Not found. Error.
Well I can smell it… Or just think I can smell it, because this is a dream I'm walking through and not a place with actual chemicals.
And in this place, thought counts for far more than more
physicality.
Next to me, Sanderson takes his hat off and holds it to his chest.
"That is not necessary. This is a dream of a graveyard, from the shared unconscious mind of humanity."
Just hope it's not the horror movie kind, with a lurking murderer, or the zombie movie kind, with the inevitable walking dead.
The Demon looks around, apparently quite interested. "Been a while."
Alan frowns. "You've been here before?"
Gods only know what he might have been up to, besides 'no good'.
"No. Demons can't dream. Or sleep, unless we're possessing someone. John gave me a few of his memories, but he never came somewhere like this as a demon." He closes his eyes and inhales through his nose. "I think I can smell him."
"He has seen enough death thet I would not be surprised if he dreams of it frequently. If you find those dreams, you could feel on them without causing harm."
Though you'd have to be very careful, depending on Dream's mood at the time.
"I assume that you've considered the possibility that Morpheus might notice us?"
"Minor intrusions into his realm are frequent. If we do not act against those under his protection or threaten the whole of the realm, he is unlikely to act against us."
With any luck, he's lurking in his castle bemoaning his latest failed love affair...
"Morpheus? That's the guy who told you-" Sanderson glances my way. "-to look for me, right? The one who send Wesley his visions?"
"I'm not sure if he actively sent them, or just enabled the process. He is the guy who sent me after you though, yes."
Given his imprisonment at the time, I doubt he played much of an
active part in forming the connection.
"So do I owe him, or does he owe me for not calling someone sooner?"
"I wouldn't press the issue. If he felt like you owed him, he'd say something."
Treat him like the
scariest fey you've ever imagined. Be polite, be honest, and try to leave as soon as possible.
"Doctor Mist?" Alan's looking around cautiously. "Is this actually a dream about death, or a dream of a horror movie?"
"It should be true death, at least for now." He looks around, and leads the way into the mist, the rest of us cautiously following him. "Places in the Dream are defined by their conceptual relationships, not geography. A truly skilled dream rider could step between the weakest conceptual links from a single sleeper, but none of us have that skill."
Which means some kid having a horror movie-triggered nightmare has had it shift into a
very strange dream involving superheroes. For a few moments, anyway.
The Demon sneers. "Don't have the drugs, more like. Human brains aren't made for stuff like that."
"How about demons?"
Not for long, anyway. The story of that one old girlfriend of John's that had Morpheus'
Pouch of Sand is a good example.
"Even worse. After that stuff those idiots tried with the key, we're actually on his shit-list. And like I said, we can't dream, so we can't come here naturally." He shrugs. "It's the difference between 'you can, but you'll go mad' and 'you can't do it at all'."
Off in the distance, from somewhere out of sight, I hear a crow cawing.
Probably just a regular dream crow. I doubt Dream's
Raven companion has any reason to stick their beak in.
"The Gate of Horn and Ivory stabilises the connection between these two points. We need to get some distance away before the Dream will be flexible enough to allow us to change our location."
"And then we go from concept to concept until we reach the Tower?"
Assuming they can
find a gateway. In the meantime, some folks are going to be having a
weird flicker in their dreams soon.
"No. There is not direct path from the Dream to the Tower. When we are in position, we will need to make our owen."
Alan frowns at a nearby… Open grave, a shovel planted in the ground next to a heap of earth. "Are we gonna get attacked?"
Because Alan's seen more than a few horror movies, and knows the tropes, huh?
"Almost certainly."
"In that case, I-."
An actual tower shield appears on his left arm. There's a.. slight glow around the edges, but nothing more than there would normally be from his environmental shield. He drops his arm for a second before raising it back up again.
Heh. Not surprised constructs of thought and emotion take on a more
solid form than they usually would.
Alan hefts it slightly, then peer over the rim to give Dr. Balewa an interrogative look. "You mind explaining this?"
"We are in the Dream. If you call upon a shield, you get the dream of a shield. The strength of it will be more closely related to the degree to which it fits in with the environment than the strength of your emotion."
And unless this is a D&D player dreaming of
Ravenloft, he's gonna stick out a bit.
"How does that interact with my actual armour, or other equipment?"
"Unless they are intensely magical, I do not think thet they will work well against dreams."
Well, looks like OL went from tanky rogue to squishy wizard.
Alan and I make eye contact, and then we're both wearing plate armour.
"I'll take it."
...That works. And another Kingdom Come nod, eh, with Alan in full plate.
I add a boar spear while Alan creates an arming sword.
"Do you actually know how to use that?"
Smart move.
Boar spears have those handy cross-bars on the head, to stop a half-ton of angry porcine muscle from getting too close while impaled. Could be useful around here.
"It's amazing what you pick up as a superhero. You stick the sharp end in the other fellah, right?"
"Ah… Doctor?" Sanderson hefts his gun, hat back on his head. "What do I do?"
...Think 'spooky' and 'stealthy'?
"Your gas is based on dreamstuff. If the thing you shoot can sleep, it will work. Otherwise, I suggest your fists. Ah." He stops and looks around. "I believe that we can transition from here. If we-."
CRACK!
Whoops, the DM just rolled up a random encounter!
The door of one of the nearby mausoleums explodes open, three tattered corpses shambling out with glowing green eyes! From other graves hands thrust through the ground, the earth around them bulging!
"Yes, we are far enough away. Mister Hawkins, hold in your mind the idea of a glowing river carrying boats to their destination."
Welp, looks like they
are in a gamer's dream. Or a zombie movie.
"Aaaahh… Okay?"
"Uuuuuuuuugh…"
Ah, zombies, such
masterful conversationalists...
"Do you feel drawn in a particular direction?"
"Uh, maybe? I think?"
Well, then. Get moving!
"Go." He stamps his right foot on the ground and then steps back. A moment later a creature of rock and soil swims its way to the surface in time to intercept the first wave of the undead. "We shall follow."
Alan and I charge the horde and Sanderson starts jogging.
And now we've gone from superhero story to fantasy RPG session.
Yay.