The Plane of Dreams (Location Thread)

Dream the world. Not this pallid shadow of reality. Dream the world the way it truly is.

Here is where all of our characters go when they fall asleep. Here they can cross over with others dreams. Here they can see and do whatever they want. The question is, will your character remember when they wake up?

All RPG rules apply.

The rules of reality do not.

Enjoy :D

Dope.

@mr__mercury: Thanks brotha

@dwronin: You busy? I wanna write.

@mr__mercury: Not at all. Sounds good :D

@dwronin: Pick up where we left off in NY sound good?

@mr__mercury: Sounds good to me! PM me for details or just set it up in a post first if you'd like

This is a great idea.

Though I highly doubt anybody would wanna enter Fabian's twisted dreams :p

Plane? :P

@fabian_meyer Hey you never know till you set it up :P but thank you!

@brainchild yeah that's what I said... ;P

@dwronin: Haha. Nice.

@brainchild: Thank you lol

@dwronin: Cool. We'll just freestyle roll with each other's punches.

Awesome. I got ideas brimming on how to utilize this place.

@mr__mercury: Sounds good!

@spectrion: Good, I'm glad! Can't wait to see them :D

@dwronin: Don't go easy on me.

Homage

She slept upon the golden sands of an ocean, long dead and dried. A hand touched her neck and she awoke to stare upon a friend long gone.

"Zola Yam, ye live again?"

The Last Queen of the Third Men smiled down, her bones too broad, her brow too thick, her tawny hair in dreads; yet a soul both strong and warm glowed inside her brutish frame.

"No time for words. The void-god thirsts and the Xan-Xi come to take your heart upon their marble ziggurat." Zola Yam said.

Back to back they stood, like long ago, and steel flashed in their hands.

The sky was raked by spears of light and thunder shook the heavens. She saw the horde; teeth filed sharp, with poisoned darts and black bladed macuahuitl.

Feet pattered on the golden sands, the final rush and the Xan-Xi were upon them. Her katar flashed, her kopis hummed and a minute stretched out liked an hour. Her hands were swift, her heart was steady yet what dam could withstand an endless wave?

But at her back the Last Queen roared and hacked apart the painted horde. Her sleeves turned red and bloodlust turned to terror.

The Xan-Xi fled with the whisper of sandal on sand.

Irouvris turned to thank her savior, and to ask forgiveness (for when Zola Yam needed Irouvris, Irouvris was absent).

But the once-ocean was empty.

(I guess you can call this place.........dreamland)

(Open to anyone)

Oz sighed, stepping into his room. It was a long day and a long night. It was 6AM and after a long night of patrolling Gothic City, Oz was going to try getting some rest. He took off his jacket, looking at his cybernetic arm. He opened and clothed his hand, which was only possibly thanks to the micro chip in his head. He left his pants on, just encase he needed to enact a quick escape. Ronin was worse than a lifer in prison, when it came to sleeping. "I'm not going to get any sleep.." He whispered laying his head down, but sooner then later he drifted off.

He opened his eyes, looking at the white ceiling his eyes were blurry. No not blurry, his surroundings were foggy. Oz tried sitting up, but realized his hands were cuffed. He began to panic realizing his ankles were cuffed as well. He looked up, trying to calm down and take in his surroundings. He was in a science lab, a lab that looked way too familiar.

Across the room stood a silhouette of a man with red burning eyes. He began walking over to Ronin, his boots clacking on the floor in a way too familiar. "Hello, Umbra Soldier." the shadow said in a sinister tone, beginning to grow. "I'm so glad to have you under my wing again."

"What? Linkus? You're alive? How!?" Oz yelled, realizing this was his former handler. Albert Linkus, the man who turned him into the killer the Umbra Soldier. "Ooooow you remember? That's not a good thing...well have to change that." The black shadowed man picked up a defibrillator and put it on Ronin's head.

"Stop please! Don't do this! ARGHHHHHHH!" The electricity shot through Oz's skull, causing the rooms colors to go negative. "I'LL KILL YOUUU!!!!" He roared as the room began to get sucked into the abyss. There was only Oz and Linkus now, floating through the darkness. "ARRRGGHHHHHHHHH!!!!"

@thisisgonnahurt:

All men dream, but not equally. Anduin felt that the statement held no truer then when he entered the surreal plane of unconscious fantasy to plot and scheme as he did while awake.

The dreamscape took the form of Apokolips, his form briefly bathed in the light of erupting fire pits, the heat of which was completely lost on him considering that it was merely a dream, rather than the actual thing.

He sported the same attire he happened to be wearing in the real world; a long, oddly sleeved shirt, hooded robe and scarf woven from the colors of a midnight sky, crafted to emulate the robes of fell-star acolytes; and a helmet designed with similar colors (with a bit of silver), masking his identity and voice behind a passive persona of cold dispassion.

