In the air just above the false beach of the large wave machine. A small quarter sized black dot forms in the air. The dot slowly expanded into an ominous pitch black circle. A few of the patrons tanning along the beach took notice of the anomaly and wisely ignored it. From the depths of the inky blackness an obscured figure silently descended from the opening, and landed softly on the rough and wet plaster. After a few moments the blur that had covered the figure vanished, and revealed young man carrying a strange looking watch. In next moment, this man he was swiftly swept off his feet by another man on a raft, and sent head over heels into the shallow water with a thunderous splash.

The man on the raft quickly rushed to the unfortunate man's side and began apologising profusely, "Whoa! Sorry man. I didn't see you there. Are you OK?" A chorus a bubbles was his response as the man slowly pushed himself out of the water.

Scion had been looking forward to visiting this waterpark after some of the crazy shenanigans at the RHL. He really needed to destress after all that insanity. However, fate seemed to not like that idea and upon arrival he had been unceremoniously laid out by some wannabe hawaiian on a rubber raft. The water had only been to his ankles and the face plant into the hard plaster would have broken a lesser man's nose. He pushed himself out of the water and stood up in his sopping wet clothes. He then looked to the man and in as calm a voice as he could manage said, "I'm alright. Just wet. and a bit agitated. Now if you'll excuse me. I need to find a towel to dry off with."

Scion started to walk away, but the Hawaiian trunks man stopped him with a touch, "Hey man as an apology. You can borrow mine. It's like right over there." he offered as he pointed to a plastic recliner with a large beach towel on it. Scion smiled at that and accepted the offer. After getting mostly dried off and assuring the man that they were 'cool'. Scion decided to chill on one of the recliners and let the sun help complete the drying process. Just ass Scion was getting settled into the chair, Dennis interrupted his comfort with a question, "Scion. Why are you lounging in wet clothes? When you could just change into a swimsuit and let them dry as you explore the park?"

Scion just shook his head in response, "Because Dennis. I came here to relax, and I lying here in these wet clothes actually feels kind of nice. Also..." a smirk formed on his face as he spoke, "I get watch the cute girls walking around in there bikinis."

"So you're just going to sit here and haunt these women with your lecherous gaze?" Denis answered in a monotone.

"It's better than being getting beaten up and dragged into the crap in the RHL. Seriously! Fire Ninjas, dragon girls, a mechanical man, and Skalletor of the Dreaming Queen. Those people were nuts and that's coming from me." Scion points a thumb at himself, then lets out a long sigh.

"What do you suppose a Dreaming Queen even is?" Dennis mused aloud.

"What? That's your take on that? Ask me about the Queen of Sleep?" Scion answered sounding agitated again.

"Well it is quite a peculiar name is it not?" Dennis pressed.

Scion paused to think about this, "Well I guess it is kind of a funny name. I'm sure it's supposed to sound mysterious, but it just makes me think of a glorified version of the sandman."he giggled a bit at that image.

Dennis getting into the spirit added, "Well maybe she's just the mattress Queen."

Scion snorted at that, "Yes the mattress Queen. You buy her beds and you will always have a good night's sleep!" He declared as he kicked the recliner back to lay flat. He then rolled to his side and placed his hand on his hip, then speaks in a suggestive tone, "Who knows maybe she is the type who will do anything to get a sale."

"Only in your dreams Scion." Dennis countered, but in a playful tone. "Fun fact. Dream Queen is a strain of weed."

"Now that. hmf. will make you sleep!" Scion declared as he broke down into a laughing fit, even Dennis couldn't stop himself from snickering endlessly.

After several moments of this, Dennis in a more somber tone says, "It's good that Skaletor isn't here. He might not appreciate us mocking him and his Queen."

"Oh come on Dennis. We are in another dimension. There is no way the he is going to hear this. Plus. I could totally take him." Scion said with a cocky grin plastered to his face. Though Dennis was not impressed with his bravado, especially with his red nose and wet clothes. A reminder of his defeat by the man with a raft.

In the dark of the world, hidden in the heart of a vast mountain range, was a cavernous room. In the gloom a pale yellow light swarmed around the skull of a being seated on a massive black throne. The skeletal women, for the flow of the ornate robes and the long red hair spoke to her gender, slumbered. Her dreams vast and her scope wide, observing the events both large and small, which were happening on this small planet. The Dreamer felt a subtle change it the energies of the world. With that change the once slumbering figure roused herself from the depths of the Galdhr, as she did so the room illuminated with a pale flickering energy that crackled and hummed with power.

Turning her attention on the anomaly, the Dreamer focused on the male who had appeared through a dimensional portal, one of his own making. That alone would have be enough to have her study him. Reaching deep in to the records of the Dreamers she found a similar signature. Feeling the energies that recorded the prior event, energies with an amethyst hue, she studied what had been recorded before.

This man had been recorded and by Skallagrim, Cughtagh of the Queen, in a place that existed in the past and the future. A place where time stalled, where the entirety of the multiverse’ energy streamed freely with idea that nothing was impossible. Reaching out tentatively, slowly, the Dreamer known as Jessi touched the Cughtagh and recoiled in fear and reverence. It was not her place, no she had merely found what she sought and turned her attention back to the man, prepared to add further to the dream that represented his existence.

Shock. Followed by anger as the Dreamer Jessi focused her attention on the man and his . . . watch, mock the Dreaming Queen. Rising from her throne, her pale robes shifting to reveal the dark armor of the Dreamers underneath, her left hand grasping the hilt of a two-handed sword that crackled an sparked with Seidhr. Pulling the Dark energies to her, she began forming her skeletal mount, she would bring wrath upon the foolish man who dare mock the Eternal Dreamer. As the faint echoes of hoof falls began resonating in the deep cavern, a niggling thought entered her thoughts.

This man had insulted the Queen, had depraved her honor with his disgusting whorishness. This man, this Scion had entered the dreams of Skallagrim; perhaps then this man should face the Queen’s champion. Releasing her sword and the summons for her mount, she focused her energies on the Cughtagh. Reaching through time and space, through worlds, striking fear in the hearts of those who dreamt. Jessi established a dreaming gate betwixt her and the Cughtagh.

“Forgive me.” Hissed Jessi, entering the consciousness of the Cughtagh, merging her energies with his, sharing a dream in the Galdhr. “I have disturbing news, please; touch the dream fragment I hold in my consciousness.”

For a moment, perhaps aeons, silence lingered between the two as they observed the events at the water park. A millennium more passed before the Cughtagh hissed, “Open me completely the gate to your world.”

“As you wish.”

Through exploded planets, rising and declining civilizations, through wars and peace the Dreamer known as Skallagrim appeared to all who slumbered in his path. An Angel, a demon, he was fear and salvation to those who glimpsed the skeletal being wreathed in amethyst flames. Deep in the hidden cavern, the two Dreamers stood in silence, eternity, a brief moment in time before the heavy hooves of the great charger of the Cughtagh manifest. Thunderous echoes in the cavernous hollow.

Touching the forehead of Jessi, a lingering touch, something all Dreamers shared when together. It was a moment that bonded them to their fates, reminded them of their flesh forms, and reminded them that they once were more than energy. It was a ritual that all looked forward to as it reminded them of a world shroud in eternal dreams.

###

Above the water park a roiling and spreading cloud of darkness appeared with such rapidity that it took the breath away from those who had a moment before been lashed by the warmth of the sun. Those of deep religious faith prayed and those who held no faith stood in dubious awe as from the darkness rode a skeletal form atop a shadowy and skeletal charger. Both laced with shimmering amethyst flames.

"Oh come on Dennis. We are in another dimension. There is no way the he is going to hear this. Plus. I could totally take him."

“Indeed?” Said the armored being, slipping from the horse, and the moment he did so those around them suddenly realized that this was not a show. With deep, soul wrenching fear, a panic rippled through the crowd as the people began hurrying away. Then when the great horse stamped its foot the fear bubbled over into chaos.

“Insulting the Dreaming Queen? I am here, come show me how you will defeat me then.” Skallagrim hissed with a subtle timber as he felt a tapping on his shoulders. The war sword lay on his left hip and the swirling mass that was the dagger known as Rhiannon lay on his right. Turning slowly, a hand on each weapon, Skallagrim faced a man in Hawaiian shorts.

“Hey . . . um . . . never mind” Hawaiian shorts mewled as he stared in to the blazing eye sockets of the Cughtagh.

Turning back to the man and his watch that lay on the plastic lounger, Skallagrim stared a moment then hissed softly, “Well?”

