Reclamation

Reclamation was a fantasy MMORPG in development by Lyra Studios. A sequel to Underlight, the game was intended to set players in a dream world and give them much control over the game environment like its predecessor. This would include allowing players to be in-game Teachers, who write the quests, as well as others in political and economic roles. Few NPCs would be present, and there was a heavy emphasis on roleplaying. Reclamation was cancelled after Underlight was shut down, although a new version of the original game called Underlight: Shades of Truth was rebooted by players and Ixios Development.

Lyra Studios announces Reclamation

Lyra Studios is working on a fantasy massively multiplayer role-playing game with a strong emphasis on role-playing. First screens inside.

By Justin Calvert on May 26, 2004

Los Angeles-based Lyra Studios has today announced the development of Reclamation--a fantasy massively multiplayer role-playing game in which players will be rewarded with personality points for role-playing as their chosen character. The game is currently in the pre-alpha stages of development and, according to Lyra Studios, will boast a number of features that are rare or unheard of in the genre.

"Our goal is to create, promote, and foster a dynamic role-playing environment, where characters are someone and where their actions truly matter," said Jason Kramer, producer on Reclamation. "We are aiming to create small, tight-knit communities, where role-playing is enforced and where players are given frequent and meaningful role-playing opportunities not found in other games."

Reclamation will be set in the Dream City of Underlight (Underlight being the title of the company's first product, released in 1998)--a place frequented by those with the rare ability to be awakened, who are known as dreamers. Monsters known as nightmares will also be present in the world and will even be controllable by players using a "pay-as-you-play" scheme.

Non-player characters, it seems, will play little if any part in Reclamation, with all player quests being generated by other players. Character types supported in the game will include leaders, followers, storytellers, warriors, teachers, hunters, mystics, and explorers, although it's suggested that players will be able to assume any role they wish in the game with a little imagination. Combat in the game will be first-person and in real time, and while player-vs.-player combat will be supported, it will only be encouraged through legitimate scenarios.

Concept Gallery

Prolouge

"A city? In a dream?"

"Oh, yes! It was a society all its own where people of different cultures, and even different worlds, could meet and share their knowledge. The City of Dreams used to be a very important place to some. These ruins used to be one of their buildings. I think it was called a Sanctuary," he said nodding knowledgeably.

"A Sanctuary? Why would they need one of those?" I asked, gazing around.

"They needed the Sanctuary because they didn't always get along. You see, here in the Dream you can gain power." He made the flinging-whooshing gesture again. "That can go to your head, you know." Fitzhune shook his head matter-of-factly.

This made me remember the man in the forest. "I saw someone else earlier."

"Who?" he asked, his eyes narrowed suspiciously and he began to look around with wild twists of his head.

I described the hulk of a man that had somehow thrown me across the woods.

He immediately waved his hand dismissively. "Oh. That's Cron. He's another reason you have to be careful."

"Oh?" I asked cautiously.

"Yes. Supposedly there may still be some relics from back then. Artifacts of power. He's determined to find them, if there are any. I was looking myself, but I've never found anything. Yep, he's quite determined," he finished with a slight laugh.

"So what happened?" I inquired.

"Huh? Happened to whom? Cron? I thought you just saw him."

"No, to all the Dreamers. To what this place used to be."

Fitzhune shrugged. "No one knows. There could have been some great Dreamer war where they all killed each other. Or the Chaos," he swept a hand to indicate the pulsing mist above, "could have crashed down, destroying everything and everyone. The Nightmares could have even killed everyone..." he finished.

"Um… What is a Nightmare?" I asked becoming slightly worried again.

Fitzhune's smile faltered. He looked at me and asked, this time adopting a worried tone, "Where exactly did you say you saw Cron?"

"Well, I'm not sure. It was over that way-" I explained, pointing.

Fitzhune stood up suddenly and began looking around nervously. "What if he was hunting?" he said to obviously to no one in particular. In his mind, I was no longer there. "If he was hunting, that means there's probably one nearby."

"One what? A Nightmare? What exactly is a-"

A roar issued from the other side of the ruins that made us both jump out of our skins. Out from the undergrowth slithered a towering creature with rubbery, glistening black skin and white razor spines down its back. Cold red eyes glared from its demonic face and four short tentacles writhed in place of a mouth. The Nightmare, because that is what it had to be, had a muscular, humanoid torso with long, powerful arms ending in scissor-like claws. It slithered purposefully toward us on its hideous serpent-like lower body. Its claws clattered together in anticipation, as it whispered to me in a raspy voice. I felt my bowels begin to loosen when I realized it actually spoke my name.

Cloudsbreak

Bentis smoothed the ancient and tattered piece of parchment carefully. He dipped his quill in the inkhorn and began laboriously to recopy the faded words…

The true nature of Cloudsbreak remains a mystery. Before people learned to dream, they believed that their own small worlds, surrounded by the Boundary Mists, were all that existed. Now they know that there are many worlds; some so small that one may ride from edge to edge in a day or two, some large enough to require a handful or more of days to cross from Mist to Mist.

Each small world, now called a shard, is bounded by the Mists. Whether the Mists are only a few handspans or miles deep, they are impenetrable. Explorers on many shards have tried to penetrate them and all have failed to emerge again.

With no possibility of physical contact, the people have never learned whether all the shards are part of a single larger world, or completely separate tiny worlds. All those who have learned to Dream are of a similar human type, which suggests that the shards may be part of a single world. If so, the shards were separated long enough ago that no known culture retains even the vaguest legend of a time before the Mists.

Isolated on their shards and with limited land and resources, the people of Cloudsbreak developed their own cultures. On the smaller shards of Cloudsbreak, all one can do is try to produce enough food to survive through hunting and farming. Some few of the larger shards have learned to exploit what resources they have of metals, but none have advanced past simple tools and machines.

With limited possibilities for development in other directions, many of the people of Cloudsbreak turned to mental and spiritual disciplines. For untold millenia, nothing changed. Then came the breakthrough. Then came The Awakening.

The old monk carefully rolled up the parchment and put it into his scrip. He folded the sheets on which he'd transcribed the ancient history and concealed them within the dullest book of sermons in the monastery's library.

It was several days before Bentis dared go back to the scriptorium and continue his work on the ancient fragments of parchment. Once again, he chose a cold, cloudy day when few of the brothers wished to write in the semi-dark.

The Awakening

No one knows who the first person to achieve the awakening was. What is known, however, is that it had a radical effect on the shards of Cloudsbreak. Those who have achieved the awakening fall asleep on Cloudsbreak, and enter into a lucid dreaming.

The Dreamscape is a realm of swirling chaotic energy. This energy was drawn from the incoherent dreams of the unawakened people on Cloudsbreak. Those who have achieved the awakening can come to consciousness in this place. At first, they were formless, lost in the tumultuous energy. They could hear the voices of others, and tried to speak themselves, but had little success. They could sense the presence of other Dreamers, but could not make contact.

Gerrial Endeth was the first dreamer to craft an avatar, a form out of the chaos. She gathered some of the ambient energy and used it to craft and maintain a stylized body around her consciousness. Bolstered by her success, others began crafting avatars for themselves. In these more stable forms, Dreamers could meet and recognize one another. And having learned to manipulate the essence of the Dreamscape, they began to impose structures upon it.

The Dreamers who would become the Master Dreamwrights learned to visualize an equivalent of solid matter within the Dreamstate. So powerful and disciplined were their minds that they were able to project their visualizations to other Dreamers and have their illusions accepted as real and solid places.

The first place crafted was the Hall of Voices. It was a sheltered place, where dreamers could come and speak in comfort. At first, the Hall was enough. The dreamers would meet and share tales of their shards in Cloudsbreak. They would exchange ideas and thoughts. But as time grew, and more dreamers awakened, the Hall was too small. The Dreamwrights began to expand. They crafted their own world, their own city in the Dreaming. And thus was formed the City of Underlight.

The second parchment copied, Bentis concealed his transcription in another of the volumes of soporific sermons written by a long dead abbot. He flexed his cramped and chilled hands and left the dim scriptorium.

Spring planting intervened and it was weeks before Bentis again had the leisure to return to the scriptorium and continue his secret labors.

The Golden Age of Dreaming

The city of Underlight was a wondrous place: the dreams of Cloudsbreak made into a reality. A large land, where people could wander freely, meeting others they had never known before. They had the ability to form their avatars in whatever shape they desired, and were able to become whatever they wanted to be.

The Dreamscape itself flourished. Houses rose and fell. From the chaos beyond the city walls, malevolent beings the tales called 'Nightmares' invaded, bringing fear and danger to the dreamscape. Great wars were waged between opposing factions and beliefs. More and more dreamers achieved the awakening, and brought with them new ideas and sciences. Civilization in both Underlight and Cloudsbreak flourished.

The Dreamers became valued people on their shards in Cloudsbreak. They brought new ideas to their people, told wonderful tales of events on other shards and in the Dream. Often, only one or two in a given shard would achieve the awakening. As the main sources of knowledge and entertainment on their shards, they were treated with honor and respect. Often they were not required to do everyday tasks, such as raising crops and doing chores. Many societies would take care of them completely in exchange for the gifts the Awakened brought to them.

For most, the Dream quickly became more important to them than their lives on Cloudsbreak. They would lie in bed sleeping the majority of the day, waking only to clean and eat, and share news with those on their shard. From lack of physical exertion, their bodies began to weaken,. For some dreamers, merely getting out of bed itself became a chore. They found themselves at the mercy of those around them, depending on them for life as the unawakened depended on them for information.

With a sigh of regret, Bentis rolled up the last tattered scrap of parchment. He stared unseeing at the transcription for some moments, then dipped his quill again and began to write….

I have copied all that I have found of the history of the Dream. The old, torn parchments had been concealed in the bindings of books in the monastery library. My copies too will be hidden in the hope that one day someone else will find them and take up my search for the rest of the story.

No one now living knows what happened to the Dream and the Dreamers. How did it happen that Dreamers were once the pampered elite of our society and are now feared and reviled?

All my life I have been cursed with the ability to Dream; to walk those empty halls, to see the proud Houses, the majestic rooms of Threshold, the closed and enigmatic Library of Souls. Far from the throngs of noble lords and great ladies who once ruled and fought in the Dream, my fellow dreamers are few and as furtive as I have had to be.

None of us knows the ending of the story. Only that on all shards we know of, Dreamers are hunted and slain when found. All of us have heard dark tales. Some whisper that the Dreamers brought their wars home with them. Some tell of famines and diseases caused by Dreamers. Some claim that Dreamers ran mad and slew their Unawakened families and friends. Some say that the Unawakened were driven mad with envy and slew the Dreamers in their midst.

And so we have only dark whispers and rumors. We dream rarely and in as much secrecy as we may. We scavenge for scraps of tales and histories. We trade our meager information and try to piece together a tale lost and suppressed by generations of fears. We ...

Bentis stiffened at the sound of the doorlatch and quickly shuffled his sheet of paper into the stack of sheets beside him. When the door swung open, he was bent over a different sheet, devoutly recopying the deathless words of a long ago saint.

The Dreamer Wars

"Master Bentis, look! A new dreamer!" Nightwing smiled at her friend and mentor as he walked up the stairs to the Fountain of Wishes, "This is Termish. It's only his second Dream."

Bentis smiled to Nightwing, Skandren and the young man with them and said, "Welcome to the City of Dreams, Termish. I'm sure Nightwing and Skandren have been making you welcome."

Skandren nodded and replied, "We've been hunting and we've just been telling him about the history you found, Master. Have you found more to tell us?"

Bentis nodded and settled himself on the rim of the Fountain of Wishes, "Indeed I have, my friends. Termish, if your shard is like all the rest that we know of, Dreamers are no longer admired but reviled and even hunted. But as Nightwing and Skan have been telling you, it was not always so. We've lost much of our history since so few of us Dream anymore, but I've been searching for records in the library of my abbey. I found two more parchments, very torn and fragmentary. They describe quite an early period in the history of the Dream, I believe."

Termish nodded and sat on the terrace with the other students, waiting to hear the tale.

As Bentis opened his mouth, the portal chimed and a tall woman entered the room. She strode quickly up the stairs and nodded slightly to the group sitting there.

"Good dreams to you, Alkinia," Bentis said politely, bowing from his seat.

"Hello Bentis, Nightwing, Skandren," replied Alkinia, "I don't believe I've met you, young man."

"I'm Termish, ma'am. Just started dreaming the other night," replied Termish.

