Dreams 3

Before each session I have started giving each character a dream that they have had from their past lives

In a few hours my six players will begin and here are their dreams:


Leaf

Long nights of bathing in the hot springs and sunning yourself dry in your top most adobe in the First City, Rathess, all for the preparation of the services to be held in the oldest temple dedicated to the Unconquered Sun in Creation.  It holds a special place in your heart, this temple still holds to the old ways, human sacrifice.  Abhorrent on so many levels now, except that it is the only of the most heinous of human criminals that are sacrificed, the irredeemable.

They are laid out before you, on the alter at the heights in the centre of the city.  Once the tallest building, now almost every other rises one hundred levels higher, but in this city, the Dragon Kings hold this one highest of all.

The stone knife cuts the breastbone and you reach in and pull the still beating heart from the beast of a man who stalked the streets of Hollow killing children.  This heart like others would rest forever here within the temple until the sun set its last time.  The murderer would reincarnate in to a better life, because you killed him, which seems unfair, as his victims received no such consideration.

The light of the Sun fell upon the Heart as the last of its blood pumped free.  The Dragon Kings and humans before you all heads raised to the glory of Solar Invictus.

The Practitioner

As part of your duties the Deliberative has directed that those sorcerers of the greatest strength and known in quantity, (ie registered) patrol Creation to seek out demons that escape their bindings.  Sometimes they escape their bindings, sometimes the will of the summoner is overwhelmed, sometimes a quirk of reality allows one to slip into Creation.  There have been many such accidents and many laws to prevent the occurrences, but they still happen.  There is a law that prevents architects from getting work if the job may beyond their skill, to prevent Amalion from entering Creation after the architect kills them-self.

Most of the time it is Cultists or Infernalist, but that might cause a panic so it is never put that way.  There is a deep secret that since the Primordial War, many Solars have had a deep desire to fight the fight they were made to fight, long after the fight is over.  Some seek to relive their glory, others seek to challenge themselves in was that they never could as they Exalted years after the war.

The real dangerous ones are the ones that don't feel complete as Solars without the Malfeans in the world and seek their return.  When this becomes known, it is often too late, but when it does occur people like you are called to go to the front line.

Of the last several dozen instances you have been called a handful of times, but the figure before you has been called to them all.  Dressed in Shadows that obscure everything, gender and everything else, they have a hate on for all things Demons and infernalism more than any other.  There are rumours that he or she was the sole survivor of her Circle in the Primordial War.  Rumours.  What can be known without a doubt is they prefer to work alone and that it works directly with the Bureau of Destiny and tracks people meticulously.  It is the scariest Solar you know, the one that no one talks about.  You also know that it requested you be here to provide support, you and an ancient Dawn Caste, you and them against one Infernal Solar.  You know that you need to be prepared because it asked you along, rather than working by itself…

The jungle is hot and the constant drip would be aggravating if it were not for the regular cacophony of the rainforest at night was replaced by near complete silence.  The shadow told you that the Infernalist was a Night Caste and had Adamant Circle Sorcery.  It told you that the there was reports of a Third Circle Demon of Adorjan moving through Creation near the  southern border with the Wyld.  Where there is a one demon there will be others.  Your role was to engage and Banish the Demons, the Dawn was to allow you to do that.  There would be risk, a lot of risk.  The Shadow said that when the demons are engaged the risk would be the highest, and that is when it will kill the Infernal, when it attacks you.

It was like you knew it would be: the Demons first wave was a hoard of First and Second Circle demons of extreme obscurity, that would require multiple castings of Adamant Circle Banishment, as there were too many for the Dawn to hold back.  You knew that it was a good plan, the last would be the actual Third Circle demon, you had to hold back enough power to banish it and defend against the summoner when it attacked until the Shadow delt it a fatal blow.  When it came you realized the error, there were two Third Circle demons; you were out played, perhaps by the Shadow itself… The second from last gone you began the last, the attack was anticipated but there was nothing left for you to do but complete the banishment you had started—the Diaklave pierced your breast through to your abdomen.  Your conviction to live kept you observant to the end.  The Dawn landed on either side of you and last the head of your Circle Mate the Night Caste, who you guessed was the reason you were picked….  The soft steps of the Shadow beside you.  She knelt beside you and whispered, "May I do your next Incarnation a better turn in your next life."

Then nothing


Messenger

The deep breath in of a beautiful morning after a night of relaxation.  The concubines that served you last night did wonders to help you relax.  The last week you spent roughing it deep in the field searching the wilds of An-Teng for the yozis cult in those jungles.  It would have been worse if you were mortal with the leeches and such.  You had support, a Dawn Caste and a Zenith, two locals that were on vacation.  Normally you would not have requested the help, but your investigation revealed that the main member of the Cult was a Infernal Night Caste, and you knew that it could go wrong, very wrong.  You were not sure who, which is the trouble with Night Caste Infernals.  Always best to have back up.  Everything went fine until the end.  But nothing that you could do about that, you tried your best.  The Dawn was allied with your target.

