<div align="center"><strong>A Dream</strong></div><br/>An idyllic landscape of rolling green hills, spotted here and there with massive oaks, spreads seemingly forever. Gentle breezes pull small white clouds across a vividly blue sky. A dirt path cuts through the hills, leading to a small valley marked by a standing stone. The stone is adorned with intricate carved knots and loops, all coinciding around a crude representation of an antlered man. The man himself leans over the altar before it, laying into the pale breasted brunette spread upon it.<br/><br/>She cries out many times, experiencing pleasures she will never be able to describe. The sun sets and rises, and the frenzied coupling continues outside the bounds of time. The antlered man angles the woman's legs up, holding her ankles by his ears, and the two groan in unison. The valley is as it always has been, green and warm, with the occasional breeze carrying the scent of the distant ocean.<br/><br/>The man is climbing onto the back of a huge stag. The girl is beside him, hastily pulling a peasant dress over her swollen belly.<br/><br/>"Lord Cernunnos? Why must you always leave so hastily?"<br/><br/>He looks down, she has such large, innocent brown eyes.<br/><br/>"There are many preparations to be made for our return, my beloved. I cannot tarry long in this valley."<br/><br/>She stares at her belly, stroking it idly, "When the Fay return, I shall be your queen."<br/><br/>He reaches down and takes her hand, kissing it with a smile, "Beloved, when we return, you shall be at my side until the world's end."<br/><br/>The girl is alone in a field of green.<br/><br/><div align="center"><strong>The Dreamscape</strong></div><br/>Sand and whorls and whips across dunes as massive as they are ancient. In an instant they become massive waves cresting in some otherworldly ocean, and then buffeting clouds of smoke. Nothing is ever distinct for too long in the space between dreams. The only constant is the raging storm that rips between sleeping minds.<br/><br/>The stag walks, hovering a few feet from the surface of the storm, the occasional wave  washing over one of its hooves. He and his master seem impervious to the gale whipping through the Dreamscape. Another figure approaches, horned and winged, staggering through the raging dreamstuff. The stag stops, and turns with a snort to the approaching figure (http://fc06.deviantart.net/fs71/i/2010/310/1/7/imp_by_scottpurdy-d32ajq5.jpg).<br/><br/>"My liege, I have done as you asked," he shouts over the gale whirling around them, "Your suspicions were well founded, my liege. The soldier has turned. No horror of mine will convince him."<br/><br/>Antlers fall from the man, crumbing and vanishing in the chaos below, and the stag, which is not a stag, but a bestial black horse (http://fc00.deviantart.net/fs37/i/2008/272/f/b/The_Nightmare_by_Vyrilien.jpg), turns baleful white eyes on the newcomer, watching the incubus's every move. Asmodeus smiles, black riding cloak bursting forth in the wind.<br/><br/>"Your service is appreciated, Clovus, though I do not recall asking you to interrogate him yourself," The Prince says, a finger to his mouth, head cocked in recollection. The imp bows, and is nearly washed away by a passing wave.<br/><br/>"Forgive me, my liege, I thought only to be thorough in my duties." The Prince smiles and nods.<br/><br/>"Very well, return to Hades, your concubine awaits."<br/><br/>The imp snarls, teeth glistening in a hungry grin, he disappears.<br/><br/>"Come, Phobetor." He whispers to the beast, and it trots onwards, mane whipping in the wind.<br/><br/>Clovus is too stupid to craft a worthy nightmare, the main reason Asmodeus had brought him into the ranks of the incubi. Keeping track of the others' deceptions is a chore, and the dream Prince has little patience to pick through lies when they pertain to tidings of great consequence. He will need to visit the young Lieutenant soon, but he senses no presence of the man in the Dreamscape. The fool Clovus has awoken him with his crude ministrations, the man's fear was too tempting. He closes his eyes, and calls up Clovus's concubine, a replica of the girl he'd crudely slain weeks ago, silly that such a spiteful beast should be so sentimental. She was tending to him now, lips wrapped around his putrid member.<br/><br/>"This should be simple." Asmodeus licks his lips.