The inescapable fear

It has been said; That the gods created dreams so that man could feel both creation and damnation. You are the prey to your own mind, a prisoner to your own twisted thoughts and memories, with only the comfort of a swift ending, and a cold-sweat on your back as you manage to rip yourself from the shifting nightmare. Where is reality, amongst the early-morning shadow?


What I'd like from this thread is for people to post their character'(s) worst fear in nightmare form, that thing they find in their sleep, the scene that has them curling up and crying as they awake on wrinkled cloth. 

Vectoria.

She finds herself alive again, hands bound and eyes forced down to gaze upon the Chapel's white marble floor, she feels an intruding hand on her leg that assaults it's way up her, her privacy is ripped apart and spat on by an echoing chuckle, and she is forced over like an animal, without care from the attacker. She is adorned in priestly robes as this takes place, the blushing of her cheeks a bitter reminder of this illumined memory. Red blood staining her once white robes, she feels shadows blind her eyes in the dream, it removes itself revealing a choking wall of wood. She screams endlessly, crying, begging, now buried alive and nailed into a coffin. She awakes suddenly in her room, her bed of red silk cloth now deformed in her mindless panic, she holds her legs and allows her long blonde hair to cover her eyes glaring down into the darkness of her room, muttering the words.

" Why won't you die...?. "


Edervic

A savage growl shudders in his throat continuously, a door slams open upon onto a Spring morning in a pleasant cottage, two children at the table scream at the sight of him, a woman dressed in blue, stumbles across her kitchen counter grabbing a knife. The mess of gore and violence is blurred by screams, ripping of flesh and the continued savage growl, his rotting hands are bloodied, as the last victim falls; the mother having witnessed her children slaughtered, a mirror now reveals the scene to an attacker, his mouth ravages her throat, forcing in raw meat. He enjoys the scene, rolls in its carnage, laughing ignorantly at its depravity. He awakes with a rage-filled scream, he sits up in his grey bed of the Grinning Gal's tavern, he grabs a bottle, the one on the side table, he screams in annoyance, flinging it against the wall, it smashes, he holds his knees and curses under his breath, a soft moaning cry is now heard as he holds himself in guilt. " Only a dream. Ed. Only a dream. Ed. Only a dream. Ed. "

Turning into a Werew-

Wait..

Unbreakable fear is awful. For my character it's a lock spamming fear and those coils. You use trinket, but are scared again. You use berserk rage, but are scared again. Then go dots and then you die. That's my char's nightmare.

Avein/Numerius wrote:Unbreakable fear is awful. For my character it's a lock spamming fear and those coils. You use trinket, but are scared again. You use berserk rage, but are scared again. Then go dots and then you die. That's my char's nightmare.

That's my warlocks wet dream.

Edervic/Vectoria wrote:

Avein/Numerius wrote:Unbreakable fear is awful. For my character it's a lock spamming fear and those coils. You use trinket, but are scared again. You use berserk rage, but are scared again. Then go dots and then you die. That's my char's nightmare.

That's my warlocks wet dream.

HAHAHA XD!!!!!

Saffron wakes up all sweaty from a nightmare where she runs her hand through her hair and suddenly her hair falls off her head and sticks to her hand in big chunks while loads of people stand around, pointing at her and laughing.

Ashla's nightmare is that of a faceless man with blue eyes and black hair that opens up her scars and maggots comes crawling out all over her from them.

Anaei's only true fear and nightmare is that her son follows the curse put upon him at birth and becomes a vicious tyrant, sending her Kingdom into a century of Darkness.

Kristeas' fear in nightmare form.

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The gates of Silvermoon... destroyed.
The road towards it cracked... just like the walls, the smell of fire, both natural and tainted by fel hangs in the air.
The arcane guardians.. destroyed, parts still trying to do their duty, clawing and crawling towards an enemy that has already left.
The walk of the elders and murder's row, razed.... the sunfury spire... marks of explosives can be seen around it, the fountains are gone.
The guards lie in front of the spire, they died next to each other, none took even a single step backwards.
Inside... the curtains are full of holes, both by arrows as bullets.
Rommath, his face set in a snarl... he was shot in the back, his left hand still around the throat of an enemy he burned to death.

General Brightwing, his body full of holes and arrows, nothing else came close enough.

The regent-lord, he was the last, of both enemy and friend to die, he sits on the throne, none would take it from the sin'dorei, even in his death.

The rests of a dark green mist can be seen coming form the Alchemists, the smell of rotting flesh stings in the air. The hole in the ground to the right, the engineers used to be there, now just parts, both machine and body.

The Farstriders square, the bloodiest sight of them all, the road, the walls, the plants, everything drenched in blood. Looks like a smith decided that the forge would make a good bed for an enemy soldier.

The royal exchange, it would almost make you laugh, less and less bodies can be found as one comes closer to the Jewelcrafters, but then you see them, your men and women, your soldiers, those that you trust with your life.
One of them looks haughty, like the enemy wasn't worth their time. One looks scared, but still managed to take one with him. Another one died staring at the enemy, the target of his gaze is frozen in fear... he clawed his eyes out. Then there is one, the enemies around him are burned.. he was in the centre of it all. She over there and her, back to back, run through by the same spear, their daggers still in their hands.

And finaly... your home.

Surprisingly enough, the way towards it is clear... although next to it is corpse after corpse, looks like they were in the way.

You see him, your son, not by blood, not that it matters, never again play with him, never teach him how to choose a good sword, never take him out hunting or tell him about his ancestors... not even old enough to walk and speak, they killed him... he's in his mothers arms.
Her, your wife, your better half, where would you be without her... she fought her way home to get to your son... they killed her... the alliance banner is still pinning her to the ground, through her heart.... through yours.