Thread: Dream Runners
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Old 12-10-2011, 06:46 AM
solarrocker solarrocker is offline
Stable Boy
Join Date: Jul 2011
Posts: 87

The night was settling in and the sound of the fire was heard dimly over the crowd of people in the inn of “Last Hope”. Goran sat in the wooden chair, his sword by his side, watching the figures moving in the dim light created by the fire. The smell of burning wood and pipe-ash was dense in the air. As the warmth of the fire was warming his cold hands, for he has been walking in the snow for many days now, he overheard a conversation at a table next to him. Three men were drinking beer, while bragging to each other about the travels they been on. A large bearded man, with a dark scar on his face, was razing his pitcher and drank a large amount of the brownish liquid. He looked across the table with watery red eyes. His hair was red of color with here and there a bit of grass in it. He looked like he just had been sleeping outside all night long because he was too drunk to go home. His hands still looked clean, how this could be still was strange to Goran. The man, after a couple more sips of his beer, began talking to his comrades again.

Yes, I was there that night. Those damn black demons came out of nowhere and just took the poor fellow. Did they now, said a man at the other side of the table, what did they look like? This man looked more like he had hit a wall when he was born. His face was totally flatted out, the nose was more just a large triangle, going from between the eyes to his lips with just two holes barely noticeable for him to breathe trough. Yes I did see them, black they were, dark as the night. Running with a speed unlike I have ever seen before. Spikes over their body, marks of the evil himself I say. They run in large numbers, like wolves they hunt, making this horrible sound. It’s like hearing a thousand birds fighting not to die, it is darkness his own sound. They run in large waves, just seeing them makes you want to flee in terror. Unearthly creatures I say.

But how you know, said the other man. He looked with weary eyes towards the man who was telling this amazing tale. This man with a bald head and a large ring through his nose, made Goran think of a bull far past his golden years. How can you still be alive when you saw these creatures is just amazing, not many have seen dream runners and lived to tell about it? Yes, I seen them, I was hiding in a tree when I heard them coming. They took my horse from me, it just disappeared into them. It didn’t even make a sound.

Goran turned his head back towards the fire. His thoughts began to wonder off. Dream runners, demons of the world, never have I seen these creatures before. Heard about them, yes, many times, but never could I even think they really existed. Though they were a way for the great scholars to still have a job, or to have something to talk about. As Goran was dreaming in his thoughts a man walked in the inn, the sudden cold air that came through the open door woke Goran from his line of thought. The man looked old, gray hair ran down his rope. He looked a lot like a monk, but something was different about him. He looked like he walked all day, and still he had something in his eyes that made him look like he could walk many days more. He looked still powerful for his age, what Goran would guess would be around 60. The man walked into the inn while the door closed behind him. The warmth returned to Goran's hands. The old man looked around the inn, walked to the bar, asked the man behind it something. The man pointed to Goran and said something back to the old man. While the old man walked towards Goran, thoughts began rising up. Would this be another fight, another person who wanted to test his skills he had since he was born.

"Goran, come inside now. Goran looked behind him and saw his mother yelling towards him. Alright mom, I’ll be right there. Goran was practicing with his wooden sword on a scarecrow. The scarecrow looked pretty beaten up from weeks of practice. Mom will need to replace it soon again Goran thought, while he walked towards the house with the wooden sword tugged in his belt. He opened the door and paused for a moment. He felt something, in the air around him, in the ground under his feet. Something was calling to him, like it was a force all around him, or within him. He turned around and looked in the distance. He saw a shadow move quickly into the forest. And the feeling disappeared."

"Imagination is more important than knowledge." Albert Einstein