I focused, preparing for one last strike against the rift boss.
Then, I felt it.
A tooth slicing into the back of my calf.
Briefly glancing down as I stumbled to one knee, I saw the lieutenant I’d left for dead.
It managed to drag itself over to me while I was otherwise occupied.
"Always finish the damn job Terry!" I bellowed.
I swung down, ending its life and almost decapitating it with my hammer in my anger and surging adrenaline.
But, it might be too little too late. Only way out, if I get out, is through.
The boss charged and I bounced out of the way, letting my shield arm take the brunt as best I could.
I recovered my morningstar from the chest of the now dead lieutenant and faced down my foe.
A minute later of a cat and mouse battle, the bleached beast, even its eyes turning white like the warm almost-snowflakes that fitfully floated around us, answered another of my screams of anger with a roar of its own and began to lope towards me from 15 feet (5m) away.
I’d gotten quite a few good hits in on its left hind leg so it was about as graceful as my usual ‘run’ trying to catch the tram to another terminal in the Dallas Fort Worth airport.
Why the hell are the terminals arranged as A-C-E-D-B?
Its fangs dripping a mixture of saliva and both of our blood, it approached my shield at a pace I couldn’t fully block. I swung at the side of its head knowing I needed to end it here and now.
I can’t survive another charge. My leg is done for.
One – or both – of us would not be making it out of this alive.
Would I rather be doing this or a PowerPoint?
There wasn't a question in my mind as I grimly smiled.
Time to finish the job.
***
6 days prior
I came to in a softly glowing chamber that looked like a mix of 70s sci-fi movie laboratory, medieval ritual sacrifice chamber, and sex dungeon. The putrid air smelled of decay and damp with a tinge of burnt hair as I felt cold metal against my naked back.
Really? Must it always be like this with being naked? Okay dream, what weird quest do I have to do?
But nothing came to me. None of the usual 'oh no, I'm naked, I must now infiltrate the Pentagon while holding one hand over my junk to protect my modesty' kind of feeling typical to a dream of mine in the buff.
As I put my bare feet on the ground, rising from the tilted table, I took in the area around me: Dead and decomposing body in a regal-looking robe to my right, weird science-y type equipment to my left. Ahead was a brighter light, greater than the gentle illumination of what I guessed were emergency lights around me. Overall, it wasn’t the most enticing scene.
I searched through a few of the drawers of desks to the side and saw what I expected: writing but it was complete gibberish, strange symbols that looked like nothing I’d seen before.
“Great, I finally actually lucid dream and I’m naked, it stinks to high hell, I’m in a creepy facility, and, again, I’m naked. I hate naked dreams…” My voice sounded far deeper and richer than I was used to.
Outside of the absolute mess of a rotting corpse on the table beside me, I couldn’t find any clothes and didn’t want to touch something that had been stewing in rotting man-meat.
From my expertise in watching crime shows with extensive science, I think this body has been dead for… quite a while?
Oddly to me, there were no bugs feasting despite what looked like sunlight ahead.
“Oh yeah, dreams are weird, logic doesn’t matter,” I muttered to myself and chuckled, then headed outside.
I exited the building into a peaceful and tranquil clearing in a forest of towering trees and smelled the sweet air, an extremely welcome reprieve from the prior stench. It had a nice deep and rich scent of decay and growth, like a healthy forest should.
It reminded me of an old grove forest from when we lived further outside of Chicago in the suburbs.
The light filtered through the leaves to give a comforting greenish glow.
Naked as the day I was born – and as a few of both my fondest and least fond memories from the last few years – I looked around.
Surprisingly, the entrance to the facility had disappeared. I searched for a few seconds but realized I had no reason to want to go back inside and dropped it.
The temperature was perfect for walking around in the buff, maybe 80 degrees (~25 C) and with only a light wind that failed to overly rustle my jimmies, both figuratively and literally. My body felt fantastic as well.
Everything was extremely vivid.
“I think I really am lucid dreaming?” I said to no one.
I’d tried a few times over the last few months and was almost completely unsuccessful. Not focusing on the time I accidentally changed someone's face to that of my ex and jerked awake in a panic, I started with the most obvious thing to do.
I tried to fly.
Made the superhero arms outstretched pose and everything.
