3. Dreams in Shades (extended edition)

Dreams in Shades (extended edition)


  • Forward:

    The following short stories, collectively titled "Dreams in Shades", show some good insight into the fears of Tindra Mirna. My initial inspiration at the time (and this is true for many of my writings here) was based on a particularly emotional roleplay session on Narfell. The first story was salute to the DM; my way of showing thanks for a good game. It also was a good opportunity to try a concept for a series of stories. And to be quite honest, I feel today that these vignettes are among my best writing. I find that ironic; I'm not a person who is a huge horror fan.

    Unfortunately, the stories seem to have disappeared from the forums within the last year. This bothered me very much. First, these fears that I explored are as relevant to Tindra today as they were back then. They may be even more relevant. Second, well… It's some of my best writing and I had no backup copies of them. I am fortunate that Sethan was able to provide me with an old copy of the forum database to hunt and peck through. I was able to find the lost stories.

    Thank you, Sethan.

    The concept behind these stories is quite simple. The stories are nightmares that Tindra suffered. Each one has a color theme, which suit the mood and events that happen in the dreams.

    And so, I will start with presenting the original three nightmares, along with the original author note I posted with them and an updated author note. There were a couple of other dreams I had planned but never was able to sit down and write. I plan to rectify that and finish off this series.

    Index:

    Shades of Sorrow Blue
    Shades of Carnage Red
    Shades of Burning Orange
    Shades of Envy Green
    Shades of Soulless Black (Final dream posted!)


  • Shades of Soulless Black

    The woods stretched out with the darkness of night. She couldn't help noting, for perhaps the hundredth time, just how dark the woods can get. Not only was it a night of the new moon, when Selûne's light didn't shine, but there were clouds in the sky, blocking out the stars. The result was that almost no light shown through the many trees and the forest stretched out in an endless black. Even her half-elven eyes were hard pressed to see the trees in front of her.

    She disliked nights like this.

    As she walked through the woods, she came across an odd scent in the breeze. It made her pause with alarm. It was a scent of death. She’s smelled death before, but this seemed stronger. She looked around, hoping to catch a sign of what the cause was. Her ears twitched as they caught faint sounds of footsteps as the scent grew stronger. Deep inside, she felt this was familiar. Her instinct screamed at her to move, to get away. She decided not to argue; she always trusted her instincts.

    A chilling female laugh echoed in the air. “Come back to me, my pet!” the voice called out.

    There was no mistaking the voice. Fear swelled with the realization of who this was. She ran faster, determined to get away from her stalker. Dark memories flashed in her mind, driving her faster. Direction didn’t matter, just getting away. If she were to run into the bugbears? So be it. Death would be a better fate than what stalked her.

    The cold voice called out after her, “You cannot run for ever! You belong to me, my pet! I will not be denied!”

    She stopped running upon reaching a cavern. The smell of death was gone. As she stood for a moment to catch her breath, she realized she was home. She slipped inside swiftly, and walked straight to her room. She could still feel her heart pound with fear as she set down her things. She walked over to the small bath and splashed some water on her face. As she dried herself off, she glanced in the mirror and froze.

    The reflection was not of the blonde-haired sorceress with fair skin. Staring back at her was a woman with brown skin and dark hair. Behind the woman was Her, the one she feared.

    “You belong to me, Lorelai. Come to mother.” The words were a hissed whisper, but they rang out with frightful clarity. She spun around with a yell, drawing her sword to fight even though it would be futile.

    Nobody was there, though she could hear laughing in her head.

    Her mate threw open the door. He looked at the blonde sorceress with concern. With a worried voice, he asked what was wrong. She began to cry and rushed into his arms. He said some soothing words as he embraced her.

    The sword plunged in swiftly, pushed up through his stomach. He fell back, looking down with shock at the betrayal and then to his mate.

    Instead of the blond sorceress, his eyes met the emotionless gaze of the brown-skinned woman. She turned away with a cold chuckle, as the life left his body.

    “Very good, my pet,” the sinister voice called out. “Come, we have much chaos and strife to bring.”

    She nodded at Her, and exited the cavern. As she stepped through the dark woods, the familiar scent of death filled the air around her. Lightning flashed once as rain began to fall, lighting up her form in the black of night. The form of a ghostly woman in black robes, with the power of death around her.

