User:Vien/Visions
Spontaneous Visions
09/24/09 - 8:30pm
Your mind is suddenly overwhelmed with thoughts of possibilities and portents. Just as suddenly, the feeling is gone. It is as if a door had swung open and then closed.
09/11/09
The image of a clear, starry night plays in the back of your mind. Steadily the image gains definition, conjuring from your imagination three unnamed stars in the firmament erupting with light.
The sense of intensity only grows, soon gaining prophetic authority and subsuming your senses. Your vision locks onto the scene while the stars continue to swell, piercingly bright and bitterly cold. The vision holds until the scene has dissolved into all-engulfing, frozen whiteness, leaving you momentarily blinded by glare.
The image of a clear, starry night played in the back of my mind. Steadily the image gained definition, conjuring from my imagination three unnamed stars in the firmament erupting with light.
The sense of intensity only grew, soon gaining prophetic authority and subsuming my senses. My vision locked onto the scene while the stars continued to swell, piercingly bright and bitterly cold. The vision held until the scene had dissolved into all-engulfing, frozen whiteness, leaving me momentarily blinded by glare. ---
09/02/09
Your vision is wrenched away to a grassy field. A purple-robed woman deftly glides through thick blades of grass that shy away from her presence. She approaches a green-robed man whose tail sways pensively behind him, as if waiting. His dull black eyes seem to glitter for a moment as he looks to the encroaching woman, "You can't even conceive that there's no point to this, can you?"
The woman is unresponsive, her severe features flickering in your mind's eye until there is not a lady but instead a grim, skeletal visage with writhing strands of ethereal white swirling behind her. As abruptly as they changed in the first place, so does the creature revert back to the woman with the frozen gaze.
The man shakes his head, annoyance clearly written upon his snout. He mutters, "Fine, if this is what you want." The man snaps his hand forward as an arc of blackness sweeps forth, green and red swirls writhing within in a pale mockery of life. The woman simply raises one hand as red and purple shafts of light sparkle through the air. As the wave of darkness passes, the woman's severe features are haughtily arrogant, and untouched, though the ground around her has become a cracked and dessicated patch of dirt.
As the woman prepares her counter-assault, your sight suddenly sees beyond the two figures, beyond their magic. A ravenous, shapeless hunger rises from the woman, greedily pushing outwards but always centered upon something that remains hidden from your sight. Facing it is an oozing blackness seeping forth from the man... old, and powerful. Despite its obvious might, the darkness feels frail before the hunger. Your brain hurts with intense pressure as forces you cannot comprehend fling themselves at each other, and your mind's eye mercifully closes just as you sense the black force retreating. ---
Event Predictions
As your vision clears you see a small light drifting peacefully across the heavens, gradually growing brighter as it moves. In a sudden moment of terror you realize that it is not getting brighter; it is getting closer.
As your vision clears you focus on a small man hiding in a tree. You note his merry blue eyes and thick beard. He smiles as he watches children making a small pile of odd items. You see what looks like a small piece of lead, some bits of hard candy, and even a small jar of thick cream.
As the children depart, the man notices you, his smile turning into a deep frown. A fierce look crosses his face, and his visage changes into that of a gremlin.
You see a man of ashen grey complexion standing on a featureless plane. He is hairless and nude, his skin profoundly bruised and burnt. A black aura surrounds him, all sharp lines and jagged edges, except for his head: as it inches upward, the darkness gives way to a crown of braided sunlight.
Above and surrounding the figure is a semi-circle of creatures, vaguely Human shaped but made out of fire and sunlight. Some bob up and down to the beat of incandescent wings, others are merely suspended in defiance to gravity. Manacles bind their limbs and trail earthen brown tethers that connect to the plane below them, leaving them perhaps a few more feet of slack.
One of the fire creatures attempts to raise a blinding sword, but does not have enough slack to bring it above its head. The grey man smirks, but closes his eyes and lowers his head. He walks the distance between him and the creatures, then sits down amongst the tethers.
As your vision clears you see a child's doll dressed in a hooded scarlet robe. The doll lies face down in the mud. You lift the doll carefully, cleaning mud from the back of the robe. You turn over the doll and discover a skeletal face staring back. The face seems to smile at you as the doll fades away in your hand, and your vision returns to normal.
A massive shadow speeds across overhead, drawing your attention upward. Great sheets of metal cover a massive, winged beast as it effortlessly glides through the air. It turns its great head in your direction, opens its mouth and releases a tremendous roar that makes the very ground you stand upon quake. In the span of a blink, the creature is gone, leaving you to wonder if it ever existed at all.
A crimson design etches across the air in front of you. Its origins are foreign, but a powerful desire accompanies it: it means everything you want, every possibility realized.
"You're forgetting something."
You stand in front of an iron table, scalpel in hand. Lying on the table is a half-naked Prydaen, unbound yet seemingly paralyzed. She stares up at you with wide, tear-brimmed eyes, while her breaths are accompanied with gasping, plaintive whines. Standing opposite of you is an elderly Human man in homespun clothes.
The Old Man says, "Glory. Immortality. Transcendence. Every promise that has been made is true. It's all hidden inside there," he looks down at the captive Prydaen, "Waiting for you to dig it out."
He returns a flat, expressionless gaze to you, "The moral dilemma isn't that necromancy demands a terrible price, but that you aren't the one that pays it. Are you worth her life?"