01-28-2018, 08:30 PM
Once again the demon found himself within the nebulous realm of dreams known as the Astral Verse. This time however, there was no painted girl and there was no city. Instead Kuzuru appeared sitting atop a boulder in the center of a glade. A breeze danced through the trees and nipped at his flesh, drawing out goosebumps. Birdsongs filled the air, underpinned by the buzzing din of insects. Squirrels and other woodland critters scampered from tree to tree each of them completely oblivious to the paragon of murder placed among them. It wasn’t until the demon scanned the heavens that this place appeared to be anything more than a forest. Once his eyes crawled past the horizon the sky gave way to a star-filled void. Vertigo clamped onto the demon and he returned his gaze back to his surroundings.
Instead of the forest he found a desolate wasteland. His boulder was still present, but there was no life in sight. What few trees still stood were nothing more than shriveled husks of their former selves. Dust-covered skeletons littered the cracked clay earth. A harsh gust of wind slapped the demon’s face. He scowled and hopped down from his perch. He sniffed the air and frowned. There was no blood here. The death that surrounded him was the worst kind. It was a lethargic and bland wasting that occured over the course of centuries. Yes he was an avatar of slaughter and he courted the lovely lady death, but this lack of action sickened him. Kuzuru spit onto an animal skull.
“What a boring dream,” he mused and continued to walk through the badlands.
Every step that Kuzuru took sent slight tremors through the clay underfoot. Spiderweb cracks propagated out from his footprints, mulching the clay into piles of red gravel. Spires of twisted stone breached through the earth and climbed towards the sky. These spires morphed into hellish facsimiles of skyscrapers. These towering leviathans were made from the same red clay and looked as if they were made by giant cavemen. A single curved sprouted from Kuzuru’s forearm which he dragged against the stone structures. This horrendous scraping noise echoed throughout the barren city.
“Anyone out there?” he called, raising his voice as loud as it could go.
Instead of the forest he found a desolate wasteland. His boulder was still present, but there was no life in sight. What few trees still stood were nothing more than shriveled husks of their former selves. Dust-covered skeletons littered the cracked clay earth. A harsh gust of wind slapped the demon’s face. He scowled and hopped down from his perch. He sniffed the air and frowned. There was no blood here. The death that surrounded him was the worst kind. It was a lethargic and bland wasting that occured over the course of centuries. Yes he was an avatar of slaughter and he courted the lovely lady death, but this lack of action sickened him. Kuzuru spit onto an animal skull.
“What a boring dream,” he mused and continued to walk through the badlands.
Every step that Kuzuru took sent slight tremors through the clay underfoot. Spiderweb cracks propagated out from his footprints, mulching the clay into piles of red gravel. Spires of twisted stone breached through the earth and climbed towards the sky. These spires morphed into hellish facsimiles of skyscrapers. These towering leviathans were made from the same red clay and looked as if they were made by giant cavemen. A single curved sprouted from Kuzuru’s forearm which he dragged against the stone structures. This horrendous scraping noise echoed throughout the barren city.
“Anyone out there?” he called, raising his voice as loud as it could go.
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