A dull headache, one that’s familiar to many dreamers. The feeling one gets when they’re a bit too close to insomulite. Not quite as bad as having Dream-suppressant cuffs on, but enough to reduce one’s dream to a mere whisper of its standard strength. Even without opening one’s eyes it’s painfully obvious that the situation isn’t particularly favorable. The dry warmth of a metal floor as well as the uncomfortable feeling one gets after being haphazardly tossed into a cage barely tall enough to stand in. A faint buzz of a few dozen people chattering and cheering nearby at least confirmed that this wasn't in the middle of the wasteland.



Richtor stirred a bit before wobbling to his feet, the pain in his head amplified by the realization that he’d been whacked in the head by something pretty heavy. His memories of recent events were blurred at best. Whoever got him got him pretty damn good. A quick look around revealed that he was in some sort of cage, a single stone hard stuck to the ground…Definitely the culprit behind his inability to smash his way out. He could see a few equally cramped looking cages arranged in either direction. Even he could suss out that they probably held Dreamers too. Looking around the area didn’t exactly make things more optimistic.



The area around the cages was walled in, like some sort of impromptu arena complete with a crowd in the stands patiently looking down upon them all. At the tallest point of the spectator area was a middle aged man on some sort of makeshift throne flanked by a bodyguard on either side. Anyone that’s been outside the cities for more than a week could guess he was either a warlord or at minimum wanted to carry himself as if he were. Upon noticing the people in the cages stirring he stood up and shouted to the crowd and the imprisoned Dreamers.

“Welcome to this week’s show! Had to call in quite a few favors to get those cages…But the fruit of those labors is going to be one of the best brawls any of you have ever seen. Our acquisitions team alongside a few independent mercenaries have been busy snatching up dreamers from the area, burning up a few settlements, ambushing some idiots on the roads. No method’s too much for a chance to see a show like this one.” The man boasted proudly.

Richtor rubbed the back of his head upon hearing the ambushing comment. He felt a bit of dried blood on the relatively fresh wound. Still, he wanted to see this show he’d apparently been kidnapped for.

“These Dreamers before you have one great reason to fight!” The man spoke up, promising an answer for the silent question likely forming in the more intelligent ones’ heads. “Their freedom, of course, as well as a nice little trinket.” He said, patting a box before partly opening it. The glint of a decently sized purple crystal causing the crowd to gasp. One that size could pay for a few months worth of supplies. The crowd began to chant ‘Lord Morski’ over and over as the man was clearly eating up the excitement and praise.

Richtor stood up and tried to just open the cage, the door was shoddily built but just sturdy enough to not give at a normal push. Rearing back, he kicked the cage as hard as he could with his power suppressed causing the rusty fragile lock to snap and the door to fall off. He blinked at how poorly made the whole thing was. Honestly, it looked like something he’d glue together back in his free time back when he was a kid…though he imagined the glue would have held a bit better than that.

A shocked gasp omitted from the crowd as ‘Lord Morski’ looked down a bit surprised. What kind of idiot kicks a metal door? With a gesture, the remaining cages opened as well. “I guess someone was eager...Just take the wind out of my sails why don’t you.” He said, slightly deflated at the clueless blonde that was just looking around, clearly lost. Had he not even been listening?

Three of Morski’s ruffians wandered through the wilderness, an overgrown forest fairly far away from the warlord’s camp. A vague path winded ahead of them between the trees and shrubs. The one in front using a machete to cut their way through while the one in the back shook like a leaf. “Are we sure this is a good idea?” He jumped a little as a bit of foliage fell on him after the one in front of him pushed it out of the way.

“What, you afraid of some weird bitch in the woods?” The middle one laughed out in response. “You’re just letting some dumb rumors get to you man.”

The bulkier one in front chimed in with a dramatic tone. “I don’t know guys, I heard that she can summon some things that drive you crazy if you look them in the eyes.” And then laughed as the one in the rear began to freak out even harder. “I’m just kidding. Can’t have you wimping out on us, gotta make sure we can overpower her. Sounds like it’ll be real entertaining to have her for Lord Morski’s little show he’s got planned.”

