Lucid Reality

[Daeva]

Story is set in the World of Darkness gameline, whitewolf made that line not me..not profiting from this and all that jazz. Story involves the supernatural, among things. Read, enjoy, provide feedback, or just be left wondering just what the hell is going on. __ Lucid Reality: A Mage’s Tale Prelude What happens when your eyes are opened and you find out you’ve been asleep all your life? What would you do if you woke up and found that you could alter, bend, or shatter the laws of reality and that your imagination was your only limit? Chapter One Over eighty percent of those that came onto the battlefield with him were dead. There was little chance for their survival and if things kept on the same path, he was certain he would be dead within minutes. He could just feel it in his bones, death creeping up on him. He was not scared, or even nervous, like his few remaining comrades; however, he was more than prepared for it. If this was to be his end…he would stand up and fight until he could stand no longer, until his body was shredded by shrapnel or bullets, which ever got it first. A darkness so complete that it was stifling at first overcome his sense. It felt as if the darkness crept into his ears, his eyes, his nose, his mouth…and snuffed out his senses. For a moment, he believed this to be death, but death could not be so cruel as to leave him fully conscious but without senses for all of eternity could it? Calling it, this, death did not feel right though. Slowly some of his senses began to return, but it was as if he was in murky water. There were walls around him, he knew that. He was on his back, something cold and hard beneath him. He shifted his body weight and planted the palms of his hands against the hard surface, using them to help lift and turn his body. He still couldn’t see through the darkness, nor could he hear so much as the tiniest of sounds but for some reason he just knew were things were and that he was alone. The man stood, turning his head to the left and then the right, mostly out of habit. He reached out and found hard, smooth stone. With his still murky senses he followed the wall until he felt a crack in it. A door, presumably, so he pushed and with no small amount of effort it was forced open and thus he was granted sight again. Before him was a surreal scene, like something out of a painting. There was a grand, icy looking river and a marble street that had veins of gold and silver running up and down its length. Far off in the distance there was a massive, black glass tower that seemed to loom over the entire area and all along the street there were crypts and mausoleums. He could only assume he was on his way to the afterlife, in a transitional phase and before him laid the river of Styx…but that did not explain the gold and silver veins or all the valuable coins and blocks of rare metals that were all over the place. He took a single step forward and it felt as if the ground beneath him trembled in response. This caused him to pause and look around again, half expecting to see some other source of the tremble. His eyes stopped on an eerie looking shadow that appeared to have the quality of water with the way it was quivering slightly, back in the corner almost completely out of sight. He took one step towards it and it bolted away, out of sight. This startled him and caused him to backpedal, but in doing so he found that going backwards was more than difficult, impossible even…something was forcing him forward, closer to the tower. With each step forward, the ground trembled and he saw another shade. As he neared the tower, he couldn’t help but feel uneasy about all of the shades around him. They weren’t just shadows; he knew this because when he looked at some of them they appeared familiar somehow…as if he knew them. It wasn’t until he was at the base of the massive black glass tower that it became apparent just who the shades had been; his brother’s in arms. They were passing onto the next life, no more than mere shades in the underworld now yet he…was still bound within his mortal shell. He looked to each of them and then to the base of the tower, seeing all of the names inscribed upon it. He felt that he was supposed to do the same, but was unsure how…he had no carving tools, nothing sharp or solid, that could do the carving. He bent down on one knee, pressing a finger against the cold, black, reflective surface. There was an indention where his finger touched upon it; he pulled his digit back and stared at it for several long moments. Still not quite sure what was happening, but knowing he’d be trapped here forever if he didn’t sign his name, he began to move his finger and when he pulled it away again his name was etched upon the tower. Bullets whizzed by the trench he was in, he looked around frantically only to see that several more of his comrades had fallen and it was now just him and a few wounded men. He felt calm, still, though but now he knew that it was not his time to die and that these soldiers around him had not died in vain. The sounds suddenly became dampened and the vibrant colors of the evening sky in the distance muted. At the edge of everyone’s sight, things blurred and the cries of soldiers echoed in each man’s mind as a prevailing sense of hopelessness that was already present was strengthened. The bleeding corpses around him began to tremble, then rise…still clutching their weapons as they rose up over the edge of the trench and began rushing towards their murderers. Some with limbs blown clean off, others missing large portions of their skull from sniper fire. Their sole purpose to rip the attacker’s limb from limb as their new master sat back in the trench, left in awe at what he knew he had just done...