignites the sky,
and thorns cover the landscape like shrubbery. Alia, in her slim Kaldorei inspired suit, stands
beside you, just out of reach and only in your periphery. She giggles in a thousand voices, eyes glassy
and soulless. “We’re going to be late!” Her voice sings in the air. She stands now at the base of a path, motioning you to follow, and skipping through an archway
into a courtyard. You follow. There are others here, others you know, both the living and the dead. They stand by
fountains of crystals, breathtaking blue and gold, others malevolent crimson and dark purple. These
old friends and foes are dressed in noble finery, conversing and laughing amongst themselves. You try
to see them clearer, but their faces are distorted, their voices tainted. You call out to them, but they can
not hear you. A scream. Someone needs help! You try to run, but each step is slow, sluggish. Like wading through thick sludge. Like wading
through blood-soaked sand. Sand that rises, first to your feet, then to your waist, then finally over
your head. You keep sinking, until you’re not sinking, but falling… You land on your feet, standing in front of a new archway. Thorns creep down over the walls like
smoke, whipping at your heels and legs, grabbing your limbs, jerking you around, and you struggle.
Oh how you struggle. If you could get to them, you could help them, you could save them! The thorns
teared into your flesh as you break free, throwing you to your knees. A woman, a man; an elf, an orc, the face is never the same twice, their identity obscured from your
view, fighting for their lives against their assailant. An assailant in the colors of The Rook. “It was your fault.” The Rook’s eyes lock with yours as he chokes the last flicker of life from his victim. “It WAS your fault!” The helpless, lifeless victim falls to the floor, and The Rook strides off, blending back into the shadows.
You run to the body, turning it over to see who you have failed. A inky blackness starts to encircle you. Alia stares back, her cold lips grinning wide. “After all this, late for the first time. You disappoint me
Jon." You should have gone the other way. You can see it now, the bright light calling you, pleading you to
follow, to come closer.

You look down, and green eyes, YOUR green eyes, stare back at you. In your arms is no longer
your Beloved… but you. You awaken before you can answer the lights call… but not before you watch your hands turn to
wolven claws, and sink into your chest , attempting to rip out your own heart.

((This dream is happening in the middle of an RP adventure of which Jon is a part. Dream sequence written by the GM)).