As he finished his sentence he realized the brush was getting thinner as they kept moving till the trio came upon a clearing with a small cabin nestled within. What appeared to be a small farm located nearby. And strange tracks all across the grass in the area, tracks that didn’t match a normal animal that would live in an area like this. If it wasn’t for the fact they knew an odd Dreamer lived there it would be a peaceful, scenic place. But now all three were on edge, weapons raised and all of them managed to jump as the door to the cabin creaked open.

Heavy footsteps filled the silent clearing as the tall, imposing woman walked towards the group. The woman, clad in all black and with intimidating red eyes, was their intended target. The so-called Witch of the Woods, Lynette. At first the group thought she would immediately go on the offensive but she stopped. Her face looked surprised, as if she hadn’t processed that they were there at first. And suddenly she began to… smile? She was definitely smiling. And she happily waved at her uninvited guest

“Oh yay, new friends!” The happy tone in her voice caught the ruffians off guard, who slightly lowered their weapons in sheer surprise. “Oh it’s been so long since someone else came through here! Not that I’m lonely of course, I have plenty of friends to keep me company. I should introduce you to my friends! Wait… No, I'm getting ahead of myself. My name is Lynette! Did you need anything?”

As the mad woman babbled on, the bandits just looked at each other in disbelief. They heard that she was odd but they weren’t expecting whatever this was. When she asked what they needed they raised their weapons again, ready to throw down. “We need you to come with us.” The bigger one who led the three said. “We’ve got something fun planned.” A threatening tone in his voice meant to indicate it wouldn’t be pleasant.

But it seems that wasn’t properly understood by their mark. ”Okay!” Which once again completely caught her would be attackers off guard. They weren’t even sure what to do at this point but they just started leading her back to camp. ”So where are we going?” To which she got no response.

…

”What are we gonna do?”

…

”How much longer is it?”

…

”You guys don’t talk much do you?”

…

”Wanna hear about my friends?”

That was a question she didn’t wait for a response for. Lynette began to ramble about the ‘friends’ in her head and all their little quirks and names and things that interested her. In truth the group was about ready to give up on bringing her back if it wasn’t for the fact that they were certain they wouldn’t be able to shake her.

Eventually they finally brought her back and were very easily able to bring her to one of the many cages of the arena and shove her inside, much to her chagrin. Although the moment she hit the ground and the door closed behind her she began to panic. Something was interfering with her dream. The swirling whispers of madness, the voices of her ‘friends’ were silenced. Her eyes widened and she began nearly clawing at the sides of the cage. A dull, throbbing headache making the situation painfully more annoying. For the first time in a long time she was alone with her thoughts. And she hated every second of it. Lynette had never felt so alone.



Lynette stayed huddled up in a corner as far away from the crystal as possible. The constant pain in her head was the only thing keeping her company as she tried desperately to reconnect with her friends. How long has she been here now? It felt like it was days, weeks, months, YEARS! In actuality it was more along the lines of a few hours, not even a full day. But she was just now beginning to process her surroundings. Her makeshift prison opened up into an open area that looked like an arena of some sort. Multiple other cages seemed to be connected to the same place as hers. A decent sized crowd sitting in the stands overlooking it. They were murmuring, staring, waiting for something. She began looking at the other cages around her and most were inhabited like hers. Most likely other dreamers trapped like her, if only she hadn’t been so naive. A thought that normally her mind would be too full of voices for her to consider.

She noticed that some of the more injured inhabitants of the cages were finally starting to stir shortly before someone began to speak. A loud booming voice shouted down from above them. Lynette’s eyes gravitated up to it as the man she could only assume orchestrated this began to address the crowd. It was a little hard for Lynette to comprehend with the constant thrumming in her head but she tried to listen. Something about a show… and a fight? Were they gonna have to fight something? Or was he intending for them to fight each other? It didn’t sound ideal but she wanted to be free from this situation as soon as possible. And that shard… it had been so long since she’s seen one. When was the last time she’d seen something like that actually? It was fuzzy, but she knew it could be useful at the very least.

She was distracted by a nearby rattling as one of the other Dreamers began fiddling with his cage. A blonde man about her height, she saw as he backed up and just knocked out the door of the cage even with his strength suppressed. This was the bit of hope she needed to start rattling her cage like an insane woman. Until it opened all on its own with a gesture from ‘Lord’ Morski.

