A Dream:

The room you are in is dark, no steady light anywhere, only flashes flickering through the doorway on a far wall. Not a candle flickering or something so simple but plumes of fire rushing into existence with a roar and then extinguishing in that same moment, along with bolts of lightning arching off surfaces. The sounds of chaos echo on beyond that door, of struggle, of battle. Iron matching iron and magic meeting magic. These glimmers, flickers light the room for instants just single instants giving you moments to take in the space. A room irregular in shape, none of the corners are square but are wider, as you try your best you count there is 7, no 8 maybe more walls to this single room, with its single entrance. That door, the one on the far side through which even now flashes of light rush through the only way in or out it seems. The room seems devoid of furnishings or structure save the single pillar in the center of the room. The rest of the room is plain, just grey stone walls, large pieces, roughly cut. The pillar in contrast is anything but plain, a jet black, carved in detail with flowing loops and whirls, and it places it seems the shapes of these carvings could even be a language of some kind, integrated into the design and even the shaping of the pillar. The middle third of the pillar’s height is hollowed out. The one solid piece twisting into four smaller pieces that then reach to the upper portion leaving a void in the center. There is something there, in the void, floating. The cacophony outside is coming down, the blast of magic and strikes of weapons have lessened, the screams, they persist a bit longer, but not much. The bright flashes and brilliant sparks are now replaced with more steady sources. Footsteps, coming this way, metal clad heavy footsteps. A lit torch is thrust into the room, its light spreads to fill the space. A figure begins to enter its form filling the whole of the doorway, a sword in one hand and the torch in the other, the figure cautiously looks over the room before taking a single step inside, bent over, almost crouching waiting for something, being ready for anything. One second, then another passes, then another, nothing. The hulking figure in scorched armor takes several more steps inside the room, then begins to circle the pillar looking it up and down as he does.

You have a better look at it now, it appears to be roughly cylindrical in shape. It appears to be vellum or parchment; it appears to be a single large sheet wrapped around some kind of metal rod forming a single large scroll. The top of the metal rod has fashioned onto it a skull, very human in appearance, but without features it could be an elf or a couple other things. The upper jaw of the skull seems to be where the rod connects to the skull and the teeth, all being unnaturally long and pointed, protrude out all the way around where the rod meets the skull forming a complete circle. The bottom of the rod has a similar appearance, a single piece of large bone like a bottom jaw except it is a circle forming all the way around where the rod meets it, this half’s teeth too are unnaturally long and pointed.

The armored figure moves closer and examines the thing carefully, without touching it or holding the flame too close to it.

A voice emanates from within the armor, seeming caught almost echoing inside the enclosed helm.

“Lord,” the voice speaks in a deep and almost whispered tone.”I have found what you seek.”

The figure then lowers the torch it has been holding overhead to it’s eye level and holds one hand up to the flame, as one would shield a lantern from shining in your face. Half the room bathed in the darkness that had existed before this had entered. It waves its hand back and forth in front of the light illuminating and delluminating the doorway and other sections of the room before it lifts the torch overhead again. When it does this you become aware of another figure in the room, one that had not been there before. A short figure nearly half the height of the hulking armor that bows at its presence. Moving slowly and steady across the floor this new figure moves closer to the pillar and to whatever it is that it contains. The armor clad thing sheathes it’s sword and moves the torch closer above and behind the short figure as it examines the pillar closely, it is very careful to stay out of what is obviously it’s superior’s way and yet be helpful in providing light for it as it studies. Slowly working up an down and side to side the small figure looks over every inch of the pillar, muttering to itself the whole time, you do not know if it is simply talking to itself or reading or chanting or evoking a spell but whatever it is doing is unsettling, for every whispered word it speaks echoes through the room with perfect clarity coming back and repeats again and again till there is no distinct word or pieces of words just a constant droning whisper of a thousand voices all speaking at once and seemingly coming from every direction every corner of the room.

Then in a single instant the room falls silent, all the noise all the whispers gone, extinguished. The small figure reaches up, for the first time its hands reaching out beyond the edges of the dark colored robe that covers it. One hand a pale peach flesh tone, the other, a dead necrotic black, reaches up and grabs ahold of the object. One hand placed on top of the skull the other reaching carefully under, holding it from top and bottom. It pulls and with the slightest bit of effort it comes free from whatever force held it still, floating inside the pillar. It lifts its cloak with the forearm of one hand and seems to pull the object under the cover of the cloak where the large bulk of the object seems to disappear. The cloak then falls as it had before to the shape of this short figure. The small figure nods to the larger who then follows him out of the room.They are finished here they have retrieved what they came for.

You wake.