Appearance

Mentality

Mental Trauma

Dream 1
The Docks: Empty plateau overhanging a vertiginous vacuity.
Elesh, with a hand on my shoulder, is holding me over the dock edge. Renee and Olissa are indifferently training, Olissa effortlessly forming circles with her feet. Efe looks into a campfire, her hands horribly burned. The vagabond Sheem grins beside her. Lena stands with Charlotte, talking to be overheard.
"I'm not going to save him this time. He has to learn".
And the blood bond?
"I don't have any blood, Idiot" one of them snarls.
Elesh shakes me to myself, saying firmly and as if repeating:
"Have you ever directed the Demon Projections powers against another member of the Company. Answer truthfully now."
She seems psychotically severe, then says:
"We're friends here Morel. But there have to be consequences to these things."
Thinking, I say desperately:
"But that's... not even her real name".
I'm thrown from the edge.
Dejagor: Unreal city obscured by a brown fog.
I find myself in my tent, with Hahum's drowned corpse. His eyes are as blue as ever. Smiling, he opens up a book of Nightshade lineages. "You're right of course Morel" he says, pointing to the name Projection Nightshade.
I look back up at him. One eye now green, he smiles again.
"Remember Morel. The law of histories always repeats itself".
Morel awakes, the sound of the Leper's footsteps still approaching.

---

Dream 2
I'm in my cabin aboard Powdered's ship, leaning over Lydia and sobbing. From sternum down extends the cicatrix of a deep laceration, sewn shut. Puncture wounds are scattered over her chest and stomach. One eye socket is stitched closed, and her tightly fisted left hand is missing the thumb. Her throat is wet with blood, which bubbles as she speaks. Her voice is weak and raspy.
"There were too many. He couldn't..."
She raises her hand, which trembles, pressing something into mine. It's her locket.
"You have to...no one else"
She fails speaking, choking, streaming tears tainted with blood.
Looking down again it's an eye in my hand. Projection leans over to place both hands on mine, looking into me with large serenely green eyes.
"This doesn't have to happen again. We can stop this together."
Trembling, I swallow the eye, feeling it's mass stick at the back of the throat.
Morel wakes dry retching.

---

Dream 3
I'm lying beside Olissa in a cave of Merlant, idly playing with her hair. Deeper into the cave the shadows shift oddly, and there's the faint light of blinking eyes. In front of me there's something carved deep into the rock in the painful and unfamiliar writing from dejagor's tunnels. I struggle to read, before noticing with horror the same words cut into Olissa's flesh. Her thigh, arms and cheek are scarred, her eyes open and glassy. My hands and side are slick with her blood, my knife discarded on the floor. The cave begins to heat up and to fill with cinders and smoke, but as I look around I can see no exit. A white light from deeper within the cavern pierces the dim fumes in places.
I try to pick her up, looking desperately for somewhere to run to, but as I hold her close my hand slips, as with a sickening lurch I feel the tight muscles of her back collapse. Her weight falls away and the back of my throat burns as her body degrades slowly into a thick and choking dead ash.
I wake painfully coughing.

---

Dream 4
I'm in an Inn, Merlanti looking. Olissa is sat on the bed inexplicably armoured. She's sobbing inconsolably, with the abandon of someone entirely alone. I attempt to speak comforting words, to no apparent effect. Eventually with some desperation I try to meet her eyes, taking hold of her hands, but she recoils away reflexively, curling up and continuing to cry. I find myself shouting, desperate for some sign she can understand or hear me, but she carries on oblivious, racked with deep sobs.
Racked with deep sobs a young girl pulls at the bottom of my coat. It's a rainy cold day, on a poorly cobbled street in the outskirts of Charm. Looking down the girl is shivering and seems greatly agitated. She pulls again, gesturing towards a narrow alley. As she does she cries out, the way young children of that age do when in deep despair, her breath catching. I guess the child's mother is nearby, probably near to death. I push the girl away, a sense of disgust at the filth of the street and the dismal rain possessing me. The girl stands still for a moment in some kind of shock, even stopping sobbing for a moment, but then quickly continues to cling to and implore me with muted cries. I shout, stamping my feet, shouting at her to go. She pauses again stunned, then lets out a small cry, turning and running to the other side of the street, where others are passing.
As I stop outside the run down shack I rent, I turn to watch the small form of the scurrying girl through the rain, recognising her as Charlotte. The stirrings of some deep set and heavy grief stop me from immediately lifting the latch and entering.
 