Scion for as long as he has lived, can solemnly swear that the universe is actually listening to him and gets some kind of kick out of making his life suck. So it was almost not a surprise when, at the moment he had finished his statement, the sky chose then to descend into darkness and a, very familiar, amethyst skeleton man descended for the heavens to answer his unintentional challenge. Scion continued to lay there and stared dumbly at the man he had only mentioned in passing.

“Well?” Skallagrim near growled at him in, what Scion assumed was, a menacing hiss. This did succeed in snapping him out of his stupor as he slowly climbed out of his recliner and stretched in front of his unexpected visitor. To put it bluntly. Scion was not in the mood for this. He had dealt with intense angry people for far too long and the idea of holding another super serious discussion over honor, respect, or even prestige. Made him want to roll his eyes right out of his head and scream endless profanity into the wind.

"Look," he started, as he placed his hands upon his hips and stared at Skallagrim with a very strained, but neutral look on his face, "I don't know how you heard all that, and my level of care is very low, but I would like to think that you knew that is was all in jest, and really didn't mean it. So, the fact that you decided that one man's opinion was worth scaring off, an entire water park of, beautiful women, then," he begins to clap sarcastically, "Bravo to you. You are a dick."

"Scion perhaps this isn't the best approach to pacifying-." Dennis tried to say, but was cut off by Scion.

"I do not care about calming," He gestures to Skalagrim in an aggravated manner, "Skalator here down. This is stupid Dennis. Why can't we have some fun and relax, and not have to worry about people butting in on our good time!" Scion began to yell as his agitation hit a boiling point, "Is that fair Dennis?!"

"No..." Dennis spoke in uncharacteristically quiet voice. That actually made Scion even more angry, because they had been having such a good time just moments before.

He looked dead into Skalagrim's lifeless glowing eyes, and glares with barely restrained rage as he puts on a twisted smirk, "My statement does stand Skal. Yeah. I think I can beat you, and I'll gladly kick your bony ass right out of this park. So if you're really serious about making me apologize for a stupid joke, then," He stands at his full height and throws his arms out. "You get off your fancy black horse, and come down here and make me. So what say you? Are we going to fight? Or... Are you going to do the smart thing, and get out of here while you still can."

In the seconds from the issuance of his question to the movements of the man known as Scion to leave his chair, the Dreamer was already studying the events surrounding them. A static hissing of security radios, frantic cries on a multitude of cell phones, and the uploading of thousands of photos to a host of online sites.

The slow thrum of the Aesr roiled around Skallagrim, rushing away in a vast concentric circle, enveloping the park. This allowed the Dreamer to understand with absolute clarity what was happening in the park. Near the lockers a young mother clutched her two small children to her, her mental facilities had shut down and all she could do was clutch them close and weep. A young man, brawny and strong, gripped in fear pulled his girlfriend through the crowd, his bravado and swagger a disguise to mask his fear. His centric world view could not allow for beings like the Dreamer to exist, it would mean everything was a façade.

An evangelical stood with his family around him, his battered and worn bible clutched tightly as he prayed in a warbling voice. A gathering crowd clasped hands and joined in the prayers, for surely the end of days was upon them.

An older security officer, a man a few months from retirement, shakily held his service weapon. The under powered .38 caliber revolver had seen better days, and he had little doubt the bullets would fail if he fired. Next to him a once bubbly, young women who dreamed of joining the police department, wet her pants; her mind screamed for her to run, but as long as the older man stayed, she would as well.

In the parking lots, people in their panic smashed into other cars, even hitting fleeing pedestrians who cried in pain as the herd mentality swept through the crowd. They needed to run, needed to get away, everything else, all pretenses of civility was gone. Those injured were ignored, save for their families, they would serve as sacrifice so that the rest may survive.

Skallagrim saw and recorded all of that and more in the heartbeat from his question to the slow rise of the man known as Scion from his chair.

Stepping in and with a slight twist of his torso allowed Skallagrim to launch a vicious backhand to meet the rising man. The blow, fast and having Dreamers strength, would most likely hit the man on the right side of his face, along his jaw line with the kinetic impact of a ton of force. The twisting of the torso was two-fold. The first to affect the backhanded blow, the second, allowing the left hand to draw the dagger Rhiannon from its sheath.

The swirling darkness surrounding the dagger, lashed out at Scion, then lashed at the security offices with intent and purpose that spoke of intelligence. Perhaps there was a semblance of sentience in the blade; perhaps the beast that once possessed the tooth that formed the dagger was still alive as the dark mass of energy. The dagger began to feed on the fledgling induction field that the first discharge of energies established.

Scion is not typically a violent or even angry person having been one to always approach a situation with a peaceful resolution in mind. He was not feeling like peace today. It seemed as if everyone in the park was panicking on a severe scale and were injuring each other in the wake of self preservation. All the senseless violence and fear was what Scion had come here to escape and now Skalagrim had brought it all with him. Scion had bearly enough time to register Skalagrim taking a step towards him and made a subconscious step backwards in response, knocking the recliner back as he did. The step had proven to be just be enough to avoid a nasty backhand to his face. Scion could swear he felt a strong gust of wind as it sored by. However, he wasn't in the clear as the swing was followed by an ominous black sphere shooting out at him from a dagger Skalagrim had drawn. Scion tried to backpedal again, but the recliner refused to budge, having gotten caught on a line in the concrete walkway, and Scion fell backwards and rolled over the recliner as the dark ball sored overhead. Scion fearing a quick counter attack continued to roll several feet further from Skalagrim, before quickly pushing off the ground and springing to his feet.

If Scion had any doubts about a peaceful resolution, then they were confirmed by that sudden cheap shot. Scion quickly reaches into his coat pocket and pulls out a black tonfa, dubbed the Force Tonfa, from his coat. He then turns so that his right side is facing Skalagrim, and wields the tonfa in a defensive grip. The crowds all around were still in a blind panic and Scion was furious with Skalagrim for hurting all these innocent bystanders. He needed to try to calm the crowd, forcing energy into his voice he yells louder than any human had a right to, "BE STILL!" his voice echoing across the entire park. Scion is unable to take his attention of Skalagrim, but he hopped that his declaration would have at least give some people reason to pause their mad dash to safety.

The man known as Scion was quick, nimble. Such was to be expected. However would his speed be enough to save him from the wrath of the Cughtagh? Perhaps it would be so, perhaps not. It would remain to be seen if his skill were as adept as his mouth.

Thrum.

In a moment the field had changed. The backhanded blow, the hand intended to silence the insolence had missed, but not by much. It was a true axiom; it was providence to be lucky as it was to be good. Whether or not Scion was as good as he boasted would remain to be seen. Before he could take a step to follow his prey a solitary gun shot rang out.

The bullet raced towards Skallagrim, 755 feet per second. It would reach him, just about now. With a deft movement the skeletal being raised the dagger at the same time he hunched his shoulders. At the same time, the roiling ball of darkness flared and expanded at such speeds that the shimmering crystalline darkness and bullet collided. The bullet ricocheted away at an oblique angle from the Dreamer. Raising his right hand, Skallagrim manipulated the electromagnetic energies around him, capturing the rapidly decelerating bullet.

With a simply flick of his wrist the bullet whipped around and raced, with added energies back at the man who had fired it. At the last moment the bullet stopped, hovering a scant inch from the man’s forehead. The bullet vibrated angrily with ever increasing potential energy.
Without removing his eyes from the man named Scion, the swirling nimbus of aesr flared brilliantly, casting a lavender light around them in a scintillating, strobing manner.

His voice a static filled sound that carried enough for Scion and the guard to hear it,

“You speak freely. You speak with impudence and arrogance. It is your words that wrought this predicament. You are the reason this man will die this day. It is your words that shall determine his fate. His life or death lay with you.” Skallagrim said as he shifted his body so that the shield faced the now armed Scion. With a subtle movement of his hand the bullet moved closer until it pressed against the man’s forehead, vibrating with such intensity it began a friction burn where it touched.

Without looking at the man, Skallagrim spoke again, “Your name.”

“Peter . . . Peter Maalodoz.”

“Do you have family Peter Maalodoz?”

“Yes . . . yes. I have three children and six grandchildren. Please let me live. Please. I don’t want to die today.”

“Death comes to all species Peter Maalodoz. Sometimes it is through old age, sometimes by our own hand and sometimes by the hands of others. Do you understand Peter?”

The man nodded slowly, a trickle of blood raced along his nose, lingered on his lips before falling to the ground. “Yes. I understand.”

His attention never wavered from Scion. However it was his response that piqued the interest of the Dreamer.

“BE STILL!”