Immediately Lynette shot out from the cage and her mind was filled with a beautiful cacophony. The maddening whispers filled the void that the crystal left. She sighed in relief as the comforting voices returned and she could speak to her friends once more. But the satisfaction was short lived as she remembered the situation she was in and she prepared to defend herself, as much as she didn’t want to who knew how these strangers would react.

Echo was sitting against the shoddy walls of the cage, a black eye as a result of the rather rough mercenaries that had collected him. His eyes open when the door creaks open, a loose bar falling to the ground. If he wasn't so careless and didn't get tangled up while using his weavings, he wouldn't be in this mess. Maybe.

“Just great. All I needed today was a gladiator pit…”

He groaned as he stood, he wanted to get out of here of course but he wasn't sure if fighting his way out was the right option here. After all, he had no idea what kind of power those other Dreamers possessed. All things considered, he was safer in the cage. While the insomulite was annoying as hell and blocking out his dream, that meant that any other dreamer that came to him would have their dream suppressed as well, making them at least a bit more manageable.

“Hello metal pole, you’re going to be my smacking stick.”

He grabs the fallen piece of the cage, brandishing it like a staff, the tarnished metal rubbing traces of rust onto his palms as he repositions himself into a crouching position, ready to strike someone upside the head if they got to close. He was simply watching the others for now, trying to get a gauge on the other dreamer's abilities, and behaviors… Hopefully one or two of them would be willing to make a truce and get out of here in any way possible. He could care less about the shard, the damn things have already caused him enough trouble as it is, all he wanted was to get out of there.

Karla always thought of herself as having pretty decent luck, all things considered. With a dream like hers, there really shouldn't be any place for her in the world, but she'd managed to carve one out for herself. Tagging along with various dreamer groups, hoping that she would get lucky and at least be stuck with a half-decent summon, then dipping before she could get a bad one and spoil her image as a strong dreamer had worked out better for her than it should have, considering the odds. Occasionally she got burned, but never enough times for the truth to be anything more than a short-lived rumor that she could just dodge by living in the woods on her own for a while. Sometimes she'd get a summon that couldn't really fight, but was useful for other applications, and she could find work with shard hunters.

Today, she'd summoned an absolutely massive archangel. Somehow, she'd managed to avoid being crushed to death by it. It didn't obey her at all, but she'd been so high up in the air on its shoulder that nobody could tell. The bandits her group was hunting got squished by it (along with most of the cargo they stole) but had left quite an impression to say the least. Her next summon had been a high-level fire devil which also didn't listen to her at all. That one had the nerve to stand around and do nothing at least once, and despite being very strong, did almost nothing for her. Her final summon of the day had been a very average light elemental, which only obeyed her about half of the time, which was also very average. Such was the nature of the luck of the draw. As Karla would say, she always had pretty rotten luck.

Sitting here, in this place, was the proof. Summoning two high-tier monsters hadn't been her fault or mistake, but it did draw the wrong kind of attention. Her average summon had been overpowered by the group of ruffians easily, and before she could summon a stronger one she'd found herself in a cage, consciousness drifting like a stick on the river. Now, she didn't even have a disobedient animal companion to lay into while she waited for whatever horrible thing was about to happen to her. Being forced into gladiatorial combat was certainly among one of the very last things on that list, though. Looking around at the other cages around her, there was no way for her to tell if any of these people were strong or not, but given what the warlord Morski had said, they simply had to be. As soon as the cage opened, she took off running. There was no time to prepare, no time to think. All she wanted in that moment was to be away from here, away from these people.

...The sky above the arena cracked open. An immense mental pressure fell upon Karla, bringing her to her knees as a giant eyeball in the sky gazed down at Morski's spectacle, analyzing. Judging. Another absolute monster was coming. A ray of red light shot down from the eye and enveloped Karla, and in the very next moment, she was being embraced by what could only be described as a thousand-eyed demon.



Ceol'Oggoth had descended, to bear witness to this charade.