Alkinia nodded and took a seat near Bentis on the rim of the fountain, "I suppose you've dug up some more musty old history?"

Bentis nodded and began to speak, "Some while after the great Dreamwrights had wrought avatars and many parts of the City, a newer breed of Dreamer began to enter the Dream. These younger Dreamers began to question the purpose and nature of the Dream itself. Two major schools of thought emerged: Freesoul and Illuminate. These beliefs are still important today, Termish. Illuminates believe that the Dream is in some sense a real place to which their souls travel. They believe this means that events in the Dream can have real effects on their waking worlds. Freesouls, on the other hand, believe that the Dream is only a Dream, a place of the mind and imagination which can have no effects on the real world outside of those wrought by their own minds."

Alkinia snorted, "How anyone can look around the Dream and not realize it's a higher plane is beyond me. And of course it has real effects on the waking world. Why else are we persecuted now when dreamers were once regarded as prophets and seers?"

Bentis replied, "Myself, I think that it happened because of ideas that Dreamers brought home with them. "

"On my shard they say that Dreamers got above themselves and tried to dictate to the Counts how they should run their lands," observed Nightwing, "That surely sounds as though it was ideas rather than a physical effect."

"But on my shard, there are tales of an illness spread by Dreamers," said Termish, "and how could an illness be something strictly of the mind?"

"Perhaps there was a sickness that people only blamed on the Dreamers," suggested Skandren. "It often seems that when people want someone to blame things on, they look for someone different. There was a boy in my village who had the name of troublemaker and so he usually was blamed for things, even when he couldn't have done them."

Bentis smiled at his student and nodded his head, "That may well be true, Skan. And I fear we do not have enough information to solve the problem."

"Only because you reject the information we do have!" exclaimed Alkinia, rising to her feet and stalking down the stairs and out the portal again.

Bentis shook his head and watched Alkinia stalk out. He said, "I'm sure there were many discussions like ours in the great days of the Dream. But there also arose more heated and violent discussions. My parchment records that there was something called the Totality Summit at which Keminar of Faraway and Trinxan the Illuminated fought a great duel in the Amphitheatre of the Sphere."

"Who won, Master?" Termish asked, his eyes kindling at the thought of great champions battling.

"The parchment is badly torn and I cannot read any more of that piece. The next parchment records that the duel did not settle anything permanently because groups of dreamers began to fight with one another. There was no death in the Dream, so many of these Dreamers abandoned all restraint in evoking arts and using their blades on one another. Mohteq the Elder formed the Order Patrol to try to suppress the open fighting between the Freesoul Knights and the Illuminated Front, but it was too late.

"The feuds grew and multiplied and Dreamers grew in abilities until no corner of the Dream was safe and peaceful anymore. Threshold was the scene of almost constant combat as the factions fought to take and hold the various rooms."

"Threshold?" asked Nightwing, "Was Thresh not a sanctuary back then?"

"It seems not," replied Bentis, "The parchment says quite clearly that there was fighting within it."

He continued, "Then one of the greatest achievements of the Dream happened at one of the worst possible times. A group of Dreamwrights had begun to experiment with manipulating the essence of the Dream into other forms. One of the greatest of them, Poantes of Vorsage, created the first talisman of power: an "elemen." He learned how to forge an item out of one of the elements of the Dreamstate in its purest form. Using these elemens, Dreamers were able to restore themselves much faster than they had ever done before.

"Another of these Masters, Aybol the Determinus, perfected a means of capturing in a talisman the evoked energies of an art, thus forging the first alterors. Others of their associates learned to forge items with other effects and abilities. These Dreamwrights who specialized in the creation of items became known as Dreamsmiths.

"The new talismans had an enormous impact on the Dream. Now, powers that once took months to master were available in talisman form to anyone. Arts that had been the prerogative of specific foci were now available to Dreamers of all foci.

"At first, the Dreamsmiths tried to limit the production of items. Many refused to supply them outside their own clans and factions. However, Markosh the Dreamsmith developed a process which he called "spawn-shaping." He treated areas of the City which possessed specific energies and created "essence fonts" which regularly spawned an endless supply of talismans of power. Markosh jealously guarded his process and the secret of creating essence fonts died with him.

"With talismans freely available, groups of dreamers began to hoard the best of them. The first faction to accumulate a significant surplus of items was the Srechethan Kabal, a shadowy group which had always coveted complete rulership of the Dream. However, their opponents were numerous and quickly armed themselves as well.

"The Battle of Sunroof Cavern opened a new phase in the Dreamer wars. No one was safe anywhere in the City. Dreamers collapsed their enemies on sight. There was no death in the City, but a Dreamer's power could be eroded by multiple collapses. With this objective, the warring factions attacked one another endlessly in their attempts to dominate the Dream."

Nightwing shivered, "I'm glad I didn't dream in that age," she observed, "It sounds a terrible time."

Termish smiled at the young woman, "Aye, but what a time to be a warrior! Are there tales of the great battles, Master?"

Bentis shook his head, "Not on these parchments, young firebrand. The second of them ends here. I will continue to search for more. I've persuaded my abbot to allow me to travel to other libraries in search of more saints' lives. We will see if other abbeys also preserve memories of the Dream."

Dreamstrike

"Master Bentis! It's been so long since we've seen you that I was starting to worry!" Nightwing ran up to her mentor, but stopped short when she saw the look on his face. "What is it, Master, what have you found?"

Bentis looked up at the young woman and her friends and managed to smile slightly, "Dreamstrike. I found a parchment that tells of the invention of Dreamstrike."

The little group looked at one another and Termish asked, "What is Dreamstrike?"

"A terrible art that's been lost. The last dreamer who knew it ceased to dream long ago," Bentis replied, "But while it was known, it could end someone's dreams forever."

They turned as the portal chimed and admitted Alkinia again.

"Why does she always turn up?" Termish whispered to Nightwing.

Nightwing whispered back, "There are hardly any other Dreamers around anymore. I think she's lonely. Besides, she wants to convert us all to Illuminates."

"So Bentis," Alkinia said, "More ancient history?"

Bentis nodded, "A terrible tale, this one."

Skandren asked, "Please tell us, Master. However terrible, it is a part of the Dream's history and it shouldn't be forgotten."

Bentis sighed, but he nodded to the young Dreamseer and said, "This parchment seems to pick up where the ones about the Dreamer Wars left off. I had to copy far too many dull saints' lives before I found this one, but you're right; it is an important part of our history.

"The bloodshed of the wars became so widespread that the Master Dreamwrights took alarm. Their great creation, the City of Dreams, was being turned into a City of Carnage by the warfare. One group of Dreamwrights, led by Hartisan the Red and Turgin Lambent, decided to put an end to conflict once and for all. Their group would become known as the Dreamstrike Masters."

Nightwing shivered and moved closer to Skandren, who put his arm around her shoulders. She smiled at him and said, "Please go on, Master Bentis."

Bentis nodded, "I'm sure this parchment was written by an Illuminate. He says: Dreamstrike is the ultimate punishment any person can suffer, for it causes not only death of the body in the Waking World, but also the soul of the Dreamer. It is true death, final and complete."

Skandren raised an eyebrow, "He seems very sure of that. How could he possibly know?" "Perhaps then more than one dreamer came from each shard," suggested Termish.

Bentis shrugged, "Perhaps. But I think it is more likely that he's simply quoting what the Illuminates believe about it. As Alkinia will tell us, they think their souls come to the Dream, so it would be logical for them to believe that their souls could be harmed here."

Alkinia snorted, "You foolish Freesouls keep refusing to see the truth! When we dream, our souls come to this plane where we have the chance of advancing to the Overlight. But we risk all for that chance. If our souls are stricken here, our mere physical bodies in the waking world can only die."

Bentis nodded, "To a Freesoul, however, the effect of Dreamstrike would have to be mental. I would think that it must somehow interfere with one's ability to achieve the higher state of mind necessary to enter the Dream,"

"It makes you forget how to dream?" suggested Termish.

Alkinia shook her head "How can you be so blind?"

Nightwing added, "That would have seemed terrible enough to the old dreamers. When the City was full of life and excitement, it would have been a dreadful fate to be barred from it forever. Perhaps it would have seemed like dying."

Bentis nodded in agreement, "Even now, I would hate to be barred from the City and my friends here."

Nightwing nodded in agreement and moved a little closer to Skandren.

Bentis smiled at the young dreamers and continued, "With their art perfected, the Dreamstrike Masters entered Threshold and moved through it as a group, collapsing and Dreamstriking Dreamer after Dreamer. This infamous surprise assault, the Dreamstrike Offensive, changed the Dream forever."

"The boldness of the warring clans became fear as they were forced out of Threshold. They retreated to the far reaches of the Dream and their Dreamwrights began constructing great fortresses to guard themselves. An uneasy peace settled over the Dream as the Dreamstrike Masters occupied Thresh and the other factions entrenched themselves in the lands beyond. Roving bands of Dreamers still clashed when they encountered one another, but the Dreamstrike Masters would sally forth and 'strike anyone collapsed and floating on a battlefield. Major battles ceased, but this was only the calm before the storm."

The Nightmare Wars

Bentis sighed wearily as he trudged up the ramp and into the Threshold of the Order of the Sable Moon. He spent most of his days copying both lives of obscure saints and such remnants of Dream history as he could find. His nights were spent in the City relating the histories to his students in the hope of preserving the precious memories. His waking body was old and growing frail and he had begun to fear that it might fail him before he could finish his task.

He evoked Locate and smiled to see that his young friends were at the Fountain of Wishes.

Nightwing, Skandren and Termish were playing in the waters of the Fountain, but as soon as Bentis entered, they stopped and turned to their Master.

"Another tale, Master?" Nightwing asked.

"Oh yes," Bentis replied, mounting the stairs and seating himself on the rim of the Fountain, "Another tale of disaster and doom."

"And battles?" Termish added.

Bentis smiled wryly, "Battles enough, even for you, Termish.

"Many of the Master Dreamwrights were angered by the coming of Dreamstrike. Far from seeing it as a solution to the Wars, they believed it posed an even more terrible danger to the City. A group of them, the Entropy Coalition, secluded themselves and began to study ways of countering Dreamstrike. They turned to the study of chaos energy in hopes of finding a way to tap that energy and turn it against the Dreamstrike Masters. But their attempts to manipulate that energy would have disastrous results.

"The creation of the City had imposed Order on a portion of the raw essence swirling within the Chaos. As Chaos strove to destroy this kernel of Order, the forces beating against the City walls had intensified. The work of the Entropy Coalition upset the delicate balance that had been achieved and weakened the Walls of the City. Small rips and breaks tore the fabric of the Walls; holes just large enough to permit creatures of chaos to enter the City: Nightmares.

"The first eruption of the nightmares into the City became known as the Day of the Savaging. Masses of Mares rampaged through the City, collapsing every Dreamer they encountered. No place, from the outermost keeps to Threshold, was safe. The hideous carnage wrought by the Mares stunned and horrified the Dreamers and forced them to organize and cooperate… for a time."

The portal chimed, and the group at the fountain looked up resignedly as Alkinia entered and came up the stairs towards them.

"Sour old bat," Skandren whispered to Nightwing.

"But a lonely sour old bat," Nightwing whispered back.

Making the best of it, Bentis smiled and said, "Welcome Alkinia. We’re talking about the Nightmares this Dream. I found a history which tells of the Entropy Coalition tampering with the walls and giving the Mares access to the city."

Alkinia nodded and took a seat on the edge of the Fountain.

Bentis continued, "The first step toward protecting the Dreamstate from the Mares was taken by Klin Benfar, one of the greatest of the Master Dreamwright Elders. He developed the first Sanctuary; an area whose ambient essence prevented any aggressive actions and caused searing pain to any Mare who entered it. Klin Benfar and his apprentices constructed sanctuaries throughout the Dreamstate. These sanctuaries finally gave the Dreamers safe places from which they could mount their stand against the destructive tide of Nightmares.

"But still the Mares swarmed throughout the City and travel remained perilous. The various factions of Dreamers banded together to deal with the Mares. They fortified their keeps, equipping them with Sanctuaries and armories. Guards posted themselves to keep the Mares from overrunning their Houses. Regular patrols were formed to hunt and collapse the hordes of Mares."

Nightwind shivered, "It must have been a horrible time!" she exclaimed.

Termish’s eyes were glowing and he replied, "Terrible and heroic! I wish the old chroniclers had told more about the battles."