I didn't realize I was even making the straining noise but I didn't much care. It was a dream, no one here to judge me.
"Well, shoot, that would have been cool," I lamented in a wistful voice.
Well, flying didn't work so I tried the next obvious things.
I probably didn't need to keep make the straining noise but it somehow made it more fun.
Really, trying to summon a fighter jet, a feast that would make a king weep in jealousy, a really sharp suit I'd seen and wondered if I could pull off, that giant LEGO set that just wouldn't fit in the apartment's craft room with all the others, a women's beach volleyball tournament, and many more things without making any noise would be weird, right?
Unfortunately, none of it worked as intended.
Of course, it did work as unintended.
After throwing out a few choice words trying to summon a beam of power Goku-style, I noticed a squirrel staring at me.
A very, very pissed off – and also very large – squirrel.
In a house dress of a lovely floral print and wielding what looked like a rolling pin covered in flour. Its paws and dress also had some flour on them.
Was this squirrel just baking? Heh, probably pecan pie. Can you make a pie from acorns? Dreams are weird.
And then it rushed me, running on its back two legs, wooden baking instrument of death held high, chittering in a way that almost sounded like language.
I tried not to laugh. I tried to dodge. I succeeded at neither.
I let out the start of a chuckle that turned into a yell of surprise as it charged, walloping me on the shin, leaving what would assuredly become a bruise.
Well a bruise to be if it wasn’t a dream.
Wait, am I supposed to feel pain in dreams?
My moment of distraction let the squirrel dash in a second time and hit the same shin. It wasn't quite grab and gasp level shin bash but it hurt.
Focus! This is a fight of life or a slightly bruised shin!
I laughed to myself again as I tried to grab the extremely agitated Sciuridae but it scurried away from my grasp. Its fur was way softer and more tactile than I was expecting.
I bent over a bit to try to engage it at its – her? – level and earned a swing at my head. I managed to interpose my arms in an X to prevent it landing and it lacked the same force as the previous strikes.
Can I distract it? Do I have anything it might want? Nuts! Do I see any nuts? No brain, BAD JOKE!
Chuckling but simultaneously deciding negotiation was beyond us, I decided to fight back a little harder. I feinted to the left and dodged to the right; my body reacted far better than expected and I jumped too far to grab the rolling pin.
The second time, I did a double feint, essentially standing still in the end, and managed to catch the rolling pin, ripping it from her paws. Of course, that left her with the option of retreating or using claws.
The look in her eyes said I was in for a scratching.
Finally, realizing a victory would mean essentially nothing – there’s no pride in beating a squirrel – I tossed the rolling pin far to the side and skedaddled. She let out a triumphant, ululating cry as I made my way out of the area.
I ran for about five minutes and then slowed to a jogging pace, enjoying the fact I could actually move this fast for a sustained period. It was a pace I could maybe hold for two to three minutes in my real body and then would feel for the next three days instead of the fifteen minutes and going in this well-built one.
I’d never been all that athletic – other than maybe a three-month period when I was 14 – and my physique had suffered mightily from the past few years of being away from home Sunday night through Thursday night most weeks.
Working out of client offices, usually without a rental car, meant you ate what you could most times and that almost exclusively wasn't healthy. Near one client office, all the Panera employees learned my name and my three variations of orders. That was mildly embarrassing.
Then, when I was actually home in Chicago, I was too tired, physically and mentally, to really get into a great workout routine.
And hotel gyms always smelled like feet boiled in the sweat of more feet and sprinkled with an eau de ass. And feet.
This body felt great. There was a weird pulling sensation around my center but it was hardly noticeable compared to the previously constant wrist, shoulder, and lower back pain I’d picked up over the years.
I slowed to a walk, indulging in the subtle scents of the forest and the feel of loamy soil beneath my feet. Surprisingly, stepping on branches barely even registered.
It was honestly my best time in nature in years. Is this my actual first time in nature in years? There was that one hiking date but it was best left forgotten. She had an upset stomach and agreed to go on a hike? Why!?
I tried to fly again, this time sans noise. No luck.
Deciding this was a very strange dream with some great ups but also some downs – no pants and a still-throbbing shin being the main ones – I decided to look for civilization.
Not hearing any water – civilization usually built along water after all – I did the next best thing and headed what seemed like slightly more downhill, which was also towards where I thought the trees seemed sparser.
