Voices

Edited for improved awesome. 28.08.2010The Cult (DILD) NON-DREAM DREAM LUCID This looks less than safe. As I enter the old-tyme, run-down, elevator, I cannot help but notice the slanted walls and stain-splattered, dirty yellow upholstery. The door squeaks shut as I randomly hit a floor. I have nowhere to go but up, after all. My wretched metal tomb lurches as it moves, slowly, upwards into this forsaken hotel. . . DING! Hmm. That went better than expected, I muse as I exit the elevator, into the much more luxurious, five-star hotel floor. Walking down the hallways, I pass some strange looking fellows. Very well dressed, but not in any discernible uniform. They greet me kindly, and I return the gesture, rounding the corner into a large meeting room. Ornate pillars dot the perimeter of the area, and off to the left stand numerous folding chairs lined in pew-like rows. Each chair faces forward, toward, a marble altar, complete with curved stairs and huge red and gold-trimmed banners sporting some indistinguishable symbol. Striding to the chairs, I take a seart. Almost instantly, people begin to stream in and take up seats around me. It becomes clear this is some kind of cult, and they are about to have a mass. I do not belong here. Maybe if I lie low, no one will notice--what am I doing? Standing up, I draw my <PERSON> from my side. The DCs around me gasp and scramble out of the way as I begin my trek out of this ridiculous place. Two guards block my path out. Not waiting for them to move, I strike them down. . . Or, that is what would have happened if my blade had actually cut. From behind me, "Look at how weak he is. He cannot even cut us with his sword." Like hell, I cannot. I turn quickly and <PERSON> to the source of the voice: a colorfully robed man with a golden staff. We fight. My nimble slashes find their way past his rather poor defenses, but each blow I land does not even graze him. He begins laughing. "<PERSON>!" Energy bursts out around me and encircles my blade. Swiping downward, I cleave his staff in two. I do not hear any laughter as I shove my <PERSON> through his shoulder. Looking into his eyes, I make sure he understands, 'I am not done yet.' "<PERSON>, Resurrection!" My view pops out to third person as light surrounds my body. I feel my sword merge with me, encasing my hands and lower arms, turning them into massive, symmetrical hammers. My grip on the dream wavers. Everything starts to fade away. . . Oh no you do not. Utilizing seat of my pants attention manipulation, I am able to recreate the dream, keeping my new, taller, more muscular form. Unfortunately, I am no longer in that room. Before me lies a long and perilous staircase, into the heavens. Starting the long climb, towards what I assume is the final battle with the cult leader, three armed men assault me from behind. My hammers make quick work of their futile attempts to cut me. Two of them I crush outright, while the other survives my initial pound long enough to inform me I have already killed the robed man from before, along with twelve others. This thought sits well with me as I continue my endless climb.