"At least now we know why they were able to fight in Threshold at first," observed Skandren, "There were no sanctuaries at all before Klin Benfar."

Bentis nodded, "Good point, Skan. I’d forgotten we were wondering about that the other dream."

Bentis continued with the tale as he remembered it from his transcription, "As House organization grew stronger, their philosophers attempted to discover just exactly what these vile creatures were and how the Dreamstate might be freed from their threat. In an effort pioneered by Relminius the Blind, philosophers throughout Underlight began to study the essences left behind when Mares were collapsed. The most influential scholars of Mare essences were the Trinity Brothers, Bajo, Medio and Gato, who developed three of the major methods used to dispose of essences.

"For a time, the problem of how to combat the Nightmares occupied the Houses even above their differences over the Freesoul versus Illuminate question. The Mare threat was ever-present and acute and forced the Dreamers to suspend their internal wars to face their common foe.

"To stem the tide of Mares flooding unimpeded throughout the City, a group of Master Dreamwrights led by Syriand the Graceful and Lagumbar Staggern developed a means of fencing off sections of the Dream from one another. They developed "portals" at strategic locations. These portals operated on the same principle as sanctuaries and were impassible to the Mares. Later, a group known as the Seekers of Knowledge learned that being contained by portals made the ambient essence within an area easier to harness. This eventually spawned new types of Arts meant to take advantage of these areas of effect. It also led to the development of one of the most significant Arts ever created: Join Party."

"I never knew that there hadn’t always been portals in the Dream either," remarked Skandren, "the early Dream must have been very different. And not just because there were a lot more Dreamers."

The others nodded, and Bentis continued, "Syriand and Lagumbar, assisted by an alliance of Dreamwrights and Dreamsmiths, moved through the lands, segmenting them with portals. They started at Threshold and worked their way outward through the various planes, including even the Great Houses at the far reaches of the planes. As they worked, they were guarded by patrols of Dreamers who collapsed all the Mares in each "room." Thus, the rampaging hordes of Mares were cut down. They were still able to enter at certain spawn points, but the portals prevented them from moving freely through the Dream. The Nightmare Wars were over, but one of their most powerful legacies was just being created.

"Even as Syriand and Lagumbar finished construction of the portals, a new artifact was under development in House Calenture. The reclusive Dreamsmith Master Zordon and his group, the Forgers Circle, building on the research of Gato Trinity, were completing the creation of a new kind of talisman which would forever change the Dreamstate: the Orb of Calenture.

"The Orb was an entirely new kind of artifact, for it could take the essence of a Mare and banish it from the Dream. The creation of this artifact angered those Dreamers who believed that banishing was not the proper way to handle Mare essences. Even those groups who agreed with banishing envied Calenture the possession of such a powerful artifact. Soon the Dreamsmiths of the other Houses learned to create artifacts which could dispose of essences in the ways that suited their beliefs. These prime artifacts were held sacred to the Houses as the Dreamers found ways to use them in ritual and ceremony."

"Are there any of these artifacts left?" Termish asked.

Skandren shook his head, "All the Houses have fallen and no one knows what became of their treasures."

"And yet, it sometimes seems as though there’s still something alive, at least in some of the Houses," Nightwing said, "I feel it when I go to Sable Moon. Sometimes it feels almost as though there’s someone there who wants to tell me something."

Bentis nodded sadly, "We’ve lost so much since the great days. Sometimes I find it hard to believe that the ancient dreamers could have been so careless with what they had. Everything seems to have set off more wars.

"The new prime artifacts were no exception. The creation of sanctuaries and portals had ended the worst of the Nightmare Wars. The Houses were left strongly defended and well supplied. And now they had a new reason for hostility. For a time, even the hostilities between Freesouls and Illuminates took second place to the controversies over the handling of Nightmare essences.

"Because the handling of essences is simply a part of the beliefs!" Alkinia exclaimed impatiently, "We know that our souls come to the Dream, not even a Nightmare can enter this plane without a soul. Since they are creatures of the Chaos and have no souls of their own, they steal the souls of the unawakened to gain entry to the City. When they are collapsed, the souls are still trapped and must be properly disposed of to free the souls."

Termish blinked at her and asked, "But if there are no more prime artifacts, how can you free the souls now?"

"We cannot," Alkinia admitted, "Therefore we do not hunt. It is a terrible thing to leave those poor souls trapped within the mares, but it would be worse still to destroy them entirely by collapsing the mare and leaving the soul to die, trapped in the essence."

Bentis continued, "At first there were minor skirmishes and heated debates, then two of the most powerful houses in the Dream, House Calenture and Dreamers of Light clashed at the Battle of Rock Falls. Calenture were Freesoul banishers and the Light were Illuminated imprisoners, and that day they fought over the fate of the essences stored in their prime artifacts. When the battle was over, two rulers of the Light had been Dreamstruck.

The City of Dreams was poised on the brink of another all-out war. The Houses took advantage of the portals to seal off the parts of the lands they claimed for their own, mounting patrols which would attack and collapse enemies who trespassed. Daily skirmishes became the rule again and the Dream braced for the coming conflict. The reality of what was about to happen was far worse.

"And there, the present parchment ends!" exclaimed Bentis.

"Oh no! We have to find out what happened next!" Nightwing exclaimed.

"I will keep searching, my friends. Many of the books in the library I’m working in now seem to have loose parchments between their pages and in their bindings as padding. I’m hopeful that there will be more histories here," Bentis assured them.

The Great Loss

Bentis sat in his usual spot on the edge of the Fountain of Wishes. This dream, the name of the Fountain seemed ironic. He wished he had not found the latest parchment with its terrible history of loss and destruction. Rather than seeking out his young friends, he waited for them to locate him and come to ask about his research.

The first chime of the portal admitted Alkinia, who came up the stairs and took her usual seat a little distance from him on the fountain's rim.

"You look tired, Bentis," she observed.

He sighed and nodded to her. Their beliefs kept them from being friends, but they had known one another for many years. He acknowledged to himself that he would miss their arguments if she ceased to dream. That realization made him smile wryly as he answered, "I've been copying so many dull saints' lives for such a small trove of Dream history. And the latest one is even more terrible than the others."

Before Alkinia could reply, the portal chimed again, admitting Nightwing and Skandren. The younger dreamers ran up the stairs and bowed to the elders waiting for them.

"Why so gloomy, Master?" Skandren asked, "Have you found no more histories in the library?"

Bentis sighed and answered, "I could wish I had not found this one, my friends."

The students sat at their master's feet and Nightwing urged, "Tell us anyway, Master. We've lost so much. Even the sad and terrible stories should be preserved."

The portal chimed again and Termish came running up the stairs to join them. "Good dreams, my friends! I've been smacking the agos around and only just located you all. More history, Master Bentis?"

Alkinia glowered at his mention of hunting, but unusually for her, forbore to comment.

Bentis nodded and began to relate the tale he had just transcribed, "It began on a day much like any other in the City of Underlight. In Threshold, experienced Dreamers met with the Newly Awakened. In the Houses, meetings were underway, guards were posted and Dreamers came and went. In the lands, roving bands of Dreamers fought over their beliefs while other Dreamers hunted mares and collected essences.

"And far out on the edges of the Dreamstate, a team of Master Dreamwrights and Dreamsmiths called the Overscanners were trying to find a way to repair the City walls and keep the Mares out once and for all. Under the leadership of a Master Dreamwright Elder named Ibioc, the Overscanners made ready to attempt their first repair.

"The Overscanners began by entering a group meditation and reaching out with their minds to probe the weakened sections of the City walls. They did not realize how much the Walls had been weakened by the meddling of the Entropy Coalition. Where once the City had maintained a balance between the forces of Chaos and Order within and without the Walls, now the forces fluctuated wildly. The City of Dreams, a tiny island of Order in the surging seas of Chaos was under severe pressure and perilously close to rupture.

"And that is exactly what happened. Before the Overscanners realized what they had done, the City walls blew apart and a tidal wave of chaotic consciousness flooded into Underlight. In the space of a heartbeat, the Overscanners were torn asunder, their minds overwhelmed by the chaotic forces.

"The Dorsal Rift was born."

Nightwing gasped in horror and moved closed to Skandren.

Skandren put his arm around her and observed, "For all their power, a lot of those ancient Masters seem to have been awfully reckless. It seems like they were willing to try anything they dreamed up, regardless of what might happen."

Bentis nodded slowly, "It does look that way, for all the chroniclers seem to admire them. It gets worse.

"The monstrous wave of consciousness slammed through the Dream, blowing through the portals and rushing toward Threshold. Dreamers caught by its sudden onslaught were also destroyed, their minds shredded by the waves of raw psychic essence. The wave hit the Houses and even their mighty walls could not hold it back. It poured through Sanctuaries destroying Dreamers before they could so much as scream. Within seconds, every single Dreamer in the city was utterly slain.

"The City itself began to shake and crumble as the Dorsal Rift grew. As those who had not been dreaming at the moment of disaster entered the City, they found utter carnage: the Dreamstate rippled with raw, uncontrolled power and the death essences of Dreamer and Mare alike littered the lands.

"Struggling against the continuing waves of energy, all the surviving Master Dreamwrights fought their way outward toward Dorsal Rift. Freesoul, Illuminate and Free spirit alike joined in a last desperate effort to save Underlight. The City was being pulled apart and would soon be lost if some stability could not be restored. All that had been accomplished in the Dream since its first days was on the verge of being destroyed.

"The surviving Dreamwrights did as the Overscanners had done that very day: they joined in a group meditation and began to focus their will on the Rift. They reached out, grasping the edges of the rift, stopping it from spreading, pulling it closed. For hours they labored to gain control of the deadly forces, pulling the Rift closed, struggling to push the Chaos from the City. At last came the moment when their heroic efforts were within a hairsbreadth of success: the Rift was almost sealed.

"In that moment they were lost again. Again the Master Dreamwrights had failed to understand the pressures within and without the City. In the instant they made their last thrust to evict the chaotic energies and close the Dorsal Rift, a second Rift blew open on the opposite side of the City. Caudal Rift was born in a second tidal wave of consciousness pouring through the City. Again, chaotic energy surged through Underlight, destroying all in its path. Teams of Dreamers attempting to repair the damage of the first eruption were caught and destroyed by the second. The last of the Master Dreamwrights were collapsed and shredded within seconds.

"This Dream of terror became known as The Great Loss. Almost every Dreamer alive was killed that day, leaving only those few fortunate enough not to have been dreaming at the time of the great eruptions. Underlight would remain almost empty for many months till more Dreamers awakened in the lands of Cloudsbreak and took up the work of rebuilding the shattered City."

There was a stunned silence when Bentis finished speaking.

Finally, Termish asked, "How could they all be killed by something that happened in the Dream?"

"It must have been like Dreamstrike," mused Skandren, "a shock so violent that it destroyed their ability to Dream again. I've known people who had something so terrible happen to them that their minds couldn't accept it and wiped out the memory completely."

Nightwing nodded slowly, "And perhaps some of them really did die of the shock. If they believed strongly enough that what happened in the Dream could kill their souls, then perhaps it did so. There are witches on my shard who can curse people to death, and whether it's the witch's power or the power of the victim's belief, some of them do die."

"You never understand, you foolish Freesouls, even when the answer is in front of your faces." Alkinia said, shaking her head. "Their souls were slain by the chaos wave that hit the City and their empty bodies died in the waking world."

Alkinia crossed her arms, and looked away. Those who looked closely could see the beginnings of a tear fall from her eye, as she stared quietly at the eclipse in the sky.

Lament for the Passing

The woman sat on the top stair, her back to the portals that no longer spun. She gazed out at the empty, beautiful room, remembering.

"They say talking to yourself is a sign of madness, but there's no one else to talk to anymore," she muttered. "Where did they all go?" She shook her head sadly, "So many lost in that stupid war. Dreamstruck, never to be seen in the City again. Stupid, stupid, stupid! So intent on their idiotic war they never noticed the Dream emptying around them."

She rocked back and forth on the stair, her voice rising, "So many gone. Just gone. Dreaming one day, then never again. Where are you? Why did you leave me? Drenthan! Xaria! T'rassa! All of you gone.

"The House closed. I tried, but I couldn't keep it open alone. Hunting, bringing in essences to strengthen the Prime. Genning, even for things I can't use, but hoping that someone would Dream again and be glad of Seer Chaks and Will eles."

"And this Dream," her voice broke and she covered her face with her hands.