Another 30 minutes and I was proved half correct at least as the trees started to thin considerably. I came up over a small crest and I could see across rolling hills for miles. I miss having good eyesight like this.
In the far distance, I saw what looked like a darker dot in the middle of a sea of green.
Probably a city? It’s just barely higher than the green so it isn’t a mountain or anything.
Or maybe it was a Chicago-style mountain? AKA a reasonably large hill. There was a reason Wisconsinites called Illinois residents flatlanders. Why they thought that was an insult was still beyond me though.
I headed in that direction, looking for a road or any other sign of civilization.
***
Another 40 minutes or so – hard to tell time without a phone or watch – and I saw a few signs of past farming but not anything that looked like it was currently operating. The grass was only at about knee height and was very soft so no chafing issues thankfully.
Unauthorized duplication: this tale has been taken without consent. Report sightings.
There were lovely little groves of wildflowers every few minutes that I stopped to enjoy. Some smells were familiar, some were completely new. Most were lovely. But only most.
Stay away from the blue flowers!
Since I was lacking my phone, I could only do mental notes rather than my typical digital ones.
When I was still about two miles away from the city, I finally ran across what looked like a tended road of a sort. It was really only wagon tracks but it was a bald patch of earth indicating people.
Or more squirrels.
As I was trying to decide which direction to head – the road ran parallel to the city taking shape in the distance – I heard a bellowing cry.
Turning, an alabaster behemoth of an ugly beast was barreling away from someone that looked to be chasing it at inhuman speeds.
As soon as I decided to just hunker down and watch – neglecting the concept of cover – it turned my direction and began charging.
"OH SHOOT!" I yelled.
I had long-ago learned to keep my swearing in my head after I got chewed out by the boss of my boss. A client complained that I swore in a casual conversation to the entire account team for over an hour. While swearing was fun in general, it wasn't worth my livelihood.
Consulting is dumb. Especially business operations consulting. It's helpful to clients but you get the Office Space question of what do you actually do here pretty often.
Remembering my much less dangerous lesson from the ‘squirrel battle of epic proportions’ earlier, I decided on a strategy instead of standing still, waiting to get hit.
The lumbering beast was even uglier the closer it got. It looked like a cross between a hippo and a dinosaur.
A hipposaur is a great name for it.
There were many reasons I was banned from naming projects at my newest client.
It seemed a lot of the beast's damage capabilities were simply its size and moderately pointed teeth. As a front-heavy quadruped, I thought it probably wouldn't have the ability to swipe with its front legs, at least to do so in a coordinated charge. The tail, as far as I’d seen from a distance – my current perspective didn't give me a great view – looked more for balance than for use as a weapon.
I decided lateral movement was my best way to survive and hope it tired itself out, got bored, and/or the person chasing it could catch up and let me escape in some way.
I sure couldn't use the old joke of you don't have to outrun the bear, just the slowest person with you; that guy was quick.
I kept using a feint or juke to the left, run to the right strategy. It seemed to actually work relatively well as the hipposaur didn't appear too intelligent and would slightly turn to its right before chasing me to its left. As it bled off more and more speed, the man chasing it finally caught up. I wanted to check out his outfit – it looked hilarious – but kept my mind focused on the beast trying to squish and/or eat me.
The man started yelling but I couldn't understand it at all. It sounded a bit harsher than English but not quite as inherently angry as German. Almost close to the noise the squirrel made. Still, I chanced a shrug and yelled, "I can't understand, please help me!"
It wasn't the most heroic thing but if the would-be hero didn't survive the day, could they ever end up saving another day far off in the future?
The man continued yelling but seemed to make a decision as the hipposaur took another charge at me that I wouldn't be able to fully dodge.
As I ungracefully leapt to the side, the man shouted something and an undulating series of blueish-white ethereal strands emerged from his mouth. It was awe-inspiring and a bit mesmerizing.
A wave of invisible force and wind shoved me to the side.
I still got battered hard on the shoulder by the monster but I thought that was better that than getting crushed by at least a few tons of white death.
The man shot an arrow at the beast and I was surprised it actually penetrated the thick hide. The hipposaur turned to him and I only caught a glimpse of its maddened fury. I did get a fist-sized dollop of its saliva that crashed into my face as it turned to focus on the man. It smelled like death that someone tried to cover with anti-fart spray.
