Sandman: Another Attack

A slender Elf sat by the edge of the river that flowed down from the Stone Cairn Lake. His skin was dark, causing his hair to stand out in the moonlight, bright silver. It fell free, wildly, about his shoulders, untamed. His ears were decorated, each with one or two gold rings, while a pendant hung about his neck, an amethyst in the shape of a teardrop. Even though many had already retired for rest, this Elf remained awake, content as he sorted the herbs in his pouch in the light of the moon provided where the trees cleared.

There was an almost inaudible click from behind him, followed by a soft flow of music emanating from the base of a nearby tree. It was a mechanical sound, the kind that came from a music box, but it was not particularly soothing. In fact the melody was quite haunting. Something that should have been pure but had somehow become corrupted. The Elf lifted his head, looking over his shoulder after a moment. Glowing eyes pierced the darkness as he searched for the origin.

"Sheri...?" he called. There was no response, but the music continued. Sorting the herbs back into their rightful pouches and tying them securely, the Elf, Savitare, made his way towards the tree slowly. Amidst the grass was a music box indeed. Savitare smiled slightly, curious. "Sheri will surely find this interesting..." he began, closing it, when suddenly the air before him was disturbed. There was the sound of a an exhale of breath, and the air suddenly shimmered before him. Dust... The Elf leant away from it, coughing, choking, his eyes lifting in time to see a flash of eyes in the darkness in front him. A touch of red cloth disappearing into the shadows. Or becoming them. As the dust tingled in his throat, he was overcome with drowsiness. He slumped to the ground, unconscious. A second figure stepped from the shadows then.

"Sheri... Yes, I'm sure this will be most interesting to Sheri..." spoke a voice that was somewhat unearthly. Quiet, lilting. It could have been either that of a young man or perhaps a woman. Elf or Human? It was uncertain, only given away that it must be one of the two by the height. But the figure was slender, covered in flowing, tattered red fabric. Many buckles fastened mismatched armor to the body, while a hood covered the face. Even the mouth was hidden by a mask. Only the eyes shown. Almost completely white, it was hard to determine what the colour of the iris might be, as they both seemed to glow very faintly white. A clean stripe of red trailed from underneath each eye down the cheek in a straight line, disappearing under the mask.

A long, slender hand reached out, curling about one of the Elf's limp wrists, lifting him from where he had fallen. A moment was taken to scout the area, and soon, they were both gone.

* * * * *

For a moment, the face was revealed of the hooded figure. Pulling down the mask, it leaned forward to place a kiss on the corners of the Elf's lips. Savitare slowly opened his eyes to find himself in a place that was certainly not Elwynn Forest. It appeared almost Elven. What appeared to be a moonwell was in the distance, and the entire landscape shimmered somehow in a way that reminded him of Teldrassil. However he woke to see the ground, his own feet bound by rope to two tree trunks on either side of him. Another pair of feet he saw as well as he began to look up. A pain in his wrists made it clear that his arms had been tied as well. He was stretched between the two trees, helpless. His lips burned, but he knew not why. Looking up further, his eyes fell upon the hooded figure before him.

"What? Where is this... Who are you?" Savitare questioned in his native tongue.

"Welcome to my domain..." the hushed voice spoke, responding simply in the Common tongue.

Savitare lurched forward, failing painfully as the ropes restrained him, a feral growl caught in his throat. A gloved hand reached up, placing an open palm against his chest to hold him back with surprising strength.
"Your... why am I here?" Savitare continued in Darnassian. There were many questions of course. Why was he there? Why was this -thing- here? Why was he tied up? Where was -here-? Who was this figure? How had they gotten there? But the figure never seemed to answer them.

"I am the Sandman... or in your tongue, the Alan'hi," it responded, removing the hand from Savitare's chest. They slid down to its thighs instead, where two cruel looking knives were sheathed. Savitare's eyes widened slightly however, hearing that word. "Do you understand that word?"

"The Alan'hi... the one who delivers people into the Endless Dream..." Savitare responded, recoiling as the knives were drawn. His teeth clenched together as he pulled against the bindings like a wild animal. "But this is no dream... This place... it's real!" Savitare cried. He looked around wildly. He recognized it... could almost reach the thought in the back of his mind, but not quite. Where was it?!

