Dreams in Shadow
Freddy's Dream
That night Freddy dreamed. It started off as a good dream. He was back in Valoria during the heyday of Hot-Red and the Freddies, back before things had gone bad. He remembered the night vividly; they had just finished up a set at The Mended Drum, a set which had gone well. Very well. The crowd had been huge, way more than they had expected, people spilling out the door and into the alleys outside. The music was catching on. Word was getting around. Valorian Swing was becoming a thing.
They had been hanging out after the show at Hot Red’s crib in some getto ass part of Valoria, exhausted, but happy. Ozraeline was lounging on the couch, smoking something or other, and some unnamed drummer was passed out on the floor. They’d never had much luck with drummers; they came and mysteriously went with dizzying regularity. Freddy didn’t remember the names of half of them. Hot Red was pretty particular about the beat, never satisfied with anyone they hired for long. In hindsight, Freddy now realized that it had been a pretty big warning sign, the way those drummers had kept mysteriously disappearing like that, but back then, he hadn’t cared. He’d been in love after all, with the band, with the music, with the fans, and most specifically with Hot Red. He had no idea she was Red Alice, of course.
That realization had come later. Much later. Hot Red had been sitting on his lap, he remembered, still in her costume from the show, which had been a black scrap of next to nothing essentially, nibbling his ear. The smell of her, the heavy musk of perfume and sweat, the soft pressure of her on his lap, his response to that pressure, the warm scent of calitas from Oz’s pipe, the implicit promise of it all. It had been a good night up to that point, and had only gotten better as the night progressed. One of his best nights, almost perfect.
And then the dream had shifted subtly. “You’re really on to something here, Freddy. I should have guessed the Mbo were somehow wrapped up in all this. That God-King fucker,” Red Alice murmured in a bedroom voice.
Freddy felt a little discombobulated. He was pretty sure that wasn’t how the rest of this sequence had played out. “The who?” he asked, trying to rectify the past with the present, his head swimming with cognitive overload. He didn’t want to be HERE he wanted to be THERE.
“Those pyramid happy Imperial shits Freddy,” she smiled, giving him another nibble. “Choke that boner down, my love, and try to get with the program. Remember, you don’t want to go back to that cell, do you?”
“Fuck.” It all came crashing back. This was the past. He was dreaming. But he wasn’t waking up. “Are you really…here?” he asked, confusedly. “I thought you said…the sea… blocking you.”
“Oh, it does, my dear. Otherwise, this would all be over very, very quickly, and I’d have no need for you and your friends, regardless of how delicious you are.” She bit his neck playfully. “But I’m a hard girl to keep entirely down, you know, and you aren’t technically sailing on the World’s Ocean right now, are you? There are backdoors and hidden ways. That Sea Queen may be powerful, but she’s not the brightest, not the most subtle.
Freddy looked blankly at her. Red Alice sighed. “Let’s just say dreams are a way in, especially when I catch you in the Shadow. It’s not at all reliable, and I am not especially powerful this way, mind you. Don’t go counting on Momma to bail you out of any jams, but I can help in little ways, nudge you along, and we can talk like this from time to time. A girl can only do her best, Freddy. Besides, don’t look so sad, this is working out great!”
She reached over with both fingers and stroked his lips, miming turning them up into a smile. “Go with the flow, my fella, don’t overthink things. You are exactly where you need to be, doing exactly what you need to do. As am I. But be careful around this God-King. He’s a real player, and I don’t say that lightly. He has eyes and ears everywhere, he’s smart, he’s subtle, he doesn’t like outsiders, and he has enough raw power to crack a continent open. Keep your head down. Don’t attract his attention."
Red Alice paused, looking thoughtful for a moment.
“You’re going to need a friend Freddy. Booze and partying are your style, find whoever is in charge of that, that’s my advice.”
Tello's Dream
As your eyes adjust to the dim light, you can make out that the single dancing flame rests on the brow of a dark, armored man who is kneeling over you. At first, you think it must be The Sturg for the figure is covered in metal armor head to toe, but after a moment, you see notable differences.