The pulsating shield of dark energy, crackled faintly as Skallagrim shifted it, his attention brough to bear on the weapon the man had produced. Every detail of the weapon that was visible was now being stored and catalogued by the Dreamer and being dismantled in other dreams, by others who sought to understand the nature and properties of the weapon. It looked like a standard farming tool that humans had converted to a weapon. By the confidence the man wielded the weapon the Dreamers could only assume that it was more than a mere bit of wood and metal. Stepping around the over turned lounge chair, Skallagrim moved slowly, with deliberation and grace. His movements similar to a cat stalking its prey, before he could advance further, above them the distinct whup-whup of a helicopter rotors could be heard. Shifting a fraction of his energies Skallagrim scanned the frequencies and identified the chatter from the flying machine. It was a police helicopter seeking to get a handle on the situation. A few miles back several other helicopters were coming, news copters.

The wail of sirens filled the air as the police vehicles, firetrucks and ambulances began their arrival.

The next few moments would determine the fate of not only Peter Maalodoz, but untold other first responders. The Dreaming Queen had been insulted, her honor called into question. For that worlds had burned before, civilizations had been extinguished saved for the dreams in the Galdhr. Silver-blue energy raced along the chain armor of the Dreamer as he stared at the man with the weapon.


“Now let us discuss the apology for your insolence.”

Scion had not been expecting the security officer to fire on Skalagrim. It seemed he had been too slow with his warning to prevent the people from taking rash actions, and now an innocent man named Peter was being held hostage for Scion's perceived crime. This aggravated Scion to no end. These actions were beyond cowardly, he thought, and were even bordering on cheesy villain. Skalagrim held a hostage whom he made not only declare he had a family, but also went as far to try to place the man's death on Scion's shoulders. Scion knew the man committed no crime worthy of such punishment, and even his own crime was hardly worth this kind of backlash. He found the entire display very petty, and painting a very negative image of the Dreamers in his mind. He didn't know much about them, other than what he heard as rumors, but if this was a display of their nature, then perhaps they might not be people he cared to leave be anymore. He has tried on many occasions to fight off the invading forces of the multiverse. The people of this world did not deserve this, and the shallow reasoning he has heard to consider this action just made him sick. He wanted to scream at Skalagrim. To call him an honorless coward, and his Queen a petty bitch. However, despite all the spiteful words he wanted to throw at him in response, he could not in good conscious, let that man and these people die for him. No matter how stupid he thought the whole thing was, or how much he wanted to beat Skalator's stupid non-existent face in. He needed to let Skalagrim win, and the only way to do that was to comply. His own pain meant nothing in favor of doing what he thought was right.

Scion turns to face Skalagrim with a look of pure contempt and hatred in his eyes. He reluctantly throws down his weapon and throws up his arms, then doing his best to not sound sarcastic he says, "Fine. I'm sorry. I surrender. You're Queen's the greatest. I'm a worthless maggot. You are my unchallenged better, and I was woe to ever have questioned your greatness." He rattles off as if reading a teleprompter.

He then shifts to a more serious tone as he looks to Peter, "Now let the man go, and go ahead and beat me to death already. I'm sure that was the only acceptable apology anyway. It's not like it will be the first time I've died." He let's out a long sigh, "I doubt it will be the last either." he near mumbles as he slumps his shoulders, tears edging at his eyes. This was all so unfair and he just wanted to scream so badly to let out his frustration, but there was nothing he could do with so many at risk. He had to let that thought keep him in check. He had been prepared to fight Skalagrim for his pride, but not to sacrifice others for it. He does feel the need to make one spiteful comment though. He glares at Skalagrim then in a disappointed tone says, "I guess we won't see how I will defeat you." he then falls silent and waits, looking to the ground, defenseless before Skalagrim.

Skallagrim stared at the man known as Scion, watched him drop is weapon, raising his hands with some interest. The energy whorls in his eye sockets flickered a moment then dimmed slightly.

Thrum.

“Peter . . . you have 8,035 days left in your life. Spend them well, we will be watching.” Skallagrim said as the bullet fell to the ground, suddenly possessed by gravity. After a moment the skeletal being drew his war sword. Talking a step forward slowly, and with his right foot, Skallagrim kicked the crumpled lounge chair away. Peter and the young girl with him hurried away. As they made their way out, Peter looked back once then at the gun he still held in his hand. With a gasp he tossed the gun down as if it were molten lava.

“I agree my Queen. He is not your typical loud mouth bully, spewing filth about people behind their backs, and passing it off as humor. He does have some honor in his body if he is willing to sacrifice all for these people.”

Tapping the dark crystalline shield with his sword, the skeletal being nodded towards Scion, his voice a static filled hissing, “I shall create an energy shield around this park, we shall be alone to settle our matter.”

With that the twisted black clouds overhead shimmered for a millisecond and then cascading sheets of lighting descended around the area they stood, creating an interlaced field of electrical energies.

“Now that we know you are more than the common braggart, take up your weapon. You think you can defeat me? Let us see.” Skallagrim said as he lowered the war sword into a rear guard, his left leg and shield forward as he studied the man before him.

Outside the energy field, Peter hastily shook away the EMTs as he dialed his house. The sound of his wife’s voice was music to his ears. “Baby I’m coming home. I am quitting my job. That trip we planned when we were first married? We’re taking it.”

Peter hurried to his minivan, fumbling for his keys when suddenly a shaft of light swirled up around him, lifting him up before vanishing with him. A moment later Peter found himself on his front lawn, Jessi next to him, “Forgive our transgression Peter Maalodoz. You and your wife shall not want for the rest of your lives. Tell no one of this, enjoy the gifts you have been given.”

Peter stared a moment, his jaw hanging slackly, suddenly the front door opened and his wife rushed out, tears in her eyes. Peter hugged her, as he did so he looked up into the sky and saw a figure in white ride away on a skeletal horse.

The overwhelming relief Scion felt when he heard the bullet hit to the ground was almost enough to make him feel good about the eventual beating he was going to receive. It wasn't enough that Skalagrim was being slow about the process, but seemed to find it fitting to announce the man's foreseeable life span. His was going to be much shorter if things went as anticipated. The worst part was the seconds were dragging on forever thanks to his sped up perception. He was tempted to peek, to look up and see what was taking so long, but he didn't want to see it coming. It always hurt more if you watched. However, as Scion wallowed in his on self pity. He was surprised to hear Skalagrim compliment him, albeit a bit backhandedly, but it was there. It was at this time that he allowed curiosity to override fear and looked up in time to see Skalagrim tapping on his shield. He apparently intended to shield the park. For what purpose he hadn't a clue. Unless? He thought, He intends to actually fight. Scion didn't want to get his hopes up, but Skalagrim's next words sealed the deal. He asked Scion to take up his weapon and prove his words, and Scion was happy to oblige. He took a moment to inspect the electrical net that Skalagrim had called down and wondered about the sanity of using electricity in a water park. He chose to ignore that thought in favor of retrieving his discarded tonfa. He wanted to fight, but as he looked over his weapon he realized that he had grabbed in in a rush. The truth was that, on its own, the 'Force Tonfa' was more a weapon meant mostly for defence. If Skalagrim wanted to see Scion beat him, then he needed to bring out everything.

He twirls the tonfa in his grip a couple times, then smoothly slides it into his belt. He needed his hands free for the next part, but before he began he wanted to voice his intentions, "Skalagrim. You want me to show you what I can do," He starts, his voice a bit quiet and raspy from his earlier funk, "then I ask that you allow me the proper time to prepare. This was after all a surprise attack that you launched on my vacation of all things. So, I would like some time to gather my arsonal before we begin. If you find these terms acceptable, then please stand quietly while I collect."

Taking a few moments to gauge whether or not Skalagrim would move to stop him. Scion started his armament by reaching into the neck of his coat, and drawing a black staff from the hidden space underneath. The staff is of the same lightless material as the tonfa, and has two crystals, one on each end of the staff. He then takes the staff and carefully holds it up to the back of the coat where, with a click, it latches onto his back and is held by an unseen force. He then reaches into his sleeve and pulls out a small silver handle. The item appears to be a typical switch blade, but strong magic emanates from the hidden blade within. He clips the blade onto his belt opposite to the tonfa before taking an arms out of his coat sleeves and then unfolding the coat. Scion tries to stand in the way, but Skalagrim would see, that the inside of the coat has, what appears to be, a window into outer space magically sewn into the inlay. In the space he also may observe many object of varying origin floating in the seemingly infinite expanse. As Scion reaches through this window it ripples as if passing through water. He grasps onto a large black box that can be seen wedged between a bookcase, packed with varying literature, and a Kawasaki motorcycle. He gives one mighty pull and the box emerges from the coat, nearly knocking Scion over as gravity pulls it and him to the ground with a loud crash. Scion takes a moment to regain his balance, then, with no warning, smacks the top of the box. The box which was about a meter tall and a meter in length extended to three times its length in response, revealing a high tech sound board and a large speaker hidden inside. An array of audio inputs outputs and neon lights with shifting colors would also be noticed as the DJ station came to life and hovered several inches off the ground. Skalagrim may also take notice that the large speaker on the front was directed at him.