    She was the Dark Enchantress now.

    Tindra jolted awake with a scream. She cried and screamed her denial of belonging to the Dark Enchantress. No amount of comforting from her mate nor her pixie would calm her. Only when the morning sun rose did exhaustion finally quiet Tindra.

    Author note

    Of everything that has happened to Tindra, without a doubt the most scarring had been when the Dark Enchantress forced her to be Her pet. She fears nothing else as much as she fears the possibility of returning to that. The danger the Dark Enchantress presents, losing her own self, is deeply rooted in her psyche.

    Note that there are other scars besides the fear, which some of you all know. To those who know what I’m talking about, I will say that this fear is STILL deep in her, despite how different she may be.

    And with that, I am finally done with this series.


  • Shades of Envy Green

    The woods always felt most alive to her in the summer. The sound of the wind rustling through the green trees full of leaves soothed her as she took a break from killing goblins. It was both a quiet sound that conveyed stillness, and yet it was clear and full of life.

    She gave a content sigh and adjusted her green and black leather armor before walking toward town. While not magical, the armor was one of her favorite belongings. She loved the attention and compliments she would often receive from the male half of the population. The trees soon gave way to fields of grass as she neared the town, and soon she saw the wooden gates. Militia guards nodded to her as she entered and locals greeted her. Some were familiar faces, and other new.

    She sat by the camp fire that often burned near the gate. It was a regular gathering place for many people who were coming from or preparing to enter the woods. She idly wondered what friends she might meet when a familiar scent tickled her nose. She recognized it immediately, being a unique blend of pipeweed. Only one such person smoked it and the odor brought forth feelings of excitement, intrigue, and fear all at once.

    A man approached her and expressed his salutations with an alluring purr in his voice. He was clad in the clothes that the guards of the gypsy camp wore and puffed on an ornate pipe which was the source of the scent. She recognized him immediately, noting that this peculiar friend seemed to prefer this guise when visiting her. Part of her wondered if he only appeared this way for her benefit, even knowing that she'd recognize him by the pipeweed alone.

    She greeted him in kind as he paused from his smoking to refill the pipe. A moment later it was billowing smoke again without him needing to relight it, obviously the pipe was enchanted. The two talked for a while. The man was always curious to hear how she was and happenings around Norwick. Her curiosity of the man, however, would often go unfulfilled. His words were like riddles, full of hidden meaning.

    After some time, her elven mate walked up and greeted both. She gave her mate a loving hug and a kiss. The conversation continued and soon the gypsy man asked her if she would come with him. He spoke of wanting to show her something important. She asked if her mate could come too, but the man shook his head, saying that it was for her eyes only.

    She reluctantly agreed, and the two began to walk away. Her mate, however, knew her heart and could tell she only agreed out of being afraid. He stood up and followed, demanding that either both she and he went with the man or neither at all.

    The man took a long puff on his pipe while looking at her mate with a calculating eye. Again he denied letting her mate accompany, stressing that it was for her alone.

    Anger crossed her mate's face, something she rarely saw. Inwardly, she was happy to see her mate making a stand. A part of her grew fearful, however.

    The man's appearance began to shift and change. Where once stood a man, now stood a person with a tiger head and backwards hands. He growled fiercely and again commanded the elf to stand down. It was a matter that only concerned shapeshifters, herself and the feline man.

    Her mate proudly claimed that he, too, was a shapeshifter. To prove the point, he called on his druidic powers and took the form of a large bear.

    The feline man showed no concern or fear, and instead invoked a spell which hurled the bear druid back. Before she could react, he snatched Tindra's arm and called on more of his innate magic. In the blink of an eye, the two faded from the plane.

    She found herself in a lavish room, decorated with gold finery and green silks. She pulled away from the feline man fearfully. Rather than let her struggle, he let go of her arm swiftly which caused her to stumble back. She fell onto the bed and became engulfed in a pile of green silks and pillows. Annoyance turned to anger and momentarily set aside her fear. She sat up with a feral growl and questioned what was going on, although a part of her suspected.

    The feline man eyed her like she was a piece of treasure. Knowing she had no escape, he told her the plain truth. For years he had watched her, met with her, talked with her, and even saved her life. As both a feline and a person, she was the most beautiful being he has ever laid eyes on. His voice was full of jealousy that she chose another for her mate It was destiny that brought her to awaken him years ago in the cavern. Destiny that she were to belong to him.