"Prophetess! Be not afraid, but honored, for I have come to lend you my wisdom," the being declared unto a visibly distressed Karla—whose appearance had completely changed against her will, placed into the garb of a prophetess, apparently. "That's... great," she replied with an air of uncanny dissociation from her current predicament. "Can you put me down? Somewhere far away from here?" she asked politely, somehow looking both anxious and fed up with this creature already. It gazed around at the other dreamers, for it could not do much else—and did not move, for there was no need, covered in eyes as it was. "You there!" it called out to Richtor suddenly, craning its neck to face him with the one eye that was not for seeing, but knowing. "You shall be our worthy ally in this, the destruction of this charade," it declared unto Richtor. Though it had no face, it conjured to Richtor's mind the idea that it was inwardly grinning like the devil, eager to bring destruction to Morski's throne. Karla, meanwhile, looked like she'd already accepted that she had no say in this plan of action.

"We've been contacted by a Lord Morski looking for Dreamers to fight in an arena for spectators. He's offering a shard as the prize. We want you to participate in the fight and win us that shard. We will take it off your payment to us for the month, the amount depending on what the shard is. Do we have a deal Syn?" A man dressed in robes asked.

Syn didn't even have to consider the offer. The man's question just for show as they both knew her answer. This was her role. She was given jobs and she fulfilled them, no matter what it may be. Giving the man a look, she conveyed her answer to him. He simply nodded, "in a few days time his men will be here to take you to the arena.


"This one is coming willingly? How'd Lord Moroski manage that one?" One of the lord's workers asked the other who had come with to retrieve who may be the only willing participant of the event.

"I doubt she's anything special. I heard she'll do just about anything for money. Probably a weakling trying to prove themselves." The other responded. He kept walking towards where they were to pick up the dreamer but stopped short when he realized his companion had stopped. Peering back at his companion, he saw him frozen in fear and looking at the roof of the building they were approaching. Slowly turning, the man too froze seeing a monstrous being staring back down at them.

“I thought we were picking up a dreamer not a nightmare!” The first man exclaimed, fear evident in his voice.


“Oh you are, it’s just rude to assume things about others is it not?” A voice came from behind the two, causing the two men to snap their attention behind them to a woman with purple hair. The woman’s hair was up in a ponytail, long curly demon horns protruding from her head as her eyes glowed a purple not too different from her hair. A thud was heard behind them, from the direction of the roof, once more causing them to turn and look back towards the creature who was now approaching them. The two men could do nothing as they were frozen in fear as the creature got closer and closer. But then it passed through them and dissipated into smoke as the woman’s appearance shifted to that of a woman with white hair, shorter horns, and piercing red eyes.

“We should get going so we aren’t late for the event.” The woman, Syn, told the men. Turning on her heel and facing the direction they came from, pausing to turn her head over her shoulder. “Are you two gonna lead the way or not?”

The two men looked at each other then scrambled forwards, leading the way back to the arena for the day’s event.


Syn stood, leaning against the cage and tapping her fingers on her arm, a hooded cloak on her body to hide herself and allow her to observe while not being observed. The dull headache from the crystal was an ever present annoyance as she waited for the event to begin. There had been another who was awake the whole time that she watched for a bit but had gotten disinterested after a while of watching her just cower in a corner. It wasn’t until the others finally began to stir and that Lord Moroski began to talk that she let herself become more alert.

As others took to action, Syn simply observed.

The blonde kicked his door off and then the cowering one began to shake her door only for all the doors to open. The cowering one ran out like the cage was on fire, a look of relief on her face. Then there was a boy staying in his cage, brandishing a metal rod from the cage like a staff. He could be dealt with last. The other two, she’d deal with them when the time came. But seeing as the sky had just cracked open and a large eye was shining a red ray onto a girl and a demon with lots of eyes. That seemed to be the biggest target, the blonde boy moving up in priority now that he was declared the demon’s ally. Especially as it seemed the demon wanted to put an end to the fight before it even began. If that happened, Syn would receive no payment if she didn’t win and bring the shard back.

Syn could not allow the chance to pay for her mother’s treatment this month to slip away. She needed to get that shard and if that meant taking out more dreamers, then so be it. Finally pushing herself off the wall of the cage, Syn walked out of the cage casually moving into the open. She paused when she was closer, the wind blowing the hood of the cloak off her head and revealing her head. Her piercing red eyes mainly focused on the demon but they’d occasionally roam to look at the others awaiting movement or the opportunity to strike. Underneath her cloak, her hand wrapped around the hilt of one of her throwing knives holstered on her thigh, preparing for the inevitable.