Satisfied with the fact that he had managed to arm himself with all his current weapons. Scion turns Skalagrim with a look of determination in his eyes. "Alright Skalagrim. I thank you for your patients, but I want to make something clear before we begin. You seem to want some kind of apology out of me for what I said about the Dreaming Queen. However, despite the fact I already apologized. I am sure you could tell that it was less than sincere. So here's the thing. If you beat me. I will legitimately apologize for insulting your Queen and swear to never speak her name in vain ever again. However, if I win, then."

"Then you will apologize to us." Dennis interrupts in a slightly menacing tone. This interruption caused Scion to pause, as it was the first time that Dennis had spoken since Skalagrim had arrived. He really didn't know why he chose to involve himself, but he decides to try to talk him down, "Dennis. You do know he's after me. Right? You don't have to. I mean why are you doing this?"

"Because Scion, I am as much a part of this as you are." Dennis continues angrily, "In fact, in what I believe is a very large oversight on Skal's side. I am the most involved, for I was the one that started the topic that lead to the Queen jokes. If you recall, but Skal here has shown little care in going after me for my part in this. Maybe they were somehow under the impression that I wasn't my own entity, but I am telling you now Dreamers that I am, and I am not happy." Scion couldn't think of what to say in response to that. He was already shocked to see Dennis so angry about, well actually angry about something at all. However, Dennis had made a good point. Why had Skalagrim ignored him? He thought in his confusion.

Dennis continues in a more level tone, "I don't know what made you think hurting Scion was the best way to go about avenging your Queen's honor Skal, but I want to make it abundantly clear that I see this invasion as a gross overuse of your power. Especially for a matter far too small for beings, such as yourself, to take notice of. I would like to think your race isn't so petty as to believe our words held any weight towards your reputation, but if this was merely an excuse for you to use to observe us. I may find myself even more agitated. Scion my brag about his abilities some times, and speak without thinking, but he never intentionally hurt someone who don't deserve it. If you knew anything about him or me for that matter, then you could have simply asked us to stop and we would have gladly done so. However, you have already chosen your course, and you will answer for your blunder by facing, not just Scion, but me aswell. Scion has always had my minimal involvement in his little bouts, but today you have my full attention. So, through the words of the internet. You gonna get wrecked son."

Scion just stared at his watch, unsure if he should cheer in joy or be freaking out about the fact Dennis was actually going to fight for real with him. He ultimately decided to get into a battle stance, as he determined that Dennis' words may not ring the best notes with his opponent. He quickly draws his tonfa into his left hand and the switchblade into his right as he positions himself with his right side facing towards Skalagrim. He then flicks of his right wrist and the hidden three inch blade extends from its sheath. Scion levels the blade at Skalagrim, and grips the tonfa tightly as he holds it in front of his chest. He wanted to give Skalagrim the opening move, so that he may learn something about the way he fights, but at the same time. He wanted to set the pace for the battle. He takes a quick glance at the 'Bass Cannon' hovering behind him, and a grin smoothly spreads across his face. In a mighty yell he declares, "Let start this madness!" In response to his call the Bass Cannon's lights shift to an ominous red, the the entire thing starts blasting Savatage's 'Hall Of The Mountain King. The music was so loud that the crowds outside the electric field could hear the angry rock music, echoing throughout the park.

Thrum.

A second, a millisecond, a nanosecond passed. Time constantly shifting, constantly relative to the moment shared in context. This happened between Skallagrim and the man known as Scion. Time, relative between them here at this place, this water park on a small planet, orbiting a solitary yellow star. Time, the unseen hunter of mortality. The eternal enemy stalking all things in the multiverse, to which all things eventually succumb.

Within the dark Galdhr, within the eternal night the Dreamers reached out towards this moment. How long had it been? How many millennia passed before the focus of the Dreamers became one? Time, her siren call echoed throughout the multiverse, to those called eternal.

To be sure, there had been incidents before when the Cughtagh, the champion of the Queen ventured forth into battle. The fight against a man named Worren, a fight alerting the Dreamers to an unexplored dimension. During that exploration he had come across the world known Antire, a world that held promise and instability. A world destroyed by the Cughtagh.

Now, in this place, at this time, on this world once again the Queen was unleashing her champion, letting loose the dog of war.
Slow, even paces measured with experience allowed the skeletal being to shift position while the man known as Scion drew forth what weapons he choose. A ripple of interest spread out from the Dreamers as the entity known as Dennis spoke.

The entity was unhappy? It spoke to the Dreamers as if it was significant. It mattered not whether it was happy, unhappy or even present. Clearly this Dennis felt as if somehow its presence should concern the Dreamers. It did not. In the Galdhr some questioned why this being spoke? Others debated the intelligence of the being. Some tittered with mild amusement as it seemingly lectured the Dreamers on some point of morality. Finally the incessant mewling’s of the entity known as Dennis ended.

The consciousness of millions of entities focused on the man called Scion now. A tonfa and a small knife. The stance taken was interesting, it spoke of some manner of training, and perhaps it was indicative of the skill of the being before him. Perhaps but how many had taken such stances only to crumble in a few moves.

Then the large speakers erupted in music. Stunned for a moment, time dwindling to a singular event, then peals of laughter exploded through the assembled Dreamers.

A silver-blue shimmering rippled across the war sword, followed by a low hum. The dark energies shifted and roiled within the crystalline structure of the shield. The lattice works dissolved releasing the energies from their prison. Shifting, darkness swarming around the arm in a slow rotation, sucking in the very light around the Dreamer as streamers of amethyst energies imbued the air with a pale glow.

From the back guard the war sword swung up and into a high guard with the tip of the blade pointing up and away from the man that stood some feet away. With a quick step the Dreamer was moving forward circling towards his right, on the left of Scion. Closing to within the reach of his sword, setting his left leg fore and the shield covering his body, Skallagrim launched a quick, exploratory cut towards the neck of the man.

The blade moved towards the spot between the neck and shoulder on Scions left side. While this happened the left foot slipped back in a back pass, allowing a twisting of his torso to add power to the cut. This would allow Skallagrim to carry the momentum of his cut into a myriad of counter blows depending on what Scion did.

Scion stood ready as Skalagrim silently began to circle him. Hecarefully shifted his feet so that his right side continued to face Skalagrim, as he waited for him to strike. He was hard pressed to spot any obvious weakness in Skalagrim's defense, and even wondered how durable he could be as a living skeleton. It was not until Skalagrim's sword was just within reach of him that Skalagrim moved to strike. He watches as Skalagrim swings high towards his left shoulder. In response, Scion quickly steps forward with his right foot, while shifting into a low stance, then raises the tonfa at a fortyfive degree angle to deflect the incoming blow. At the moment that Skalagrim's sword strikes the tonfa he shifts his arm up to propel the blade over his head and allow the remaining momentum to carry it through to the open air. Scion shifts his left leg forward to further close the distance between them, as well as make countering with his sword more difficult. He uses the close proximity to lash out with his switchblade and aims directly for Skalagrim's shield. Scion knew that the enchants in the blade would allow it to carve right through Skalagrim's shield, even if it did little to damage to Skalagrim himself. He would use the, probable, confusion caused by the opening in Skalagrim's defense to launch his real attack.

Using the tonfa Scion attempts to deliver a straight, right into Skalagrim's chest. As he performs this maneuver, he twists his entire body and presses forward with his left leg, so as to put his entire weight behind the blow. The finishing result would leave Scion with his left side facing forward and his switch blade held before his chest in a reversal of his previous position. He would also note that, despite not being his strongest blow, he would also get a gauge as to how durable Skalagrim was.

Thrum.

Throughout the darkness, a cacophony erupted as the defense that the smaller man enacted had been expected, tragically so. He parried the war sword. He passed forward with the right foot beyond the left, leaving his body in an incredibly compromising position. Then he completed the error by advancing the left foot and leg again into an utterly defenseless position.