Every step further fashioned the dreamscape into a more realistic depiction of the location it represented, for a moment anyway. Before he knew it, the sky had turned a bright and the sun shone warmly upon the sorcerer. Soon, he was sauntering through the busied streets of Asgard's glimmering city of gold, then into a humid, lush jungle setting. He distractedly swatted a fly into the wooden door of a distinguished, umber cottage. He opened it with a lazy flick of his wrists, entering into Apokolips once again.

All the while, completely ignoring the environmental shifts (he was all too used to it), he rummaged over many things, conflicted with what his next move would be now that Apokolips had been destroyed, and now that Maya had completely submitted to the power inside of her. It's just as I told her, always a pawn to someone or something, he almost chuckled, sitting down in a comfy office chair that had appeared out of nowhere.

Twirling around in it, little did he know that he would soon encounter a stranger, and not one that was a fanciful construct of his own dreams.

OMG, I am god here, lol.

If anyone wants to rp with me here, I'm game. I have soooooo many things to teach, lol.

@lord garian:

Bruh, where was this place when we started rping, lol

OMG, lol

Dreams of rose petals and paradise

@dreadstroke:

As Alzrahem maneuvered through the streets, reality bent at his touch and presence. Warping highways of energies streamed around him, reforming into a library without perceivable end, each book on its shelves written to extensive detail about history, literature, mathematics, science, and the art of distant civilizations - most of which were already crumbled into nothingness, and the only remnant of their having even existed were locked in these pages. He paid no initial mind to those dreams he disturbed as he walked his own path, merely finding to sweep them aside more preferable than outright invading them. He had no much more room to expand in this vast and unending plane of thought and sound.

He, a physical being, walking amongst the dreams of countless beings all at once.

His psychic might grew as a monolith in the distance, overtaking untold billions in his shadow, yet all he desired was the forgotten knowledge of those dreary engineers lost to time and space, the explorers and the voyagers who undertook Odysseys into the nebulas and voids of distant galaxies, sometimes doomed never to return.

He collected at least fifty of such tomes, having them follow him on strands of eldritch energy, and he rounded a corner into an isolated reading room with a cozy fireplace. To his intrigue, rather than surprise, someone else occupied said quarters.

"Perhaps I might join you?" he inquired, his single cyclopean eye gazing out with the power of a thousand.

@thisisgonnahurt:

Anduin frowned, musings ceased as he peered over at the one eyed wanderer. He cocked his head to the left slightly, a brow arched at the entity's presence in his "dream". What more, even in this state he could feel the almost tangible might that loomed behind the entity; could sense it sweeping the billions lost in their own unconscious realities.

Suppose I shouldn't be too surprised. This is a shared realm to the initiated, he thought, quelling his surprise with fanciful logic, but not the modicum of alarm that had occurred within him.

"By all means," he replied, lazily gesturing to another office chair and table that had suddenly appeared just across from himself.

@dreadstroke:

The well-learned artisan of the arcane as well as practicing Sorcerer Supreme bowed his head, and entered unopposed. His comparatively colossal frame found refuge in the chair as he psychically thumbed through several books at once, not once looking at them but rather listening to what they had to tell him directly to his unknowable mind.

"Raghurst the Traveller, such an under appreciated genius in his time. Have you read any of his musings? Philosophy in the Galactic East would not be as it is today without him,"

Of course this was only delaying the inevitable. As was the thing of dreams, they always seemed to change. Yet Alzrahem's library remained untouched by the wages of eternity, and remained solid to the touch. One might even say that the smell of ancient pages was palpable.

"Tell me, what is the nature of a dream to you?"

@thisisgonnahurt: IT'S RADEGAST THE BROWN GODDAMNIT LEARN THE LORE ATLEAST J.R.R. PLEBEIAN

@aristotle:

Go back to sleep, Maxwell.

@thisisgonnahurt: I will. In 2 hours.

@thisisgonnahurt:

"I haven't yet had the pleasure," said Anduin, truthfully. He took a moment to drink in his surroundings, heart leaping with admiration for all the literary pierces, tomes, and items stacked on the shelves surrounding them. Many questions occurred to him, stacking one each other as time went on. The very dust settling about ancient text piqued his intrigue.

His brows furrowed in consideration of the question, his mind running over the constant, illogical shifts of his dreams when he didn't bother controlling them (like now, for instance).

"A fluctuating, unpredictable concept to the uninitiated, with occasional glimpses of wisdom and insight. To me, a naturally adjustable reality formed from my musings. All in all, quite the place," he grinned.

Iowa's dream some how crosses over with this dream, what the f*** is this s***?

I know right. At first I even thought this was you.