Absence. Grief. Loss.
Life is hard, but dying, not so much.
I don't know if it was the king's axe or the soulfire flames of the pyre that got me first, but it was quick. And then I was me.
Well, a new me.
Turns out it’s difficult to kill a Soulforge. Even for Albion Seloth—the Mountain King—who had slain many would-be immortals before meeting his own unceremonious end at the hand of Dreamwalkers.
Shortly after my death, I found myself in a desert of blue-white sand that stretched endlessly in all directions. The sand sparkled like crushed gemstones that shifted between hues of twilight and dawn. I thought it might be an afterlife. Maybe I had slipped beyond the Veil, and my powers had gone to wherever such things go in the Dreaming. Maybe I had skipped to the end of the universe or was somewhere new.
And then I met them. The first me in a line of a thousand faces. I can’t remember what they looked like, but I recognized the feeling of parental warmth they had, the hum of the soul mantle that tied us together, and the flow of soulfire between the sand beneath my feet and the ocean in the sky above me.
Did I mention the ocean? A vast expanse of water hung suspended in the sky, waves gently crashing against an invisible barrier. It’s probably fine if we forget that for now; sometimes this Dreamworld can be a little hard to keep track of.
So, that first me didn’t say anything. They just stared into my very being, as though trying to determine who I was going to be. Their eyes held the wisdom of countless lifetimes, a silent judgment passed in mere moments. Then they departed, dissolving into the sands, and I was alone again.
I walked for days in that place but never got tired. In fact, every step filled me with a new strength I had yet to realize. The desert was a tapestry of shifting dunes and towering rock formations, each more surreal than the last. Eventually, I turned my attention to the sky and determined that was the direction I needed to go. How I came to that conclusion I couldn’t say, but when walking an endless desert, you need to set yourself some goals to keep your sanity. My first idea was to find the highest point in the desert—a large dune, a pillar of stone—but that quickly lost its novelty. Maybe if I could just touch the waves, they would pull me through. The next few tries were equally frustrating or impossible, and I would rather not go into it, so let’s skip to the important part.
At first, I thought I was imagining something; the desert has ways of playing tricks on you, and I was reaching the edge of that sanity I had mentioned a few seconds ago. But as I got closer, I came across a woolly alligator lounging at the edge of an oasis. The oasis was a small paradise, a pool of crystal-clear water surrounded by lush, green vegetation. I didn’t have any weapons or spells, so I prepared myself to run. Then it called out to me.
Assuming this was a trap, I was hesitant to approach, but it waved me over and shouted, “Don’t be afraid of the big mouth. I haven’t bitten anyone in years, and the last time was a total accident.”
It spoke.
IT COULD SPEAK?
I asked, “Oh, who, me? The thought hadn’t crossed my mind,” I lied. “Say, what is an alligator like yourself doing out here anyways?”
“Crocodile,” it replied, adjusting its position to reveal a surprisingly friendly expression beneath its woolly exterior.
“What?” I thought I might have misheard.
It said it again. “Crocodile. I am a woolly crocodile,” it continued. “You see, I have a longer, pointier snout. Also, alligators don’t talk.” He chomped his teeth to illustrate the point.
Exasperated and at my wit's end, I went along with it. “Right. My mistake. I’ve never met a crocodile before.”
“The name is Cully. You look lost, Soulforge.”
“Oh. You know what I am?” I blurted out.
“Of course,” said Cully, a twinkle of mischief in his eyes.
‘Of course,’ I thought.
Cully continued, “Do you know who you are?”
“I am…” I froze. Who was I? I wasn’t the last one. I wasn’t Forgie. That was a name my Dreamwalkers had given me. That Dirk Danger had given me. And then it pained me—the image of him in the rain on that fateful night, his shades covering the sorrow in his eyes as he stood there with my blood-soaked shoes, barely able to hold the laces, looking like he was ready to curse the gods and all the realms.
“Call me Dir... Abner,” I corrected. ‘Where did that come from?’ I thought.
“Drabner? That sounds made up.”
“No, just Abner.” Then a thought leapt into my mind as the identity of Abner began to take shape. “All names are made up if you really think about it.” I grinned as more of me became reality.
“Ah-ha-ha-ha,” the crocodile laughed, his belly shaking. “Oh, you are going to be one of the funny ones. I suppose that answer will do, juuust Abner,” he emphasized teasingly.