Before anything is the absence. An acute empty where the library once filled him. The spaces it lived within eluded him, but he could still feel it; like the phantom pains of a limb long lost. He knew it was the stone beneath the cage.

First comes the breath. Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale. Kass savored it for a moment. Then allowed the rest to come to him, piece by piece. Sound found his ears, and the booming voice told him he would fight, or he would die. He opened his eyes and the daylight washed over him. A moment to himself; to be himself, for a change. As ever, the moment does not last. He needed to remember. They would aid him; they would make him whole again. Hidden within his robes, he produces a piece of parchment.

He knows this is the place of the omen. His omen. And so it is the place he must be, with these people. He doesn’t know them; doesn’t need to. Maybe they knew him; maybe they will take him to his old memories. He doesn’t waste time trying to understand the omen, he knows only he’s reached it. They will lead him back to himself.

He hesitates to step out a moment, savoring the quietude of it all for a moment, before stepping out. The effect is immediate. As the library fills him again, he can feel the memories and the dreams of those around him. Pages flitter about; the names and faces of those who will fix him. One by honor; one by friendship; one by coin.

From Alexandria more parchment comes. It surrounds him, folding in on itself again and again, coming to a single point at the head of a spear. Around his left arm the paper folds into points, rotating about like spikes on a drill. With blade and barrier Kassander makes calmly for the one called Lynette.

The basket fell from Samantha's hands, landing with a dull thud on the worn dirt roads. Of all the days, after all this time, why now? She was being chased by two men; men who she presumed were there to take her back. The mere assumption of having to go back to that place was enough to make her want to vomit and yell. Biting back a blood curdling scream at the thought,the tangy taste of blood from biting too hard slowly seeped into her mouth.

Not a sound, be swift.

She dodged and weaved amongst the crowd, trying to make it to the woods. If she could just make it to the ridgeline she would be golden. There was only a slim chance, she hoped anyways, they knew the area as intimately as she did. Spending close to half a decade here tends to familiarize someone with a place. Sam could run with the best of them. Not much of a fighter but man could she sprint. A left here, just around this building, yes just one more and I’ll b-

A sickening crunch and suddenly she crumpled to the ground. Her ears rang, the taste of blood rushing into her mouth at this point. Metallic, overwhelming.

“You stupid fuck! We were supposed to bring em’ back mostly okay! You dumb..” The trail of swearing trailed off quickly as her eyes fluttered, threatening to close. She had crumpled to the ground, tenderly and slowly reaching to touch her head. She had been hit with something..fuck. She was so close. So so close. Everything went black before she could even let out a word.

When Sam awoke, the world felt bleary. There was so much noise and it was so bright, just too bright. Bright? Then where was she? It was never bright in..

Her eyes snapped open at the thought. Quickly she scanned her surroundings. Of course she was in a cage. However it wasn't where she really thought she was. Shuffling closer to the bars, she gingerly peered out. It was hard to glean off any information based on her immediate vicinity. If it wasn’t for the fact that she was in fact still in a cage, she would almost sigh with relief. At least she wasn’t being dragged back “home”. If this was worse though was yet to be determined.

Sam winced as the loud booming voice spoke to her and the other unfortunate souls in these cages. The resounding static in her ears made it almost impossible to listen to what the man said. She needed to listen though, this could be life or death.

“..you have one great reason to fight!”

Reality washed over Sam like a cold blanket, lighting all of her senses in an instant. Ah. Similar. A blur of movement happened in the corner of her eye, causing her to whip around. A young man broke from his confinement with what looked like relative ease. Sam turned back just as quickly to look at her own door. A fight hm? Being stuck in this cage would be an instant game over. The feeling of claustrophobia descended upon her almost immediately. It was almost like she couldn’t breath, the tightness in her chest threatening to crush her organs. With an almost animalistic scream she kicked at her door and it swung open as well.

Oh thank god.

Scrambling out, she took a defense route and started out further away from everyone. Her whole body was tense and waiting for anyone else to really make a move towards her. She was ready to sprint at a moment's notice.