I stop Efe from lifting the latch and entering with a shout. She looks surprised and slightly annoyed, reaching out to the door a second time. I grab her and pull her back, knowing with a certain panic that if she opens the door she's lost. "Morel, that hurt" she says, rubbing her arm. "We don't have time for this" Lena sneers. Takeda just frowns, crossing his arms. We're in a plain stone corridor, but solidly and well put together with large smooth blocks. I stammeringly try to explain that the queen of ants could be behind the door. This only angers the others, and I know it's a lie myself. Efe pushes past me with a look of confused reproach to open the door. I look away towards the blank wall with a feeling of dread.
 
I wake with a feeling of dread, seeing the rent wall of my tent in Dejagor. The black vapour obscured sky appears through the gap. My copy of Incanthos is open on the makeshift bed. I wait for a moment, but no footsteps sound. I leave the tent and walk further into camp. I see the Leper standing at the outskirts staring towards me, so I go to meet him. "You shouldn't be here." he says in a low rumble. His mask is greatly rusted. I'm aware he's dead but feel no surprise speaking to him here. "You don't" he states finally, I having asked him how to escape. He then slowly turns and begins walking towards where the mists are thickly curled and encroaching on the camp. I feel a sense of final doom as his figure is absorbed into the mists, within which I think I can see the faint shining of eyes.
 
I look hesitatingly up at the eyes of lawmaster Grevin. A mistake as it turns out, as he strikes me on the side of the head. I quickly look back down and try to settle less painfully on the small pebbles that fill my shoes and dig into the soles of my feet. We're in a Merlanti cottage with a low roof, the walls of wood. "You're a disgrace to Merlant. You should count yourself lucky if we keep you on as potboy after this" he booms. I flinch and look towards the wall, swallowing impotent rage.
"When you speak to Perth, you don't dare look at his boots, let alone his face".
"You hear that boy?".
Grevin snorts when I'm silent, and grabs me by the shoulder, pushing me on the back towards the door to the next room.
 
I remember brief flashes of other scenes, the dreams felt like they continued for an abnormally long period of time. Perhaps a trick of sleep, but I woke up shouting, more disturbed than usual. (the dreamweaver?)

---

Dream 5
I can hear Lost Pup moving ahead, and see the the flickering light of torches deeper into the tunnels. But there are many differently winding ways, I can't tell which direction they've taken, and I can't seem to move fast enough to catch up. Soon the tunnels drop into darkness. I move slowly, feeling along the tunnel walls. Carved there in a familiar painful script is a message about the eight-fold path, there are many more than eight paths though. As I begin to be really concerned I'm lost the tunnels open out into a cavern lit with torches, though still deeply shadowed in the corners. The cavern is choked with dust, furnished with mostly broken and crude wooden chairs and tables. A fair crowd of rough characters are carousing in the fervent lighting, with flushed faces and a desperate intensity. I recognise Carcass with a jolt of fear, sat at one of the tables. He shakes his head, hushing me and making a sign with his hand when I try speak to him. "Like this" he says in Thieves Cant jargon. I follow suit and ask him what he's doing here.
"After you killed me, they moved me down here for operations". He drinks a little then goes on.
"Vin are always looking to expand. It's not so bad really. More room for the children to play down here."
He grins, handling his large butchers knife. I feel a flash of rage, calculating whether I can grab and plunge the knife into him in time. My concentrations broken by a clatter. I look around, my anger at him suddenly doused by the atmosphere of the place. Sordid and low. Any outburst against him now would just be absorbed into the usual commotion of the cave. Besides, I can't kill him a second time. I then spot Ha'Hum, looking out of place and embarrassed among the throng. I brusquely leave and move over to him. He smiles gratefully when he see's me, quickly moving to an empty corner. I ask him what he's doing here.
"Criminals are part of the general ecosystem, at least that's what Paelus says" He shrugs apologetically as he speaks.
"Now that I'm dead, I have to help where i can. You shouldn't be here though Morel."
As I reflect that he's probably right, the place seems darker, Carcass's grin more sly. I realise I have no weapons. I hope Olissa can find where I am. I hope Olissa will bother trying to find me. Have they even noticed i'm missing?
Just then Lost Pup growls to me from a tunnel entrance. Relieved I point him out to Ha'hum. He also looks happy.
"I don't suppose you can take me with you. I shouldn't really be here either." he grins awkwardly as he looks around the bleak and dim cavern, echoing with guttural thieves cant, choked with dust and pipe smoke. Old bloodstains are visible alongside puddles of watered down ale. I look to Lost Pup, but he growls and shakes his head. Ha'hum looks tired and disappointed, but smiles weakly.
I think about putting a hand on his shoulder, reassuring him somehow. Instead I leave with Lost Pup.