I began to feel lighter as the crocodile continued to belly laugh. Then I began to float, and a moment of panic followed. The sensation was both exhilarating and terrifying, as if the very fabric of reality was loosening its grip on me.
"Something is wrong. I have this feeling," I said, my voice trembling.
Cully moved from his lounging position and floated up next to me, his woolly form defying gravity effortlessly. “Then you had better go find out who needs your help.”
“How do you know someone needs my help?” I asked as I began to float up towards the ocean in the sky, turning at a 45-degree angle. The stars above shimmered like distant beacons, calling me toward the unknown.
“I don’t,” replied Cully cryptically, “but you do.”
He paused and watched as I drifted out of view before finally shouting, “Good luck, Abner.”
With those words, I felt a surge of purpose, a newfound resolve. The dreamscape around me blurred and shifted, the desert giving way to a tunnel of light and sound. I closed my eyes, embracing the strange journey ahead.~
I don't know if it was the king's axe or the soulfire flames of the pyre that got me first, but it was quick. And then I was me.
Well, a new me.
Turns out it’s difficult to kill a Soulforge. Even for Albion Seloth—the Mountain King—who had slain many would-be immortals before meeting his own unceremonious end at the hand of Dreamwalkers.
Shortly after my death, I found myself in a desert of blue-white sand that stretched endlessly in all directions. The sand sparkled like crushed gemstones that shifted between hues of twilight and dawn. I thought it might be an afterlife. Maybe I had slipped beyond the Veil, and my powers had gone to wherever such things go in the Dreaming. Maybe I had skipped to the end of the universe or was somewhere new.
And then I met them. The first me in a line of a thousand faces. I can’t remember what they looked like, but I recognized the feeling of parental warmth they had, the hum of the soul mantle that tied us together, and the flow of soulfire between the sand beneath my feet and the ocean in the sky above me.
Did I mention the ocean? A vast expanse of water hung suspended in the sky, waves gently crashing against an invisible barrier. It’s probably fine if we forget that for now; sometimes this Dreamworld can be a little hard to keep track of.
So, that first me didn’t say anything. They just stared into my very being, as though trying to determine who I was going to be. Their eyes held the wisdom of countless lifetimes, a silent judgment passed in mere moments. Then they departed, dissolving into the sands, and I was alone again.
I walked for days in that place but never got tired. In fact, every step filled me with a new strength I had yet to realize. The desert was a tapestry of shifting dunes and towering rock formations, each more surreal than the last. Eventually, I turned my attention to the sky and determined that was the direction I needed to go. How I came to that conclusion I couldn’t say, but when walking an endless desert, you need to set yourself some goals to keep your sanity. My first idea was to find the highest point in the desert—a large dune, a pillar of stone—but that quickly lost its novelty. Maybe if I could just touch the waves, they would pull me through. The next few tries were equally frustrating or impossible, and I would rather not go into it, so let’s skip to the important part.
At first, I thought I was imagining something; the desert has ways of playing tricks on you, and I was reaching the edge of that sanity I had mentioned a few seconds ago. But as I got closer, I came across a woolly alligator lounging at the edge of an oasis. The oasis was a small paradise, a pool of crystal-clear water surrounded by lush, green vegetation. I didn’t have any weapons or spells, so I prepared myself to run. Then it called out to me.
Assuming this was a trap, I was hesitant to approach, but it waved me over and shouted, “Don’t be afraid of the big mouth. I haven’t bitten anyone in years, and the last time was a total accident.”
It spoke.
IT COULD SPEAK?
I asked, “Oh, who, me? The thought hadn’t crossed my mind,” I lied. “Say, what is an alligator like yourself doing out here anyways?”
“Crocodile,” it replied, adjusting its position to reveal a surprisingly friendly expression beneath its woolly exterior.
“What?” I thought I might have misheard.
It said it again. “Crocodile. I am a woolly crocodile,” it continued. “You see, I have a longer, pointier snout. Also, alligators don’t talk.” He chomped his teeth to illustrate the point.
Exasperated and at my wit's end, I went along with it. “Right. My mistake. I’ve never met a crocodile before.”
“The name is Cully. You look lost, Soulforge.”
