Sweat covering his body, Ashan awoke from his dream. The dreamscape had seemed so alien yet so very real. The first rays of sun began to filter through the window of his small hut. Rising from the straw bed, he went and ate then he bathed. When he was finished he trudged out the door into his fields, where he began to work.

Later he travelled down the old dusty road to the village, bringing with him a wagon full of his harvested crops to trade. A shrill scream coming from the village interrupted his thoughts, his hand instinctively flying to the hilt of the dagger, carefully concealed beneath his shirt. When he arrived at the village he the sight he saw was horrific, he couldn't believe anyone would do this. The bodies of villagers were scattered around, soaked in blood, most of it from the person next to them. They had fought back to back, arm in arm, and they had been slaughtered like animals, men, women and children alike all lay dead. He felt himself begin to weep. he fell to his knees, examining the carnage before him.

Suddenly the sound of a battle, originating from a nearby house roused him from his sorrow. He grabbed one of the swords of a dead village guard and rushed to the inn. As he entered, he saw about ten or so bulky men slashing at a dark hooded creature. The creature stood about 3ft high and was managing to dodge all their efforts to kill it. Then the creature raised a shrivelled, twisted, black hand and uttered something under its breath.

And then the men stopped, and they knelt, and one by one the creature slit their throats. Ashan thought he saw a glint of something, a shiny crimson from underneath the hood. When the creature was done it raised its head and its hood fell back, revealing two deep crimson eyes, set into a cold, featureless black face.

No it can't be, it was the creature from the dream, the one that had been pursuing him through the dark, twisted dreamland. No it hadn't been this creature, it was similar but now he remembered that the creature in the dream had tribal markings down its face. And its eyes, they were a darker shade of crimson. This creature’s gaze held him, he wanted to turn and run but he couldn’t, his legs refused to obey him.

As he began to run he stumbled over a piece of debris and fell to the floor. The creature moved to him and raised its menacing dagger at an amazing speed. Wincing, Ashan awaited that dreadful weapons cold touch but it never came. The creature began to gurgle as a pure silver blade with intricate runes thrust through its cloak. Blood began to ooze and spurt from the gaping wound as the sword withdrew. Standing behind the creature was a man wearing plate mail with a red and gold insignia on the front.
“Rest now,” the man told Ashan
And with that Ashan drifted into a deep sleep.