"This Dream," she continued, "the House portal from the Courtyard wouldn't let me in. I came the long way. Ran all the way up from Thresh. I knew. Long before I got here, I knew. But I had to see for myself. My crest gone. The one I swore to wear till the end of my Dreaming. The portals still and dead."

A portal chimed and she looked up listlessly. A dark figure strode down the stairs from the far entrance, across the courtyard and partway up the stairs, "So your House is gone too," he said.

The woman looked down at him and said bitterly, "Aye, for all I could do, one member wasn't enough to keep it open forever. I suppose you've come to gloat."

Slowly, he shook his head, "No. When I saw you run through Thresh, I guessed what had happened. At first I felt triumphant that the last Freesoul House had closed. But it wasn't just the last Freesoul House; it was the last House in the Dream.

"They're all gone now. No more Houses. Scarcely any more Dreamers.

"My House had a legend, an ancient ruler who went mad. He claimed we were all endangering souls by dreaming, wanted to rid the Dream of all the Dreamers. He's so long dead that we're not even sure of his name anymore. Whoever it was, no doubt his ghost is happy now."

"What happened, Malven? Where did they all go?" she asked.

Once there was a Place

“Once there was a place,” the old woman whispered, “a better place than this. A beautiful place, and strange. Where we didn’t spend all our time grubbing in the earth.”

The girl looked fearfully around and asked in a low tone, “What are you talking about Gran?”

The old woman rocked back in the rickety chair, her hands always busy with the coarse wool and wooden knitting pins. She looked at the girl and whispered again, “A dream, it was a dream. But it seemed so real, realer than this place. Even in ruins, it was better than this.”

The girl looked around again at the small, bare room, the hearth of mud and stone, the wooden walls. It was all she’d ever known, and until now she’d never thought if it was good or bad. It simply was. All the houses in the village were similar and she’d never been more than a day’s walk from the village.

“Just a dream,” she said softly, “And what’s the use of dreaming?”

“Once….,” the old woman replied, “once it was a great thing to Dream, to walk those halls and learn strange lore and visit with folk from beyond the Mists.”

The girl snorted, “You can’t go beyond the Mists! Everyone knows that.”

“The Dream was somewhere else. No Mists. And folk came there in dreams, not walking through the Mists,” the old woman retorted. “Once it was a great pride to a family to have a Dreamer. Now you keep your tongue still in your head and you don’t tell none but maybe your closest kin.

“The great days are gone, the Great Houses closed and dark, the great Rulers and Teachers dead and gone,” the old woman looked down at the coarse shawl she was knitting and sighed.

The girl opened her mouth to reply, but before she could speak, a loud voice from outside the cabin called out. “Nan, where are you, girl? Get out here and tend those chickens! They’re in the garden again!”

Nan scrambled to her feet and ran outside to chase the greedy birds.

The rest of the day passed in the usual round of chores. It was not until she lay down on her pallet in the loft and pulled her blanket around her that Nan remembered her grandmother’s words

A better place than this, she mused. She remembered the peddler who’d come by a few months ago. He’d had things such as she’d never seen before; strips of fabric in colors like flowers, rings made of metal as shiny as ice. Her father had snorted and turned away: nothing in the peddler’s pack that he could use.

But Nan had hung around, looking at the bright wares and listening to the man’s chatter.

He’d been as far as the City, the peddler claimed, “Where the houses are all stone and the streets are stone as well. And lasses wear ribbons like these, and jewelry as well.”

Now she wondered if her Gran’s dream was like the City, with stone houses and everyone wearing pretty ribbons and fine things.

Nan blinked and looked around her. She stood in an open space, a pool in front of her, two graceful stairways arcing up to either side. Everything appeared to be made of large blocks of dressed stone, no mud, no dingy rotting wood. She blinked again and remembered her grandmother’s tale of a City of Dreams.

Hesitantly, she stepped forward, wondering if she dared set her dirty feet on those fine stone stairs.

Fruits of Knowledge

"They used to worship me,” I say to myself, looking down upon the island.

For the past two years, I’ve made my home in the upper mountain, overlooking the forest and beach. The wind is perilous, and the cold air chills my bones, but even that is not nearly as painful as weathering their hateful stares once again.

I look down on the island, and see my people. One tribe has placed its village on the beach. Boats go out every morning, returning at sunset laden with fish. The waters around the island are plentiful, as the mists have gathered scarcely a mile off the shore. Even the fish are smart enough to know that anything venturing into the mist never returns. Their houses are made of bamboo and leaves, both of which grow in abundance near the shore.

The other tribe has made its home in the forests and lower slopes of the mountain. A nomadic tribe, their homes are made out of animal skin and branches. During the cold winter months, they seek shelter in the caves of the mountain. The mountain provides them with stone and ore, which they have used to great benefit. They have crafted magnificent tools, with which they hunt their prey.

The two tribes often come into conflict. This island is not small, but neither is it large enough to give both tribes the room they desire. At least once a year, they meet in battle. A bloody conflict rages for weeks. The woodland tribe wreaks havoc with their sharp metallic weapons. The sea tribe takes to the water and launches volleys of arrows at the hapless people on shore. No one truly ‘wins;' they just kill enough so that the island isn’t crowded anymore. Then they each pull back to their village, rebuild, and wait until next year.

And it is all my fault.

I am a dreamer. Did I mention that?

Once, there was only one tribe. The tribe wintered in the caves, and spent its summers on the beach, sailing and gathering food for the long winter months. Everything was happy and peaceful. It was a communal society; everyone helped everyone else. The old and infirm were well taken care of, and the children were watched over by everyone.

I had been born with bad eyesight, only able to see clearly a few feet in front of myself. This deficiency was not a slight one in our society. Without being able to see clearly, I could not aid in hunting. I could not read signals from people on shore. I could not serve many of the more useful functions in our society. Our society cared for me, however, and I did my best to return that care. I became the tribe’s Loremaster, keeping track of past stories and tales, and telling them to the generations to come after me. Such work expanded my imagination, and I loved every moment of it.

Then, I began dreaming.

I learned wondrous things in the City. I spoke with people from other lands, beyond the mists. I learned their technology. I told them of my island. They referred to them as ‘shards,' the small sections of Cloudsbreak that had been divided by the mists. My mind swelled with information, and I dutifully brought it all back to my people.

My people listened in amazement as I told them my findings. I told them of wells, how one could dig deeply beneath the surface of the earth and find water, even far from the known rivers and streams. I told them how some shards had found a way to use the stone and rocks in the mountain to create wonderful tools and devices that made our way of life much easier. From a wizened old dreamer, I even learned the secrets of crafting glass using the sand along our beaches.

They also listened when I told them of the great wars that took place in the City. They listened when I told them of rank and caste. They listened when I told them how some of the dreamers acted only for themselves, with no concept of community. They listened when I told them of houses hoarding talismans away from dreamers. They listened when I told them of political intrigue and espionage.

The secrets of glass intrigued me, especially when the wizened one told me of how certain curvatures of glass could aid in eyesight. I immediately set out to work. Whenever I was not telling stories and tales to my tribe, I was out at the beach, building fires and attempting to craft glass. I was so blinded by my desire to see, that I did not notice the changing attitudes of my people.

When I finally put on my glasses and saw the world clearly for the first time, it was only to see how far my people had fallen. Where we had once been a peaceful and happy society, we were now torn by strife. My people fought amongst themselves over which was better to live in, the mountains or the beach. My people fought amongst themselves over how to raise their children, and care for their elders. My people fought amongst themselves over how to distribute the food and goods created by their labors.

And whenever I looked at my people, I felt them stare at me with hatred, for bringing about these changes in their lives. Each glare rankled my heart until I felt I could no longer bear the pain. On that day, I packed my meager belongings and departed from the tribe, voyaging to the top of the mountain; the one place I knew I could live without further disrupting their society.

From up here, I sit and observe my people. Every day, I watch the two tribes grow more and more distant and hateful toward each other. Every day I watch, and remember that worms may infest even the sweetest fruits of knowledge.

Alone

Through the window of the inn, Catague watched the clouds crashing together. Tendrils of lightening flashed across the heavens as torrents of rain fell from the sky. Rivulets ran through the mud trails of the town, and more than one wagon was left stranded, buried up to its wheels in the quagmire.

Catague shook his head, imagining the losses this would bring to him. None had forewarning of the storm. It came from beyond the mists to the North, giving the town little warning. The farmers had scurried out to their fields to gather what they could of the crops, but with barely a day to work before the rains came, not much was gathered.

Even now, this year’s crop of Beakswheat and Shamscray were out rotting in the fields; their stalks blown over, leaves torn by the biting winds. Catague had managed to get enough stored up to pull his family through the winter, but many families would be hard pressed.

Catague idly wondered if some lesson might be learnt in this somewhere. Just this very month, a great war had broken out in the City of Dreams. He’d spent so much of his time embroiled in the city beyond, that he’d neglected a great many of his duties on his shard. Indeed, he’d been one of the last to hear of the coming storm, and had barely managed to get enough harvested for his family.

His thoughts drifted to his dear wife Riva, who had been deeply concerned at how much he had been sleeping lately. The ancient stories told of dreamers being vile, despicable beings, and he’d never managed to bring himself to tell her, though he’d yearned to since he first set foot on those pearled stone steps leading to the gates of the city. He could not bear the thought of seeing the hurt and disgusted look on her face should he ever let his secret slip. And, of course, there were other concerns.

As if on cue to Catague’s thoughts, the chair next to him was pulled back and a plump, portly fellow sat down heavily, making the seat squeal and strain under the pressure.

“Ahh, bad turn of luck we’ve all had this season, ‘eh Catague?” the large man said, folding his arms and resting them on the table.

“Indeed, Bartold.” Catague said, shaking his head sadly. “I fear for some of the families of the town. Halcomb Miller was ill the day the storm approached, and wasn’t able to get afield. Luckily, his sons were able to get some stored away, but I doubt it’s scarce enough to tide them through. Worse off would be Widow Dunbraey. Her son Sanctul was off in Charceyville when the storm blew in, and their entire fields are left to rot.”

“Ah, yes.” Bartold replied, shaking his head. His weighty jowls rolled beneath his frown. “Sad how some people are unable to plan well for the future. One never knows when the unexpected might happen, or past debts come due.”

Catague started, and looked at Bartold in shock.

Bartold merely smiled darkly.

“Yes, I’m afraid you’ve guessed correctly, Catague. I’ve come to speak with you on repayment of the loan I supplied you with to purchase seeds this fall. As I know you are not in possession of the eighty-nine Dracnas required to pay it in full, I’ll be willing to take, in lieu of your payment, 30 bushels of Beaks wheat.”

“But Bartold!” Catague gasped, “I only managed to harvest 40 bushels of Beaks wheat from my fields! If I give you 30 bushels of that, my family will starve!”

Bartold steepled his fingers, and looked menacingly at Catague.

“Yes. And if I had not supplied you with the Dracnas required to purchase those seeds, your family would surely have starved anyway.”

“Bartold, I can not do as you ask me.” Catague stated simply, but firmly. He wasn’t a violent man by any means, but he would not allow this blustering bully to sentence his family to starvation and death over the coming winter. “I will, however, assist you in hunting, trapping, and foraging. I feel that all of us in the town will have to work together as a strong community if we are to survive this season. This ill fate has afflicted us all.”

“No!” Bartold blustered. “I demand payment of your debt in full, by tonight!”

“I refuse.” Catague said simply. “I will help you through this season, Bartold, but I will not throw away my family’s lives simply for your comfort.”

Bartold glared at Catague for a moment, jowls quiverring, then his demeanor abruptly changed. His face relaxed, and a smile crossed his face.

“Perhaps there is something I should tell you, Catague.” Bartold said quietly, leaning forward. “I am a dreamer.”

Catague blinked, and his heart leapt uncontrollably. Was this someone that he could share his experiences with? Was this finally someone who he could tell of his experiences in the wonderful city beyond?

“Yes, I am a dreamer.” Bartold continued quietly. “And as a dreamer, I insist that you pay my debt to me. Immediately.”

“But Bartold, I just said…” Catague began, but Bartold interrupted him by slamming a meaty fist down on the table.

“Did you not hear me, mortal?” Bartold hissed, glaring at Catague. “I am a dreamer, I say!”

Catague’s joy at the prospect of talking to another of his kind began to fade into bewilderment.

Bartold leaned across the table, narrowed his eyes and snarled, “Do not cross me, or I will release horrible nightmares upon you and your family. Death will be NOTHING compared to what I will do to you.”

