#dreaming

The riptide through the Dreaming trods in the kingdom of willows goes wild. Several are severed, and Balor Guardians and Troll Rovers alike unlucky enough to be on the Silver find all their expertise coming up short of the distortion of a once orderly lattice. Silvers bends or shatters, and new roads of black red and green , dangerous roads, fell roads, fomorian roads swarm through the gaps. The safety of the silver is gone, and nightmares of hatred, ignorance, and paranoia flood the region.

Tavi Longstride, Knight of the way, troll, Rover, is a giant here on trods, not just figuratively. SHe looms. Antlers threatening to bud from her brow . She wears Hydra hide armor. She walks with two axes, one for each hand. She is escorting a trio of non trolls when they encounter the Balor Sidhe

Sir Eachinis is the very picture of his house, black armor of fearsome style, a blazing sword of redflame in his hand. He is beautiful but terrible and his pale hair shifts about his head like a halo of winter frost.

"We do not want your company, 'Sir' Eachnnis," Tavi assures, "And no, I am not telling you were my charges intend to go. That is not your business. These are not balor lands."

Sir Eachnis grows annoyed. As if only House Balor would try to keep tabs on the demographics of the small folk? "By learning which paths are growing most popular we of House Balor can better protect them, Rover. I am not trying to twhart or foil, I am simply trying to help my House and thus help the people of Concord-" Then the shockwave hits their part of the dreaming, and he sees the silver behind them ripple, no, not ripple, distort and shift with a kind of tarnish "ia? By the Eye. Rover, behind you!"

If this is a trick Tavi thinks, but she does turn to look behind her and sees it, a tarnished bent nail of a passage where once there was a clean silver trod, and that passage floods now with nightmares so twisted even a redcap or sluagh might blanch.

Tavi gestures over her three charges "Oak stand strong in storm's wrath, Oak stand strong in Storm's Wrath, Oak stand strong in Storm's wrath!" It is good they are in the dreaming, her she can oakshield the three charges before her, armoring them, then her axes slide into her hands and she turns "GO, run down the trod! Quickly, if you see SIlver, take it where ever it seems to go..but move away. Sir Eachiness, the Nightmare horde surges.... take my charges, get them to safety"

"I think not" Sir Eachiness surprises her "This is a massive shift of the lattice! Our knowledge likely no longer applies" For his part he looks at the charges and invokes "Balor's eye over look thee, harm forsake thee, Ill fortune pass ye by" For him, a Fair fortune is the gift, and his flaming sword swings out as he joins the troll "Their best chance is if we slow the chaos. And that means you and I fight side by side, Rover. Fun mmm?"

"Not my word for it" SHe looks at the eldest of her charges "Go, stay on the Silver, stay together, if the silver shifts just keep going. Do not stop until you reach the autumn lands. Be brave. GO!"

The eldest is not THAT Damn old, indeed, all three charges are young, but courage is tested like a hot blade, through the shock of needful tempering. And a nod is given and suddenly three join hands and one drags too

Even as Tavi Lonstride tries to hold the line, litterally willing the silver beneath her to not sunder yet. Her dream craft is nothing before this, but seconds are precious. Beside her, Sir Eachniss grins wit ha kind of madness as the first of the nightmares ,something four legged with three hyena heads with maws the size of his head charges

"I am heir to the Red eye, I am the Nightmare's favored son, I am the Fell kissed!" He slashes at it as he comes in, "Come, little shadows, little fell floatsom, come in numbers as great as the space between the stars! I shall hinder thee and remind you why only WE get to wear Grandfather's name! "His flaming blade severs one head

Then it's spine snaps. Tavi has no speech, no words. None are needed. She is a Knight of the Way. She will stem the flood. She will hew and cut until she drops dead herself, but she will not stop fighting easily. Her charges will make it. They must. Her axe brreaking the spine, she waits for the next foe, and the next.

Bloody axes and flaming sword, the two who despise each other face the seemingly infinite. Sir Eachnis will be remembered most likely as a minor balor knight, a trod guardian. Tavi Longstride's legend had not had much time to grow. She has only been a rover officially for a year. Perhaps none will sing of them. Perhaps their names will fade as all things it seems must when ignorance is chosen over hope and reason.

