[Seth]

Lying on the floor in a drafty room, the room spun with the tenacity that too much whisky always brings..
He had started on the bed, comftably laid to sleep it off by an old friend and a new aquaintace. The warmth of the blanket, the comfort of the matress had lured him once more into sleep.

It began as most dreams do, the silent still darkness, slowly filled with flashing images and fleeting sounds. He had watched as the bar and inn had built around him, coming forward from the darkness to form solid objects, perfect down to the glass of whisky in his hand. His concious memory stirred, the smell of the whisky making him retch. Subconcious thoughts pushed the thought away, dragging him further into the dream that was becoming reality.

Seconds moved as years, minutes as eons as he lifted his glass, payed the bar keep and returned to his room. The candle on his desk flickered as he entered the room, flashing faint light streams across the pile of black bound letters.

The scent of death filled his dream, a mocking flavour in the air that signalled the beginning of his decent into nightmares. All at once the wire was bound, tightening around his throat, tearing at his flesh..

This time he had been ready, there would be no onesided fight this time. He flashed his blackened blade backwards, finding the chest of his assailant with a unpleasant sound.

Unbinding the wire, he turned to see the man in black choking on his own blood, slowly slipping to his knees and clutching his chest. Seth lifted his blade and forced it into the mans chest, his heart skipping a beat as metal met flesh. The Nightmare was his to control!

He sheathed his blade, kicking the mans corpse from his path as he headed to the door.

As he swung the door open, a breath of clean fresh air hit his lungs..

All of a sudden there was a glimpse of silver..

Looking down, Seth saw a small silver dagger, dripping with a green venom and proturding from his guts.

He staggered backwards, his gaze now transfixed on the face that began to appear in the doorway.

There was a moment of shock. He became deaf to the world as the pain racked his body, slowly slipping to the silvery tingle of death.

A halfing stood in the doorway, one who was unfortunately familiar to Seth.
"But we killed you..." or at least thats what would have come from Seth's mouth had the man not placed his finger across Seth's lips.
"Sssshhhhhh" His sickeningly syrupy voice hung in the air, "Sleep now.. "

As Seth fell back, taking the table and chair with him, "Your time will come.." passed from the lips of the man.

There was a jolt of pain, the deepest black, then the ceiling..

And now he lay on the floor, semiconcious and still drunk on whisky. A single tear rolled down his cheak as he stared at the latice wooden pattern of the ceiling. The room was trashed, blanket, matress, table and chair strewn as though a brawl had erupted.

He lay on the floor still, unable or unwilling to move. He cared not which. He ran a finger across his neck, tracing the ridged scar all around his neck.

"If my time comes, I will welcome it with open arms," muttered Seth, "Hell itself can only offer so much, it can not be far worse than now."

Planting a sword in the floor boards, he hauled himself to his feet. A jagged pain tore at his side as he moved.

For a second he considered that it was not a dream, blinking the thought back as he removed the lump of chair leg from his side. He threw it across the room, thowing the door open as he did.

Walking out into the stale air of the inn, he dropped a bag of coins on the bar and headed for the door.