    She shrank back against the green silks and pillows. Her fear of him came true. He would never let her go.

    Tindra woke with a frightened sob, throwing off the blanket that covered her. Her disturbance promptly woke Andu lying next to her. She hugged the old elf so fiercely he wondered if he could breath. The two sat in bed for hours until she exhausted herself crying.

    Author note:

    Finally got around to writing this! To be quite honest, I'm still not sure this is exactly what I wanted but I let the story evolve on it's own here.

    This nightmare honors Andelas and specifically my favorite NPC, Illusif. Tindra once ventured into a cavern under Wald's shed with some other newbies chasing after some giant rats and wererats. They fought many creatures, and Tindra had to reveal her werecat side. At the end of the tunnel a rakshasa appeared before them and seemed to take quite an interest in Tindra, who was still shifted into her werecat form. Nobody in the group knew what a rakshasa was, and since he didn't attack us we didn't attack it. After a brief chat, the rakshasa simply magicked himself away.

    As we left that cave, Andelas had me roll a Cha check for Tindra. Fate being what it is, I rolled a natural 20. Yep, the rakshasa fell for her. She soon found out what a rakshasa was after talking about the incident with some friends, which left her VERY fearful. Illusif would make occasional appearances and always played the gentleman role. She knew she wasn't able to fight one of his kind, so she simply treated Illusif with equal friendliness. She figured it was safer to keep him friendly.

    Eventually, her fear ebbed away. Mostly because Illusif always was a gentleman. Partly because of some things discovered with Aramuil's wife, Cherry. If asked nowadays, Tindra will admit to finding Illusif attractive, actually. As such, this nightmare isn't something that Tindra would stress over nowadays.

    Illusif's death saddened Tindra, but perhaps it saddened myself more. He was a very intriguing character that always had me wondering more about him.

    While this nightmare holds no sway on Tindra, the next one resonates the most fear and loathing inside her. Of course I'd save the best for last.


  • Shades of Burning Orange

    The eastern sky looked like a beautiful painting, she noticed as she scanned the woods outside of her den. Rolling clouds rippled in hues of orange light, a perfect sunrise for a new day.

    The last thought made her pause and think. "Morrning already?" she purred to herself. She looked back to the west and saw the sky was darker than it should if the sun was rising. She peered back eastward carefully and saw that the clouds behaved oddly. They way they lifted upward gave the appearance of…

    "SMOKE!" she gasped, the smell of the far off smoke hitting her nose just as she realized what she was seeing. This was no sunrise, there was a fire in the woods! In an instant she was running, ignoring the goblins that noticed her and began to give chase. Her only pause was to cast a minor spell of protection against extremes of temperature. She gave a shout as she passed the town at the edge of the forest, calling for help against the fire. She did not linger to see if people heard her, but kept running further east, fearing the worst.

    The smoke became thicker with each step she took. Soon, the roar of a great fire could be easily heard, and her heart sank. The wonderful and beautiful glen of the druids was the center of a raging inferno. She stopped and had a fit of coughing as thick smoke and hot air threatened to choke her. She could hear some shouting over the sound of the fire and after some searching found the druids and her fellow woodsmen. Many were taking water from the stream and trying to put out the flames, while some of the druids prayed to their gods for rain. Without needing to be asked, she immediately joined the effort to contain the blaze, filling buckets and helmets of water and handing them off to others.

    She knew it wasn't enough though, the fire kept growing, she could sense her spell of protection was starting to absorb heat. "We need more help!" she shouted to the others, and started running toward town. She knew exactly who she wanted to find, figuring that spells of intense cold would do the trick.

    Fear struck her as the town came into view. It was in flames, along with the woods around it.

    She spun around to run back to her fellow woodsmen and druids, but saw the inferno behind her had grown and would be impossible to run through. Sadness filled her as she realized her friends and family were most likely trapped in the blaze. Her own fear deepened as she realized she could be trapped too. Quickly she ran south, hoping the elven encampment was still intact.