But through out willows, and beyond, every kithain, be it redcap in the streets, sidhe lord in a fine tower, or Eshu thumbing a ride? everyone of them will remember when the Georgia Guidestones fell. When that anchor to a trod network fashioned to provide stability for the lattice there was destroyeed by mortal ignorance and fear

And most sons of adam, most daughters of eve , blind to the importance of them, will shrug, and tut, and go 'oh well'

and the nightmares will dance

*****************

The smell of magnolias, peach trees, and scent of willows is everywhere .... this is not a smell of Jersey, or even the king dom of Apples. But the Magnolia sent smells also of rot, the peach decaying too sweet to be palatible, and the willow scent ? Smells almost like a wild fire has singed it

They are NOT far from the trod entrance, Olgar and Dagmar. In fact, they just came in. Yet already they change a bit, as if somehow, the far dreaming was pushing its way throug the layer that was supposed to be the near dreaming. That could be a good thing in that it gives them even more power, but it also means even more trouble must be loose.

Dagmar has been growing into her wilderhood of late - not as powerful as the grumps, no, but her gift of Atlas bringing her close. With the press of the Dreaming, she is an Amazon, a Valkyrie, a Giantess at war...

Which is good, because War is coming to them... the trod, normally Silver, is too far from the Guidestones to have been broken by their undoing, but a tarnish is spreading on the silver.. and where the silver fades, fell things scamper and howl making a break for the autumn world to do unspeakable evil

A woman's head floats along the path towards them, under the head entrails move like a squid's tentacles, lashing and slashing about. She's merely the first target... a lead on the monsters behind

Olgar curses "Some one some where screwed up bad and now we got every rejected monster from the Fiend Folio coming at us plus some. Dame, I'm going to need to go with your plan. You bottle neck them, while I start to work on the trod"

Giantess at war or no, the head with entrails lashes out an intestine dangling like a whip at Dagmar but despite her size, it misses her as Flyswater blocks the blow.

Grunt. Nod. Fight!

Flyswatter increases her already impressive reach. Rather than trying to swing at the head in a slow arc, she instead uses the spear-point in an attempt to impale it.

(easier to see here: Catnik, roll me Dex plus Melee. We're not going to roll this all, but I think a little sprinkle of it will help guide well)

/roll 8 explode

Dagmar is not the most accurate combatant, but she can feel her past lives with her, more than that, she HAS grown, not just in height and strength. She has trained among legends, and on her own. She has not just might, but skill now! And she thrusts the spear point through the skull of the monster, skull breaking under troll might and Flyswater's durability like the crust of a pie giving way to a fork. It makes a horrible scream that would possibly send sluagh clutching at their ears.

And still more come. Now she faces not a lead straggler, but at least three on her. A scorpian like creature with two tails and a fanged front mouth. Something that looks like a sickly hydra with no legs and it's heads fused so it must use them as battering rams rather than bite. And more modern, a creature of wires sparking electricity while it shrills "the call you have made appears to be out of service. Please check your number , and dial again"

One-vs-three means it is time for broader attacks. She shoves the head off with a rough kick, and arcs Flyswatter into a gleaming scythe of destruction.

She quickly realizes the thing that likely was a Hydra, WANTS to die. Fused by energies, it's heads deformed painfully, it lashes out with clumsy desperation, extending itself so she can finish it off. It is in pain, cosntant pain, and it must die to end it, and it will kill her if it must to force the issue.

Dagmar can oblige!

Kiling it first actually pays off. Her wide sweep wounded them all, but her targeting the once Hydra has it lashs out in death throes throwing off the Scorpian's tail strike, but the wires touch her yet and sparks fly

(Stamina roll, please)

/roll 4

Son of a bitch that hurts! But the important thing is it does not shock her and put her 'temporarily out of service' by having her muscles lock up or jump. Rather she clears it out with another sweep, sending it into the scorpion. THere is no room for celebration though, more come on. She can't tell how many

Honestly, counting them won't help. Killing them will!

Behind her, she can hear Olgar chanting, some poem. he never struck her as poetical but this one he seems to know

Her job right now is to be a wall of violence between the onslaught and Olgar - magic has never been Dagmar's strong point, but bunks require concentration.

And amid the threat, there are Thallian, an Ogre bellows, not a troll of winter bent, a true Ogre. He has over his shoulder a bloodied body of a satyr... but in his other hand, an axe easily as big as Flyswater, wreathed in shadow.

Dagmar bares her teeth. This will be a fight!

Even other creatures in the horde move to the side. And Flyswater seems to shine brighter, as if challenging it's counter part

"Out of the way, Troll Bitch.... " The ogre howls "The Guidestones no longer contain, Chaos rules this day, and The Masters spread us like seeds upon your fields to choke the flowers of your dream! OUt of our way! You are one. We are many!"

Snort. STAB.

She hews at the armored ogre, and finds the rusty plates of his armor hold well, she hurts him, but not as much as she hoped. "I have a brother to avenge" His axe drives into her thigh to trade blow for blow "THat winged Liam bitch killed him! Now I can go to her and avenge him!"

Olgar keeps chanting his poem.. but at those words his eyes light up