Such were the errors made by those unaware of the speed a war sword can be wielded by an experienced fighter. Deep in the darkness of the Galdhr voices began to rumble, argue and contest the action made by Scion. Perhaps he had mistaken the length of Skallagrim’s reach with such a weapon. Perhaps not though, by virtue of his movements he expected to ward off the sword in such a way that it would not be subject to counter his parry.

Drawing forth the thousands of fights, hundreds of thousand wars and millions of practices the gathered Dreamers ran through the myriad of moves, counters and openings available to the Cughtagh. Filter after filter were quickly applied then dismissed as they debated every nuanced action and the possible outcomes. It seemed as if aeons passed as the Dreamers studied and played out the movements in their dreams, each action studied with every permutation calculated out to the nth degree.

As the war sword made contact, already it was in motion. Carried a bit by the parry of the tonfa, but more so under the guidance of the arm wielding it. With a simple pass of the right leg back so the left was fore, the war sword was swinging around in a swift cut aimed for Scion’s left leg and hip that were firmly implanted as the man execute his tonfa strike.

It was a beautiful and deadly ballet, Scion’s foot passing forward, and Skallagrim’s passing back leaving opposites fore. It was this movement that allowed the war sword to enact the cut imitated by the parry. The dagger shot forward . . . and through the dark substance of the Galdhr, almost as if the darkness wanted the man’s arm within reach of its roiling substance. Yet what did the dagger hit? Naught but air, as it sailed several inches above the arm of the Dreamer.

Darkness descended on the man’s arm. Swirling and swarming energy lashed out, grasping, clutching and racing along the man’s arm. Studying the weapon, seeking to understand its powers and why the man known as Scion had such faith in the dagger. But besides that, and more importantly the Galdhr was rapidly altering the man clothing, changing the very nature of the cloth threads, every fourth one would slowly transform into silver thread.

The question of course was an age old one that occurred between warriors throughout history. What would you be willing to suffer to win? Skallagrim took the impact from the tonfa striking his chest. The blow crashed against the chainmail with some force, casting the Dreamer back. However tit required tat. The cut to Scion’s leg and hip would also connect simultaneously since Scion had no way to avoid the blow. The cut, below the hip bone and just above the socket for the thigh, would bite with the accelerated force of a ton of kinetic energy. Yet, the shimmering silver-blue energy continued to race along the blade in increasing loops. How deep would it bite? How would the blood flow? How would Scion’s movement be affected? All questions unanswered.

Stepping back several feet after the concussive blow, with the war sword continuing to cut through the wound, grinding deeper; Skallagrim resumed his stance with the shield forward and the war sword in a low guard. Again a six-foot gap lay betwixt them. The energies of aesr swirled and danced. The fight would begin in earnest now, both sides had struck the other; the remaining question was how badly had Scion been cut?

Scion was surprised when his switch blade missed it's mark, do to the shield vanishing, but was even more shocked when the dagger's inky darkness lashed out at his arm. He had feared the worst in that moment, but when the darkness didn't appear to do any damage to him, he chose to carry on with his follow up blow. Hoping that the darkness hadn't done anything to critical. He did, however; notice that his sleeve was silver and weighed a bit more than it did before.

Scion's fist and tonfa connect with a satisfying clang as they crash into Skallagrim's chest plate. However, it was at this same moment that Scion felt Skallagrim's sword cleave into his side. The blade easily slashing through his pants, clipping his hip bone, and cutting into the muscle below. The bone layers on the hip disperse some of the force from the blades impact along the bone, sacrificing the first layer of protection to help minimise the damage, but the cut still ran deep. Scion could already see Skallagrim stepping back to drag his blade further through his flesh. In order to prevent further damage, Scion quickly brings his tonfa down at an angle, and parries the blade away from him. The strange blue curls of magic dragging across the surface of his tonf with blue sparks of magic. As the blade is dislodged from his side, Scion could feel a burning sensation coming from his hip. His body working faster than he could perceive, began clenching blood vessels shut, in order to stop any bleeding, as well as forcing the damaged areas of the muscle fibers to shut down until they can either heal or scar over. The result was a clean cut with little blood, but a large patch of dark bruising that could be seen through to hole in his pants. The hit had been a good one, and Scion knew he was going to be much slower pivoting on that hip from now on. He could also feel the bone fragments from the shattered layer liquefying, and slowly seeping back into his body for repurposing. As the pain from the wound was being slowly blocked out by his bodies other functions, he notices that Skallagrim wasn't looking any worse for wear from his opening blow. This irks him greatly as wonders if the cut he had gotten as his tradeoff, had been worth it.

He decides that he was, at the very least, learning some things about his opponent. The fact Skallagrim could take his normal blows without showing any signs of damage, meant his early assumption of him being a potential class cannon wasn't accurate. He would have to dial up his damage a bit, to account for Skallagrim's higher than expected durability. He isn't quite sure how to approach Skallagrim though, as another a frontal assault would not be in his best interest, but he also knew Skal was too swift for him to easily get around him. It was easy to guess that the guy was far older than himself, and had probably seen his way through many fights in his time.So, he was going to need to add a new element to the fight, if he wanted to trip up a the ancient fighter. He takes a moment to think through his current arsenal with great care, and with careful deliberation. decides that is was maybe time to start thinking with portals. He knew from experience that he was only going to really get one good shot out of the portals, and that was the opening move. So he would need to make sure that it a good one and that he struck as quickly as possible.

Scion puts a his plan into motion, and turns face forward and exchanges the tonfa and switchblade with each other so he could wield the tonfa in his dominant right hand. He then deftly flips the tonfa around into an offensive grip, and carefully whispers one word to his watch, "Backbash." Quickly following this command, Scion starts charging at Skallagrim with determination in his eyes. He takes this time to focus energy into amplifying the strength in his right arm and right leg as he makes his way towards Skallagrim. Then as he approaches within three feet of Skallagrim, a black dot would appear in air before him, and simultaneously another would appear inches behind Skallagrim's back. In the next instant, both dots would expand into six foot diameter windows, with Scion's side of the portals leading to Skallagrim back, and Skallagrim's side leading to the open air just behind him. Scion, while leading and pressing forward with his right leg, would twist his body as he swings the tonfa through the portal, and attempt to deliver a powerful bash into side of Skallagrim's head. He would also, upon any contact, unleash the pent up energy he had been collecting in the tonfa to add to the blow. If Scion's attack goes as planned, he would then quickly pull the tonfa back through the portal and hastily retreat several feet. Dennis, at this time, would then close the portal, and cut off anything still stuck between the rifts in space, to allow Scion to view the damage to Skallagrim as well as cut off any potential counter that may be attempted at Scion through his own portal.

Thrum.

A moment passes. A singular aspect of time condensed from a thousand fragments of separate linear instances to one complete now. In this frozen moment a hundred, a thousand different dream fragments merged into existence as Dreamers separated and analyzed the events of the opening gambits.

In an instant the guard was at once in a middle position as the Cughtagh felt the combined dreams merge into a thousand variables open to Scion at this moment. Even with that, Skallagrim understood too well the intricacies of combat. The man known as Scion faced him in an odd stance. A skillful warrior is adaptable, fighting to the enemy not to the plan. Thus for all the myriad of options, Skallagrim expected the unexpected. And the next few seconds certainly were unexpected. Neither man had moved thus the six-feet remained between them, a distance easily with in the deadly reach of the war sword.

Scion maneuvered his weapons into opposite hands, indicating that the man was right-hand dominate. Something Skallagrim had already surmised based on the first exchange. It was the next move that played towards the Dreamers favor. Scion charged at him, he would close the scant six-feet in a mere fraction of a second. The war sword, in the middle guard simply angled up as Skallagrim passed his right leg forward and met the oncoming Scion.

The sword would strike towards the man’s neck, between Scion’s left shoulder and clavicle. The thrust, accelerating with the passing guard would strike with as much kinetic force as possible. If the blow were not met with equal force, it would pierce the man through his neck, and possibly nicking his spinal cord on the way out. Since Scion had the smaller dagger to use as point defense against the quick thrust, and it was quick indeed, as the six-feet dropped to nil by both of their moves he would have the possibility of injuring himself on the glass sharp edges of the sword trying to shuffle the blow away.

A thousand voices cried in delight as they watched the trap being laid for the man known as Scion. It was clear he had several options open to him; however the one he chose would determine his physical well-being in the next few moments. The shimmering, swirling silver-blue energies on the sword crackled and hummed with excitement as the two men were now in close quarters. The swirling dark shield on Skallagrim’s left arm, roiling with anticipation for the next moves to be enacted, barely contained the savage glee within.

Whatever plan Scion may have had, most certainly would be placed on the back burner with the prospect of being run through the neck looming.