And tasted worse.
I scrambled away as best as I could and took what little cover the trampled grass could offer me.
Finding a rock, I decided to try to help to the best of my meager abilities. Harkening back to my little league days, I threw as hard as I could at the most vulnerable spot I could see.
Bullseye on the b-hole.
It did nothing and the beast continued to pay me no mind so I wisely ducked back into the grass.
Aren’t I supposed to be the hero of my own dream?
As the hunter – at least he looked like a hunter with his pack, gray-green outfit covering him from neck to toe, and silly hat with an enormous feather; so more Robin Hood than Skyrim hunter but a mix of the two – cast another spell on his bow and waited a second; the beast bellowed again.
That was the moment he'd waited for apparently. The man shot an arrow that transformed into three arrows in the 45 feet (15m) between them. One each drove into its eyes and the third changed direction mid-flight to angle upwards through the hipposaur's soft palate and presumably into its brain.
It gave a short, piteous sound and slumped to the ground.
Standing up to thank my savior, he turned on me with a cold fury in his eyes. I couldn't tell what he was saying but it wasn't hard to guess the meaning. I really wished I could understand because I was sure there were at least a few choice expletives screamed at me and I always enjoyed learning new insults and swear words.
Then he started indicating towards my crotch region and I remembered I was still fully naked. I quickly shifted a hand to cover myself.
One hand doesn't quite cut it. This dream gives and takes in equal measure.
I tried my best to mime clothes and please but he turned away from me in disgust. There was only so much naked shrugging the hunter could take apparently.
Thinking back to my consultant guide I first started writing in jest, and which then actually became useful when I started getting put into more and more dysfunctional companies, I recalled number 243.
Consultant survival tip #243: When someone who has a significant power advantage over you is screaming at you and you aren't sure why, try to look innocent. If you can pass whatever off as an innocent mistake instead of incompetence or malice, they will usually calm down quickly.
The hunter turned back to the beast and reached towards a sack on his hip. He pulled out a large machete, yelled something into the air, and then used his now-glowing weapon to hack off the creature's head. Then he took another few minutes to dismember the rest of the creature, spilling its oddly light-colored blood.
Confused as to the purpose of chopping something up in a field just off the road – maybe beasts can regenerate like trolls? – I saw the reason shortly thereafter.
The hunter walked up to the almost boulder-sized head and neck area and put his hand on it. It quickly disappeared. He did the same to the other nine pieces and turned back to me to give me one last nasty look.
But I was paying him zero attention.
BAG OF HOLDING! Holy crap, that is SO cool! I wanted to buy one so bad in our last campaign but of course Matt wouldn't let us. Encumbrance rules and low-magic made for a boring campaign. But at least he brought killer snacks and was a decent DM. His minis were incredible.
The hunter departed, shaking his head at me and throwing back a few disgusted looks. Clearly he could move faster so he was either tired or was going slower to have more time to give me additional snark. I was pretty sure it was the latter.
In a bit of a daze and a haze of pain – giant monster slams hurt more than cute little rolling pins – I started straight ahead for the city walls.
***
After another 20+ minutes of walking, – god, I don't remember walking so damn much in dreams – I remembered my original plan to find a road so I could easily find a gate.
The well-built city walls were over three stories tall and made of what looked like gigantic bricks.
Could you make bricks that big that were structurally sound?
My two random lectures I audited in a college architecture class – my friend asked me to attend and I later realized she had a crush on me when I reflected on it at her wedding – did not really help me answer the question.
But then again, magic.
With no one actually on the wall to call up to – and then realizing we probably couldn't communicate anyway – I headed to the right and walked along the wall. The brush was cleared away for a few hundred yards to prevent anything from approaching the wall unseen.
I finally spotted a road and even saw a cart entering the city and sped up my pace.
The currently open gates were massive, wide enough for two large carriages to enter abreast with plenty of room to spare. The dirt road became cobbled about 30 feet (10m) outside the gates.
Gigantic gates made of what I thought of as a classic waffle pattern ornamentation were accompanied on either side by what I guessed was a guard house; though they were rather underwhelming, each only big enough for one person.