"They say that we cannot create new places or people in our dreams. That what we see in them are merely combinations of that which we have already experienced... mixed and matched. But true, this place may be real enough. For this is not the dream I am here to send you to. You see... I am not simply Alan'hi,
I am the Blood..."
The tip of the first dagger was pressed into Savitare's right palm, causing hot blood to trickle over his skin.
"...Red..." The second pierced the skin of Savitare's left palm.
"...Sandman,"

Savitare howled in surprise and pain as the first blade pierced him. At the second, he simply gritted his teeth, staring up at the crimson clad figure. The name was appropriate now. His face twisted in pain as the blades twisted too, suddenly being drawn down across his wrists... cutting the flesh of his forearms open. Blood spilled forth... too much blood.

"And the sleep I send you to shall be eternal," the figure finished, pulling the blades from his skin.

As Savitare looked around, the landscape had changed. Everything had become blood red. A sea of blood… blood pouring from his skin.. Moonwell. No. Bloodwell. The trees seemed even to rain it, their leaves turning to blood and spilling down from the branches. Only the moon above shown bright white against the red sky. Like those eyes. The eyes of the Sandman now seemed to glow brilliant white like the moon. The horrible stare.

Savitare flinched, looking down as he felt a pain against his chest. The vest he wore had been pulled away from his chest, exposing it. The tip of one bloodied dagger had been placed against his skin. Savitare shook his head almost desperately.
"No, not my heart... It's not yours.. it doesn't belong to you," he growled. The Sandman lifted its head, the eyes shining brightly as they looked up to Savitare for a moment.

"Yes, I know... you spoke a name before. Fear not though, for I shall make sure that it is delivered to the right person," it answered cruelly. "And if you please, I shall send with it your last words for your loved one. What will you say?"

"You will not find Sheri, you fiend..." Savitare breathed, his eyes blazing wildly in hatred. The Sandman tilted its head to the side slowly as though not understanding.

"So... as you draw your last breaths, you will not spare even one for the one you love?" it answered, and speaking more lowly, the last few words were in Darnassian. "Is that what you wish for me to tell them...?"

"Sheri knows of my love... and I shall not have any words spoken from your lips!" Savitare spat. There was a pause, the shining moons watching him closely before they were disrupted by a blink.

"So be it." it murmured. The blade dug into his skin, beginning to carve into his flesh.

"Our time together was not slow or gentle enough, Sheri..." Savitare murmured to himself before howling in pain.

So much blood... red everywhere. The blade seemed to grow, until all Savitare could see was that knife... surrounded by red. A metallic crescent like the moon above. And the twin moons below watching.

(( This next part was written by Savitare: ))

Blood. There had never been so much blood.

It was as if the flow from his veins painted the whole world. It flowed stickily over the grass, turning it into a sea of rust silvered in the moonlight. It covered the temples, the buildings, oozing up their alabaster purity, staining the marble with coagulated hands of death. It covered the leaves of the trees above him, dripping around him, forming a pool at his feet, dyeing his hair with the same sanguine tinge, quelling the light forever.

Blood. His life-blood.
And his heart held before him, with the white eyes of the Alan'hi above it burning into his soul.

He tipped back his head, away from those eyes, towards the light of Elune, but even her moon was darkening, the taint of blood stealing scarlet across its surface, a hateful ruby jewel in the garnet sky.

There was no escape. How can you escape what is not there? How do you fight against it? How do you run when all that you know to be false, a phantasm, a myth, turns out to be true? How do you fight when the unreal becomes real? He was caught there, the caged animal, the bound sacrificial beast, unable to struggle lest he drive the dagger deeper into his own heart, unable even to even protect or warn others of ... what? An illusion?
He had failed.

He closed his eyes, and all was blissfully black.

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Savitare awoke with a start, crying out and jerking away to the side from where he lay, before the pain in his chest brought him to a standstill, curled up, whimpering. He looked down, eyes wide in horror at the stiffened blood on the front of his shirt, wincing as he tried to pluck it away from where it stuck to his ravaged skin. So much blood.

And on his hands ... the marks on his hands.
The marks. Was he awake?
Savitare rubbed his lips distractedly and looked around him, letting his sight adjust to the night's colours. He seemed to be lying in the same part of the forest where he'd been gathering his herbs earlier, and where he'd ... the music! That music-box ... Sheridian would have been amused by it, though its tone was mournful, eerie more than ...
"Sheri," thought Savitare, "the Alan'hi knows about Sheri ...".

He scrambled desperately to his feet, lurching through the bushes and towards the path, staggering onwards towards Stormwind. "Goddess, kindly One, please do not let me be too late."