Do constructs dream of magic sheep?

[glowygreendeath]

Who | Ermac and various 4th wall visitors, as well as anyone who wants to tag in
What | 4th wall event
Where | Dreamland!
When | Every night during the Dream Event
Warnings | Gore, violence, and possibly sad times. They're the dreams of a guy made from the souls of thousands of warriors who died in battle; what else were you expecting?


Day One

Ermac can be found waiting in the common area of the District 12 suites, watching the city below from out a window.

Day Two



Visitors will find themselves in one of Outworld's marketplaces, which is bustling with activity despite the intense heat. There are many strange beasts here, but keen-eyed visitors will spot some more convential fantasy races in the crowd as well. There even seem to be a few very beautiful elves in woodland garb, interacting freely with the rougher desert folk despite looking incredibly out of place. Even Ermac doesn't react to the additions to his world.

Day 3

Today there's a beautiful, serene garden. The trees are lush, the grass is soft and a perfect green, the flowers are vibrant and fragrant. Unseen birds can be heard singing in the trees, and there are beautiful koi swimming in a pond full of blooming lily pads. Ermac is sitting under one of the trees, taking advantage of the tranquility to just relax and clear his mind.

Day 4

He's on a train, hurtling toward District 12. He's been on it for quite some time, and he'll arrive at his destination soon, but he can't remember getting on. Does it matter? Probably not. He just watches the scenery fly by, bored but refusing to read the copy of Celebrus on the table in his car.

Day 5

This Arena feels like a joke. Water guns, fake weapons, glitter...there are even butterflies and rabbits running around the meadow. Ermac feels a little insulted.

Day 6

It's freezing, and the air reeks of blood, decay, and a cocktail of truly foul liquids. Old gore and blood are smeared on the stone walls and floor, and blood-stained hooks hang from chains bolted into the ceiling. Everything feels unstable, barely real. Pieces of dissected, mutilated cadavers are strewn across the floor and tables, leftovers from various mad experiments with the dead.

Experiments like him. He feels...wrong. New. Powerful. Overcrowded. He can hear a crowd speaking, screaming, all around him, but he can't see anyone else. He slides off the table, feeling his feet touch the ground for the first time. It all feels...alien. He tries to remember why he's there, but only calls up memories of his death. His many deaths. Over and over, visions of dying in battle, of deaths both instantaneous and agonizing, fast and drawn out, of watching his allies die, of being his dying allies. And the screams! The intensity of the screams makes him fall to his knees and hold his head in a futile attempt to silence them.

Day 7

The dreamscape keeps shifting, moving seamlessly from one war to the next. One minute it's in Edenia, with the last great Edenian warriors making one last stand against Outworld's overwhelming forces. The next, it's in Earthrealm, with Outworld soldiers and war beasts trampling the unprepared Special Forces and riot police in the downtown core of a truly unlucky city. Then, it turns to Outworld's civil war, with brother killing brother in the streets, soldiers breaking into civilian homes that were rumored to be harboring rebels or loyalist agents. The feel of all these wars is the same: there is blood, and it demands more blood. It always demands more blood.
 

Comments

Day 2

[tomybestfan]

At least there's one familiar face in the crowd...unfortunately it had to be this annoying son of a bitch from Ermac's past. That familiar swagger of a man too confident for his own good, and crackling his knuckles to the sight.

"Well, look at that," the man is well aware how grating he can be with his former opponents and this is no exception. "The Mummy lives again."

[glowygreendeath]

The sarcasm. The grating, annoying voice that made him want to wrap his hands around the nearest throat and crush it. Why did it have to be Cage? He finally got home, and the universe saw fit to obliterate any joy he got from that by presenting him with Johnny Cage.

Ermac glares coldly at him.

"We are a construct, Earthrealm fool."

Why did he insist on calling Ermac a mummy? Was he trying to incite Ermac's wrath, or was he just that stupid?

[tomybestfan]

"Construct, mummy, it's all the same, you're still you and looking none better for it," Johnny sniped without missing a beat, "Thought I kicked your ass seven ways to Sunday the last time I saw you, something tells me this isn't our usual place. Are you still honing your comedy skills?"

No he's not going to relent, Ermac...enjoy.

[glowygreendeath]

"And you are still an idiot."

