Post by Doctor Atomic on Apr 8, 2016 21:58:21 GMT -8
Dream
You are walking down an opulently furnished hallway, with fine carpets under foot and expensive tapestries on the walls. Intricate and sophisticated music can be heard from an unknown source along with the murmur of quiet conversation. You stride along with a lightsabre in your hand, glowing and hissing.
From time to time you pass rooms where you note such goings on as dwarves flogging nuns and people openly fondling poodles. Three men wearing torn black robes and bearing poleaxes pass you in the corridor.
Finally you reach a door at the end and open it. A red headed woman crouches over a body, her hands deep in its belly as she tears out bits to eat, blood running down her chin.
"I'd like to say that this isn't what is looks like."
You feel a hand behind you touching you inappropriately and wake up.
After falling back to sleep you find yourself in a cantina listening to a band of varied and improbable aliens playing an assortment of unlikely instruments while you sit at a table waiting for someone to meet you.
A red headed serving girl wanders by and sets a mug full of thick, purple liquor in front of you and winks at you as she says, "on the house."
You realize that you are being watched with the subtlety of a spot light by several obvious gunsels and flunkies at the bar. They fondle their blasters warily and you hear one ask, "do you think they'd shoot first?"
You take a drink and discover that it is like drinking alcoholic pancake batter. While you labouriously swallow you see a cloaked and hooded figure walking towards you table. It sits down at your table uninvited and waves to the red headed serving girl for a drink and then leans forward to speak. The voice is oddly distorted and changes pitch mid word.
"I believe we can be of mutual assistance."
Suddenly a body fall from somewhere above and smashes into the middle of your table. Clutched in its hand is your bar bill.
The cloaked figure shakes its head and sighs.
"I'd like to say that this isn't what is looks like."
You wake up again and realize you have your boots on backwards.
After falling back asleep you see a an old and battered wooden table in the middle of a dark room. A silver tray sits on the table holding several objects covered by a black cloth. The cloth is whipped away and the room is filled with the light shining from the 4 objects you now see; an orb, a circlet, a bracelet, and a ring. Each is made of gold and is tightly engraved with a pattern of dense, swirling marks that might even be language.
A voice behind you whispers, "beware the Riders."
You pass into a deeper sleep and do not wake until morning when you discover you have a rash in an embarrassing and inconvenient location.
You are walking down an opulently furnished hallway, with fine carpets under foot and expensive tapestries on the walls. Intricate and sophisticated music can be heard from an unknown source along with the murmur of quiet conversation. You stride along with a lightsabre in your hand, glowing and hissing.
From time to time you pass rooms where you note such goings on as dwarves flogging nuns and people openly fondling poodles. Three men wearing torn black robes and bearing poleaxes pass you in the corridor.
Finally you reach a door at the end and open it. A red headed woman crouches over a body, her hands deep in its belly as she tears out bits to eat, blood running down her chin.
"I'd like to say that this isn't what is looks like."
You feel a hand behind you touching you inappropriately and wake up.
After falling back to sleep you find yourself in a cantina listening to a band of varied and improbable aliens playing an assortment of unlikely instruments while you sit at a table waiting for someone to meet you.
A red headed serving girl wanders by and sets a mug full of thick, purple liquor in front of you and winks at you as she says, "on the house."
You realize that you are being watched with the subtlety of a spot light by several obvious gunsels and flunkies at the bar. They fondle their blasters warily and you hear one ask, "do you think they'd shoot first?"
You take a drink and discover that it is like drinking alcoholic pancake batter. While you labouriously swallow you see a cloaked and hooded figure walking towards you table. It sits down at your table uninvited and waves to the red headed serving girl for a drink and then leans forward to speak. The voice is oddly distorted and changes pitch mid word.
"I believe we can be of mutual assistance."
Suddenly a body fall from somewhere above and smashes into the middle of your table. Clutched in its hand is your bar bill.
The cloaked figure shakes its head and sighs.
"I'd like to say that this isn't what is looks like."
You wake up again and realize you have your boots on backwards.
After falling back asleep you see a an old and battered wooden table in the middle of a dark room. A silver tray sits on the table holding several objects covered by a black cloth. The cloth is whipped away and the room is filled with the light shining from the 4 objects you now see; an orb, a circlet, a bracelet, and a ring. Each is made of gold and is tightly engraved with a pattern of dense, swirling marks that might even be language.
A voice behind you whispers, "beware the Riders."
You pass into a deeper sleep and do not wake until morning when you discover you have a rash in an embarrassing and inconvenient location.