The dark giant is wrapped in chains. Chains bind his arms and legs so he can barely move, forced to hobble bent over like an old man. His hands are bound in plate containers, depriving him of the use of his fingers. The mask that completely encompasses his face is fastened closed with multiple padlocks
As you start in surprise, a reassuring voice emerges from the dancing flame
”Hello Tello. My name is Illiki, the Flame of Civilization, and this big lug is Sarnat, the Power of Skeitis. Don't be afraid. We aren't here to hurt you. We need your help”.
Tello looked carefully at the strange pair, his mind racing. They made no obviously threatening movements, rather backed up to give him space.
"Help with what exactly?" he asked, sitting up.
"The people you are visiting and their The God-King are wielding strange magics, magics stolen from The Dreaming. They have used these magics to bind my good friend Sarnak, bind him with seven chains and seven locks. And, as he is bound, so they bind themselves. We must free my friend. We must find the seven keys. We must free him and also free these slaves of the God-King.
Will you help us?"
Tello considered for a moment. In his experience, things that were chained were often chained for a reason, and unchaining them just to find out what would happen was often unwise (tempting though it may be).
"Why is friend Sarnak bound?" he asked cautiously. "And what power does he represent? What is this "Skeitis" exactly?"
Illia fluttered in response. "It's difficult to translate. Knowing? Science? The Power of Industry? The God-King is not a fan of new knowledge; he wishes things to stay as they are. We wish to know more, to understand how our world works, the natural laws under which it operates. To have the power and knowledge to do more."
Tello considered again, but not for long. "As do I. The world is meant to be understood. I will help you. But how? Where are these seven keys?"
"I do not know. But you will find them wherever knowledge is bound. To help you in your search, I grant you the Light of Knowledge. Thrice you may call upon my flame, and thrice I will reveal all as it actually is."
"Very well. Knowledge should be free," stated Tello.
Whisperleaf's Dream
Elves don't sleep the same way humans do. But they do, on occasion, dream....
You find yourself having tea and eating very good biscuits. You remember this scene very well, the white and gold main cabin on board White Alice’s ship. White Alice is sitting across from you, smiling, as she pours your tea.
“These biscuits are really quite fabulous,” you remember yourself commenting. “The white sugar dusting is perfection. The best I’ve ever had. The tea is amazing as well.”
White Alice laughs charmingly. “The tea is from Masriq, they grow the most wonderful tea there. The biscuits I can’t take credit for directly I'm afraid, but we have a most amazing head chef aboard. I’ll ask him to send some back with you.
White Alice finishes pouring your tea and sits back in her chair. “So Mbo is it? That would explain why my sister has been so hard for me to locate. The God-King builds high walls and not just in the Waking World.
You nod sagely, but feel a touch of disquiet. This is not how that conversation had gone, was it?
A shadow of concern passes over White Alice’s perfect porcelain features. “You need to be careful in the Holy Empire of the God King, Whisperleaf. This is quite a different weight class from where you have been operating up until now. Even my own Empire takes The God-King of Mbo very seriously; he’s second to last on the Integration Schedule. I won’t be strong enough for him for a century. He’s not just powerful, he’s shrewd. A worthy opponent for even one such as myself.
At this point, you are sure this dream is deviating from your memories.
"These really are nice biscuits," you repeat, to buy time.
White Alice laughs.
"One last word of advice. Every wall has chinks, and this is also true for Mbo. Remember, his human subjects are not his only subjects. The second set are quite a bit less well in hand, you might find allies there. Just tread carefully, he has eyes everywhere, that one.
Also, I sense my more emotional sister is waking up from her drug haze a bit. Best she not know about this conversation, agree? Best for you at least. More tea?
When you wake up the next morning, there is a small white paper bag on your nightstand. Inside are a half dozen biscuits.
Ricmo's Dream
You remember the scene vividly. The final round of the Grand Tournament of Cards back at Skull River Bay, where you played against the strange man who you later suspected might have been The Gentleman himself.
Everything is exactly as you remember, the smell of stale beer and cigar smoke, the crowd of pirates clustered around watching and graciously making side bets, that keyed up, energetic feeling of running on no sleep for 24 hours
You look down at your hand and frown. You don’t remember drawing this hand though. Almost a straight flush, king of spades high, just missing the queen. Only an idiot would draw for that Queen, though. Nearly a great hand, but actually a terrible one.
