The Hunt [Shai]

Serrif has an interesting dream and meets an interesting person.

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Herein lies the realm of dreams, where dreamers who are scattered all over the world in the physical can come together in the mysterious world of dreams. Remember, unless one is a Dreamwalker, there is no control over dreams. Ever. Anything can happen, and by threading a dream, you are subject to whomever can walk dreams and the whims of Storytellers.

The Hunt [Shai]

Postby Serrif Von Chatlyn on December 17th, 2011, 1:17 pm

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“I’m good enough.” And then better.” He said with a smile as he looked to this woman whom even though he just met her he was beginning to have a decent respect for. She was skilled in arts he could never master. And her race as a whole was very different from his. But it all went to prove to him that two very different people with the same goal could come together.

He watched through the dark and well his vision was far less than hers. He saw only blackness and slight confusion where she saw opportunity and strategy. Her plan to take out and try for the barracks first was admirable. He believed he had just the thing to try and eliminate those inside. But he couldn’t be completely sure, he had never tested this delivery method before. A smile came across his face as he nodded to the woman before him; she was witty. Yes she was.

“Clever.” He said referring to both her name and play on words. “I am Serrif.” He offered no such pun on his own name as hers was obviously much easier than his.

From a pocket he drew several stubby tea candles and showed them to Shai. “All we need to do is set these in the barracks and light them. They will do the rest. These candles are wax and poison mixed together carefully. When burned the poison will disperse into the air. The smell of the candle will mask the poison and well…the men in the barracks will never wake. The passage to the underground area between the barracks and that unknown building is sealed by a trapdoor so no poison will make it there.”
A man either lives life as it happens to him,
meets it head-on and licks it,
or he turns his back on it and starts to wither away.
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Serrif Von Chatlyn
Never mistake composure for ease
 
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