Goddesses above, she had a splitting headache. What in the hell had happened? Hearing muffled noises around and above her, she slowly blinked her eyes open before hissing at the brightness. She brought a hand to the back of her head and felt dried blood caked at the base of her skull. Furrowing her brows in concern, her eyes slowly took in her surroundings as she tried to figure out what happened. The young woman found herself in a cage and her eyes widened. She pressed her back against the side of the cage as she looked around her. Mickie saw several other people in cages, though some were finding their ways out. She wasn't strong enough to do whatever these people wanted her to do.

Trying to bring on her dream, she found it suppressed and she let out a shaky breath. Captain Mickie was dangerous, ruthless. Her crew men obeyed her every command. Captain Mickie could handle this direction, but Mickie Barlowe was basically just an annoying gnat. She wouldn't be surprised if she was the first one killed during whatever the hell this was.

The girl took a breath and closed her eyes. She needed to channel Captain Mickie to find her way out of this cage. Gripping onto the bars, she yelled out and kicked at the door. Thankfully it swung open, the lock easily breaking. She raised a brow and shook her head before slowly stepping out of her cage. Though, seeing the others around her, she quickly jumped back in her cage and gulped. These people were easily stronger than her. What the hell was going on? She couldn't fight. Not as herself, anyway. She bit the inside of her cheek before deciding to exit her cage. It wouldn't be good to be caught so easily.

Clearing her throat, she readied herself to run. She knew she was fast on her feet and small. She'd have to use that to her advantage.

"Fucking hell..."

Those particularly non magical girl-like words were the first thing Sarah uttered as her surroundings swam into view. Steel bars. One of those infernal rocks embedded into the floor. And, just her luck, a cheering crowd that made her head pound in pain. Of course her dumb costume had let her down yet again, giving those mercenaries the upper hand.

She reached into the dream, attempting to access her wand and healing magic - a possible concussion wasn't something to take lightly - only for her headache to spike. Groaning and pressing her hand to her forehead, she slumped against the bars. She could feel dried blood running down her left temple to her jawbone, flaking to the metal floor from her touch.

Her fingers clenched into fists as the wannabe warlord made the hammiest announcement he could. A show. A brawl. And a reward. Her eyes flicked towards a crystalline gleam she recognised all too well. Something in her leapt at the promise of food and shelter. Literally selling souls wasn't the most ethical line of work, but ethics and survival rarely went hand in hand. She'd had that drummed into her from a young age. Yet the pit of her stomach twisted in revulsion at the thought, an annoying sensation she'd had to deal with since she'd gotten her dream.

The audience's chants, as if they worshipped this 'Lord Morski', exacerbated said sensation. "Fine," Sarah snarled, sweeping her glare over the gathering. "You want a show? How 'bout this?" She flipped off the crowd, which only seemed to fuel the fire as their cheers grew louder, punctuated only by a metallic clang. She stared over at the Dreamer who'd kicked down the door of his cage, the Dreamer she recognised. It took a second or two to place him. The brother of a Dreamer she'd worked with in the past.

"Richtor?!" The moment of bewilderment was all it took for the other doors to swing open. Hurrying out only to fall to her knees as the arena blurred, she closed her eyes and drew upon the dream. Images surfaced in her mind - a pastel hued kingdom, warriors of light pitted against denizens of darkness. In a flash of pink light, a wand that looked like a plastic children's toy appeared in her hand, the tip heart-shaped. As she held it to her forehead, it glowed, the pain fading while the wound closed.

"Anyone else need healing?" She glanced from Dreamer to Dreamer, one of whom stood beneath a formidable being consisting of mostly eyes. She resisted to the urge to shrink back, not fancying her chances against said summoner, to say the least. "Don't get the wrong idea. It's just to make sure it's a fair fight, so don't any of you dare think I'll go easy on you."

Richtor's already pitiful attention span was torn in three directions at least. The big eye monster invited him to be an ally, the guy that was in charge of this whole situation told him to fight everyone, and now a familiar voice shouted his name. He recognized Sarah from his sister's job, but it didn't really make sense for a peacekeeper to be here. In all the chaos he felt a grin begin tugging at his lips as his nostrils flared as he stifled laugh. No matter what, a big fight was starting. If he joins the eye thing and the one that brought it out, he'd get to tussle with a Warlord and his bodyguards...Gah, but that thing was pretty big and probably strong. It even looked like a Nightmare! Option three was to just fight like the crowd expected, which would be fun too.