Catague’s jaw dropped at this preposterous threat, but before he could say anything, Bartold continued.

“I’ll force your daughter to dream as my slave. The nightmares can have the rest of your family, but your daughter will serve me in my palace in the Dream!”

Catague’s heart, which had risen to such heights, fell as a stone. This man before him was no dreamer. This man was simply seeking to profit from the lies and misconceptions about dreamers. He was just a bully, trying to use the myths to threaten others.

Catague pushed his chair back, ignoring the shocked look on Bartold’s face. He pushed his way past Bartold, leaving him sputtering in shock and outrage, and walked outside. As he made his way through the rain, the words kept ringing through his head.

“I am a dreamer.”

Catague was grateful for the rain at that point, for no one could see the streaks of tears falling down his face.

Hestus' Forge

Clang! Clang! Clang!

The incessant ringing sounded throughout the valley, even reaching as far as the mists atop the mountainside. In the small village at the foot of the hills, few paid it any heed. Even the animals around the mountain went about their business, undisturbed. The sound of Hestus’ forge was commonplace in the shard.

The noise originated from a small cave on the side of the mountain. Even through the midday sun, one could see the heat radiating from the opening. Yards from the entrance, your average farmer would be overcome with exhaustion. Deep inside the cave, however, stood Hestus, next to the roaring inferno of his forge.

Hestus was the tool-smith of the small village of Dinashae. Lining the entrance of the cave was a retinue of hoes, the light from the flames of the forge making them glisten. Several pairs of shears were hung on a series of poles nearby. Two massive scythes dwarfed the display, their blades unsoiled by the dirt and dust they would soon be exposed to once they were distributed for labors.

Directly next to the fire stood a short, barrel-chested man. His muscles were tightly bunched, and he held a large hammer in his hand. Again, and again, he raised the hammer above his head, and slammed it down on the anvil in front of him. A curved strip of metal glowed cherry-red, and sparks flew all around as he struck it. His ample beard displayed several spots where it had been charred and burned from these stray sparks.

With each successive strike, the thought kept running through Hestus’ head, “This is so much easier in the Dream.” The curved strip of metal slowly began taking shape in his hands. This was to be the first of a set of sickles, used alongside the scythes in harvesting the grain crops.

As often happened while working at the forge, Hestus’ mind began wandering. The repetitive strikes lulled him into a sort of daydream, while his mind mulled over the actions of the night before.

On his shard, Hestus was but a simple blacksmith, working to craft implements to make people’s lives easier. In the Dream city, however, he was a Dreamsmith and ruler of a powerful house.

Hestus’ beard parted as he gritted his teeth, a scowl crossing his face. He continued pounding the curved piece of metal before him with even more force. Last night’s dream had been far from pleasant.

Halfway through the night, their house had been invaded by a newly formed guild, intent on taking over the house. The new guild had planned their assault well, waiting until their entire membership was dreaming before moving out. They had spent the previous few nights scouring the dream, and seeking out talismans to aid them in their conflict. They were well stocked indeed, bearing many powerful chakrams, as well as elemens to supply the immense powers they released in the initial assault.

He and his housemates had been pushed back into the interior of the house, making their stand far within its chambers. As the invading forces pushed their way through the defenses and dreamstructs placed to protect the house, Hestus had committed all of his energy to crafting tools and weapons to aid his house. The process left him very weakened in the dream, but he handed out chakram after chakram to his initiates.

The battle lasted several hours. The invaders had pressed into the heart of the house, but hadn’t had enough time to begin corrupting it. With the power of the house itself, they had forced the invaders out.

He knew it was only a temporary respite. The attack would continue this evening. The attack was likely continuing even now, while he was awake. Hestus had faith in his members, however. He had faith that they would keep the house from falling to their foes; or, if the house did fall, he had faith that they would band together and reclaim it.

Hestus’ thoughts came back to focus on the strip of metal before him, and he let the hammer fall to his side. He sighed, and shook his head. Reaching down, he picked up the piece of metal, and glared at it. Then, he threw the strip of metal into the forge, spitting after it.

The metal strip fell to a rest in the hot flames of the forge. The curved, metal strip that had been destined to become a sickle had been pounded straight and edged, into a short sword. The red flames of the fire glistened off the blade, resembling blood, before the blade began melting down into a shapeless pool.

Hestus threw his hammer down on the floor, and stomped out of the cave, anxious to get home and go to sleep.

The Threat

"A task can be almost anything that you think will interest your student and help him grow." Davanna leaned against the wall and smiled at her apprentice, "One of the most important things is to talk to your student. Find out what they've done, what they like to do, even what they don't like to do. Many of the best tasks come from that conversation."

Renmur nodded, "So you don't send someone out to hunt if they hate it?"

Davanna chuckled, "Find out why they hate it. Are they just not very good at it yet, or do they have reasons not to hunt? Some dreamers are convinced that `mares are living creatures with as much right to be here as we have. Some are just clumsy and not used to using their blades.

"With a clumsy student you can make the task to come hunting with you and learn to blade well enough to collapse Bogroms without getting collapsed themselves. With the one who has moral objections, you make the task something more thoughtful."

"Like why they think Emps and Bogs are living things?" asked Renmur.

Davanna nodded, "You could work something out on those lines. Write me up a task you could use in that situation."

Renmur grinned. He'd known that was coming; Davanna always wanted him to turn his ideas into quests. He evoked Quest and stood for a moment looking at the blank parchment in front of him. As always, there was a second or two of panic that nothing would occur to him, but he quickly passed that and began to scribble.

As he'd been trained, he paused to scan over the finished task and make sure it said what he intended to say. He nodded decisively and handed the result to his Master.

Davanna unrolled the little scroll and read: Find evidence to support your belief that `mares are living creatures. Emps and Bogs whisper to us all the time. Find out what they're saying. Do they all say different things, or just the same phrases over and over? Does this suggest intelligence or just some sort of automatic response?

She allowed the scroll to refurl and nodded, "That's good if the student thinks lesser mares are intelligent. But some people believe pond scum is alive and has a right to stay that way, even if it's not intelligent."

Renmur grimaced, "I've run into dreamers I'd describe as pond scum. I'm not sure they have much right to live, and they're certainly not very intelligent."

"Had another run-in with the Calenturi?" Davanna inquired.

"Oh yeah, they're really pushing for a fight," Renmur replied, "I think they're behind this Aspirant Guild that's suddenly sprung up to challenge us. It's just too convenient that Terwin leaves Calenture one dream and 3 dreams later is one of the founding Rulers of a new Aspirant that has its greedy eyes on us."

Davanna nodded thoughtfully, "Undoubtedly you're right. But we're strong and they still only have their 10 founding members. It'll be some time before they're ready to Declare War on us."

"I'm still going to keep an eye on them," Renmur told her, "There've been a couple of other powerful Cals hanging out with Terwin lately. It could be just old friends chatting, but it still makes me suspicious. It'd be pretty easy to demote them from Calenture and initiate them into the Aspirant just before Terwin Declares War on us."

"And so we'd be facing a much stronger Aspirant than we expected," Davanna nodded again, "It's very possible. We should certainly keep an eye on Terwin's comings and goings. And definitely keep checking the territories in our Sphere of Influence. We want our Spirit Defenders as strong as possible when Terwin and his gang come after us."

Renmur nodded and said, "Doesn't look like we're going to get many customers for tasks just now, I think I'll do a little tour of our borders. That font in the Lagoon was giving me some really nice chakrams the other Dream."

"Good idea," Davanna replied. "We're going to need lots of good weapons some dream soon!"

Renmur saluted and began casting his protective arts, "Good dreams, milady. I'll keep an eye out for some good chaks for you."

"Safe paths, Ren," Davanna waved, then turned and passed through the portal to the house of the Gathering of the Entranced.

One of the oldest and most respected members of the Gathering, Davanna had always refused ranks within the house. She preferred to remain a Teacher and Mentor and devote her dreams to teaching and training up new Teachers. Even though she wore only an initiate's crest, everyone knew that the Ruling Circle of the house respected her opinions and often accepted her suggestions.

As she paced the corridors of the house, she pondered their position. It was always a worry when an Aspirant Guild formed to try to take over a house. The Gathering was strong and it seemed so far that the Aspirant was weak. But Ren was right, she thought to herself, it's very likely Terwin still has HC behind him.

At that moment, in a little-frequented sanctuary, Terwin was meeting with several other Dreamers.

"How's recruiting, Ter?" asked one who wore the crest of a Ruler of House Calenture.

Terwin lounged in the window embrasure and grinned, "We've attracted some promising new dreamers. They like the idea of a new regime in a house. And a few Free spirits with grudges against some of the current Gathering members have asked about joining us.

"But they won't be more than cannon fodder. Our real strength is going to come from loyal Calenturi who've agreed to assist in removing the old regime and establishing a Gathering that will be a good ally for HC."

"You'll have your members," Ferdan, the Ruler, promised. "We've some ambitious youngsters who want rank but won't get it soon at home. They're willing to take a chance on a new house. And if you play them well, they should stay loyal to the old house that gave them their chance."

"And if their ambitions cause problems, I'm the one who gets to deal with them, not you," Terwin finished.

Ferdan grinned cheerfully, "You wanted to be a Ruler, Ter. A lot of Ruling is about dealing with ambitious underlings."

Terwin shot a suspicious glance across the room, but nodded. Instead of commenting on Ferdan's statement, he asked, "How are you doing with whittling down their territory? Especially if I have to take a bunch of younger dreamers in, I'd as soon their Spirit Defenders are as weak as possible."

"We're going out tonight to try and detach an area from them," Ferdan replied. "About 10 of our people have agreed to stay late and attack the Heartstone. We should be able to reduce its affinity with them enough to detach the room entirely from their protection."

"Great! That'll help us a lot next week," Terwin said, "Although once we take over the House, we'll want your help to get back most of their present lands. We'll need the strength then to defend ourselves. Be a real pain to have taken the house and then have them able to snatch it back from us!"

"Once they don't have a house to hide in, we'll keep Argenor and his little crew far too busy to bother you very much," promised the third member of the party.

Terwin raised an eyebrow and commented, "That sounds pretty personal, Nola. You don't like Argenor much?"

The other Calenturi Ruler glowered at him, "No, I don't. And the reasons are personal, so don't even ask. I'll be very happy to see Argenor and Davanna homeless."

If there was a trace of mockery in Terwin's bow, it did not show on his face as he said, "Very well, I won't ask.

"Do you want us to help with the Heartstone?"

Ferdan shook his head, "No, that would make the connection between us a bit too open. They probably suspect already, but we may as well not confirm it for them just yet."

Terwin nodded and stood up from the window ledge, "My Concealment is about to run out, so I'll be heading back to Thresh. You never know when good recruits might come along."

The Fight for the Heartstone

Much later that same night, small groups of warriors began making their way up the Basins of Stars. The groups gathered two rooms short of their goal for the night and clustered around their leader for last minute instructions.

“Remember we’re going in by parties,” Ferdan said, “No shooting at anything till we’re actually in front of the target Heartstone. As soon as the first shot is fired at the Heartstone, it'll send its defenders after us. Remember, no one else can see the Sending that attacks you, so the best we can do is try to heal you. Once your Sending is down, make sure the rest of your party is ok, then start attacking the Heartstone. Soulmasters will stay here to heal their parties.

“Gerrol, you run through first and stand watch two rooms up. If any GOTE show their faces, give a yell and fall back to the main battle.

“Everyone top up your protections and let’s go. Party One at the ready!”

At about the same moment, in Threshold, Davanna cast Sense Dreamers and noticed that the Middle Basin of Stars was second on the list.

“Argen, any reason our people would be clustering on Middle Basin right now?” she whispered to the Ruler standing beside her.

Argenor shook his head and whispered back, “Not that I know of. Locate some Calenturi and let’s see what’s up.”

The two of them discovered that a number of their enemy were dreaming but Concealed. Argenor whispered, “Want to bet who’s got Middle Basin up on Sense? Let’s see who we can round up to go down there and check it out.”

Argenor ran through the portal to the House and Davanna did a quick circuit of Threshold to collect House members and allies who were still dreaming.

She entered the House with her recruits and reported, “We met a hunting party from the Light who were keen on hunting some HC instead of ‘mares. They’re going to run up the Basins and try to take the Calenturi from behind.”

Argenor nodded, “Great! I’m sure they’ll have their healers stationed a room or two away from the fighting. If they’re lower on the Basins, the Dreamers of Light can have fun taking them out.

