Terrycloth (terrycloth) wrote,

Kijji's Journal, Entry 14

Later that night, I slipped into Tell-tail’s dream. It was already about his friends turning on him for bringing a monstrous plague to the village, which had killed half the villagers and turned them into flame-winged, spike-tailed zombies. I nudged it a little bit, so that it became clear to him that another villager was infected and converted into a zombie every time they managed to kill one of the people who were already zombified. Of course, he didn’t completely figure this out until he was the very last person left alive, with a dozen remaining zombies surrounding the hut he was in.

One of the zombies glared at him through his window, and held up a meng knife to its own throat. Tell tail cast a winter serpent on it, to wrap around its neck and keep it from killing itself. Another zombie disemboweled itself with its own claws. Tell-tail healed its awful wound. When the zombies scattered through the village, he left his hut to chase them down and save their lives, again and again.

Then all the zombies laughed at him, and pointed to the distant cliff overlooking the village, where a zombie poised, ready to jump – far out of the range of Tell-tail’s spells, and too far a run to get there to heal it in the seconds he had to use Heal the Awful Wound. The zombie jumped, and splattered, and died – and there was nothing Tell-tail could do to stop it.

So he took a knife, and carved what he knew about the zombie plague into his own chest – how it spread, how to defeat it – and then ran out into the fields, trying to get as close to the next village as possible before he turned, so that he’d be the first zombie they saw, and they’d know not to doom themselves like he and his village-mates had.

I thought that was awfully clever! So I let him live, just a little bit nibbled. Rydia was right next door, after all, and while I’d *wanted* to kill her in real life, slowly and painfully, for all the pepper in my eyes over the last few battles, I figured tormenting her in her dreams might be enough. And if she was clever too, then maybe I’d fly to the village, and eat one of their friends, and then I’d get to fight them both!

Rydia’s dream was about the Guild of Spellbinders. She’d applied for membership, again, and was being brought in for an interview. “My village *needs* a spellbinder. People have died because we don’t have access to bound spells! You have to let me join!”

“Hmm,” I said, putting down her file to reveal my extra arms, and grinning at her with needle-sharp teeth, “Your attitude worries us. You’re soft, Rydia. Can we really trust you to –“

Pepper in the eyes. Again.

We have a winner!
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