Scion's charge step, had been meant to bring his enemies focus forward, but he had underestimated the reach of Skallagrim's sword and had to make a snap decision as it came thrusting towards him. He still had his right leg forward from the his quick step, and decides the best counter is finish the swing, that had been intended for Skallagrim's head, and use it to intercept the blade instead. He also tries to evade the blade, but twisting his body further than intended, as he arches the tonfa's swing across his chest to smash into the side of the blade. He finds that he manages enough forces to just barely throw off its trajectory and miss stabbing straight through him. Scion could feel the sword whoosh past his chin and nick the end of shoulder. The blade continued

As Scion is desperately trying to evade Skallagrim's blade. Dennis enacts his own plan to try to counter Skallagrim's powerful thrust. He had intended to follow Scion's plan to spawn a portal for him, that led to Skallagrim's back, but since that plan was currently falling through. He decides to change the spawn points of the portals. The first dot, instead of in front of Scion, would appear behind Scion's left shoulder, centered with the new trajectory of Skallagrim's thrusting blade. The second dot would also change position and appear behind Skallagrim's back left leg. As the blade is sent sailing past Scion, a smaller portal of only a foot diameter would open to allow the end of Skallagrim's sword to pass through and stab right into the back of his own leg.

Scion, oblivious to Dennis' change in plans and to busy to see the portal behind him, was focusing his attention on Skallagrim's bony hand that was gripping the end of the sword. He knews that it would give him a serious advantage if he could get Skallagrim to release his sword, so in a snap decision, he decides to drop his tonfa and attempt to grab Skallagrim's forearm and wrench it forward, while simultaneously slashing at his bony wrist with Exmouseiber. He would hope that this would force Skallagrim to drop his weapon, but would release his arm regardless and try to hop back and to his right to his right, or to Skallagrim's left. It would only be at this point that he would notice the two portals that Dennis had spawned.

Dennis would wait to see if Skallagrim would release his blade or withdraw it before severing the portals connection. He was tempted to simply close the portal on the blade and sever it, but he did not want to risk the potential magical backlash that could be caused by damaging a sword of such powerful enchantment. It was better to be safe rather than allow their fight to be ended prematurely, because Skallagrim's blade decided it wanted to explode.

Thrum.

The life of a warrior was hard, brutal and oftentimes short. More so when faced with a warrior of Skallagrim’s caliber and Scion would soon discover this simple fact. The thrust enacted perfectly, a texted book example of passing guard and attacking the weak point, in this case the man’s throat. He expected Scion would manage a counter to the thrust and so, it happened.

A moment of pure unadulterated beauty occurred as the tonfa connected with the war sword. A cacophony of sound reverberated throughout the small space they occupied for the blunt object was hefty enough to cause the war sword to sing with a sweet percussion. How sweet the sound.

A menagerie of voices cascaded through the Galdhr as Dreamer after Dreamer noted the dark portals created by Dennis; worm holes of limited dimensional space connecting two points in relatively close proximity. Skallagrim felt the swirling of energies, recorded them and noted their signature, for they would become a herald song in any further attempts to use them during their fight.

How the fortunes of fate twisted when the life of a man hung precariously in balance. The sword would indeed miss its mark, sluicing into a portal that Dennis created. However, Dennis was not omnipotent, and while his intent was clear and clever, he didn’t understand the full extent of Skallagrim’s attack. In such close proximity, the attack became clear as for some inexplicable reason Scion dropped the tonfa grasping for the right hand of the Dreamer.

Time slowed as the tonfa hung a moment before gravity took hold of it, before it began its descent to earth. In that moment the skeletal warrior struck. The war sword coming back into a wide circle, even as the tip passed through the portal it was pulling back. Left arm tucking in tight as the left leg shot up like a piston, drawing the knee towards his torso. The shield shimmered before transforming into a writhing black mass of a dagger as the left arm drew in tight to Skallagrim’s torso. Then with incredible power, Skallagrim’s left foot shot down towards the exposed right foot of Scion in a purring motion designed to break the top most bones of Scion’s right foot.

Grasp.

Scion’s hand encircled Skallagrim’s armored forearm with limited success as his dagger shot into the armored wrist. For certes, the dagger pierced the armor, nicking bone as it causing the Dreamer a moment of discomfort as bone chips broke loose, flying away. However since there was no flesh, nothing but amethyst energies encapsulating bone, there were no muscles to tear. There were no tendons to cut and no flesh to pierce, for the Dreamer had relinquished such frailties’ millennia ago. As such, the punctured bone did not create pain, nor did it create a structural imbalance by virtue of the size of the wound to cause the Dreamer to drop the sword.
Like a piston, the shod boot of Skallagrim would hammer into the exposed right foot, intent to break through the foot and touch earth. Twenty-six hundred pounds of force would land on the top of the foot. As it did so, the tip of Keefe grazed the back of his left calf, a shower of sparks rained down on both Skallagrim’s left foot and Scion’s right.

The racing silver-blue energies on the war sword hummed and crackled with such ferocity it seemed alive. Eager to bite again the flesh of Scion, the sword vibrated enough that Scion might be able to feel it through his grasp of the Dreamer.

Once again, the exchange of blows required an assessment of damage exchanged. A perfect hole in the black armor of the Dreamer as well as chips and fragments of his forearm floated in the energies that constituted Skallagrim’s life force.

The situation now would be tenuous for Scion should he remain in close proximity to the Dreamer. Open to Skallagrim were a number of holds and moves that could end the fight, perhaps even end the man’s life. If Dennis or Scion were of quick enough mind, they would have realized all of the actions taken thus far were to inflict damage, but not kill. The thrust to his throat, aimed for the outside portion of his neck. It seemed under careful scrutiny that it was nick Scion’s neck, causing a shower of blood and pain. Every move seemed intent to hamper and cause pain, but not to kill.

Dennis has always had a bit an ego due to his self assumed importance. This trait branches from the fact that he was designed to be the ultimate machine for understanding. His ability to understand is also what allowed him to control the void instead of fading into it along with the rest of humanity. Through his own will and intellect he had turned himself into an immortal, non-physical, construct whose sole purpose was to interpret data of all forms including the void itself. He was able to shield Scion from the effects of the void, and prevent him from being swallowed up by the senseless expanse. He knew everything that earth had been willing to put down in digital format and had it permanently saved in his mind, to reference whenever the need arises. It was with all these advantages that Dennis found himself increasingly frustrated by Scion and his inability to land a single effective hit on Skallagrim. The sword had failed to stab Skallagrim in the back leg, and he had already withdrawn it from the portal, and was preparing to bring it around to bear down on Scion with an ominous hum. The dark shield had also transformed itself into a dagger, and Skallagrim was preparing what looked to be a devastating stomp onto Scion's right foot. He knew the situation was bad, and he was going to need to act quickly if he was going to save Scion from a world of hurt.

Dennis focuses his attention and calls upon the function of the rocket boots on Scion's feet. Skallagrim intended to crunch the metal boot, and Scion's foot, but Dennis wasn't going to allow this. He turns his attention to the right boot and activates the thruster underneath, and turns it to full power. He would have liked to give Scion a heads up so that he may properly prepare, but such luxuries would have to be forgone in favor of safety. The boot would blast off the ground in an unexpected burst and force Scion own knee into his chest with a reverberating impact. Scion would be sent rocketing backwards and several feet into the air. He would eventually fly right past the 'Bass Cannon' and sail over the short wooden fence between him and the wave pool and crash into the water. Where he would lay on his back floating in the water in stunned silence.

However, Dennis' plan did not end with Scion just being safely out of harms way. As Scion lay feet from the 'Base Cannon'. Dennis through his focus into the massive box and called it to action. He noted with some satisfaction, that the song was just approaching the most appropriate point for his plan. As the words of the forgotten song sang out. Dennis activated the sonic cannon and fired at Skallagrim, the words, "Madness Reeeeeeeeeinnnsss!" Amplified as the cannon obliterates the area just before it and cracks and destroys and cracks cement the for cement as far as a hundred feet in its destructive spread. Dennis noted, as he fired, that Skallagrim was standing about fifteen feet from the front of the cannon, and would not receive the worst it could do. However, he would still be hit with forces capable of shattering normal men. If he were unharmed by this attack, then Dennis would have great concern about whether or not they stood any chance at defeating this strange and infuriating man.

Thrum.

Skallagrim felt, no rather heard the soft click of a relay igniting the rocket boot. It was too late, his foot raced down as the boot, a micro-second later ignited, launching the right foot of Scion upward at incredible speeds. Scion’s rocket-assisted foot rose then colliding and finally lifting the downward accelerating foot of the Dreamer, all in the space of a heartbeat. The collision knocked Skallagrim back, off balance and away.

