In My Dreams I Am Still Whole

[DM Erebus]

I am walking down a corridor. The air is sepulcural, like it hasn't been breathed for a thousand years. I leave footprints in the tomb-dust as I go.
I have my harpoon in-hand, my trusted weapon that has served me well. It wants to work again, I know. I feel it too.
We go deeper into the catacombs, together, my weapon and I. Man-shaped things lurk just out-of-sight, I hear them rattle and shake. My harpoon trembles in anticipation; but we are not hunting old bones.
The ocean is close. I hear the roar and retreat of the waves, soft and assuring as a mother's heartbeat to a babe. It is the sound I have always known, and it leads me to where I need to go.
Now the tomb is a cliff-top. A lonesome hanging-tree clings to it for dear life. Beneath it the cliff plummets on forever, towards the ocean infinitely below. I go towards it, between tufts of hardy grasses that thrive in the coarse salt air.
I take my harpoon in both hands; yes, both hands, and catch glimpse of what is written on them, but I cannot understand it. We're close now. Our prey waits just beyond the tree.
I'm ready. I let rip a triumphant cry that sears my throat with its ferocity and charge. It won't get away, not this time. I won't let it get away.
I hammer the grass as I run, leaving footprints in the tomb-dust. Blood pounds in my ears, like the roar of the waves. It won't get away, not this time.

Not this time.

.. No, not this time.

And I wake up.

[DM Erebus]

I am in the chapel. The rough stone of the walls is all around me. Each block is a different shape, and no two are alike, but they fit flush together without so much as a maiden's breath between them.
I look up, see them rise high above me, but never quite meet. They might go on forever.
I look down and I'm not alone. A man kneels in the centre of the chapel, his back bare and bleeding. A river of blood pours down from the welts in his skin, flowing between the cracks in the floor beneath my feet.
I go towards him. The chapel echoes with the wet thuds of larch against flesh. The blood pulls at my ankles, ever rising but I won't be deterred. Far off, a peal of thunder from shakes the stone. Deep below there is an echo.
The flagellant looks up at me. His face is familiar, but I can't tell from where. He hands me the spattered whip, which is now lash of knotted leather. He says to me 'Belong'.
I take the lash unsurely, but the strands move all of their own accord, like kelp-fronds in dead water. The knots are the suckers of an octopus now, and each one the many-fanged mouth of a lamprey. It coils around my arm, lurching ever-upwards. I panic, I try to run but my feet won't follow.
I look to the bloodied priest; he has no words of comfort to offer me, only a rusted cutlass.
I take it in my other hand and line up my blow. It will take more than one good blow I know, but I have no choice. The whip-kelp-octopus will drag me down to the depths, if I don't.
I grit my teeth, close my eyes..

And wake up.

[DM Erebus]

I am on a mountainside. The sky above me is wine-dark, burgundy clouds tinged in copper by the setting sun. I can hear the thunder moving away, growing ever-fainter. The storm has passed.
The black-haired girl is here. So too is the Lamordian. He is shouting at her, and his shouts are muffled peals of thunder that grow fainter. In her hand is a silver dagger, with which she strikes at her own shadow, over and over and over and over.
I am aware of another presence. It is difficult to define; a dreaded man-shape formed of vapour.
My weapon is in hand and I circle it, and it circles me. It knows my movements, knows me better than I know myself. Its beady eyes watch me, anticipating. Its long claws paw at the air, taunting.
It strikes, and we tustle. Its frozen breath reeks of ammonia. The mist-rat is famished, wild and desperate.
I throw it off and roll away. My blood is up now. My vision narrows; all I can see is the wispy shape of the mist-rat as it prepares to go another round.
It launches itself into the air, but I am ready.
I meet its gaze as it sails towards me. I see the instant it knows it has doomed itself, when the look of the confident predator vanishes, replaced by a frightened prey. It knows that I have bested it.
I step back and drive my harpoon into the creature's spine, spearing it to the mountainside. It shrieks an unhuman shriek of wind and screaming metal. And it dies.
I retrieve my weapon. I wipe misty ichor from its tip. I know something is wrong.
There is a jolt, then a shudder. Loose stones skid between my ankles. The mountain is collapsing, I cannot keep my footing. I scrabble for something to hold on to, but there is nothing. Nothing I can grip. The waves are lashing below me, laughing, crying.
I start falling, hurtling down the mountainside to the ocean that consumes it. I fall faster, and faster, and just as I am about to hit the towering water..

I wake up.

[DM Erebus]

I am on the water. Chill wind burns my lips. Salt cakes my hair. I am home.
We're gathering speed. Faster, I tell my steersman. Faster, faster!
I twist my harpoon in my grasp. The wood is knotted, carved with roiling serpents and bare-breasted sirens. It beats like the heart in my own chest.
Surf licks my face as we crash through the waves. Ahead a shape rises and falls in the water; my quarry.
I know this is where I belong. Whatever cruel-minded god shaped me from mud and cast me into this world never meant me for land, for men. I am home on the water. Just a hunter and his prey.
We're gaining. I see the shape its its back as it rises and falls. Its thick skin is crusted with barnacles and all the sea-filth of ages. Great spars of wood jut from its side, like broken masts. It is more like an island than a whale.
I shall kill it all the same.
I am ready. Blood thumps in my ears, my vision narrows. I lose the sea, the horizon. All I see is my quarry, my everything.

My steersman brings us astern of the whale-island. Our boat rocks, threatening to shake apart in its wake. I will not be dissuaded. If this boat should fall apart about my feet, then so be it. I will have my quarry.
My steersman shouts something, but I do not care to hear it. With a roar I throw myself from the bow as it finally sunders into firewood.
I sail through the air, my harpoon held in my grip. I will kill the whale-island, as majestic and terrible as it is, even if it means my death. It matters not.
I feel the weapon puncture its skin and meat, then into its bones. Still it sinks, further and faster, faster and further.
It is diving! Back to the briny deep from whence it came. But I will not relent. I close my eyes, take my last breath..
And wake up.