“Remember not to get in the way of the Guardians. We won’t be able to see them, and we don’t want to shoot them ourselves! Concentrate first on the dreamers who’ve stopped fighting and are trying to heal. Everyone get arted up and let’s go greet our visitors!”

As a Gatekeeper, Renmur was busy casting protective arts on his housemates. He paused long enough to salute Davanna, then returned to his casting. His friend Kalamir, a Soulmaster, helped by Donating Will to keep Renmur supplied.

The group sorted itself into parties, each with a Soulmaster for healing, then started down the plane. Their first encounter lasted only seconds. Argenor, Davanna and Renmur burst through the portal almost simultaneously and one blast and two chakrams made short work of the Calenturi scout. As Return tore the scout away, the rest of the Gathering parties entered.

“That was an HC scout,” Argenor reported grimly. “No doubt he’s given warning. Let’s get down there and find the rest!”

They charged down two more rooms and burst onto a strangely surreal scene. The Heartstone guardians, invisible to everyone but the Dreamer to whom they’d been Sent, were still putting up strong resistance. Chakrams flared and blades flashed as the invaders battled the Sendings. Most of the Calenturians still fought invisible foes. To the newcomers it seemed that they fired and slashed at thin air. But this thin air fought back! The invaders staggered back from blows and screamed with the pain of wounds as their unseen enemies attacked fiercely. Unable to see the enemy, those Calenturi who had already defeated their Sendings could not aid their comrades except by standing back and casting Restore.

Renmur turned and quickly cast a binding on the portal to keep the Calenturi from attacking the Gathering’s healers. Then, grinning fiercely, he charged the Calenturi Ruler. A powerful swing of his Gatesmasher interrupted Ferdan’s healing evoke and sent the Calenturi staggering back. From somewhere, a healing evoke bathed Ferdan in green light and he leaped back to the attack.

For several minutes, the two Gatekeepers, almost equally matched, traded blows. Renmur felt the relief as Kalamir bombarded him with healing, but gritted his teeth as the same healing glow kept appearing over the Calenturi’s avatar.

Renmur dodged a high slash, came in low and dealt Ferdan a heavy blow to his right leg. Ferdan screamed, clearly beginning to weaken, and Renmur pressed his advantage. As Ferdan fell back before his onslaught, Renmur’s grin widened. No more Restores came to keep Ferdan in the fight. Clearly, their allies from DOL had found the Calenturi healers and were keeping them too occupied to worry about anything but their own coherence.

Dodging the blue flare of an extremely powerful chakram, Renmur swept in and slashed his Gatesmasher across Ferdan’s chest. The other fell back, fumbling for a Dreamsoul elemen, and Renmur moved in for the kill. A final swing of his blade robbed the Calenturi of coherence and sent the other’s Soulsphere flashing back to its return point.

One foe out of the way, Renmur turned his attention to the rest of the fight. Glancing around, he saw a Calenturi blink out of coherence under the withering impact of Argenor’s blast. On the other side of the Heartstone, Davanna was proving her worth as a fighter. Like most Fatesenders, she fought with arts and chakrams rather than her blade, but unlike many, she was a fine shot.

A quick look around the area proved that between the Heartstone’s own Guardians and the Gathering fighters, the Calenturi forces were nearly beaten. Renmur dashed to the lower portal and threw up a quick binding to block off any chance of the invaders escaping, then turned back to the fray. A Calenturi, fleeing Argenor’s deadly blast, ran straight into Renmur’s Gatesmasher and escaped the room as a returned soulsphere. Saluting his Ruler, Renmur turned his attention to a pair of fighters charging him from the side.

One he recognized as a Fatesender, the other was a GK. The ‘Sender attempted to engage Renmur to allow his companion time to Shatter the binding. As Renmur swung his blade, a quick volley of ferocious blasts hit the ‘Sender from behind and he lost coherence almost instantly.

Renmur turned toward the Gatekeeper who was still standing helpless, his Shatter evoke only half completed. Another swipe of the blade interrupted the evoke and sent the Calenturi reeling away from the portal. In a flurry of blows almost too fast to see, Renmur drove his opponent back and reduced him to a floating ball.

He turned back to the room looking for another opponent, only to see the last of the Calenturi lose coherence and blink out as his Return took over.

“Damn, Ren,” said a deep voice behind him, “how do you manage to be so fast with that meat cleaver? Gatesmashers look too big and awkward to handle that easily.”

Renmur turned to Argenor and chuckled, “GKs use our blades from the time we’re new dreamers. We don’t get sissy stuff like Blast, so we concentrate on a real weapon.”

Argenor laughed aloud, but his retort was lost as the group of DOL came storming through the portal behind Renmur.

The DOL guardian leading the charge skidded to a halt and looked around, “Where’s the fight?”

“All over, thanks to you guys,” Argenor told them, “Taking out their healers was a huge help. We took them down pretty easily once they weren’t getting restored anymore.”

The contingent from the Light sheathed their blades and chakrams and the Guardian replied, “Always happy for a chance to play rough with a few Cals. Call us any time you’re having a little party like this again!”

Argenor bowed and smiled, “Thanks again for the help, folks. And will certainly call you next time they come to play in the Basins.”

The party from DOL bowed and ran off to resume their interrupted nightmare hunt and Argenor and Renmur turned to the Heartstone. Davanna and the others were already casting protective and healing arts on the Stone and Argenor laid a gentle hand on it.

“They didn’t get time to do it a lot of damage,” he reported, “The bond only weakened slightly, and it’s coming back nicely.”

Davanna nodded, “We’re just very lucky there were enough of us and the DOL around to beat them. Any losses now will weaken our Spirit Defenders when Terwin’s Aspirant attacks us.”

Renmur, ever cautious, cast Sense Dreamer and then Located for several of the more prominent Calenturi, “Looks like they’ve given up for the night,” he reported, “Ferdan and Nola woke.”

Argenor nodded to both of them and said, “Heartstone’s happy with us again; we’ve re strengthened the bond. And you’re right, Dava, losing any of our territory now could be a disaster. We need to set up some patrols to check our key points.

“Ren, would you take charge of that? At least until this current crisis is over, we need to be on the alert. I’m sure they’d enjoy weakening us at any time, but an attempt to decimate our sphere of influence, and weaken our guardians when we’re under threat from an Aspirant is especially dangerous.”

Renmur saluted, “Of course, Argen.

“I’m keeping an eye on Terwin too. He wasn’t here tonight, but I don’t believe he’s really broken his ties with Calenture.”

“No, there are a few too many convenient coincidences for us to believe that,” Argenor agreed.

House Assault

In the dreams that followed the fight for the Heartstone, Renmur and his friends maintained patrols of the Basins, genned for supplies, and skirmished with Calenturi patrols.

One night, coming to rest at Davanna's side in the Gathering's Threshold, Renmur said ruefully, "Not much chance for quiet teaching these dreams. I wish they'd get on with it!"

Davanna smiled sympathetically, "I think we all do, Ren. Waiting for the other boot to drop is nerve-wracking. But I'm sure that's what Terwin and his gang are hoping for. They want us to get tired and slack about keeping watch."

"I'm waiting to see Gerrol and a few of the other up-and-coming Cals running around without their house crests," Renmur said, "Once they're freed up to join Terwin, I think we can expect his declaration any time."

Davanna nodded, "I agree, and we're all keeping as close tabs on them as we can manage. Still, we're in good shape. Your patrol caught them trying to attack that Heartstone in Lower Basin. I think some of their younger recruits got scared off by that."

"Aye, being attacked by the Guardians is always unnerving," Renmur nodded, "And I'm sure taking another collapse or two didn't encourage any of them."

A few dreams later, one of the younger house members came running into the Threshold room, skidded to a stop and bowed awkwardly to Argenor.

"Milord," he whispered excitedly, "I just saw Gerrol and Halmer from HC and they weren't wearing their house crests!"

Argenor raised an eyebrow and whispered back, "Good work, Tegan, I suspect that's the signal we've been waiting for."

Argenor evoked Locate and found his fellow rulers and guardians, as well as his most senior initiates. He sent Tegan to ask those in Threshold to meet him at the house, then evoked Concealment and tapped his alterors to evoke protective arts as quickly as possible.

Slipping his left arm into the strap of his shield, Argenor ran lightly out of Threshold, across to Umbric Plains and up the path to Lost Caves where he collected Renmur, Kalamir and several friends who were hunting and genning there.

Back at their own home, safe in a room deep in the house and closed to all but Initiates, Argenor surveyed the gathering, "As Tegan probably told some of you, he spotted Halmer and Gerrol from HC without their house crests."

Renmur's head came up and he nodded decisively, "It's starting then."

Argenor nodded, "Aye, we can expect their declaration any day now.

"Ambassadors, try to get to DOL and POR as soon as you can and alert them that we're going to want their help to make it as tough as possible for Terwin's gang to get up the Basins and into the house. I suspect their main assault will bring Calenture out of hiding to escort them up to the house, so we'll need some help to try to keep them from getting 10 of their members up here.

"Everyone remember that once they formally Declare War, they'll be able to force our portals to open to them and let them into the house. As soon as we're done here, everyone hits the vaults and collects as much as they can of our best supplies. If there's more than we can carry, take the surplus to our allies.

"They're going to try to get into our Prime Room and Taint the Prime. We, and the House Guardians, are going to make it as hard as possible for them to get there in the first place. If they make it into the Prime Room, then we leave them there to sweat it out for the next few hours."

Several of the members looked shocked at this and Tegan asked, "But Sir, we just leave them occupying our Prime Room?"

Argenor smiled grimly, "They have to hold it and keep the Prime Tainted for 12 full hours. Once they're in the Prime Room, they're stuck. They have to try and keep their arts up and themselves alert for the entire duration.

"If they set foot outside, or waken and try to come back, the House Guardians will attack them again. If we've cleaned out the vaults already, there's nothing else they can steal or damage.

"Therefore, we let them wear themselves out keeping watch. Every so often, we send in a party to target one of their fighters. We want to wear them down, eliminate as many as we can, so that when we go in to finish them off there are as few as possible who can be holding the Prime Key. We have to get our hands on the Key so we can Purify the Prime.

"Most of us should go get some dreamless sleep and gather again about 10 hours after they took the Prime. By then, they're going to be tired and running out of supplies from trying to keep an all-night vigil. We'll be fresher and ready and hit them hard.

"And every other Seer we have goes in invisible and waits for the Prime Key to drop so they can grab it and cast Purify Prime. That's all we need to do to get them out. Once the Prime is Purified, it will throw them out of the house."

Tegan nodded, wide-eyed.

"'Every other Seer?"" asked Felissa, one of the Guardians.

"Of course," Argenor replied, "I have to lead one wing of the charge. My Blast is the strongest in the guild and I have more Dreamsoul than most of you. I'm more use as a fighter and a decoy. Besides, they'll be looking for me. You younger Seers have a better chance of not being spotted till you can get that evoke off."

Renmur grinned fiercely, "But that's not the end of it. They can try to attack again. So we don't let down our guard till the War Time ends."

"Or until they disband or call for a Treaty," added Davanna.

Meliane, the other ruler, said, "And if they call for a Treaty, it may just take us awhile to get through the negotiations. Their Declaration of War allows them to force our portals, but the energy to do so comes from their own avatars. Once they commit themselves, they must continue 'till either they win the house, or the war ends." She paused, then continued with a grim smile, "So after their assault fails, we'll let them continue to lose energy for another day or two while we stall negotiations."

Renmur remarked thoughtfully, "If I were Terwin, I'd Declare, then give us a day or so to sweat, waiting for their main attack We'll need to stay alert for raids that first day, but I'd bet on their big push coming a bit later."

"And keep an eye on the main hunting grounds," Davanna added, "Since they're going to be losing energy every day the war goes on, so they'll be trying to make it up, either by attacking us or by hunting."

Argenor nodded and looked around the group, "Anything more right now? If not, everyone hit the vaults and let's load up on those supplies."

Everyone shook their heads and started for the portal.

Another day of tense waiting passed. Renmur and his friends spent it in tracking down such members of the Aspirant Guild as they could find and making life unpleasant for them. Their packs heavy with supplies, they had no space for essences and so could not hunt nightmares.

Finally, on the second day after their planning session, Renmur entered the house and felt a strange sensation. He'd felt it before, and knew what it meant; the house was alerting them that war had been Declared. Knowing that the Aspirants would now be able to force their way through the house portals, Renmur evoked his protective arts and took his blade in hand before leaving the Initiate Entrance.