---

Dream 6
Charlotte clutched my Mother's skirts tightly, her face balled up with tears, deeply sobbing. It wasn't certain she entirely knew what was going on, but the general leave-taking atmosphere had deeply upset her. I patted her on the head, telling her of how soon I'd be back, and what things I might bring with me. She let go of Mother's skirts, her sobbing slowed, but only stared up at me with eyes widened in surprise and hurt. Mother then took her by the hand to lead her upstairs, where Lydia was looking after John already. As her childish babble and tears gradually subsided Father put a heavy hand on my shoulder, looking directly down on me.
"You've got your sword" he said, nodding approvingly. It was a Merlanti short sword, but still too large for me to use effectively, making it slightly ridiculous strapped to my side.
"But you know how dangerous the roads are. Are you ready to use it?"
I could only nod assent.
"Good lad. Now, when you present yourself to this Oak or Rowan, make sure you wear some'thin suitable. Practical, o'course, your looking to be a squire, not a bloody chamberlain."
He presses a small pouch of silver pieces into my hand. He then looked round, as Mother returned from upstairs.
"Here's your Mother now. I expect to hear good things soon boy."
Taking his hand away he moves into the next room, slightly disdainful of my Mother, who is getting visibly more and more upset. She starts fussing with the large pack I'm already carrying, rushing to the kitchen to pack some last minute sandwiches she'd almost forgotten. She starts asking if I have enough food for the journey's first leg. I mutedly assure her that I do. Eventually she stops, looking down at me with tears in her eyes, then hugs me tightly.
"I love you Morel".
"I'd better let you go then, better I. You don't want to be out on the roads at night, when it's cold." She smiles sadly.
I nod, feeling tears also pricking my eyes now. She follows as I move to the door, and start moving down the path, all with a strange feeling of disconnection, as if it's not even me moving. At the hedge I mechanically turn to wave, seeing she has her handkerchief out. Then I quickly turn behind the hedge, and with a dash make my way to a path that runs by the streams edge, heavily shaded by sturdy oaks that line the way. It avoids the main village, the path vagrants and thieves might use to come and go unseen. Feeling not many degrees separated from them, I follow the path around.
As I approach the main road that leaves the village I see Lantry standing up from a shaded seat. He shuffles towards me, carrying a small pack and smiling.
"Said your goodbyes, my boy? While it's true leave-takings like this hurt, you have to remember it's also an opportunity. All things change in time, but I'm sure you'll be back in my study soon enough."
"Until then, you may find this useful. I know you're going to be a squire, but you shouldn't forget the learning you've worked so hard for."
He handed me the small pack, which looking inside I saw held paper, inks, quills, blotting sand and a chronicle of Merlant I'd been fond of reading. He smiled kindly and patted me on the arm.
"You can write soon with what's in there. And remember, you're always welcome back here, no matter what happens."
Lantry began slowly walking back in the direction of his house. I set off in the opposite direction along the flat pebble strewn road. It passed by the low hedges of the outlying fields, before beginning to descend steadily into a quiet and lonely depression in the level plain surrounding. From a distance I saw the first waymarker approaching, a stub of rock planted at a crossroads. I sat atop the stone when I reached it, and watched the crows pecking at seed in the muddy and regularly tilled field opposite. Sheets of shadow and sunlight alternately overtook the crows as clouds shrouded the weak but constant sun. A weight heavier than the pack I carried had settled over my chest. I felt for Lydia's locket under my shirt. She'd pretended to good humour, giving it to me as we said our goodbyes. But she was upset, and unspoken and buried there must have been a feeling of betrayal. I was leaving her alone after all. Revolving my thoughts I tried closely examining my motivations, catching at what I'd never made clearly conscious. How much of this was from a desire to escape? That would make it abandonment. Anguish and shame clutched me at the thought.
Ponderously I looked over the long road leading I knew not where, then back along the well-trodden way back home. I could still decide to go back and stay, not leave her and them. The heavy feeling increased, tightening my chest as indecision and helplessness reigned within me. The wide and thinly stretched pale sky above was indifferent.
I awoke.

---

Dream 7
 
I'm on a wide and empty beach, that merges into a grey and featureless sea. A wrecked boat is beached in the shallows a small distance away. Detritus from the boat drifts about in the water, some of it washing onto land.
 