Probably don't get too much danger, especially from people, if they only have two guards.
I spotted a smaller closed gate for people rather than carts so, despite the utter lack of traffic other than the carriage from a few minutes back, I headed towards it.
A burly man with a long, auburn beard approached wearing what I would call a standard-ass guard uniform. Light chainmail with a simple white tunic over top that sported a rather intricate sigil of a tree with a mountain in the background, pauldrons, steel boots, with a spear and buckler. Surprisingly no helmet.
The man held up his hand, signaling me to stop and speaking in what seemed more of an exasperated tone rather than a hostile or confused one. Remembering my current state of undress, I quickly covered my nether regions with my hands and tried to look sheepish. Similar to number 243, I thought of number 127.
Consultant survival tip #127: When confronted with an upset person with a significant power differential over you in an unknown situation, give deference to their power. The reinforcement of their position will make them focus more on their power than what has upset them. Then you can better assess what is the best way forward.
Wow, some of my rules were really passive. Guess I might have to change those if I want to CHALLENGE THE HEAVENS. Ha, silly heavens.
The guard began speaking, again in a language I couldn't understand. I guessed it was that same language the hunter – and the squirrel? – had spoken. Once the man realized I couldn't understand a word – a conclusion he came to far faster than I expected – the guard gently laid a hand on my shoulder and directed me through the people gate. He called out to the other guard who ran off quickly.
As I entered the city, I was incredibly impressed. Instead of the medieval motif I was expecting, it was like the city smashed together a lot of different influences and levels of technology into one.
There were horseless carriages – not really cars, but carriage-sized blocky vehicles moving through the streets at a reasonable pace, mostly carrying goods instead of people – heading down a specified road that was blocked off from foot traffic with a foot bridge to cross over about every half mile (800m) or so. And it looked like there were well over ten bridges from just the initial road I could see.
"Big city," I muttered out loud.
In contrast, none of the city looked electrified in any way and the architecture was closest to a mix of an 18th century European city, maybe baroque – again, only two classes attended. But there were clear eastern Asian looking design flares too.
And weird angles were all the rage. The buildings were mostly rectangular but the outside decoration and windows seemed to favor anything from 15 to 75 degrees – though maybe that's 15 to 45 degrees each way? – off parallel to the ground.
It really was breath taking.
The buildings were painted in vivid colors that somehow shone individually but also melded into a greater tapestry. Nothing was too loud yet it felt like most of them should be. How could something approaching neon pink look totally normal next to navy blue and electric green? Oh yeah, magic. I wasn't sure but it felt like there was some kind of aesthetic spell over the area.
While most of the buildings were two stories, a few were three. And in the distance, it looked like there were even a few reaching to ten stories. Off to one side in the far distance, five great spires reached for the sky, high enough they might give a few of the larger skyscrapers in Chicago a run for their money.
Whether the buildings near the gate were residential, business, or mixed-use, I really couldn't tell. There were a few with signs but I wondered if people could tell what a building was for another way.
American cities unfortunately were not nearly this gorgeous yet quaint feeling, despite its size.
The guard patted my arm as I reacted in awe and ushered me towards the ugliest building I could see. Ah yes, the old 'make the government building not stand out by standing out with how awful it looks' approach. Wasn't common in every city but was for far too many of the places I'd visited.
The other guard returned wielding a large green blanket – hopefully that doesn't have fleas... – as two women in guard uniforms rushed past and back outside the gates, giving me far more than a quick glance.
Perverts. Though maybe it’s a good view?
I gratefully nodded to the guard and took the blanket, wrapping it around myself, and he joined my retinue. Surprisingly, of the few dozen people around the gate, no one gave me – or at least my body – too much more than a glance. I was buck naked and I realized I towered over each guard by almost a foot. Well, in relative terms to Earth.
We could all be a few inches tall for all I know.
Chuckling to myself about being the giant of a lollipop guild, I was ushered inside the building.
The atrium was large but almost as stark as the outside. It was well-appointed with sitting areas and looked like a pretty typical guildhall from most of the fantasy books or anime I'd seen with a big desk and several receptionists looking bored.
There were a few things that looked like holding pens as well but they actually looked comfortable and humane.
