[ When he dreams he will be seated opposite a crosslegged figure. It seems to not have a true shape, more an outline. It's features shift and mold and alter as it speaks. Under everything there is a hissing static, like a TV set to the wrong channel.]
Get them. Out. Of my way.
[There will be flashes in his mind of masked crusaders on motorcycles, their masks near invisible aside from lights.
Then there are flashes of other monsters, twisted and grotesque, and wrapped in the hair of a long fingered creature that reaches out of the dark. The Fog God and her minions.
The figure tilts it's head.]
Clear.
[The static grows to overpower all else, and Shun will wake.]
no subject
Get them. Out. Of my way.
[There will be flashes in his mind of masked crusaders on motorcycles, their masks near invisible aside from lights.
Then there are flashes of other monsters, twisted and grotesque, and wrapped in the hair of a long fingered creature that reaches out of the dark. The Fog God and her minions.
The figure tilts it's head.]
Clear.
[The static grows to overpower all else, and Shun will wake.]