He crosses his arms, annoyed but not yet irritated enough to attack. Coming home had done a lot to brighten his mood, so it was going to take more than a few 'witty' comments to set him off.

"Have you gone blind? This is Outworld. My place, not yours."

Although...there was something off about it. Maybe he'd just forgotten a few details while he was transported back. Or did he come back on his own? No matter. He was home.

[tomybestfan]

"Right right, and yet you don't deny some facts about our last meeting," Cage was not letting that go of that fact any time soon. In fact, time to ask some questions, "What have you been doing since then? Because this place isn't quite like the Outworld I remember...looks sanitized for your standards."

He noticed it too, this place was just too perfect to be the Outworld where fates were decided. "It's close but there's a distinct lack of...gore and body parts."

[glowygreendeath]

"This is a marketplace, not a battlefield. Idiot."

He glares at Cage. Why did Earthrealmers always assume that every part of Outworld was in a state of constant state of war? Soldiers didn't grow their own food or erect new buildings, after all, so obviously there had to be civilians and just enough stability for things to get done.

"Why are you here? Our realms are not at war, and you are no diplomat."

Day 6

[homicidium]

Wednesday doesn't look disgusted or perturbed as she pads quietly through the room. She does think it's messy and that any respectable mad scientist would clean up after themselves, but she's otherwise unbothered by the blood and the body parts. She actually sort of likes the smell, or at least finds it preferable to the flowery stench of the Capitol.

She gets close to Ermac and kneels down in front of him, staining her white tights with blood as concern crosses her face. She puts her hands over his, where he holds his head, and knits her brow.

"You're all right," she tells him.

[glowygreendeath]

He doesn't realize that she's actually there at first. What was one more voice in the cacophony of the screaming in his head? Her touch does eventually sink in, and he realizes that someone real is touching him. Someone familiar, but he can't quite place the voice.

He lowers his hands, revealing that, in this dream, he looks younger. Alive. Even his wrappings look new, and properly cover his face.

"Who are you?"

She didn't seem to fit. Everything felt wrong here, but this girl in particular seemed out of place.

[homicidium]

"Wednesday, remember?"

She keeps hold of his face, confused by the change in his appearance, her small, pale hands contrasting sharply with his wrappings. He's not so different, but it's like she's gone back in time somehow. All of her dreams have been in places that make sense to her, but here doesn't. Here is odd, and she's sure she needs Ermac to guide her so she can get back out.

"There's no one else here. You wanted them to come back, didn't you? The souls?"

[glowygreendeath]

He frowns as he tries to make sense of all this. The voices, the souls, were still screaming, and new memories are beginning to creep in. He shouldn't have any memories of his own...should he? He'd only just opened his eyes for the first time. But this girl...he knew her. He'd met her...after all this. Years after. And somewhere else entirely.

"We...know you. But we don't understand."

Power. He can feel it coursing through him now, and it's absolutely intoxicating. It bleeds out as a green glow around his hands and wrists, barely contained...and yet, he can remember, distantly, how to control it. Wield it.

"The souls...yes, we can hear them. They're so...loud."

[homicidium]

She can't overcome the screams because she can't hear them. She can't hope to drown them out. She can only hope that he comes back around and makes some sense of this all, because she has no idea where they are or what they might find.

"From the Capitol. We're friends."

Wednesday can see the green in her peripheral vision, but it doesn't bother her enough to actually look down at it -- she keeps looking at his eyes, lacking pupils and glowing bright.

"Tell them to quiet down. You can hear them, though. That's good, isn't it?"

[glowygreendeath]

"The Capitol...?"

He thinks hard, despite the cacophony of the voices. Memories begin to trickle back, both of the Capitol and of his own life in other realms. Of being stripped of his powers. He glances down at his hands, which are glowing brightly now and giving off what looks like an unnatural green mist. The screams gradually subside as he regains control over his being, and return to their normal chatter. Hearing their endless observations and comments brings a welcome sense of relief as he stands up.

"Yes. We remember now. And indeed, our souls are ours to command again."

He stands up and emits a burst of green that sends him just off the ground, where he remains in utter disobedience to the laws of physics. He'd missed levitating, and being able to use that simple power again actually makes him grin just a little.

"But what are you doing here?"