I was taken into a side room and, before I could sit down, was pointed to a tunic and some underclothes I could put on. The guards escorting me indicated a chair after I was clothed. One used some hand signals that I interpreted as I'd have to wait a bit while they discussed.
As one left the room, the man who kept pointing at himself and saying Stannis pushed over a large, clunky-looking tablet and brought up some videos to show me.
He seemed to cycle through a few different languages in the videos but nothing sounded even close to familiar to any language I knew. The writing didn't look that far off from many Earth-based letters and seemed phonetic – that matches the stuff from the facility. Dreams are weird.
All the actors used extremely exaggerated movements to indicate when something funny or sad – or really anything – happened.
Guess they have kids TV for education here too.
After what felt like 30 minutes, a woman wearing a gorgeous flowing robe of green and brown accented with silver and gold trim and matching pointed hat entered, staff in hand. I had to hold back a giggle at how 'mage coded' she was. Her light purple hair and alabaster skin was paired with deeper purple eyes with flecks of brown and green.
She was literally glowing with a light pink aura.
I froze momentarily as I was stunned by her beauty.
Wow, that actually happens. Nope, actually stunned I think.
I couldn’t move for a few seconds until the pink glow around her faded.
She exchanged a few words with Stannis and looked annoyed but finally nodded. A blue light emerged from her ornate staff, settling over herself, the man, and finally me.
"Thank you, that is very helpful Myriam," Stannis said. "I know it’s pretty darn resource-intensive, we'll make sure you get paid out for it."
"Ugh, finally," I said, only shortly later realizing I hadn't merely thought it.
"I take it you're not Cornelius?" the woman, presumably Myriam, said turning to me.
"No, I’m not, my name is Terry. Is that a surprise? Do you get many random naked men wandering into the city or is Cornelius just known for that?" I quickly chastised myself realizing they weren't in a joking mood.
Raising my hand, I said in an alien voice, "I come in peace. Friend."
Consultant survival tip #34: If the mood is tense or unknown, trying to ease tension with people you don't know yet through humor is not advised. It can make you look like you don't understand the seriousness of the situation and come across as glib or flippant. If violated, do NOT attempt another joke soon after.
Maybe I should follow that guide a bit more… But I was both extremely nervous and excited!
Ignoring my second comment, Stannis said, "More than we'd like, certainly," and ran a hand over his eyes.
"Wait, you can understand me now?" I realized I'd just made myself look even worse but my excitement was getting to me, overwhelming my usual composure. Plus, pain often made me lose my consultant demeanor. "That's so cool, what does your spell do? How does it work? How do I get magic?"
With a moderately patronizing look, Myriam said, "We'll get to that. And yes, this is a translation spell, you have about
There was a strange feeling when she said two hours in my head like it was translated beyond only language.
"Yes, I am from another world, and no, we do not have magic there." I wanted to be brief but sensed making sure everyone fully understood would be better to prevent issues in the short run.
Jerking her head to the side at Stannis and opening the door, Myriam looked at me. "Please avail yourself of the entertainment on the tablet while we discuss something. Do not leave this room. Do you understand?"
"Yes ma'am," I said, saluting. Then realized that probably wasn't great since it could come off sarcastically. Before I could gauge her reaction, she had already left and Stannis gave me a shrug as he exited too.
Consultant survival tip #157: Never call someone 'ma'am' unless it is the specified form of address, e.g. with military personnel – that is a great way to piss someone off and imply they are old; only use 'sir' if it is the specified form of address or if the person seems like they have a pole up their ass and want to lord things over people and using ‘sir’ simultaneously won't lose you general credibility.
Myriam muttered barely loudly enough for me to hear, "Gods dammit Barry."
I heard some heated conversation through the wall of the next room over but couldn't really understand what they were saying. Peeking my head out of the door, I saw a rather stern-looking woman at the main reception desk giving me a dirty look and shaking her head at me.
Okay, fair enough. Don't leave the room.
Turning back to the tablet, I clicked around a bit until I figured it out and brought up one of the videos Stannis showed me. It was about how children should train to grow up and assist the kingdom in winning honor and glory from the despicable other kingdoms who were all savages. I wasn't surprised I could understand it now after the spell had been cast. With a sudden dawning horror, I realized I could read the subtitles too.
Uh, you can't read in dreams...
Well, shit.