trans_9 | One man's mosoleum is another man's home

Tonight, once again, the dreamscape of the meatship has been altered.

However, this time, the dream was the same, no matter the dreamer, and was neither good nor bad, but simply odd.

Only a portion of the crew would have this dream, some of them intentionally, others whose mind simply happened to drift upon it in the dreamscape.

Regardless, it starts out the same for each dreamer:

The dreamer finds themselves standing on some rocky, barren world.

The "air" (for lack of a better word) is thick, so thick that the dreamer is positive it should be impossible to survive in this kind of environment. Regardless, they continue to breathe just fine, as if on Earth. The atmosphere is hazy, distorting all color.

Despite the fact that it is impossible to see more than thirty feet ahead of them, the dreamer feels compelled to move in one single direction.

After wandering for what seems to be hours, the dreamer comes across a massive fortress, alone in this desolate place. It rises thousands of feet into the air, standing imposingly, as though there were something to protect out in this dead place. It is covered in symbols of twin-headed eagles, winged skulls and stylized I's, but most noticeable is the symbol of the open book, through which a sword has pierced.

A door opens at the base of the fortress walls. It seems like more of an airlock, really, but regardless, the dreamer once again feels compelled to enter.

Once they do, they find themselves in a room, completely pitch black, save for a single light shining down from what one would assume is the ceiling. The door through which the dreamer entered is no longer visible.

Before the dreamer, in the small lighted portion of the room, is a table. On the table is a rather inviting pot of tea, with cups.

At one end of the table sat the massive, robed figure of the Seer. He seemed to be drinking something notably more substantial than the tea. The word "amasec" comes to the dreamer's mind, but they aren't sure how they know it.

At the other end of the table is an empty seat.

"Please, my child," The Seer says, motioning to the other seat. "Do join me."

[ooc: This is just Seer's way of checking up on the crew. Once again, posting isn't mandatory, but if you want your pup to meet/interact with Seer, feel free!]

Flat | Top-Level Comments Only

"It's not that they haven't been taking it seriously. Simply put, no one knows exactly what to do. All we've been told is that he's some dark God that can affect us and drive us insane through our dreams. We don't know what weapons we can use to fight him, how to hurt him, or anything of that nature.

"For people who don't understand mystical things, we need specifics."

There are those among the crew who excel in training to face one's fears, to control them before they control you.

Have you not thought of getting their input?

"I have, but, again that's still more of a psychological approach to the matter. Not to mention its just playing defense. We also need to know how to strike back against this thing, how we can hurt this thing, or if that's even possible. Or is the only place this battle can be fought strictly--" Leon tapped the side of his head "--in here?"

It is a battle that cannot be fought at all, not in the way you seem to view it.

This creature cannot be slain. It can be sent away, assuredly, but this will take a concentrated effort by those with mystical powers, to exorcise him. Even then, we may not succeed.

However, if we can prepare the minds of the crew to accept their fears, to keep them from driving them insane, we can cut off the beast's source of power, giving us a much greater chance of succeeding.

And in all of that, one major point just got cleared up.

"It feeds off fear." Not a question, a statement of realization. "Up until this point, all we knew was that fear was it's weapon, how it was going to attack us; not the source of its strength too."

Of course, the Seer says casually.

Why else would a creature of such power deign to even turn his attention upon mortals in the first place? If we were not his "food source", if you will, he would merely destroy this place at the earliest opportunity.

Essentially, he needs us.

And so many more things started to fall into place.

"No wonder he's been growing stronger. This crew has basically been kidnapped, told their worlds were gone, we're on an alien spaceship... and as the crew gets bigger, the more people who are afraid show up..." They've all but been a buffet for this Nightmare King up to this point. And he only just now realized this.

"Unbelievable..."

Now do you understand why I stress the fact that the entire crew must be united in this?

"Yeah..."

They are all so screwed.

"We've definitely been taking the wrong approach with this..."

So so screwed.

The Seer does something probably rather unexpected.

He stands, slowly walking over to Leon, placing a hand on his shoulder.

Take heart, my child.

While we still draw breath, it is not yet over.

There is still hope.

Leon took a breath.

"Yeah, I know. But the situation has to be reevaluated from top to bottom. There's a lot of work to be done, and not a lot of time to do it." Leon shrugged with his eyebrows, "which is sort of my stock and trade anyway."

Story of his life, really.

He looked up at the Seer. "We'll be fine."

Good, he says with a faint smile. I was beginning to think my faith was misplaced.

Slowly, the Seer returns to his own seat.

I suggest heading back to your slumber. You'll have a long day ahead of you tomorrow.

That sounded like a good idea to Leon. He started to get up, but paused.

"If I have anymore questions, how do I find you again?"

The Seer grins slightly.

No need to worry about that. I'll find you.

His unique state does allow him a vague understanding of everything happening on the ship at a given time, after all.

He'd ask how, but Leon was learning that some things you just have to roll with. Especially mystical stuff.

He stood up, then bowed politely to the Seer. "Thank you. For all of your help."

It is what I do.

Pleasant dreams, my child.

One man's mosoleum is another man's home

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