You look up and find your opponent not as you remember either. It was supposed to be a tall, dark man in a wide-brimmed hat, face lost in shadows. Instead, it’s the green-eyed halfling barmaid. The one who had helped you that night, and whom you had seen several times since. The one you suspected might be an avatar of the goddess they called The Lady.
She holds her cards loosely, green eyes boring into you over her mountain of chips. You can’t help but take note that your own pile of chips is considerably smaller.
“You seem to have drawn a tough hand there, my friend,” she murmurs.
You smile, shrug, your face totally controlled, not giving away a thing of course.
“Mbo, is it. Strange workings afoot in Mbo. Not my domain really, though the rivers are my children technically. it’s been long since they remembered that, though. And they love cats there, and cats are always Mine, so that’s a point in their favor. Still, the God-King he doesn’t much care for games of chance, likes a sure thing, that one.”
Your play, I believe,” she says, “discard and bet?”
Ricmo discarded the four of diamonds and pushed all his chips to the center of the table without even waiting for his fifth card to be dealt.
"All in, all the time," he stated.
She laughs merrily, green eyes sparkling. “Oh Ricmo, I do love you so. She reached up and unhooked one of the mother-of-pearl earrings she wears. “Instead of your fifth card, which I cannot give you, take this as a remembrance instead. Since you will be traveling out of my sight soon. Show it to my errant children, perhaps they will remember me and treat you kindly.”
When Ricmo awoke, he found a mother-of-pearl earring clutched tightly in his hand. He whistled a jaunty tune as we threaded it into his right ear.
Dakhir's Dream
Dakhir finds himself awake, leaning against the railing of the Lady Jezebel , staring out over the sea. The ship appears deserted, the air still, only the slightest breeze in the sails. Above him, the unmoving stars of The Shadowlands burn, but before him, he sees a massive churning wall of shadow stretching up out of sight into the sky, and as far as he can see along the horizon.
As he marvels at the wall, he suddenly notices he is no longer alone. Beside him, leaning against the rail, is his Grandmother.
The head of the family, his patron, is a rare sight; he's only met her a handful of times before. As always, she makes a striking appearance dressed head to toe in her long black gown, the top of her face hidden in the black feathered masquerade mask she always wears.
The Family calls her Grandmother, but she was far too old to be anyone’s grandmother. The oldest living members of the family claim she was already ancient when they were babes. A great great great grandmother, perhaps.
On the infernal side.
His patron
She shows no signs of her alleged age or her demonic origin, however. Her mouth and lower face, visible below the mask, are unwrinkled, smooth, beautiful, and human, her ruby red lips full and pouting, her voice lacking the slightest quiver of age.
Of course no one knew what the rest of her face looked like, under the mask. What the mask hid.
"Greeting Grandson," her voice cool and quiet like shadows moving over water. "It is long since we last spoke. You have done well. I understand you are serving our ally, Red Alice, appropriately, and I see you have grown much in power. However, I hope that this service can find time for a minor diversion. We have a matter that needs tending to. A family matter."
"Of course, Grandmother. Happy to be of service," he lies.
She nods and continues.
"Your father, Aruk the Terrible, Beast of the Apocalypse, the Prince in Red, Urush An Rama has been lost to us. Lost while on family business. You must, in your role as a dutiful son, and member in good standing of the Family, and as my grandson, determine his fate.
If possible, rescue him.
If necessary, avenge him."
She gives you a half smile beneath her mask. "After all, it is high time you got to know your father better, after all."
"Do you accept this charge?"
"Dakhir briefly considers, but what choice does he have, after all? None. Which was basically the story of his life."
"Of course, my lady."
"Very well. The Prince in Red was last seen within the boundaries of the Holy Empire of the God-King, in the City of the Dead, which is called Hamunaptra.
For a moment, Grandmother looks broodingly at the shadow wall roiling before her. "The God-King of Mbo plays with powerful forces. He upsets the balance he was meant to maintain. Your father was investigating these goings on when he disappeared. Take up his quest as well. Discover what ShadowMagic this God-King is playing with, and to what purpose. However, be careful, grandson. There are powers at play here of the first order; without subtlety and stealth, you will not be successful.
Go with my blessings then. And remember, "Blood is the path to power."
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