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Perhaps the best known settlement on Pathos, Orchrios is fairly typical of a large town, for either of the populating races. Of course, it's not without its troubles. Recently, rumors of a strange entity that grants wishes have begun circulating. However, not much else is known at this point...
As the night passes, some of the inhabitants have a bizarre dream.
As the dream fades, those who had it would be awoken by either the sunlight from the dawn entering their room, or an alarm clock, depending on preference.
As the night passes, some of the inhabitants have a bizarre dream.
Two young human males race up a winding path on the outside of a tower, nearing the top. A rainstorm is pummeling them as they step out onto the tower's top.
One of the pair, seeming to have a fascination with dark blue and violet, crosses to one side. "It looks like our Master isn't here." As he says this, he draws a bastard sword, studying its blade.
The second, clad in tans and browns, shakes his head. "I doubt that he's been defeated. He's pretty strong." He shrugs, holding a sheathed katana in his right hand, thumb on top of the tsuba.
The first turned, and sneered. "Our master won't listen to the voices. Too bad, that. They make a lot of sense." He began circling around towards the second.
The second responded by starting to circle away from him, as if concerned about the tone that was creeping into the other's voice. "Vincent...What voices are you talking about..." Unconsciously, this young man had begun running his thumb along the outside edge of the tsuba of his katana.
"You're just like him, Cross. You refuse to listen. Those who refuse aren't worthy to see what the voices will bring!" Vincent roared, as he charged across the tower top, trying to strike down Cross...
...Who was too fast for Vincent. Halfway across, two blades met. In the resulting fight, the metallic clangs of the two swords clashing merged into one long, drawn out ring. The two were fighting at such a speed that a dome of rainwater formed around them. When the blades finally locked, the dome collapsed. Numerous cuts scored Vincent's body. Cross bore a long gash across his chest, one across the back of his right forearm, and several small cuts across his left leg. The blade lock ends with Vincent getting thrown back, barely holding onto his sword while clutching his left eye. Cross stands tall, a shallow cut just barely missing his own right eye.
As the dream fades, those who had it would be awoken by either the sunlight from the dawn entering their room, or an alarm clock, depending on preference.
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