First Reply In Your Dreams

[Voldran Molf]

Shadow Lord, Prince of Nightmare, Dream Lord
"Low Gothic" | ["High Gothic"] | ~ Telepathic communication ~ | << comm. channel >>​

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Objective: Find his ally.
Location: Dreamplane (Warp)
Equipment: Armour | Sword

Open​

Voldran's life had been anything but easy. In truth, if he had not appeared so young, many would have called him a weary old man. The man had walked this side of the galaxy for nearly three centuries, hiding himself and keeping his distance from almost everyone. There were several reasons for that. The most obvious one was his appearance alone. White hair and crimson eyes were enough to make alarm bells ring even for those who understood nothing of the Warp, or who could not perceive it at all. In Voldran's case, an encounter with an Imperial psyker would have been particularly unpleasant.

For Voldran was warp-touched.

When he had been only a few days old, his parents; his mother, Dodhorn Harert, a noblewoman who was secretly a psyker and the high priestess of one of Tzeentch's sects, and his father, Vanath Molf, likewise a nobleman and secretly the high priest of one of Khorne's cults… had offered the infant's body as a vessel during a shared ritual to two Greater Daemons. Thus, even as a child, Voldran's soul had been marked by powerful daemons of two Chaos Gods.

And such marks never faded. It was something that could be seen. Something that could be felt. Since that moment, Voldran's life had been little more than an unending struggle against the fate that had been chosen for him. That struggle was made no easier by the fact that Voldran was an Alpha-Plus grade psyker. If any inquisitor - or indeed anyone loyal to the Imperium - had discovered that truth, he would have been executed without hesitation. He was far too tainted to be accepted as human… yet far too unbroken to belong to Chaos.

He walked the boundary between two worlds.

In secret, wherever he could, he aided the Imperium Nihilus. Quietly. Never remaining in one place for too long, lest he endanger others or himself. Although Voldran possessed formidable telepathic abilities and could have functioned much like an astropath, doing so would have drawn far too much attention. Over the years he had developed something far more pragmatic and perhaps more elegant, if also somewhat cumbersome. Because of his nature, Voldran rarely slept. Instead he restored both mind and body through meditation, maintaining at the same time a mental barrier against the daemons that still lingered at the edge of his existence.

Through this discipline he had learned a peculiar skill: to step into the dreams of others. From there he could gather information… or communicate. There was a certain grim amusement in gathering information this way, for the target often never realised they had revealed things they should not have. The drawback, however, was obvious. He needed to find the other person at the precise moment they were asleep.

If they were awake, Voldran might step into the dreams of someone else entirely or fail to find the mind he sought. Distance did not make the task easier, yet there had been occasions when he communicated with allies who were on the far side of the Dark Imperium. Tonight was one such occasion. He needed to speak with one of his allies. Within his small hidden refuge, Voldran sank into meditation and allowed his mind to attune itself to the Warp. Once he reached that state, his task was simple: find the one he sought. After some searching, it seemed he had found the right mind.

In the Warp, minds always shone like strange lights within the darkness. Voldran attuned himself to the one he sought… or at least, the one he believed he had found. Yet what he did not realise was that, although the psychic pattern seemed similar, he had not entered the dream of his ally at all.

He had stepped into someone else's dream entirely.

 

[Inquisitor Yesen]

Cold.

That is the first thing any Valhallan feels, even in the palaces of the elite, to the hovels of the most isolated families. In the laps of luxury where one would want for nothing, to where every day is a victory for even getting morsels to eat.

They all felt the cold of the Valhalla, and that Cold is something every son and daughter of the planet will remember even if they leave the planet early on.

For the Cold is greater than just mere temperature, more than that, but something that is part of the people, even in the most sweltering of deserts, to the deepest of hives.

No one forget the Cold of Valhalla.

Which is why Yesen is dreaming of the cold, from the childhood memories he had, scant they may be yet as solid as ceramite, and as distinct as a splotch of black upon the endless snowy ground.

And Yesen, as the boy he was all those years ago is sitting upon a log that been dead and laid within a cave for who knows how many years. With the log being joined by two others, surrounding a blaring fire. A fire that bring warmth to keep the Cold at arms-reach. Even within the cave and in the reach of the flame, the cold still nips at the edges of little Yesen. Staring at the flame, dangling his little legs on the log while two...Figures sit on another one of the logs, facing both the flame and the entrance of the cave. Yet the features of the figures are indistinct, vague. The only vague parts of his dream. Yet in the vagueness contrast with everything, there is distinctness, a couple, whos voices are like muffled echoes and who only features are the thick clothing covering them up, protecting them from the cold. Their faces being as bare and hazy as the snow outside. So noticable yet one he doesn't acknowledge.

But Little Yesen didn't care, he was just enjoying this moment with...With them. Enjoying the warmth and silence with Them.

But, Little Yesen felt something weird, something off, something that isn't suppose to happen in this dream, a dream that been the same for dozens upon dozens of times.


But Little Yesen, in his thick winter clothing, wearing his face covering, continue to stare at the flame even though he felt something from the entrance of this cave.

Voldran Molf