As I Walk down the coast I see Adfir's staff broken on the ground beside a clay jug. But as I lean down to pick it up I hear the screams of a horse. It's Adfir's, kicking it's legs and rolling it's eyes in pain and panic, pushed against a nearby rock outcropping. Searching nearby by touching the sands I pull out a sword, that must have been submerged. But as I begin to turn around, ready to finish off the horse, a strong swash knocks me down under the water. I snort sludge and saltwater before managing to stand upright. When I look around again, the horse has vanished.
 
As I look around I see something red further down the beach. I begin trudging towards it through the now waterlogged sands. Takeda lies in the muddy silt, soaked and partially submerged. There's dark blood still on his chest around two deep puncture wounds. His body is already rotting, and in place of his eyes are two pearls. As I watch, his already sunken left cheek begins to melt and collapse, stark bone showing through. Flesh and armour all over begins to slough from his body, bones disturbingly protruding. The left eye is now a sunken hollow, but within burns a piercing flame. I stumble backwards reflexively. The movement disturbs the low-lying water that now reaches above the ankles, and with a hiss it flows into his skull, dousing whatever flame was within. With that the whole body begins to melt into the sand and water, flowing back out into the ocean. Left stuck in the sand are the shattered shards of his blade, or else the shards of a broken mirror.
 
I hear Efe shouting, and see frantic splashing further out. I start to move towards the shore, but with a certain anxiety notice I'm making no headway through the thick sand, remaining just the same distance away. I stare after her with worry, but no sense of how to escape the emprisoning sands. Then I see the odd sight of myself running past and down the beach, wading into the waters and swimming towards the struggling Ffe. The second Morel is wearing bedraggled empire finery, ripped and stained, but still a fine crimson with a gold stitched chimera on the back. In silence I watch him swim towards where Efe last sank. But before he reaches the spot the sea turns black and begins to violently heave and surge, flooding up the beach entirely, drowning the coast and myself.

---

Dream 8
I dreamt that I was living on the moon. My life heretofore was a dream, a dream I'd had on a night when the earth eclipses the sun, and malign sub-lunar influences are said to reign.
 
I lived in a village formed round the edge of one the large dark impressions of the moon, which we called a lake. However after the dream I had difficulty returning to my usual habits and way of life, as I began to miss those who I had known within the dream. I mistook people I'd known all my life for these dream figures of one night, began to avoid my fellows in the village to converse with these phantoms, and even attempted to have letters sent. But there was no reaching them, and a sharp sense of isolation set in.
 
Particularly in my mind were the memories of Lydia and Olissa. I became estranged from my family as a result, seeing them as imposters. I broke off an engagement I'd apparently been bound to, and moved to a hut closer to the lake and distant from the rest of the village.
 
I became painfully ill at this time, as the food became intolerable. I also became convinced that the air was different and peculiar, began to breath in a laboured consumptive fashion. I became thin and pale, vain and prideful. I began muttering to myself, gesticulating to nobody, shouting in anger at the slightest provocation. At first the villagers saw me as mad, but they soon began to discern something more sinister behind my delusions. It seemed an evil omen.
 
Poor catches and harvests were imputed to the blight I now carried. Miscarriages and illnesses were blamed on the sickness I brought into the village. Indeed there was a case of children fighting, a girl viciously pulling her playmates hair, spitting and clawing at her. Nothing like this had happened in the village before. It could even quite plausibly be said that my presence actually was harming the morals and attitudes of the villagers. I soon became convinced of this fact.
 
One night I awoke to the feeling of something like a mouse crawling under the bedsheets. I jumped up and threw the blankets aside, trying to catch it, but it soon evaded my grasp and scurried into the dark. By now I lived in a constant state of squalor and perplexity. The roof sloped lower on one side, planks were rotting and the candle was too much of a stub to be lit. Disturbed, I moved to the window, which was being loudly rattled by the wind and rain, and looked through. Within the storm was a small shape, which seemed alive. With a tremor I put on a heavy coat and ran outside.
 