[homicidium]

She watches with interest, particularly once he's floating. Wednesday's never seen levitate quite like this; usually there's a broom or a carpet or a haunted vehicle involved. He seems calmer now, though, and happier, and it makes her relax more, given her wariness of unfamiliar locations.

"I was just walking and then I opened that door," she explains, pointing to the still-open door. "It was the only thing around. Where are we? Do you know?"

Day 3

[furgood]

She was finally getting used to the sensation of shifting dreams. There was this slight disorientation one doesn't normally get when dreams change, but not unpleasant. She doubles down on that idea when she sees where she ended up. A calm garden is hardly the worst place to spend a dream. It's not the paradise conjured for her but it's beautiful nonetheless.

She kneels by the pond, poking fingers in for koi to nibble on. Unfortunately, they don't find them particularly convincing. Sweeping her gaze over the rest of the garden, she finally catches the form under the tree.

"Oh! I'm sorry, am I disturbing you?"

[glowygreendeath]

He doesn't notice anyone else at first, mostly because he'd been sitting on a flat boulder with his eyes closed and focusing on the feel of the gentle breeze on his skin. He lazily opens one eye to see who's joined him in this little utopia, and it's immediately obvious just how starkly he contrasts with his surroundings. While everything around him is soft, vibrant, and natural, Ermac has a unnatural glow to his eyes and grey, decayed flesh. And yet, he looks completely relaxed here, like he'd just come home and settled into a comfortable arm chair.

"No. There is enough space here for another. We just ask that you keep your voice down."

[furgood]

Upon a better look, he...doesn't seemm really alive. Or perhaps alive but not quite right. Glowing eyes aren't really atypical in the Capitol but they're something wrong about them. Combined with his skin, he seems like the god of the underworld, which seems more out of place with garden than if he had been that strange six legged they had had years ago.

"We? Are there others here?"

She glances around uncertainly, but the rest of this place seems absent of other people, let alone ones like him.

[glowygreendeath]

"No, there is only us."

Who else would there be? It was his garden, after all. Then it dawns on him that other people seemed to be confused by his pronouns.

"We are many spirits, bound in one body."

[furgood]

"Oh."

There's an awkward moment as she tries to imagine how that works, which one she is talking to. You can barely get two people to agree on something, it must be difficult to speak with one voice. That doesn't explain the glowing eyes and the body that seems to be rotting. Or perhaps it does. She's not entirely sure.

"Have you always been this way?"

[glowygreendeath]

"As Ermac? Yes. We were created this way. Our souls belonged to many warriors slain in battle."

Warriors whose deaths he could remember clearly, as if it had actually been him rather than them.

"Have you always been the way you are now?"

He doesn't mean it as any kind of snarky remark. He's met many people who changed states of being, so the concept is far from new to him.

Day 3

[quiethumerus]

So far, this night has proven to be his favourite. From his own paradise, to the ones of everyone else, he is managing sweet dreams for once in his life. This dream is no different.

The grass is soft under his heels, enough so he almost considers removing them. He runs a hand over the flowers and breathes in their scent. It's a beautiful view. Even with the dreamer sitting right there.

He tilts his head, smiles, and gives a small wave of greeting.

[glowygreendeath]

Ermac doesn't return the wave, but he does nod slightly in acknowledgement.

"Are you staying, or merely passing through?"

His tone is soft, even with his bizarre voice. Whether this visitor stays or not is no bother to him; there's more than enough room for two bodies in this lush garden.

[quiethumerus]

Ah yes, the tricky start when people haven't yet noticed his stitches. All questions would be much easier if only they were all yes or no. Or even maybe.

He waggles his fingers to mime walking across some small distance. Then he shugs helplessly and clasps his hands.

He was going somewhere, but as of now, he is in no particular rush. This is a nice place after all.

[glowygreendeath]

"Can you not speak?"

Or did he just choose not to? He'd be severely annoyed if it was the latter.

[quiethumerus]

His hand goes up, fingers pinching together as he preforms a zipping motion over his mouth, then a thumbs up. Unless this person was blind, he'd think it hard to miss the stitches now. The black sutures threads he chose were thick. All the better now to break.

So maybe it was a little bit of both.

[glowygreendeath]

He raises an eyebrow.

"We could remove those, if you want."