“Oh. You know what I am?” I blurted out.
“Of course,” said Cully, a twinkle of mischief in his eyes.
‘Of course,’ I thought.
Cully continued, “Do you know who you are?”
“I am…” I froze. Who was I? I wasn’t the last one. I wasn’t Forgie. That was a name my Dreamwalkers had given me. That Dirk Danger had given me. And then it pained me—the image of him in the rain on that fateful night, his shades covering the sorrow in his eyes as he stood there with my blood-soaked shoes, barely able to hold the laces, looking like he was ready to curse the gods and all the realms.
“Call me Dir... Abner,” I corrected. ‘Where did that come from?’ I thought.
“Drabner? That sounds made up.”
“No, just Abner.” Then a thought leapt into my mind as the identity of Abner began to take shape. “All names are made up if you really think about it.” I grinned as more of me became reality.
“Ah-ha-ha-ha,” the crocodile laughed, his belly shaking. “Oh, you are going to be one of the funny ones. I suppose that answer will do, juuust Abner,” he emphasized teasingly.
I began to feel lighter as the crocodile continued to belly laugh. Then I began to float, and a moment of panic followed. The sensation was both exhilarating and terrifying, as if the very fabric of reality was loosening its grip on me.
"Something is wrong. I have this feeling," I said, my voice trembling.
Cully moved from his lounging position and floated up next to me, his woolly form defying gravity effortlessly. “Then you had better go find out who needs your help.”
“How do you know someone needs my help?” I asked as I began to float up towards the ocean in the sky, turning at a 45-degree angle. The stars above shimmered like distant beacons, calling me toward the unknown.
“I don’t,” replied Cully cryptically, “but you do.”
He paused and watched as I drifted out of view before finally shouting, “Good luck, Abner.”
With those words, I felt a surge of purpose, a newfound resolve. The dreamscape around me blurred and shifted, the desert giving way to a tunnel of light and sound. I closed my eyes, embracing the strange journey ahead.~
You feel ice cold water being splashed on your face and your perspective shifts as the next vision takes hold.
Bang, bang, ba- you hear the sound of porcelain being smashed.
As you look around to see where the sound came from time drifts until your eyes rest on a long abandoned gold and white clay bottle. Dust has settled onto its remains, but you make out what could have been some form of bird head. The only easily discernible feature is a single sigil painted on its side. As your vision pulls away from the remains of this jar the light catches golden sand scattered across its dias.~
As you look around to see where the sound came from time drifts until your eyes rest on a long abandoned gold and white clay bottle. Dust has settled onto its remains, but you make out what could have been some form of bird head. The only easily discernible feature is a single sigil painted on its side. As your vision pulls away from the remains of this jar the light catches golden sand scattered across its dias.~
The shifting and changing colored patterns leading into the forges guiding visions turn into the landscape of night in the dreaming.
Two figures were in part of a woods that is not recognizable to you, both were breathing heavily and looking around in a frantic manner. Their mannerisms and posture clearly showed fear and caution permeating off of them like waves of two entities of prey being hunted. It took a moment for them to catch their breaths and look at each other revealing that one of them had the telltale signs of dread influence, touching them the same way the forge touched you. The other a distinctive yellowish aura surrounding them. Before there gazes quickly went to looking through the woods, guard on high alert. Their conversation was hushed and quick paced, clearly trying their best to not bring attention to themselves.
“How did it kill a dozen of us before we even realized what was going on?”
“I don’t know but I haven't heard the others in the woods after that last scream cut off.”
“We have to get back and repo…”
The Nightwalker turned to look at his companion as he wondered why he stopped talking to hear a thump and find his friend laying face first in the dirt. The glint of something sharp and metallic in his back as a figure stepped out of the darkness. Their outfit is a glistening silver and gray with a red shirt, sleeves rolled up to the elbows.
“Now, now, now, you better start running if you don't want me to catch you like your friend here.”
As the Nightwalker fled back into the woods the figure pulled the knife out of the bodies back and pulled a cloth from a pocket to clean it. It took only a moment for the figure to look up at where the forge showed you the vision, as if staring directly at you. The glint of eyes looking over the top of a pair of aviators studying for a second.
“Don’t lose hope, Dreamwalkers. There's always a plan.”
