On the trail of the Vulbis Dofus, you were once again leading your guild in a fierce battle against dark forces… when a white Wabbit caught your eye. Actually, he was wearing a blue vest! But the strangest thing was that he seemed troubled. He pulled a compass out of his pocket, pointed it at a bush, and then disappeared into the thicket…
You poked your head between the leaves. There were no Wabbits, but there was a burrow. You thought you'd simply lost the animal's trail when the unthinkable happened: You fell hopelessly down the hole. You never thought you could fit inside such a tiny hollow! Your boots were soon all that was hanging out of the burrow. After one last frenzy of hindered movement, you disappeared entirely…
A shout. Your own. A feeling. One of falling a great height.
And there you were sitting quietly at a square table, in a garden, in good company, watching a game of chess! On your left, an elderly man with long white hair, who was so small that his feet didn't touch the ground, was pouring a smoking amber liquid into a wooden pot. His eternal smile filled his face, so much so that he gave the impression that his eyes were always closed behind his thick glasses. It was Magus Ax.
"A little tea, Sir Draconiros?"
On your right, the tall adventurer with a pale complexion and long, dark hair, bare chested, the rest of his body draped in black, was about to make his next move.
"Go on, my friend, go on…" Draconiros replied in a deeply tenebrous voice.
The old man poured Draconiros some tea and put the pot on the side.
"You wanted to tell me something, my dear Magus Ax?"
- "Indeed…" whispered the oracle.
The dark man moved his bishop diagonally from one black square to another. In the blink of an eye, Draconiros's chess piece was replaced by a figurine of Dark Vlad on his mount. The chessboard squares faded into a green pastoral landscape. There were no more pieces, but rather iconic figurines of heroes of the Krosmoz! You thought you must be imagining it…
"I often have this strange, vivid dream…" the Magus started saying.
Draconiros put the cup to his lips to drink some tea.
"… of an unknown self, whom I both hate and love, and who’s never quite the same each time. Nor quite another person…"
While looking for meaning in Magus Ax's vague words, you wondered what might be in the tea… When a young hooded man passing by caught your attention. He was laboriously carrying a bucket of water, which he emptied a little further away into a stream that ran next to the property where you were standing. The garden you were in with Magus Ax and Draconiros belonged to a rustic cabin in a country setting, surrounded by a wooden fence forming a square. The blue-hooded man kept coming and going, still with his bucket, between the cabin and the stream that ran along the fence. What seemed strange to you was that he was bringing water from the house to the river and not the other way around. You couldn't see his face. You could only see a thin, prominent nose sticking out of his hood.
"He tells me the truth and lies to me," continued Magus Ax. "He lies to me, but I understand."
That was when you noticed that Draconiros, nodding in agreement, was wearing a top hat… Had he put it on while you were looking away or had he always been wearing it? Opposite him, Magus Ax suddenly had two large Wabbit ears, in complete contradiction with his serious look. The urge to burst out laughing overwhelmed you, but every action and every movement seemed exhausting to you. You were forced to be a spectator. Magus Ax continued to describe his dream:
"His heart seems transparent to me, but to me alone! And that's the problem! To me alone…"
Behind him, it was no longer the blue-hooded man with the pointy nose who was passing by with a bucket of water, but a broom that had arms. That didn't even shock you…
You were getting used to this place.
Magus Ax gazed at his hands.
"My hands are sweaty. I turn pale."
The bright summer colors of the landscape lost their luster, suddenly washed out by the mass arrival of the clouds. Dozens upon dozens of brooms armed with buckets of water were now marching by. The stream began to overflow. Draconiros raised his feet to avoid getting wet, and you did the same. Magus Ax didn't need to bother.
"We alone know, he smiling, I weeping," the old man narrated.
The water was rising dangerously. Only the tops of the broomsticks could now be seen sticking out of the tidal wave. You saw a little being with big wings fly away in the distance. The blue-hooded man, no doubt.
"Is he an Enutrof, Xelor or Feca? I don't know. His name? I remember it's sweet and sonorous, like that of others who are like him and whom life has exiled."
Now Magus Ax was screaming to be heard. It had to be said the meadow was swamped. Only the cabin's chimney could still be seen. You three were floating on your chairs, motionless in spite of the raging waves and the lightning shearing the sky. In the distance, on a mountain you hadn't noticed before, a gigantic shadow raised its arms to the sky. It was as if it was sobbing, screaming with sorrow.
In a flash, everything became calm and pastoral again. They were sitting down once more to finish their game of chess.
"His gaze is the same as that of the ancient statues of Astrub. His voice, distant, and mild, and serious, it has… the resonance of voices of the past that were silenced."
There was a momentary silence. The white Wabbit went behind Magus Ax. He looked at his compass and hopped away. You couldn't get up. You felt as if you weighed a thousand kilopods.
You wanted to break your chains, scream that this place, these words, these visions… Nothing made sense here. But you were just a spectator. A guest. Draconiros smiled. The Magus served him some more tea. Then, the dark man took a deep breath and answered:
"Magus… you and I are the stuff dreams are made of."
He raised his cup as a thank-you and then pointed to the chessboard, encouraging Magus Ax to play.
"Yet… we are different," continued Draconiros.
Magus Ax moved his knight, jumping over Draconiros's bishop and threatening his king.
"Check!" declared the Magus.
Draconiros didn't bat an eyelid, and continued his argument:
"For me, dream and reality are two sides of the same coin – inseparable. You… Twelvians… constantly seek to interpret them, to give them a meaning that might resonate with your reality. If I may give you some advice… Don't look at them for too long, don't get lost in them, or you'll become like your shadow."
- "You're right… We're different. I could never blindly believe in a dream. Dreams are full of lies," replied Magus Ax.
Draconiros placed his index finger on his bishop and moved the piece diagonally, taking a white pawn and threatening the Magus's king.
"Check!" declared Draconiros in turn before continuing. "I've learned that dreams show beautiful things to those who can see with closed eyelids."
The chessboard seemed to melt into the table. Magus Ax smiled:
"We should agree to disagree, it seems. Let's have this conversation later. The future is a convenient place to put dreams."
Draconiros nodded in agreement. Then he suddenly turned to you, startling you:
"You should be careful, adventurer. My dreams are far from being as sweet."
In a flash, you found yourself tied to your chair, deprived of oxygen, beneath a sea of dark and salty water. You were helplessly sinking into the depths. Your screams were muffled, less and less noticeable. The darkness was dragging you under. It was swallowing you. You shut your eyes…
*****
Your eyes sprang open. Your face was pinned to the floor. There was drool on your cheek. In front of you was the bush into which the white Wabbit had disappeared. You must have fallen asleep. You cracked a smile – the situation was so surreal, yet it was obvious that it was a dream! How come you didn't realize it at the time? You got up and dusted yourself down. That was when you felt something hard in your pocket. You put your hand inside and your expression changed. It would be impossible for you to get lost after this…
You had a compass.
The Master of Dreams will be waiting for you in an upcoming in-game quest in late October. Until then… sleep tight!