    It was a futile gesture, the southern woods were ablaze as well. She was trapped. There was nowhere to run; flame and smoke surrounded her. The patch of unburned she stood in was rapidly shrinking, and she could feel heat penetrating her protective spell. Smoke and hot air began to choke her as she felt her skin blister. Searing pain filled her lungs and licked across her limb as the hungry flames crawled towards her. Her only escape was to let unconsciousness overtake her as she suffocated, the last image she could see was ever changing hues of orange flames reaching out for her.

    Tindra thrashed the blankets off of herself as she woke, coughing loudly as the feeling of breathing smoke still lingered from her dream. Her body was drenched in sweat and her skin stung as if it was burned. She got up and took a cold bath before returning to sleep, lingering in the frigid water for an hour.

    ((I actually had the idea of this dream when this story thread concept bubbled up in my head, but I'd like to give kudos to the DMs that did burnings of the glenn, wolf camp, etc. Having a nightmare sort of come to life made for good RP for Tindra.))

    New Author Note:

    Out of all the nightmares, this is the one that most displays one of her greatest fears. No, it's not fire. It's the loss of everything and everybody she cares for. The person with ice magic she thought of was Myeil. She had seen Myeil use ice spells to put out fires before.

    And the answer to the pop quiz from the last post: The infamous Uthger.


  • Shades of Carnage Red

    The evening sun turned red as it was setting. She usually saw this as a good thing, because of an old saying she remembered hearing once about an evening sun being red and the next day having good weather. Tonight, however, the evening sun brought no comfort. She figured it was her imagination, but she thought the crimson sunset looked angry, perhaps feral.

    She hoped it wasn't an omen.

    The south gate was devoid of anybody, which was rare sight. Many of the town's residents and visitors used the fire pot at the gate as a gathering place. At least there should have been guards posted at the gate doors where she entered. The peculiar lack of people sent an unwelcome chill down her spine. Something was wrong, though she did not want to believe it. As if to say her fears were true, the sky grew red as the sun set further.

    A scent filled the air, one she knew well thanks to the many battles she has seen in her life. It was blood. She muttered an elvish curse and ran into town. The first body she found was that of the town friar, slain in front of his house. A chill ran up her spine, as she noticed the good friar appeared to have been mauled by a large animal. Instincts drove her to chant protective spells on herself, realizing afterward how risky that was considering the Wild magic of the well which for some reason did not flare.

    She crept further into town, hearing the sounds of battle as she approached the center. She past more bodies, many were friends she recognized and each of the victims suffered massive wounds from some great beast. The claw marks looked like a familiar spread, and her face grew pale as she realized what could have been the beast.

    As if to confirm what she suspected, a person came running through the town square, with the beast following. The monster pounced on the hapless victim and tore him to shreds, blood and flesh flew everywhere.

    A lycanthrope. The one who tricked and forced Tindra to help create.

    The beast looked at Tindra, and she could tell it was grinning. He chuckled in a growling sinister voice and spoke two words to her, "Thank you," and then ran away.

    She sank to her knees crying with grief and guilt. A large figure walked up behind her. She recognized the extremely tall and battle-scarred barbarian by his footsteps. "You caused this to happen," he said in a flat voice.

    She wanted to speak, say how she didn't mean for this to happen, didn't mean to allow the bastard to become a lycanthrope. However, she knew that despite her unwillingness, she was to blame.

    "Blood for blood," he said and swung his greataxe through the air. She did not bother to dodge. The blade bit into her neck, her red blood splashed onto the ground and mixed with the blood of all the other victims.

    Tindra snapped awake with a loud scream which resonated in her cave. For many hours she could not get back to sleep, crying and shaking with terror. Tojan, her pixie, looked on with worry and tried her best to calm her kitty.

    ((A tip of my hat to Wykith. More of Tindra's nightmares are forthcoming.))

    New Author Note:

    Back when Syne was just a PC, he wanted to become a lycanthrope and worked out this convoluted spell to do it in a way that gave him control over the beast. It required him to trick and enspell Tindra into helping him. The DM's way of trying to put a negative on his lycanthropy was to make us enemies, I guess. That didn't work out quite so well, the player and I live in different time zones.

    Tindra was very scared that she would catch flak and be killed for her involvement with Syne's transformation. One of the conditions (back then) for her to be allowed in Norwick was that she refrain from infecting others with lycanthropy.