The figure stepped back into the darkness, seeming to meld with the shadows in the direction of their quarry.~
“How did it kill a dozen of us before we even realized what was going on?”
“I don’t know but I haven't heard the others in the woods after that last scream cut off.”
“We have to get back and repo…”
The Nightwalker turned to look at his companion as he wondered why he stopped talking to hear a thump and find his friend laying face first in the dirt. The glint of something sharp and metallic in his back as a figure stepped out of the darkness. Their outfit is a glistening silver and gray with a red shirt, sleeves rolled up to the elbows.
“Now, now, now, you better start running if you don't want me to catch you like your friend here.”
As the Nightwalker fled back into the woods the figure pulled the knife out of the bodies back and pulled a cloth from a pocket to clean it. It took only a moment for the figure to look up at where the forge showed you the vision, as if staring directly at you. The glint of eyes looking over the top of a pair of aviators studying for a second.
“Don’t lose hope, Dreamwalkers. There's always a plan.”
The figure stepped back into the darkness, seeming to meld with the shadows in the direction of their quarry.~
The comfort you are used to with the forge seems to shift and change.
The comfort you are used to with the forge seems to shift and change as if the forge itself has a feeling of confusion for a moment as another presence appears. That presence felt much younger and full of curiosity and a willingness to help. It takes a moment of you floating there in that space between dreams where as if the forge was having a conversation with this presence before a sense of understanding exuded from the forge and its presence seemed to fade as your fully being was touched by this youthful and excitable energy.
Where the scintillating shift of colors that associated would be, instead you get a sense as if nothing and everything touched on you as a vision appears.
In the deep nothingness, a place of vast emptiness something did exist. A vision of what could be best impressed onto you by the presence providing you this information is a cat. A feline like creature with about six legs and a deep violet sheen of a fur coat, that almost seemed to sparkle in the emptiness of this place stood up as if on air and stretched it, a yawn that showed lines of predatory teeth emanate from the creature as it looks in a direction somewhere in the nothingness before it crouched like a creature ready to pounce. A ripple of muscle flexed as it shot out of the vision like off a springboard into the deep nothingness. A wave of several tails on the beast is the last thing you see before the vision fades.~
Where the scintillating shift of colors that associated would be, instead you get a sense as if nothing and everything touched on you as a vision appears.
In the deep nothingness, a place of vast emptiness something did exist. A vision of what could be best impressed onto you by the presence providing you this information is a cat. A feline like creature with about six legs and a deep violet sheen of a fur coat, that almost seemed to sparkle in the emptiness of this place stood up as if on air and stretched it, a yawn that showed lines of predatory teeth emanate from the creature as it looks in a direction somewhere in the nothingness before it crouched like a creature ready to pounce. A ripple of muscle flexed as it shot out of the vision like off a springboard into the deep nothingness. A wave of several tails on the beast is the last thing you see before the vision fades.~
You feel Betrayal.
Your vision pans across Havoc City, revealing a massive crater at the center. The buildings around it are shattered, smoke rising from the fresh ruins. People stand at the edges, their faces etched with horror and disbelief.
Amidst the wreckage, the mangled chassis of a wasteland crawler lies twisted and broken. The crew compartment is torn open, wires and metal hanging limply. The radio inside crackles to life, the voice of DJ Steelhand breaking through the static.
“Hear me, Wasteland. Your heroes are dead. I return their remaining dust to you—a token of my goodwill."
Amidst the wreckage, the mangled chassis of a wasteland crawler lies twisted and broken. The crew compartment is torn open, wires and metal hanging limply. The radio inside crackles to life, the voice of DJ Steelhand breaking through the static.
“Hear me, Wasteland. Your heroes are dead. I return their remaining dust to you—a token of my goodwill."
Rage.
“We’ve got hostiles in sectors 2, 4, 7. They’re everywhere!”
A soldier grips his radio, panic in his voice. Gunfire crackles in the background, interspersed with the screams of the wounded. The vision pans across a battlefield where Remnants and Odin's Loyalists are engaged in a desperate fight for survival.
“Is that a Hellwarg!?”
A monstrous figure, twisted and grotesque, strides through the battlefield, impervious to bullets and explosives. Its eyes gleam with a sinister intelligence as it rips through the ranks of defenders with terrifying ease.
“No, it’s something worse.”
