The agony of his defeat at the hands of Morpheus while in the dreams of Hans Christian Anderson still burned his ego. His vines writhed in the moonlight, dancing to his fury.
How had that sandbag managed to get such weak little prey to fit with power, anyway? I read that book centuries ago and I don't remember anything about that ... or do I? The black vines slowed then went still as he sat on the damp moss. Roots sliced through the moss and into the dirt as he settled down to scour his memories.
Being a plant, such deep thinking took time. The seasons passed into winter and still Epiales roamed his memories. But when the spring came and his sap was thawed and flowing, he grinned. He did remember some things. Time to go out and figure out the rest.
Origins
Epiales was terrible, evil, and devoted to creating nightmares for others to feed his delights. After his brutal, according to Epiales all defeats are brutally unfair, he was determined to not allow Morpheus or his favorite dreamers, to ever do that to him again. To do that he needed his own dreamers. His dreamers would not be delicate or have the ability to cower and hide as Hans had done until Morpheus showed up. They would obey him and know the power, and terror, of nightmares.
His ambitions were high, but getting the dreamers he wanted proved difficult. Most died in terror or went mad too soon to be useful. Eventually, he found a way to do it. Coddling. He hated that he had to hold back and not get his delights with them, but it was the only way. And their fear of him gave him power. Fear was just one form of belief and that belief was quite intoxicating. Worth the coddling, he supposed.
As the numbers of his servants grew, they begged to have a name to call themselves. He decided to call them Phobetorians.
Comments