    Oops. At least those people up in Peltarch one-uped Tindra on the “help Syne with turning into something evil” front…

    Hey old timers, Pop Quiz! Recognize who that barbarian with the axe is?


  • Shades of Sorrow Blue

    Besides the rumbling thunder of an oncoming rainstorm, the woods were filled with an eerie silence. The light of the moon, which was into it's first quarter phase, could barely penetrate the thick fog that hung in the air, giving the forest a dark indigo hue.

    She stood in a small clearing, a large tree in front of her. She could tell the tree was sick. It's branches drooped and some leaves had wilted. It was as if the tree was very sad and was letting the sadness swallow the life out of it. In fact, she noticed the sound of crying coming from the tree. It was a soft sound but yet it could be heard clearly in the heavy silence. The sorrow and sadness of each sob pierced her heart, and she found sympathetic tears rolling down her face.

    Curious to know how and why a tree could cry, she stepped forward to figure out where in the tree the sound came from. As she got closer to the source of the weeping, more tears clouded her vision and rolled down her face. What could cause such grief that others could not help but weep at hearing the tree cry? She pulled out a kerchief and dried her eyes so she could see clearly and continued her search. A moment later she found her answer.

    It was not the tree that was crying, but a pixie. The little fae was sprawled out on the branch like a broken doll that was tossed aside; the only movements she made were to continue her sobbing. She recognized the pixie, and with that recognition came the realization of who the crying was for.
    "We lost him," the broken-hearted pixie sobbed. "It's all our fault. We left him. Why? Why did we lose him? Why did we lose Andu? Why? Why, Andu… why..."

    Each word and sob the pixie gave grew fainter and fainter, until the fae made no more sound, no more movement. She couldn't help but begin to cry herself, as she realized the pixie had died. She moved away from the tree, noting that it was becoming more drooped and wilted. Lightning flashed in the sky as the first drops of the rainstorm began to fall. In that flash, she thought she saw something, a familiar elven face, out in the tree line. She immediately sprinted forward, hope suddenly bursting in her heart and pushing away the sorrow.

    But when she got to where she saw him, nobody was there.

    Again the sky flashed, the lightning casting bright blue light for a brief second. Again the familiar face could be seen out in the tree line. Again she ran, and again nobody was there.

    The cycle repeated itself a number of times, always with the elf appearing out in the tree line, out of reach. She kept running through the rainy woods, not wanting to lose him, as if she suddenly knew how important he was to her.

    In her haste, she tripped on a root that was sticking up from the ground. She landed on the muddy ground with a wet splash and stayed still with closed eyes for a moment to catch her breath. Slowly, she opened her eyes and saw a large boulder before her, sitting on the edge of a lake. Lightning flashed, and for a brief moment she saw the elf's face in the stone. She realized she found him, yet he was lost. The boulder marked his grave.

    As sudden as hope had pushed back the sorrow, it disappeared. Grief and guilt fell upon her like a smothering blanket as rain, fog, and tears began to cloud her vision. She lay at his grave, like a broken doll that was tossed aside; her only sound and movement was to cry at the friend she lost.

    "We lost you," she sobbed, "Why did we lose you? Andu... why..."

    With each word and sob, she felt the sorrow grow heavier and heavier. The more she felt it, the less she felt anything else. As she continued, her crying became fainter and fainter, the world before her growing darker and darker. Finally, she stopped, closed her eyes, and let herself go.

    Tindra jolted awake, finding herself in her room of the cave she lived in. For the next hour, she could nothing else but cry.

    ((Author Note: I'd like to thank Hkb and Andu for unwittingly inspiring this. More dreams are planned to come.))

    New Author Note:

    Hkb was the DM in question that ran the event. Poor Tilly, she couldn't let go of her sadness at losing her bonded master, Andu (yep, Andu had a wizard level). The Druid Circle were trying to help a dryad, who tried to help Tilly but fell ill from the pixie's sadness. Tindra touched the dryad's saddened tree and well… The sadness almost drove her insane. Really, if I had rolled one number higher on that d100 roll, Tindra's mind would have been very, very, very broken. To this day, Tindra will hardly approach that same dryad's tree, and cannot touch it (she will even lash out at others if they try forcing her to). Oh, and for the record, Andu and Tindra weren't an item at this point. But you could say the events this nightmare spun out of led to that.