His shallow thoughts were interrupted by a desperate shout from some stranger charging at him, their arm morphing into an imposingly sharp medical syringe. His slowly growing grin suddenly exploded into a hearty laugh as he turned to face his opponent. "Alright, that's better. That's enough thinking...I'd rather fight anyway!" Richtor's hand was raised to the sky as vague images of metal and lights shot through his mind. Out of those thoughts formed a massive arm with a fist the size of a dumptruck raised towards the sky just as Richtor's were.

The massive robot arm's open palm slap collided with Richtor's assailant, completely overpowering the man and launching him like a ragdoll across the arena. Much to Richtor's dismay, the weakling didn't stand back up. He could see the guy breathing, but apparently he'd just decided to stay down and play dead. It figured that the only one willing to just charge in like that was probably the weakest one there. What even was that dream, a dream based on syringes? Worthless, seemed to be pretty new to their power too if their only plan was to just run in and spear the nearest person.

Richtor 'reasoned' that the only guarantees for a good fight were the big eye thing and the boss guy himself. "Fine, eye-monster thingo, you're on! I want to punch that asshole right there!" He shouted, both his arm and the massive robotic one beside him pointed directly at Morski. The warlord, for his part, simply looked confused and offended by the display. " 'Sides, if he's gone, the shard's free game anyway!"

---

The warlord in question stared on at the battlefield in shock. He'd expected this to be more chaotic than the one on one fights he'd forced dreamers into in the past...but this was getting out of hand. It hadn't been thirty seconds and he'd been challenged by at least two contestants, some of the others were still hiding in their cages, and a couple of them were clearly trying to eye escape routes. Maybe this was a sign that he'd need to be more specific in the future when looking for vict-contestants. Just when things couldn't get more ridiculous he heard one of these Dreamers had just offered to heal the others too, of all the moronic..."For the love of all that is...KILL EACH OTHER ALREADY!" He shouted, causing his nearest bodyguard to tense up slightly at the sudden noise. He could feel his own Dream bristling slightly at the challenges from the fighters on the ground. Who did they think they were? The audacity to decide there was an 'option C' to their predicament in the first place was just unthinkable. "You're all making it really hard to enjoy this, and after all the effort I put into getting it all together. Disrespectful useless weaklings, all of you!" Morski whined, his unnaturally razor sharp teeth visible to any that stared directly at him. He didn't doubt for a moment that he could take any of these Dreamers down himself, but some of them looked at least slightly troubling if he had to fight them all at once.

"Excellent! Let us tear this place asunder!" the many-eyed beast responded to Richtor, clenching its clawed fists. "Yyyeah, could we maybe keep the 'sundering' to a minimum, please?" Karla suggested, clearly expecting the creature not to pay her any mind. Ceol'Oggoth paused a moment, pondered—then, all of its eyes rolled back. "I foresee disaster. A great tribulation by lightning," it declared unto the dreamers. "Only our enemies need be struck, little one," Ceol'Oggoth agreed, seemingly trying to assure Karla. "Yeah, I guess that works."

"Excellent!" Ceol'Oggoth repeated, victoriously.

...But, nothing happened.

Yet.

"...Why do I ever get my hopes up?" Karla asked no one in particular. "Patience, little one. You are yet a young mortal, and lack perspective. In the twinkling of an eye, these fools will be but specks of ash, a mere blemish in the radiant halls of time!" it declared confidently, even as a pair of lesser dreamers not unlike the one Richtor had just made a mockery of cautiously approached the big eye monster that had seemed so intimidating at first, but must now have seemed an easy target.

Now, it was Karla who rolled her eyes. "Um. Help? Please?" she halfheartedly pleaded to Richtor. Something strange happened, though. For just a moment, she saw Richtor differently. She didn't see in the conventional sense, but in a sixth one—who he was, and what he was like, generally—and realized that Ceol'Oggoth was right. He was strong, perhaps just reliable enough to help, and if given the right motivation, just reckless enough to try. "Uh. I can't do much, but I'll try. For what it's worth."