It was a strange and uncomfortable feeling to have to sneak through the halls of his own home, keeping a wary eye out for intruders. But he ran quickly through the house to the vaults. There he met Felissa, also checking for intruders.

"No one so far," she told him, "I suspect you're right and they're going to skirmish and raid for a day or two, try to wear us down."

"Aye, but they'll be wearing themselves down as well," Renmur reminded her, "I've a mind to make a little tour through some of the hunting grounds and see if there are any Aspirants around for me to hunt."

Felissa grinned at him, "Have fun, Ren, and be careful. We're going to need all our fighters in good shape."

Later that evening, members of the Gathering noticed that House Calenture was topping the Sense Dreamer list. Argenor sent his Ambassadors to gather their allies, and collected his own members to return to the house and prepare for the assault.

"I'm betting that HC will have their friends from the Union helping them," Meliane remarked.

Felissa nodded, "Aye, I located some UOC up at Calenture too. And more than likely, they'll demote a few more good fighters for Terwin to add to his gang. They need to get 10 of them in here, and a lot of those we've seen in their crests are too young to be able to survive the fight to get to the Prime."

Kalamir spoke up, "The Light and The Radiance are gathering forces to waylay them on the way up the Basins. They're going to have a solid force just a couple of rooms down from the house and snipers stationed at several other points along the way. They're all wearing Jade for us."

Argenor nodded, "Good! Feli's right though. I think we can expect Terwin to have at least double the number he needs of very strong fighters. It's going to be a tough battle to keep them out of the Prime Room.

"If they make it in, we keep fighting as long as we can. If enough Aspirants get in here, and they manage to Taint our Prime, we pull back and let them sweat out their vigil," Argenor looked around the room and his listeners nodded their understanding.

"Ok, places, everyone! Let's give them hell!"

Renmur, partied with Kalamir, Davanna and Felissa, ran down and out to the Main Entrance of the house. He was among the shock troops - ready to engage as many of the enemy as possible. The rest of his party headed for the highest balcony of the House, Kalamir to Divest, Davanna to paralyze and Felissa to blast.

Renmur did a last check of his supplies, making sure fresh shields were at hand, and his chakrams and elemens were all in place. Then he filled in time by methodically casting Dexterity, Embolden and Defense on himself and the members of his party.

Up on the balcony, Kalamir said, "I'm going to alternate Divests between Terwin and Gerrol."

"Good," Davanna approved, "I'll alternate Paralyze on the two of them, then."

Felissa added, "I'll target Gerrol, Ren, you stick to Terwin."

"Sounds good," Renmur agreed.

Nerad was methodically casting Sense Dreamer and reporting on the progress of the party making its way up the Basins toward the House, "Allies first on Sense in Upper Basin, invaders second in Middle Basin."

A few minutes later, "Terwin's made it into Upper Basin. Upper's on top, Middle's off Sense, we're second."

Renmur fidgeted as he waited. He envisioned the running battle on the Upper Basin and longed to join in, but knew his place was here as part of the last defense of the house. He knew that the allied GKs would have all the portals bound and that they would fight every step of the way up the plane to the house, falling back and regrouping each time a room was overwhelmed.

A runner burst through the outermost portal and gasped out, "They're one room down! Bindings up!"

The assigned Gatekeepers quickly cast their bindings on the house portals and prepared to defend them. Everyone else gave their equipment a last, hurried check, and waited for the onslaught to reach them.

Seconds later, the first of the enemy, wearing Calenture Blood-colored uniforms, burst through the portal. They were met with a fusillade of blasts and chak fire that reduced several of them to soulspheres almost instantly.

"Cannon fodder," thought Renmur, holding his fire for the moment. He had quickly seen that the first through the portal were young dreamers, too weak to have a real chance in the fight, but useful to draw fire and waste supplies before the main troops poured in behind them. The main body, led by Ferdan and Terwin, were not far behind the youngsters.

Mindful of the plan, Renmur moved quickly to attack Terwin. A green flare washed over the other's avatar, instantly followed by the violet flash and crackle of a Paralyze evoke. Renmur got off two quick shots, but the other managed to hit a dreamsoul elemen then his Dexterity alteror and was back in the fray before he could be collapsed.

Dodging and weaving to avoid enemy fire, Terwin raced for the main portal, Renmur on his heels. As the Entrance filled with warriors in green and red, Terwin's plan was obvious. He meant to shatter the binding and lead his people inside, leaving the defenders to contend with the Calenturi and Union fighters outside.

Another green flare lit Terwin's avatar, followed by the crackle of a Paralyze, but the Aspirant Ruler kept running. Snapping off a quick shot anyway, Renmur wondered what Kalamir had removed instead of Terwin's Dexterity.

At that moment, Renmur's single-minded focus on Terwin betrayed him. He was caught in the back by several shots and although Kalamir tried to heal him, three more hits from high level chakrams quickly reduced him to a soulsphere.

Seconds later, his avatar reforming in the House Sanctuary, Renmur called, "Terwin and at least two more of them are at the main portal, get our people to pull back to defend the Prime."

As he spoke, Renmur was renewing his own protections, swapping in a fresh shield and checking his chaks. He was ready to run back to the fight when Kalamir appeared almost on top of him.

"Damn! Can you art me up again, Ren?"

Renmur shook his head, "It's going to be close quarters from now on, Kal. You stay here and try to heal instead."

Kalamir nodded, "Ok, get out there and give 'em hell, Ren. I'll do my best for you."

The instant they passed the portals into the House, the invaders were attacked by the House Guardians. Renmur emerged from the sanctuary to the surreal scene of Terwin and a group of his followers fighting with the invisible Spirits of the house.

Abandoning chaks as too dangerous to defenders he could not see, Renmur grasped his Gatesmasher and leaped into the fray. He dodged in behind Terwin and slashed at the other's unprotected back. Terwin screamed and dodged sideways to escape both his attackers.

From across the room, a powerful Blast caught Renmur, and he screamed and turned to face the new attacker. A healing glow spread over his avatar as Kalamir Restored him. With a sense of shock, Renmur realized that he was facing Galthar, one of HC's oldest and most powerful Seers, now wearing the crest of the Aspirant Guild.

As he dodged behind and around struggling figures, trying to get to Galthar without being hit too often by that powerful Blast, Renmur realized that there were nearly a score of very powerful fighters in the room. Far more, and far more powerful than they had tracked as members of the Aspirant Guild.

Galthar turned as he was caught from the side by a flash of chakfire and the flare of a Blast. Davanna and Felissa had come in from the internal portal and joined the fight. The distraction allowed Renmur to reach the Seer. Knowing the other had too much Dreamsoul to be collapsed quickly with a blade, Renmur switched to a level 50 Chakram and fired point blank at Galthar.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Felissa's soulsphere wink out, then Galthar turned the full force of his Blast on Renmur. Desperately, Renmur fired, depending on Kalamir to keep him coherent long enough to collapse the Seer. With the last rags of his dreamsoul, he fired a final shot and had the satisfaction of seeing Galthar flash out of the room as a soulsphere.

Coalescing in the Sanctuary again, Renmur was startled and dismayed to see how many of his housemates were there, recasting their protective arts.

"They don't have just a few of HC's best fighters," Felissa said grimly, "They have almost all of them. Too bad we don't have an Aspirant all set to take over HC. They'd be a pushover right now!"

Meliane stopped in the middle of casting Dexterity and a slow smile spread across her face, "I wonder.... Anyone want to bet whether GreyHawk and DOL would like to start a little side war and have a go at draining the HC Prime?"

Renmur nodded slowly, "They could do it too. Declare right now, hit HC fast and hard and be in position to drain just about the time Terwin's boys are getting booted out of our prime room. With HC's best fighters stuck here, they'd have an easy time of it."

Meliane nodded, "I think I can be more use for now by finding Grey and suggesting it to him. Don't you guys suffer too many more collapses for now. We'll restore your energy through the strength of the house, but save your supplies so we can hit them in the morning."

Renmur nodded, but continued to cast his arts. He emerged from the sanctuary and ran up toward the Prime Room. In the final room before the Prime, he found a last Aspirant battling a House Spirit, and dispatched the dreamer with a few quick blows of his Gatesmasher.

He burst into the Prime Room and sidestepped quickly to avoid becoming an easy target. The fighting was still heavy in here. Aspirants still battled Spirits and Gathering Members. Argenor was blasting furiously, Davanna was back in the fray wielding her Fateslayer, and Felissa was blasting as well. There were still 13 Aspirants fighting and Renmur knew his goal had to be to eliminate as many as possible now.

A quick glance showed him that Argenor was blasting Terwin, so Renmur ran up beside the Aspirant leader and added his blade to the attack. Between the withering blasts and the Gatesmasher, they quickly brought Terwin to near dissolution.

A green glow bathed the Aspirant's avatar and Renmur glanced quickly around, trying to spot the Restorer. He was just in time to see Felissa evoke a final blast on Canora, then succumb herself to a burst of pink chakfire. His own moment of inattention cost him dearly, as his avatar was caught in a crossfire and quickly reduced to a soulsphere once again.

Back in the Sanctuary, Renmur began methodically reapplying his protections. Before he finished, both Argenor and Davanna popped through the portal and resumed coherence.

"It's ok, Ren, enough for now," Argenor said. They're down to 11 in the Prime Room. But that's enough to Taint it.

"Time to make up some of our losses and plan the next move."

Before Renmur could reply, the portal chimed again to admit Meliane, a triumphant grin on her face.

"They're going to sweat now!" she crowed, "GreyHawk and the Light have Declared on Calenture. While all the best HC fighters are over here harassing us, DOL hit them hard on their home ground."

There were appreciative laughs from around the sanctuary, "Great work, Meli!" exclaimed Argenor.

"It really didn't take a lot of work," she replied, "Once I told Grey and the others who all were up here wearing Aspirant crests, they got gleeful looks on their faces. I barely had time to suggest it before they were into planning their assault."

"I think it's about time we hit the Mission Board and rewarded our fighters," Argenor said, "Everyone who took collapses for the house, report to us and we'll do what we can to replenish your energy. Then we need to meet back here and plan how we're going to make this night hell for our little friends in the Prime Room."

To Free the Prime

Argenor was as good as his word. At random intervals through the night, groups of the Entranced formed parties and burst into the Prime Room. The first time, they caught an Aspirant member with his arts down and sent him flashing back to his return point. After that, the Aspirants were better prepared, but still lost another member to one of the assaults very early in the morning.

After that third raid, Argenor sent his people off for some rest, bidding them to be sure to return by the tenth hour for the final assault.

Renmur found it difficult to settle to dreamless sleep. Knowing there were enemies camped in the very heart of his house galled him. He knew that Argenor’s plans were sensible and gave them the best chance they had of taking back their home, but his instinct was to keep fighting as long as he could hold a blade. Finally, an hour or so before the appointed time, Renmur gave up trying to rest and returned to the Dream.

Standing in the Initiate Entrance, he checked over his supplies. Despite the night of heavy fighting, his pack was still in reasonable shape. “One of the advantages of fighting with a blade,” he thought, “doesn’t use up the elemens like blasting does.”

He quickly cast his protections, grasped his Gatesmasher and began a quick, silent prowl through the House. In the last room before the Prime Room, he found an Aspirant battling the Room Guardian, trying to make her way back to the Prime. Renmur caught her from behind and made quick work of her.

Saluting the invisible Guardian, Renmur ran upstairs to check the Main Entrance from the vantage point of the highest balcony. He emerged just as the portal chimed to admit a party of allies from the Radiance. He waved and signaled that he would meet them, then ran lightly back down to the main portal.

“Hey, Ren,” Darkwing, Guardian of the Radiance, greeted him, “We thought we’d come along and bring you some extra supplies, then hang around out here in case anyone tries to reinforce the gang inside.”

“Morning, Dark, folks,” Renmur saluted them with his blade, “That’s a kind thought, thanks! Just caught one trying to get back in. And I’m sure we can use some extra supplies. It’s been a busy night.”

Darkwing laughed, “You don’t know the half of it! The Light’s still camped out in HC’s Prime Room. They should be set to start draining the Prime in just a couple of hours. We have some people in their Main too, just in case the Union decides to try and help out their allies.”

“When’s your main assault?” one of the others asked.

“An hour or so,” Renmur replied, “We raided them a few times in the night; kept them using up supplies and got rid of a couple more. Argen wants to start before the eleventh hour. They’ll be expecting us then, so going in a bit early may catch some of them off guard.”

