NationStates Jolt Archive

Deep in the dreaming, two dark towers spiraled upwards above a gate of chimerical iron. The skies above were nothing but dark cloud that showed not the light of the sun. The air echoed with the sounds of hoofbeats that did not truly touch the ground. In the dark and clouded air, six dark cloaked horsemen raced along. They did not have winged horses. Their horses simply ran through the air. Their hooves made sounds as though they trotted over dry ground.

The trod from the dark gates led on and on through the mythic realm. It passed out of the craggy gloom of the dark mountains and through miles of desolate foothills. Through miles of swamp and wasteland, the road runs until it finally passes into a dark corner of the far dreaming. There it takes many twists and turn through wood and dale and crosses countless other roads from countless other places. The road passes onto the near dreaming where a large crowd of redcaps made their way deeper into the dreaming. They were dressed mostly in reinforced leather armor. Most of them wore the odd piece of plate or mail, more as trophies of past kills than for extra protection. Their weapons ranged from simple axes to the ferocious hooked gauntlets in which that fierce kith takes especial pride.

The redcaps stopped when they arrived at an open clearing. They step off of the road into the snow. Several dozen eyes peered from a host of grey faces, looking up at a small mound of snow and soil which rose about ten feet above the ground. A crowd of humans began to gather as well. Humans who didn’t belong in the dreaming. Some humans who had come from foreign nations. They were seekers, men and women who thought they loved the dark but knew not the dark. Fools. Cattle. Food. But the redcaps weren’t here for the humans. They were here for he who called them.

There was a rustling in the bushes. A figure stepped forward, climbing on top of the mound. He was a redcap, like those in the crowd. But he was not dressed like the others. He wore black leggings, a purple tunic, and a black cloak. He was not armored. He needed not armor. “My children, my following, my worshipers...” he began “...it is I, your lord and master. You have all heard the tidings abroad in the world. A time has come again for winter. We will march and cross blades with our enemies. We will drive peasants before us, devouring their wives and children. The world is ours for the taking and we shall take it.” The redcap raises a hand violently in the air. “We march.”

The redcap leader leaps from the bank of soil and snow. Turning towards the road, he begins to march. The human crowd moves after him, excited. The leader smiles, a vicious, terrifying smile, before he turns. “But first, we feast!”

The creature leads the charge of his own followers, tearing a chunk of flesh from a man’s neck with his harsh teeth and quickly swallowing. Soon, the other redcaps follow suit. The humans scream and flail. They had thought they were fiends and warriors, worthy to fight alongside their bloodthirsty masters. To their masters, they were never more than food. The meal was finished in moments. Not so much as a single bone remained of the once large crowd of humans.

In a place far away in the dreeaming, a place of light and shadow, a citadel of knowledge, a gleaming crystal tower stands above a rolling hillside. In the highest level of the tower, the lights shining in from the world outside casts rainbows and shadows upon the great throne room. The crest of House Eiluned is prominently displayed above the throne.