“Pick yourself up, soldier! You are not dying today!”
An officer pulls a wounded comrade to his feet, bullets whizzing past them as they seek cover behind a ruined wall. Then the monster crashes through it.~
A soldier grips his radio, panic in his voice. Gunfire crackles in the background, interspersed with the screams of the wounded. The vision pans across a battlefield where Remnants and Odin's Loyalists are engaged in a desperate fight for survival.
“Is that a Hellwarg!?”
A monstrous figure, twisted and grotesque, strides through the battlefield, impervious to bullets and explosives. Its eyes gleam with a sinister intelligence as it rips through the ranks of defenders with terrifying ease.
“No, it’s something worse.”
“Pick yourself up, soldier! You are not dying today!”
An officer pulls a wounded comrade to his feet, bullets whizzing past them as they seek cover behind a ruined wall. Then the monster crashes through it.~
Confusion.
“I REPEAT… Aria Si has been compromised."
“ARIA SI HAS BEEN COMPROMISED.”
“THE GUNS ARE POINTED AT US!”
An alarm blares throughout Aria Si, red lights flashing ominously. Automated defense turrets swivel, firing indiscriminately at anything that moves. Lepers and Mutants alike scramble for cover as the once-defensive stronghold turns on its inhabitants.
In the chaos, you see Viper as she leaps through the entry door of the space tank, narrowly dodging a piece of shrapnel that slices through the air where she stood moments before. She slams the hatch shut and fires up the engines, the tank roaring to life as she maneuvers it through the battlefield while taking heavy laser fire.
Nearby, a soldier shouts into his radio, his voice strained with desperation. The sound of footsteps draws near, and he turns to see a colossal figure looming over him. The vision cuts to black as the figure descends.
“No! No! We need backup in sector 3! Repeat, backup needed in sector 3!”~
“ARIA SI HAS BEEN COMPROMISED.”
“THE GUNS ARE POINTED AT US!”
An alarm blares throughout Aria Si, red lights flashing ominously. Automated defense turrets swivel, firing indiscriminately at anything that moves. Lepers and Mutants alike scramble for cover as the once-defensive stronghold turns on its inhabitants.
In the chaos, you see Viper as she leaps through the entry door of the space tank, narrowly dodging a piece of shrapnel that slices through the air where she stood moments before. She slams the hatch shut and fires up the engines, the tank roaring to life as she maneuvers it through the battlefield while taking heavy laser fire.
Nearby, a soldier shouts into his radio, his voice strained with desperation. The sound of footsteps draws near, and he turns to see a colossal figure looming over him. The vision cuts to black as the figure descends.
“No! No! We need backup in sector 3! Repeat, backup needed in sector 3!”~
Horror.
“We’ve lost sector 5! Retreat to the fallback positions!”
A commander’s voice crackles over the radio, his orders barely audible over the cacophony of explosions and gunfire. Remnant fighters fall back, their movements frantic and disorganized.
In a nearby alley, a group of Idols are pinned down by enemy fire. One by one, they fall, their bodies crumpling to the ground. The vision lingers on their faces, capturing the fear and determination in their eyes, before cutting away to the next scene.
A commander’s voice crackles over the radio, his orders barely audible over the cacophony of explosions and gunfire. Remnant fighters fall back, their movements frantic and disorganized.
In a nearby alley, a group of Idols are pinned down by enemy fire. One by one, they fall, their bodies crumpling to the ground. The vision lingers on their faces, capturing the fear and determination in their eyes, before cutting away to the next scene.
Death.
“Mayday… ….Mayday… Choppa 7F14 going down!”
A helicopter spins out of control, trailing smoke as it plummets towards you. The pilot's desperate cries for help echo through the chaos, but they are drowned out by the roar of explosions and the whistling of incoming projectiles. You feel the flames warm on your face.
A helicopter spins out of control, trailing smoke as it plummets towards you. The pilot's desperate cries for help echo through the chaos, but they are drowned out by the roar of explosions and the whistling of incoming projectiles. You feel the flames warm on your face.
Silence.
Then you wake up.
But you are not in the Dreaming.
Or in the Wasteland.~
The Battle for World War Eternal starts now.
But you are not in the Dreaming.
Or in the Wasteland.~
The Battle for World War Eternal starts now.