The Protectors nodded, “We’ll hang around out here and make sure they don’t get reinforcements,” Darkwing told him.

Renmur stood with the Protectors, chatting idly and waiting for the rest of the Entranced to return for the final assault. They beat off an attempt by three of the Aspirants to get back into the House and were feeling pretty cheerful by the time Argenor arrived.

They caught the Ruler up to date on the happenings and he smiled grimly at the picture of the Calenturi trapped by their own plots, “That’s great, guys. And you’ve been a major help defending out here. I’m very glad of a few more Insight elements too. Blast’s cheap, but eventually you do go through the eles.

“Ren, everyone’s gathering in the Sanc. We should join them and plan our assault.”

Renmur nodded and saluted his friends from the Radiance.

“We’ll hold the fort out here,” Darkwing promised.

In the House Sanctuary, Renmur and Argenor distributed the supplies from the Radiance.

Argenor looked around at his troops, “OK, people, this is it. We win this one, or we’re homeless!

“We have to win this battle but I think once we do, the Aspirant will disband. HC will be calling them home to try and get the Light out of their own Prime Room!”

“You all have your parties. SMs will stay here to restore. Seers, Phase into invisibility and keep it up for as long as you can. They don’t have a lot of Seers, so they won’t have much natural Vision, and they should be running low on alts and eles by now.

“There are only nine of them left, so we target their best fighters first. Once your prime target’s down, take on one of the lesser fighters.

“No way to predict who’ll have the Prime Key. If it drops, grab it and get that Purify evoke off! The invisible seers will be watching for it, but anyone who sees it should make a grab for it.”

As Argenor spoke, his members were casting their protections, sorting through their packs and making themselves as ready as they could.

The six parties split up, heading for the four portals to the Prime Room, ready to hit their enemy from all sides at once.

Renmur took a firm grip on his Gatesmasher, counted down then yelled, “Now!” and plunged through the portal.

He ran quickly to the side to avoid making himself a target and glanced around for Gerrol, his first objective. To his unholy glee, it appeared they’d caught many of the Aspirants off their guard.

The crackle of Davanna’s Paralyze froze Gerrol in place as Renmur leaped in to slash at the Aspirant’s chest. Felissa’s Blast caught Gerrol before he could recover, and Renmur’s second swing brought him to near dissolution within seconds. Stumbling back, the Aspirant fumbled frantically for his Dexterity alteror and a Dreamsoul elemen. Unable to hit both at once, Gerrol dissolved into a soulsphere as Felissa Blasted him twice more in quick succession.

Renmur paused a second to snatch up Gerrol’s essence in case it had fallen on top of the Prime Key. Finding only a Will elemen, Renmur left it to lie as he turned to find another target.

Off to one side, one of the younger members of the Aspirant Guild was casting Restores. Renmur charged across the room, blade flashing, and brought her to dissolution in three powerful blows.

To his astonished delight, the Prime Key fell from her dissolving avatar and he snatched it almost before it hit the floor. Holding his breath, he began the lengthy Purify evoke. Seeing the evoke, Davanna and Felissa closed in around him, intercepting Terwin’s charge.

Gritting his teeth, Renmur held his evoke as he was hit from the side by blasts. Just as the evoke finally fired, Renmur saw Argenor throw himself between him and a fusillade of fire and dissolve into a soulsphere.

As Purify touched the Prime, the murky smoke surrounding it evaporated and a sudden silence fell over the room. On every side, Aspirants vanished as the house expelled them. In the hush, the low humming song of the healthy Prime could be heard.

The Grove

Kithan reached a hand out, and ran it along the rough bark, as he leaned his head back and looked up into the expanse of the tree’s branches. The soft light of the Dream filtered through the leaves, caressing Kithan’s face.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” a soft voice spoke up from behind him.

“Indeed, it is.” Kithan replied, without turning around. “Words cannot describe the wonder I feel whenever I pass by here. We do not have such trees on my shard, only small fruit trees. I have never even imagined one this large.”

Large scarcely qualified when describing this tree. Its trunk was wide, and it would take five dreamers of Kithan’s size to join hands around it. The roots snaking out of the ground all around its base were twice as thick as Kithan’s arms. All around it, small trees sprouted from the ground, but none compared to the massive giant.

“It’s likely the largest one in the whole city,” the voice behind him replied, “but its beauty extends beyond its size.”

Kithan reluctantly pulled his hand from the tree, and turned around. Behind him stood a mysterious woman, clad in robes of dark forest green. Along the edges of her robe were stitched arcane runes, their deep brown color almost fading into the green of the cloth. Atop her silvery hair was a small circlet of intertwined twigs, an acorn adoring the front.

“Pleasant dreams to you, sir,” the lady said, bowing low at her waist. “I am Anneki, Priestess of the Grove.”

“Priestess of the Grove?” Kithan asked, a brow raising curiously. “I must admit I am unfamiliar with the title. Greetings to you, Lady Anneki. I am Kithan, Dreamsmith extraordinaire.” Kithan bowed, sweeping his hand behind him with a flourish.

“Greetings, and well met, Kithan.” Anneki said, with a smile.

“Tell me, Lady Anneki,” Kithan said, turning back toward the tree. “What does your title mean, Priestess of the Grove?”

“Perhaps I should answer by asking you a question, Sir Kithan.” Anneki replied. “Why is this grove here?”

Kithan turned around, and looked at Anneki curiously. “What kind of question is that?”

“Please, sir.” Anneki replied, “I do not seek to insult whatever faith or belief you may hold, I simply wish to know your beliefs, so that I may better explain mine.”

Kithan looked on skeptically, but responded, “I am a Freesoul. I believe that these trees are here because someone made them. I believe they remain here because their image is imprinted in the subconscious of everyone on Cloudsbreak, and made permanent by our shared perceptions of the Dream.”

Anneki nodded thoughtfully.

“I see, that is an understandable stance.” Anneki replied, pausing before she continued, “I have spoken to those of every faith. I have known dreamers who insist it is the spiritual representation of a great tree on Cloudsbreak. I have known dreamers who insist that it is a gift placed here by some deity to remind us of their glory. I’ve known dreamers who insist that this tree isn’t even here, and that we are all imagining it. All dreamers have their own opinions and beliefs, and they are all welcome to them.

“My belief, however,” Anneki continued, “is that none of that matters. Both faiths, Freesoul and Illuminate, believe that the dream is formed at least in some part by the unawakened. The Freesouls believe this is a mental plane, and that all the chaos is made of the thoughts of the unawakened. The Illuminates believe it’s a spiritual place, and that the souls of the unawakened are all around here."

“Whichever might be true,” Anneki said. She turned her gaze skyward, slowly lowering her hand onto the tree, “this is here. And this is a thing of beauty. The truth of its existence is that it is here, and it represents beauty, peace, and love."

“This tree cares not for war. It cares not for mudslinging. It cares not for insults. It cares not for hatred. It bears not a speck of negativity. It is a construct of everything positive."

“As such, it is the subject of my worship.” Anneki concluded. She turned back toward Kithan, and arched a brow curiously.

Kithan had his arms held out in front of him, a small glowing globe of light pulsating between his hands. Sparks of energy drifted around him as they were slowly drawn toward the gleaming orb.

Anneki squinted her eyes as the light culminated in a bright flash. When she opened them, Kithan held in his hands a small, delicate rose. The petals shone a gleaming red in the soft light. He knelt, and reverently placed the rose at the foot of the tree, piling a small pile of dirt around the stem, holding it up. He stepped back, and smiled, admiring his work.

Anneki smiled politely.

“Looks wonderful!” Kithan exclaimed happily, “Some of my best work.” He turned, and smiled toward Anneki. “I believe there is merit in what you say, Lady Anneki. Truly, the creations of peace bring much more happiness than creations of war.” Kithan stated, his hand dropping to pat a decorative chakram on his belt.

“Though I must say,” he continued, casting a probing glance at Anneki, “Your belief holds strong Illuminate tendencies. I’ll not hold that against you, though.” Kithan winked.

“I care not for what distinctions or labels you put on my faith.” Anneki scoffed. “I am above your petty and destructive conflicts. All your Illuminate and Freesoul ‘faiths’ have done is cause war and strife throughout the city. My beliefs have nothing to do with yours. My tree stands for peace and freedom from sectarian violence. I believe in love, not hatred. I believe in friendship, not enemies. I believe in love, and not war”

“You do have a point there.” Kithan said, rubbing his chin. “But I must admit, war makes for wonderful business. Does wonders for the heart to enter Threshold and hear everyone clamoring for you.” He concluded with a quiet chuckle.

Anneki simply nodded, and continued smiling.

“Well, I must be off.” Kithan said, dusting his hands. “The leadership of House Calenture is seeking my assistance in constructing supplies for their house. I hear a war is on the horizon for them. I shall share your message with them, though, Lady Anneki.” Kithan paused, and continued with a wink, “For every chakram I forge, I shall craft two roses.”

He smiled, and walked off, whistling quietly.

Anneki waited until he had walked out of sight, then quickly bent down, and snapped up the rose. With a look of disgust on her face, she flung the rose far away from the grove.

“Disgusting creation, crafted from hands that seek warfare and deceit for their living.” She spat, wrinkling her nose. “Something crafted from such impure hands will fade with the passing of minutes; a passing thing, lacking in stability. Such a construction has no place here in the sanctity of the grove.”

She sighed, and draped her hands around the tree lovingly.

“I fear for you, as well, my beauty. The inhabitants of the city are so enthralled with war and fighting, I fear that it might disturb the very fabric of the Dream. Every night, I come to hear of a new war erupting, new tools of warfare created, houses taken over, boundaries shifting. How long until all this warfare destroys all that is pure in life?”

She relaxed her grip, and slowly slid down to sit at the root of the tree.

“I fear that one night I shall fall asleep to find you gone or, worse, corrupted and twisted by their vile actions.” Anneki sighed quietly. “On that night, I shall wake, and dream no more for all hope will be lost,” she concluded sadly.

Character of the Houses

Each House has its own character and conviction. The powers and arts associated with the House are related to that character. Everything that has come to pass and will unfold in the future for a House is affected by this character. The names and descriptions below are legendary in the City of Dreams.

House Calenture - Warriors, Berserkers. Will fight feverishly for any cause that lets them collapse the enemy. Ruthless warriors with little regard for their own safety in battle.

Dreamers of Light - Warrior Clerics, Paladins. Champions bathed in the righteous ways of their order, who know their battles serve a higher purpose.

Protectors of the Radiance - Knights, Crusaders. Cutting a swath of destruction through those who refuse to conform. Bending the will of the enemy by the might of true worth.

Union of the Covenant - Warrior Rangers. Believe in justice among those who revel in the freedoms the city has to offer. Hold honor between allies above all things.

Order of the Sable Moon - Scientists and Scholars. Cataloging and recording everything they can get their hands on. Carefully studying the innermost workings of the dream.

Gathering of the Entranced - Monks, Acolytes. The shepherds of the city. Watching over the flock and guiding them along a steady course. Diplomatic and patient, offering greater perception through devout practices.

Keepers of the Eternal Shadow - Necromancers, Shamans. Working with mysterious forces for hidden agendas. Rumored to be aligned with spies and assassins. Sabotage and subterfuge are often attributed to their dealings.

Alliance of the Eclipse - Druids, Enchanters. Acting through peaceful word and deed, only accepting those who share their beliefs. Would sacrifice much of what they treasure to stop the destruction of life. Special care is given to understanding as a virtue.

Reference

• http://web.archive.org/web/20060830122432/http://www.reclamationgame.com/
• https://www.gamespot.com/articles/lyra-studios-announces-reclamation/1100-6099276/
• https://www.mmorpg.com/reclamation
• http://web.archive.org/web/20050926114344/http://www.reclamationgame.com/207.0.html
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• http://web.archive.org/web/20050926020640/http://www.reclamationgame.com/239.0.html
• http://www.reclamationgame.com/238.0.html
• http://www.reclamationgame.com/233.0.html
• http://web.archive.org/web/20050913052707/http://www.reclamationgame.com/218.0.html
• http://web.archive.org/web/20050908015929/http://www.reclamationgame.com/217.0.html
• http://www.reclamationgame.com/247.0.html
• http://www.reclamationgame.com/248.0.html
• http://www.reclamationgame.com/249.0.html
• http://www.reclamationgame.com/269.0.html