Trying to regain his balance, Skallagrim stumbled amidst the lounge chairs littering the beach area. His black dagger roiling in barely contained rage as the skeletal being watched the man known as Scion fly back beyond the speaker system he had produced earlier. Keefe, the war sword hummed as the Seidhr raced furiously along its length and breadth.

As the man landed another soft click occurred, the speaker system erupting in a sonic burst. The blaring cacophony, annoying as it had been, recently weaponized with the intent to harm the Dreamer, closed on its target. A thousand Dreamers smiled in their slumber as they watched the rolling sound wave. How long had it been since they had seen sound like this? A raucous mash-up of musical notes turned into a weapon. It had been on the planet Sertania, the people there spoke in whistles and moans, much like the cetacean of this world.

Ah yes, the Sertanians. They are a beautiful species, large creatures residing in the vast oceans of their world. It was their intelligence and wonderfully complex language that attracted the Dreamer Hafjarl to them. They had weaponized their sounds; their beautiful and haunting voices were incredible weapons of destruction. Even as the Dreamers scanned the fragment of that event, a fondness settled upon them. They had proven to be wonderful companions; they had lived and evolved over a hundred million years. Alas, many died off as their planet shifted slightly on its axis, altering the weather to the point that the oceans, once a sanctuary became their downfall.

While the Dreamers, as a rule only observe events as they happen, felt compelled to aid their erstwhile companions. At the behest of the Queen, Dreamers reached through space and time, saving as many of the Sertanians as possible. Now they lay scattered across the multiverse, small groups of these creatures existing under the protection of their benefactors.

Skallagrim stood straight facing the weapon known as the Bass Canon, the amethyst energies glowing with such intensity that the entire area bathed in a purplish glow. Everything became . . . silent as the extremely high-power and destructive sound waves, in fact, all sound ceased. That destructive sound transformed into a stifling and oppressive heat, as a dozen balls of orange-yellow plasma, roughly the size of beach balls formed in the air around Skallagrim. The plastic and metal lounge chairs melted into toxic goop on the buckling and cracking concrete under the intense heat. The water in the vast pools comprising the park steamed and evaporated with such rapidity that visual acuity diminished to a scant few feet.

Had Scion utilized this weapon earlier it would have been effective, damaging even. However, the Dreamer had laid down an induction field, had drawn the energies of the park into the field, and was able to affect the weapon with ease.

As the oppressive steam filled the area that both combatants resided, the tremendous heat of the plasma balls made their presence known. Wooden structures burst into flame, the pressurized tanks full of helium and soda erupted in silent protest to the heat. The giant fiberglass slides deformed, melted and released fragments of fibers as well as noxious and deadly compounds into the air. The battlefield had become deadlier as the fumes roiled against the dome containing it.

It was now a hellish arena. Sound existed a fraction of a second before converting to heat. The shifting and swarming black cloud of toxicity roiled around them generating its own wind through the water park. Asphalt melted, buildings burned and the concrete cracked.

Skallagrim stood amid the molten lounge chairs, weapons held ready as he focused on Scion and Dennis. Whatever happened next would be at the invitation of the duo.

Scion was feeling confident about his maneuver as his snap decision, to drop the tonfa, had allowed him to get a hold of Skallagrim's sword arm. He moved with precision as he made a clean cut along Skallagrim's wrist. He watched with grim satisfaction as Exmouseiber caved effortlessly through the armored gauntlet and chip away bone. However, his fervor didn't last as it appeared his cut had done little to loosen Skallagrim's grip on his blade. He was also further thrown into displeasure as he could feel vibrations running along Skallagrim's and his arm. He was determined not to stick around for whatever was causing it. He was prepared to leap away using the enhanced strength in his right leg, when he suddenly felt a pressure building under his foot. The world slowed to a crawl as adrenaline and panic forced his perception to accelerate to try to intercept the unexpected attack. Scion quickly glances down at his foot as he felt it rise and sees his own knee coming at him. He is only just able to notice Skallagrim's own foot catching on his rocket propelled limb. He hadn't noticed that Skallagrim had even raised his leg. He unfortunately couldn't dwell on this fact as Skallagrim's attempted foot stomp does little to slow his leg down as it crashes into his chest and forces all the air out of his lungs. Scion wasn't sure what to think as he watched Skallagrim moving away from him, as he made his short journey through the air. He was sure of one thing though. He was not happy about this predicament, and that thought only became more true as he watched in abstract horror as the Bass Cannon fired on a glowing Skallagrim. Scion crashes into the shallow water of the wave pool, unable to see what transpired next. He is left stunned as he tries to process what had just happened.

However, his question is left unanswered as a sudden burning sensation ran across his entire body, causing him to gasp involuntarily and inhale some of the now boiling water he lay in. He chokes immediately on the burning liquid, and is sent into a violent coughing fit as his lungs struggle to expel the unwelcome water. He tries to stand, but his hands slip on molten plaster. The water in the shallow pool had evaporated almost instantly and he starts panicking as darkness grows on the edges of his vision. He starts flailing madly in the pool of molten glass and burning lime trying desperately to escape. The struggles was only made worse as time began to crawl, slowing down under his increasing stress. He can hear Dennis calling out to him now, but the words are difficult to understand. He wanted so desperately to escape the pain, the very reality of his worsening state driving him mad. He was blur of frantic mation as he tries crawl out of the wave pool, only to be stopped by a wall of burning wood. His energy fails him as as the darkness all but incompasses his vision under the effects of the poisonous fumes. His body falling limp as his mind tries to fade from consciousness. It seemed as if it would end there, but Scion's body answers his call to escape and instead of fading from life it instead faded from reality. Though to his onlooker, it would be difficult to tell the difference as his life force would appear to vanish in his obscured state.

Scion's consciousness slowly resurfaces as the burning sensation fades, and his lungs no longer feel the need for air. He is groggy for several seconds until he finally snaps himself awake. He takes a moment to survey his surroundings and realizes that he had somehow triggered his void state during his panic. He is greatly relieved, because it had saved him from a very sudden and painful death. He takes a moment focus on his prone form and his body slowly floats off the ground and hovers soundlessly in the air. He would appear as nothing more than a blur in the all encompassing fog. Scion's eyesight was very poor in his void state. The thick cloud of steam enveloping the park making it impossible to see what had happened after what, he presumed, was Dennis' daring rescue. He was already noticing a difference in the speed in which his surroundings moved as his stress lessened. He decides to use his brief reprieve to reflect upon his current situation. He would be relatively safe while phased, and could take his time contemplating his next move.

The first thing he needed to admit was that things were not looking very good. He hated to admitting this, but he was starting to regret challenging Skallagrim to this fight. He didn't need to see, to know something had gone very wrong just now. On top of that. Dennis wasn't talking to him despite having phased with him. This was worrying, but he trusted Dennis would speak if he needed to and was probably working on something anyway. He just hoped he didn't do anything to drastic. He was happy Dennis was so determined to win, but he was feeling his own determination waning. He knew Skallagrim was going to be a powerful opponent, but had been confident that he would be able to at least dent the man's indomitable resolve. Instead, it was his own resolve that was being tested now. His body was still trying desperately to repair the damage that had been done to it, but Scion knew that he wasn't going to have much feeling left after this blow. His sense of touch was pretty much useless at this point, but it also meant pain was pretty much done as well. He couldn't exactly feel cuts without nerves after all.

"Come on Scion, what are you doing?" he scolds himself, "You shouldn't let yourself get so down. You need to get it together, be strong..." He lets out a deep sigh, "No! Come on! You have been outclassed in the past. Remember Cirno. She never gave up." He pauses, "Cirno..." Scion hadn't thought of that name for a long time. Cirno had been one of Scion's earliest companions. The first one to really help him after the fall of his world. She was little more than a fairy part of a world of nearly endless magic. The fairies were a childlike race that was a direct manifestation of nature itself, and fueled by its near endless magic. It was unfortunate that these creatures were some of the weakest in this world. All of them greatly outclassed by other monsters of legend and folklore that resided in their mystical lands. Cirno had been an ice fairy and was aligned with all things relating to cold. Despite her element she was anything, but cold. She was very passionate about everything she did, and was even a bit of a tomboy about her approach to life. You would believe her element was fire if it weren't for the set of icy wings sticking out of her back. Cirno was determined to defy the weakness of the fairies and become 'The Strongest' creature in Gensokyo.

