11.7.04
A Non-Historical Dream
The Light of Axim sets me free, and I dream...
I'm a spellsword, young and inexperienced. I'm with a group refugees. There's an old mage and a group of warriors among us, but most of us are simple villagers. We're running from a wizard through the woody hills of Central Croatia. We move through the forests and the days pass uneventfully. One day, we come out of the woods and into a valley. There's a temple with a large dome in the valley. We enter the temple; it's deserted. We assemble in the great chamber under the dome. Our mage tries to cast a spell which would bring us to safety. I try to help him, but we fail; something is blocking us. Unsuccessful, we leave the temple and continue on foot. As we start climbing a hill, a column of mounted soldiers appears on the ridge above us. There aren't many soldiers, but there are several large groups of serfs with them. It seems to me that the serfs are being lead somewhere against their will. We watch the column pass, hoping we won't be noticed. From the banners I can see that the soldiers are from the town of Karlovac. The column is almost past, but then the leader of the last group of soldiers notices us. He points towards us, and they charge down the hill. I draw my blade; it's a 1796 light cavalry sabre, a wicked weapon the British used in the Napoleonic wars. I hold the blade in my right hand and the scabbard in my left. I'm scared. A horseman charges at me, a dagger in his hand. He throws the dagger at me, but I deflect it with a spell, and he rides past me, towards our other warriors. Another horseman charges, throwing his dagger at me, but I catch it with my scabbard. The third horseman throws his dagger, but I manage to deflect it with the sabre. The fourth rider has a bow, and looses an arrow at me. I try to deflect it, too, but I fail, and the arrow grazes my shoulder. It is just a scratch, but now I'm really frightened. As the fourth rider passes me, I swing my sabre and wound him terribly. He gallops off, dying. I've never killed a man before this, and I feel sick. Then the fifth rider attacks me. He's an old nobleman in splendid clothes, and there's a young blonde lady riding in the saddle behind him, holding him around his waist. He approaches, and tries to stab me with a long hook, which, for some reason, reminds me of the Chinese halberd, although it looks nothing like one. I catch his arm, and start chopping at it with my sabre. He shouts at me, offering me a reward if I let go of his arm, but I keep chopping. His arm is almost cut off, and he panics, and starts offering me a reward if I don't cut it off completely. But I don't trust him, and I cut off his arm. He screams, and I take the hook from his chopped off hand, and kill him with it. His lady just looks at me, shrugs, tips him off the horse, and rides off into the valley. As the remaining horseman fight our warriors, I look around. The rest of the column is gone from sight, and we're winning - soon we'll be safe. Then the ridiculousness of the situation strikes me. The soldiers attacking us have nothing to do with the wizard we're running from. My sabre is a weapon of a horseman, not a footman, and is completely out of time. Karlovac, the town our attackers came from, won't be founded for another 400 years or so. Why did the riders who attacked me use daggers, and not lances? Why did it take me so long to chop off the old nobleman's arm (the 1796 sabre can do in in one blow), and why did he offer me a reward not to cut it completely, once I was almost done? And what was his young lady doing there in the first place?
The dream ends...
I'm a spellsword, young and inexperienced. I'm with a group refugees. There's an old mage and a group of warriors among us, but most of us are simple villagers. We're running from a wizard through the woody hills of Central Croatia. We move through the forests and the days pass uneventfully. One day, we come out of the woods and into a valley. There's a temple with a large dome in the valley. We enter the temple; it's deserted. We assemble in the great chamber under the dome. Our mage tries to cast a spell which would bring us to safety. I try to help him, but we fail; something is blocking us. Unsuccessful, we leave the temple and continue on foot. As we start climbing a hill, a column of mounted soldiers appears on the ridge above us. There aren't many soldiers, but there are several large groups of serfs with them. It seems to me that the serfs are being lead somewhere against their will. We watch the column pass, hoping we won't be noticed. From the banners I can see that the soldiers are from the town of Karlovac. The column is almost past, but then the leader of the last group of soldiers notices us. He points towards us, and they charge down the hill. I draw my blade; it's a 1796 light cavalry sabre, a wicked weapon the British used in the Napoleonic wars. I hold the blade in my right hand and the scabbard in my left. I'm scared. A horseman charges at me, a dagger in his hand. He throws the dagger at me, but I deflect it with a spell, and he rides past me, towards our other warriors. Another horseman charges, throwing his dagger at me, but I catch it with my scabbard. The third horseman throws his dagger, but I manage to deflect it with the sabre. The fourth rider has a bow, and looses an arrow at me. I try to deflect it, too, but I fail, and the arrow grazes my shoulder. It is just a scratch, but now I'm really frightened. As the fourth rider passes me, I swing my sabre and wound him terribly. He gallops off, dying. I've never killed a man before this, and I feel sick. Then the fifth rider attacks me. He's an old nobleman in splendid clothes, and there's a young blonde lady riding in the saddle behind him, holding him around his waist. He approaches, and tries to stab me with a long hook, which, for some reason, reminds me of the Chinese halberd, although it looks nothing like one. I catch his arm, and start chopping at it with my sabre. He shouts at me, offering me a reward if I let go of his arm, but I keep chopping. His arm is almost cut off, and he panics, and starts offering me a reward if I don't cut it off completely. But I don't trust him, and I cut off his arm. He screams, and I take the hook from his chopped off hand, and kill him with it. His lady just looks at me, shrugs, tips him off the horse, and rides off into the valley. As the remaining horseman fight our warriors, I look around. The rest of the column is gone from sight, and we're winning - soon we'll be safe. Then the ridiculousness of the situation strikes me. The soldiers attacking us have nothing to do with the wizard we're running from. My sabre is a weapon of a horseman, not a footman, and is completely out of time. Karlovac, the town our attackers came from, won't be founded for another 400 years or so. Why did the riders who attacked me use daggers, and not lances? Why did it take me so long to chop off the old nobleman's arm (the 1796 sabre can do in in one blow), and why did he offer me a reward not to cut it completely, once I was almost done? And what was his young lady doing there in the first place?
The dream ends...