Normally such a slip up would have meant your demise, but there was a guardian out there who saved your hide.  Its inky shadow appeared on the periphery of your vision at the last moment.  Your first clue of the betrayal was the Zenith and the Dawn's diaklave sticking through his head.  The battle was almost lost when shadow joined you fresh after you and they were nearly dead.

Facing death makes mornings a real delight.  You just wish they were more rare experiences.


Jaguar

Deep in the dark you plunge, your fall arrested just before the bottom.  That Ghost you tortured, dressed like a black Heron.  She told you that she was a dead Solar.  You knew that.  You told her as much.  Torture is never a reliable way to get information.  It is just fun.  The best and most reliable interrogation method is to act like a friend.  To tell them what you know is true and to get them to tell you more, because you know that too.  They know you already knew it so they don't mind telling you.  Then you let them know you did good and you give them a reward.  Soon you have it all.

She apparently gave her soul to one of the dead Primordials.  For power.  Because she had none being dead.  Well you still have power, what will they give you?

Before you is the monster tomb of He who Holds in Thrall, the side broken where the first age Solars broke it when they created the Black Nadir Concordant.  You reached inside and woke the dead thing you held in contempt. It that picked her as a minion was not worthy of you.  You caused it pain as you set your will upon it.

You traveled to the other accessible tombs and probed their depths and heard their names.  You forced them too to heel and commanded them with fear.  You traveled on until you found it at last.  The Neverborn that you and your Circle made so many years ago, and she unmade them in turn.  Here she dwelt in the darkness and nothingness: Void of Desire

You woke.  Your clothing is stuck to you and your clothing wet.  Your voice is raw.  Your companions stand in your adobe, four of them holding you down.

 Nix

The brimstone cut the air as your chanting reached a crescendo.  The essence that you held was greater than anything you had tried before.  You had seconded this ritual many times, but this time it was all you.  Your seconds lent you their strength of essence and it all poured through you.

"Come forth Amalion, I beseech you," you command.  You and your two seconds collapse drained of essence completely.  Licking your lips there is a sharp taste of brass and the grit of sand.  In the complex summoning circle stands a middle aged woman with a lavender veil draped over her face.  Her arms are white with grains of green and seemingly pure marble.

"How will you command me, Mistress," she asks. "This time will you ask for what you really want?"  There is a very faint smile on her lips.  Her equally marbled tongue caresses her upper lip.

You regain your composure, you know you need to act fast, Calibration will only last another few hours and their prohibitions on casting this spell are known and dire.  You spread the designs out before her and direct her to create your grand palace with a Manse heart, wood Manse that would create the Gem of immortality.

She looks at the plans.  "Is this all?"

"It is all for now!  Make it beautiful and make quickly, you must be gone by dawn."

The ground shudders and the world shakes as stone, wood and Jade erupt from the earth.  The grounds settle and plants rise, trees are transplanted, gardens arise.  Your dream Manse and palace comes together like none other.

The sun is just peaking over the trees as you find yourself in your magnificent bed chambers.  The bed clothes are perfect and turned down invitingly.  "At your service Mistress, what is your pleasure this morning."  She appears the same, less a veil.  Her eyes hold your heart and her lips will soon hold something else…

The dream lifts far too early and you wake.  Frantically, there was just one last image of that dream, beyond the figure of Amalion, a dark Shadow with human form…


Akri

The stain upon the land could only mean one thing someone had completed the rituals and had summoned Octavian.  In all likelihood, the summoner would be one of the piles goo in one of those oil spots.

There had been some talk in the deliberative about why this demon was so popular among cultists.  The debate was a nice diversion from the humdrum of regular affairs; this time a debate about the amount of time that the Wyld Frontier Station should spend researching floppy ears or something.  Your point was there were so many demons out there that were more challenging than Octavian, that were easier to summon.  The beast with a hundred arms, the cube of stone thingy you remembered from somewhere were all much more of a challenge.  The debate went on for an hour and the Twilight who wanted to research on that Wyld place got fed up and stormed out.

Octavian turned toward you, and you could tell that he recognized you—his shoulders slumped.  Bored this time, you unclasped your diaklave and unleashed your Octavian Banishing Prana on him as your circle jokingly called it.

As you cleaned off your blade, the ichor could not stain it, but it always pays to be careful, a bird fluttered down to you.  It was a intricate paper bird.  You unfolded it.  There was a message.  It read: Because he is so easy to kill and he seems to the Cultists to be so powerful.  All the Cultists gather to perform the ritual, usually in a locked confined space.  Octavian kills them all, always; he is so tired of being summoned.  That is why I let it be known that he is such an achievement to be sought after among the occultists.  (Symbol)

The symbol was all the signature you could find.  After you read the note it burst aflame.