The Grey Owl's Reach
We see a forest of grey, twisted trees, where a low fog obscures the rocks and brush below. It is the Haze, our humble friend, resting in the doldrums of the Dreamlands, on the edge of the eternal city of Dylath-Leen. Our camera flies about the forest for the moment, taking in the skyline beyond, before catching on a figure standing in the wood -- a broken pocket of the Haze. With a sweep of grey-tipped wings, the keeper of our vision lands on a nearby branch, and looks down upon the blue-and-purple ghost that has invaded the Haze’s home. The Dreamer -- the Grey Owl of Dylath-Leen, speaks.
Zandeer: “Fair Centurion, you are far from home. Some would say too far.”
Centurion: “Do not speak to me of boundaries, Zandeer. I have spoken with the mortals. You share dreams of me?”
Zandeer: “As I will share this one. As I will share more in the future.”
The Centurion clacks his skeletal teeth, his bony hand tightening upon the hilt of his sword.
Centurion: “You violate our deal, Grey Owl.”
Zandeer: “I do no such thing. I have blessed them at your request. You have allowed Ragarot to play your game. Both sides of the deal have been upheld.”
Centurion: “You knowingly twist my intentions, Zandeer. Have you already forgotten the fate of your siblings?”
Zandeer laughs, a mix between a human chuckle and the gentle hoot of an owl.
Zandeer: “Scath may have been my elder, but he was weaker then than I am now. I do not fear you, meddler.”
Centurion: “So you will continue?”
There is a tense moment in the forest, as the Haze recedes from the pair, and its knowledge leaves us. The Grey Owl tilts his head, and a slight ruffle builds in his feathers.
Zandeer: “There is no benefit to bloodshed between us, as you well know. Very well, I will omit you from their future dreams.”
Centurion: “It is not just me, Zandeer, and you know it. If you allow them to glimpse too deeply, the Haze will not protect them. You break their minds such that they further your purpose. Avoid all glimpses of the-”
There is a heavy burst of static - both in our hearing and in our vision. The Grey Owl huffs, tilting his head to an alarming degree, and then sighs.
Zandeer: “As you wish, Centurion. But only if I may ask for something in return…”
Centurion: “Name it.”
Zandeer: “The creatures of Golarion. They too have dreams to share.”
Centurion: “You would trade one madness for another? And if the dream should pass by the Beast?”
Zandeer: “Then I will protect them. Jestyr is weakened by his imprisonment on this side of the Mirror. He is not the terror that he once was.”
The Centurion’s hand twists about his sheath, as if weighing more violent options, but then concedes.
Centurion: “Very well. The deal is made.”
There is an audible rush of air as the binding is placed, and with that, the Centurion vanishes from the Land of Dreams, and so do we.
Zandeer: “Fair Centurion, you are far from home. Some would say too far.”
Centurion: “Do not speak to me of boundaries, Zandeer. I have spoken with the mortals. You share dreams of me?”
Zandeer: “As I will share this one. As I will share more in the future.”
The Centurion clacks his skeletal teeth, his bony hand tightening upon the hilt of his sword.
Centurion: “You violate our deal, Grey Owl.”
Zandeer: “I do no such thing. I have blessed them at your request. You have allowed Ragarot to play your game. Both sides of the deal have been upheld.”
Centurion: “You knowingly twist my intentions, Zandeer. Have you already forgotten the fate of your siblings?”
Zandeer laughs, a mix between a human chuckle and the gentle hoot of an owl.
Zandeer: “Scath may have been my elder, but he was weaker then than I am now. I do not fear you, meddler.”
Centurion: “So you will continue?”
There is a tense moment in the forest, as the Haze recedes from the pair, and its knowledge leaves us. The Grey Owl tilts his head, and a slight ruffle builds in his feathers.
Zandeer: “There is no benefit to bloodshed between us, as you well know. Very well, I will omit you from their future dreams.”
Centurion: “It is not just me, Zandeer, and you know it. If you allow them to glimpse too deeply, the Haze will not protect them. You break their minds such that they further your purpose. Avoid all glimpses of the-”
There is a heavy burst of static - both in our hearing and in our vision. The Grey Owl huffs, tilting his head to an alarming degree, and then sighs.
Zandeer: “As you wish, Centurion. But only if I may ask for something in return…”
Centurion: “Name it.”
Zandeer: “The creatures of Golarion. They too have dreams to share.”
Centurion: “You would trade one madness for another? And if the dream should pass by the Beast?”
Zandeer: “Then I will protect them. Jestyr is weakened by his imprisonment on this side of the Mirror. He is not the terror that he once was.”
The Centurion’s hand twists about his sheath, as if weighing more violent options, but then concedes.
Centurion: “Very well. The deal is made.”
There is an audible rush of air as the binding is placed, and with that, the Centurion vanishes from the Land of Dreams, and so do we.
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