However, this grand goal hadn't won her much favor with the other fairies and youkai, the blanket name for the other monsters. She wasn't without friends though, and her good nature was a welcomed by most. At least when she wasn't bragging about her strength or challenging everyone to a fight to prove it. Scion had been fascinated by the girls spirit. He had never met someone so willing to endlessly challenge creatures far stronger with herself, without ever getting discouraged when she inevitably lost. He looked at her and saw something of what he had lost in himself It had taken a lot of effort, and a few false starts, but he eventually managed to befriend Cirno. It was with her companionship that Scion was able to rebuild some of his lost heart, and move past his great mistake. Her free spirited nature and innocent view of the world allowed him to see the world in a brighter light. He eventually learned to also face unwinnable odds with pleasure and determination, rather than with frustrating reluctants. He spent many years in that worlds, before he moved on to the next, but he made a point to revisit at least once a year to spend time with one of his oldest friends. Scion takes a moment to let his memories flow, letting them strengthen his resolve, then with a small blissful smile on his face. He fades back into reality.

As Scion reappears there would be a few noticeable differences about his person. The first thing being that his complexion was now much paler than before. Another would be that the steam was now flowing towards towards him like a magnet. The hot steam attracted to the cool air around him, and sticking to the surface of his clothes. The water that directly contacts his skin instantly freezes and starts forming patches of ice along his body that randomly crumple and fall onto the surface of cooling plaster. Scion takes a long deep breath, then lets it out.

"Thanks again Cirno." Scion whispers, "I can continue to fight because of you."

"Scion." Dennis suddenly interrupts, "Hold on to something." In response to this, Scion decides to hold his complaint about the rocket boot misfire. In favor of koala hugging the nearest wooden fence post, and throwing all his energy into amplifying his grip.

=====

As the Bass Cannon fires, Dennis focuses all his attention onto Skallagrim. He was sure that there would be no way for him to evade the sonic Cannon at that range, but he could never be too careful with a man like him. However, it turns out that evasion should have been the least of his worries, for as the destructive waves close in on Skallagrim, his surroundings are bathed in amethyst light. He watches in his own stunned silence as the waves of sound are absorbed by the light and compressed into balls of glowing white hot plasma. It was at the same time that he notices the entire park being suddenly engulfed in a large wave of heat as all the sound ceasing as it is all being converted into thermal energy. Scion had still been in the pool of water as the heat bathed the area, and Dennis watched in horror as the effects greatly impacted Scion as he struggled in the intense heat. His body was not made to handle such temperatures and their close proximity to glowing balls of plasma was causing the very plaster Scion lay upon to melt under the intense heat. He didn't know what to do, Scion was panicking. He tries to yell at him to calm down, but his words don't seem to get through. He needs to do something and he needed to do it now, but as he prepares to rip reality itself apart to save Scion. He falls to the ground and ceases all activity. Dennis at that moment started to fear the worst, until he felt a familiar pull on the watch as Scion's body began to fade from existence.

Dennis realizes that, although at the last second, Scion had saved himself. He takes this news and immediately starts preparing another counter attack as Scion pulls himself together. He had no doubt he was coming up with his a plan, but he would be dammed if he didn't enact his own while Scion prepared. He reaches out his focus to the Bass Cannon. This is more difficult to do this while phased, but it was relatively close by, and Dennis manages to see that, despite the intense heat, is was still functioning as before. The thing had been built with durability in mind. The weaponized DJ station was always a big target for enemies, and needed to be able to take the metaphorical tank round or two. The sound converting field seemed to end after the cannon stopped firing. The music continued to play as the sonic cannon slowly recharged. Dennis wasn't prepared to try firing again, unless he could make dam sure that Skallagrim was not going to be able to stop it again. That strange field was something he had very little understanding of and it irritated him greatly. The field was obviously acted as some kind of power boost, but he could tell what it was drawing its power from. There were forces at play here that he hadn't the ability to detect. It would seem that magic was always going to be his sticking point. It was easy to understand once the proper frame of reference was given, but on its own it was alway a frustrating mystery. He was almost tempted to change his demand for an apology into a demand for an explanation, but such thoughts were for later.

He wasn't sure if Skallagrim would be able to detect Scion and himself while phased, but he wasn't able to check. The phasing, along with all the interference from the environment, made it impossible to see anything more than the glowing white coming from Skallagrim's plasma spheres. He decides his best course of action may be to try to take away the warm environment. If Skallagrim could convert sound to heat, then it wasn't to large a leap to believe he could convert the heat to something else. It would take some time to do, but Dennis focuses on not another location, but feels for another world. He feels for a familiar world from his past. He sees an earth lost to the depths of space after being tragically knocked out of orbit with the sun. A wondering ball of ice with all sense of purpose lost. Dennis remembers where they had landed and brings forth the data from that time. He takes several seconds for him to call upon this data, and it is during this time that Scion returns to the world once more. Dennis was pleased to see that Scion may have drawn a similar conclusion as a familiar cold enveloped his body. Dennis can scarcely remember the last time how so many of his abilities active at one, but wasn't about to look a gift horse in the mouth.

It would take several more seconds after Scion reappearance, but Dennis, after warning Scion to grab onto something, would quickly open a large portal between Scion and Skallagrim. The portal would lead to the frozen world, and would quickly rob the park of all its collected heat as the air would be sent rushing into the cold vacuum of the frozen atmosphere. The planet itself would ignite as several pools of both oxygen and hydrogen catch fire under the intense heat drawn in from the park. This portal would only be open for for about three seconds, but would ultimately reduce the heat back down to normal levels and resolidify any water that isn't sucked through the portal.

Patience, infinite patience was part of the Dreamers. Their lives, what passed as lives, stretched on in eons. Here in this park, on this world, the entirety of the Xindhi people had turned their collective attention. It had been a thousand years, a million seconds, a day or tomorrow depending on how the Dreamer viewed the events occurring.

The Cughtagh, a title bestowed on the greatest warriors among the Dreamers. A title given by the Queen, a title that bore little relevance in the greater multiverse save for those who understood the importance of it. Skallagrim the Cughtagh, champion for the Queen, and more importantly champion for the entire race within him lay the life and death of the man. Before him, the body of Scion lay some feet away. A thousand voices all spoke rapidly in a complex web of dream fragments. The image of the man’s smoldering body framed and locked into the dream, solidified as an enduring image. Yet as that happened, a stirring of dark energies, subtle, barely perceptible occurred drawing the attention of the Cughtagh.

It was a shifting of realities, a trace signature of somewhere both familiar and not. Silence met the gathered Dreamers, all slowly focusing their attention on the man. Something was happening, something special, and something wholly unexpected. Scion was able to enter another dimension, a place of sanctuary. A murmur rippled through the Dreamers, low at first then a crescendo of rapid-fire dream fragments. Through the cacophony a sole voice spoke, silencing all else.

“This Scion, this man, what is your assessment my Cughtagh?"

Skallagrim said nothing, time seemingly slowed to an imperceptible crawl, yet in the realm of the Dreamers it was expected. The question was asked, and an answer had to be given, yet to hasten it would cheapen it. The Dreaming Queen had spoken, every Dreamer, regardless of what they were doing, where they were gave pause.

“He is young, brash, and cocky. He is also capable and worth watching, studying and understanding. Is he a threat to the Dreamers? Is he a threat to you my Queen? No. Perhaps one day he may be, but for now he is not.”

“Then do not kill him. Allow this Scion and his watch to live that we may study them, so that we may learn from them.”

“Yes my Queen.”

Through the entirety of the multiverse, every Dreamer heard the decree and agreed. This man was worth watching; to extinguish him would be a tragedy. Skallagrim had made the assessment and now would carry it out. He would subdue the man; render him inoperable, unable to continue the fight. Lethality was no longer an option.

The Dreamers watched as a portal to a world that no longer had the warmth of a star to warm it opened. It reminded them of Graff’s realm, the land of the Icy Emperor. Skallagrim studied the portal, creating fragments of understanding in the short time of its existence as much as possible. The reason was obvious; a desire to shunt the heat from the park was required for the continuation of the fight. With a few steps, Skallagrim moved back, giving the man and his faithful watch the opportunity to finish their flushing of the heat. As Skallagrim moved, so did the balls of plasma, growing smaller as streamers of energy creating a spider’s web between each of them and the Dreamer.

Skallagrim was drawing the energy to himself, each of the plasma balls shrinking until they were no larger than tennis balls. The writhing black dagger reached out, interacting with the plasma, causing a loud static hum to fill the air. The war sword held loosely but ready shimmering as silver-blue energies raced along it at such speeds it appeared to be made of light.