The shape was a girl. She was soaked through and babbling, shivering violently. She was much further from the village than it would be possible to wander accidently. I quickly took her inside, undressed her wet clothes and put her to bed. I lit the candle uneasily, and began to look at the girl. She seemed strangely feverish and flushed. But what was that? It had almost seemed like the corners of her mouth had smiled. And there, yes, I was certain now, her eyes had flickered, as if she were keeping them shut in play, trying to restrain herself. But she soon gave up, and began laughing openly, loudly, staring with keen and sly eyes. In absolute horror I ran over, recognising her now. Immediately she screamed and lay limp, and I saw that the corners of her mouth were bloody. I froze, until a rat ran quickly across my foot, startling me into dropping the girl. Looking around rats were pressed into all corners of the room, heaped in filthy quivering piles. Insects too were writhing through the damp boards, falling to the ground in tangled squirming heaps, falling stickily onto me. Thousands of beady orange eyes stared at me from the pitch night.
 
I woke.
 
Dream 9
 
I'm inside a small Merlanti tavern. It's mostly dark inside, with the light of a golden evening playing in the rafters. Projection is sat opposite in a cloak of green, with a deck of cards beside her. Smiling she taps it once, before taking a card and laying it onto the table, pushing it slightly towards me. As I look at the card I see a younger Lydia returning up the path to our family home. She grows agitated at the open door, looking around and inside through the window. She rushes inside to find first our Father, then our siblings, or what remains recognisable of them among the gore. Lydia is convulsed with tearless sobs in the middle of the bloodied house, when Projection draws the card slightly back and smiles again at me.
 
Next she draws a card and looks at it herself, frowning slightly. This one again she places on the table. As I look I see myself and Delsarez approaching a small cottage at the edge of the swamp. We draw blades and enter, immediately cutting down a man who rushes surprised to the doorway. We then start moving further into the house of death.
 
Projection's hand on my shoulder interrupts this play of memory. She's looking at me with hand outstretched. Eventually understanding, I take a mask from my face, giving it to her. It's a carnival grotesque, with a grimacing flushed face and a caricature moustache. Projection places it aside, but hands me another. It's a mass of large eyes, each differently coloured and gazing in different directions. I place the mask on, looking back to Projection.
 
She points imperatively to me and then to the deck. As bidden I draw a card and look at it. It shows the depths of the Egalitarian mines, the gate there beginning to crumble. Olissa is contorted with pain at the centre of the cave, the intricate seal carving itself into her skin. Others stand in the cave, seeming sculpted and frozen into place.
 
Projection picks the card up, gathering it with the rest and placing them aside, keeping but one in her hand. From my neck she takes Lydia's locket, putting it within her cloak and handing me the final card in it's stead. It's Death, which after looking at I place in an inside pocket near to my breast. Projection then gestures to the door of the tavern. I feel bare without the locket. I begin to leave with a sense of loss, knowing I'll not return to the place again. I know that when I leave it will disappear entirely, as if it had never been.
 
Dream 10
I've been sent by Del Cereys to retreive my left hand. It seems she's cut it off. After wandering in the sewers for a while, I climb above ground outside a shuttered up shop. The sign reads "Karkas, Butchers". I knock three times rapidly, then twice again slowly and wait. Karkas let's me in, returning behind the counter and beginning to show me assorted joints of meat. I shake my head, not liking the look of them and say
"I'm looking for a choice cut"
He nods, gesturing me into the back of the shop. At the end of the room my hand is displayed, upright and still grasping Lydia's locket. Karkas looks at it for a moment:
"You have to admire it's persistence".
I nod, reaching out to take the hand. Karkas stops me:
"I'll need something for exchange I'm afraid."
I click my tongue thinking, then shrug and offer up my right hand on a chopping board.
"Just the finger will do" he says urbanely. I retract all but the ring finger, which he chops off with a heavy cleaver, wrapping it in grease paper and hiding it within his apron.
"What do you want it for, anyway?"
A chorus of wolf howls sound in the distance. "For them".
Karkas takes the hand down and begins to pass it over. But he stops, unwinding the locket.
"It doesn't come with accessories".
The hand alone's only good for the wolves anyway, so I toss it aside.
We both leave the shop, Karkas locking it behind him, and make our way outside of the city. Instead of forest we begin passing through the rolling meadows of Merlant.
As we approach the house the company is currently billeted in I notice the door ajar, and some signs of blood in the entranceway. I look anxiously for any sign Olissa might have been inside, and the baby?
I look at Karkas, but he widens his eyes innocently.
"Not me. You were probably supposed to get the locket as well"
He points to a clear space of grass nearby. We both see Del Cereys, who appears to be practicing over and over the act of falling to the ground, then springing lightly to her feet. We both watch impassively for a time, she going through the exact same series of motions, over and over.
Karkas eventually breaks the silence.
"Well, you have to admire her persistence". I feel like disagreeing, but can't find the words. I'm surprised she doesn't slip in all the blood.

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