<br/><br/>The sinks her teeth into the imp's flesh, tearing away his manhood with gnashing teeth and spitting it to the floor. Clovus shrieks and scoops up his own slippery flesh as the woman's face rots away from the bone. Her skull whispers huskily at the shrieking imp,<br/><br/>"Do not forget your place as courier, Clovus. Feed when you are bid feed, or the master shall flense the stinking flesh from your bones, and cook your liver in your own boiling blood."<br/><br/>The vision fades, and the imp clutches at himself. He is whole again. He sobs and prostrates himself pathetically to the empty room.<br/><br/>"Forgiveness, forgiveness!" He pleads.<br/><br/>Asmodeus smiles within his wind whipped cowl. Clovus will remember his place yet. A chiming tune (http://youtu.be/5Z8VCiguTPQ) sounds from within his cloak. He retrieves a small gold watch on a thin chain. He flicks it open, noting the time with a sigh. So soon already? Asmodeus hates to leave the Dreamscape, usually sending out illusory doppelgangers to do his work at home in Hades. He needs to be at the Colosseum in person today if his machinations are to come properly to fruition. Besides, the other Princes are always a delight to play with, and he was brimming with energy from his long feed here in the sleeping world.<br/><br/>He sweeps his hand and another rider forms out of the swirling dreamstuff, a mirror image of the Prince.<br/><br/>"Carry on here, you know your tasks. Come to me when the Lieutenant returns, I must deal with him personally."<br/><br/>The mirror Prince bows his head, hand over his heart, and a torrent of dreamstuff washes over them. Both are gone.<br/><br/><div align="center"><strong>Hades</strong></div><br/>Phobetor trots over the blighted sands of hell, Asmodeus's massive hooded bodyguards (http://th02.deviantart.net/fs71/PRE/i/2010/249/f/d/_executioner__by_biohazardmonster-d2y6fhg.jpg) lumber silently on either side of the Prince. The dream energy he carries with him bounds forth, escaping from his psyche in fleeting illusions. Small luminous clouds drift around the dream Prince. In an instant they are silky egg sacks bursting with many legged young who cast their strands to the wind, floating away... as a swarm of brightly colored birds who flit back and forth around the Prince like hoverflies. He is drawing near one of the Colosseum's many gates, and can hear the hooting and howling of the bestial masses ahead. Asmodeus knows how he'll spend his pent up energy. It's been a long time since the dream Prince returned in person, a spectacle is in order.<br/><br/>The crowd parts around the small procession, eyeing the dark rider hungrily. He casts his cloak into the air and it spreads, billowing over the crowd like a circus tent. A bounty of food and treasure rains from the ceiling, and the crowd cheers, gathering up coins, meat and wine skins in a frenzy. Asmodeus smiles at their perverse hunger, and gestures with his arm, exotic dancers burst from the ground and pirouette into the crowd. They are quickly snatched up by the revelers, and Asmodeus laughs gleefully as he watches the the hungry legion spill their blood and entrails in a frenzy, mounting still warm corpses with lusty howls. It will be some time yet before they realize the flesh they are squabbling over is far less real than it tastes. He doubts any of them will care. He rides through the gates of the Colosseum and dismounts, reaching into a pocket to produce something red and wriggling. He feeds it to the horse and pats its snout. A servant leads it to the stable.<br/><br/>Asmodeus and his guards silently climb the steps to the Princes' box. He takes his seat and signals an imp over. The cowering servant hobbles over, bearing a goblet of wine. The imp sips from the cup, and Asmodeus watches him cringe, fully expecting the Prince's drink to be poisoned. He offers the cup with shaking hands, and the Prince sips. It is good. A roar echoes through the Arena, and Asmodeus turns to see Balthazar emerging onto the Arena Master's balcony. He laughs, and the imp at his side flinches away.<br/><br/>"Such a brutish display, don't you think?"<br/><br/>The imp knows better than to answer. The hooded guards stand silently at attention.<br/><br/><em>“Greetings. Tonight is special as we have guests of Honor. The Princes have deigned to join us,”</em>He nods toward the box and grins,<em> "So for these honored guests, I have something quite special. New slaves for the Arena. Since I am a demon of few words…let the pain begin!"</em><br/><br/>The crowd roars again with renewed frenzy, and Asmodeus leans forward in his seat, hand at his mouth in a display of youthful apprehension.