"Indulge your thirst for blood. Embrace the craving for murder." A tall, red, smoke devil grasped my neck, and glared into my begging eyes unmercifully. It didn't flinch, It didn't twitch, It didn't live. I prayed and prayed, but this only seemed to create a stronger connection with It.

"Pray.. Yes.. Beg for life, my child. Let the anger flow through your veins and I will set you free, forever."

Still, I prayed. Still, I hoped. Still, I wondered. Wondered how such a being could come to existence. Wondered why it was in my home. Wondered why it was with me; I was but a young man, venturing the lands of Misthalin. I had nothing, no-one; no enemies, no friends, no family, no allies- I had nothing, no-one.

"You fight so eagerly with hope as your shield; defending you from reality, and with imagination as your weapon; striking me down in your mind, escaping this nightmare. If you will not allow anger to be one with you, then I.. I SHALL CORRUPT YOU WITH CHAOS AND ANGER MYSELF!" In saying this, It lifted back what seemed to be It's arm, and in it a weapon that could only have been suitable for the devil himself. With what could only have been described as a 'thrust', It pushed the sword towards me carelessly.

At this very moment, I woke. My nightmare was finished, yet it seemed so... real. More real than the word 'real' could ever mean to you. Beyond reality, if you will.

This nightmare- it had became apparent- had cost me several moons. I'd noticed that as I caught the very moon itself in the corner of my eye, out of my window, with beautiful rays of white light emanating from it, shining through and revealing clouds, invisible without the moon's being.

"Strange," I battled with logic in my mind.

Realization had fallen upon me; I wasn't sweating, which is usually a key component in a nightmare; I didn't wake up screaming and shifting, which is only natural..

Strange indeed.

Perhaps it wasn't a nightmare, but foresight..

I had barely managed to rotate my head fully to get a definite view of the moon, and its beautiful surroundings. I hadn't thought much of the nightmare; I was dazzled by the exceptional sight of the moon, and the perfect breeze that gently wrapped around my face and legs, making me shiver.

I love nights like this, I reminded myself.

Suddenly, the strangest of occurrences took place, directly in front of my window; a man seemed to be digging into the soil in the patch of grass mirroring my garden, casting it aside angrily, then kicking the spade he dug with to remove any excess compost that remained clinging to it.

I couldn't decipher who he was; it was dark and he was quite far away. With eventuality my eyes adjusted fully to the lighting of the world, and my sight improved, allowing me to see who he was. I just had to wait for him to turn around and show his facial appearance...

Although this may sound a little odd to you, I had mastered the skill of jumping out of my bed and immediately readying myself in my own unique fighting stance. I had practiced doing it every night and morning, for.. well, for as long as I can remember..

Becoming restless and curious, I carried out 'the leap of destiny' (The name of the aforementioned various movements) and rushed towards the window with haste.

I ran my hands softly against the wooden windowsill, appreciating my caring mood and the texture of the wood. I crouched a little, revealing only the top half of my head and the tips of my fingers to whoever would be looking in and through my window.

Finally! His face had turned towards me! "I know him," I thought to myself, sighing in disappointment.

It was the 'mad-man' who roamed around; muttering words only he could comprehend; warning people of a violent hallucination that seemed so real to you, that if seen, would invoke such chaos in you that death was inevitably the 'only way out'.

I feared he was performing a ritual of sorts, so I took my sword up.

My sword wasn't long, nor was it short. It was smithed with the finest elemental ore, and crafted into what it became.

Due to the ore's colour, the sword itself glowed a neon purple, and sometimes, if you concentrated enough, you could see small sprinkles of magical dust slipping off of the sword and into the wind's hands.

I loved my sword. It made me appear unique. Mentioning not the source from which my sword was created to anyone, my lips proved secure and trustworthy.

Rushing silently through my garden, hearing the periodical grunts of the mad-man, the gravel-crunching noise which surrounded him when he slammed the spade into the ground, and my light footsteps upon the grass, I remained calm.

Concealing myself behind a rather conveniently placed bush, I pondered my next move; Should I wait, or should I attack?

I decided to wait; I didn't want to reveal myself to him as of yet, and came to the conclusion that he would eventually divulge information relevant to his current actions.

I was still in an appreciative mood. It's the kind of mood you get when you're happy. No. Grateful. Grateful you're alive, and what possessions and relationships with other people you have.

I appreciated the grass. Its soft, naturally pleasant texture; its slow, graceful sway in the gentlest of breezes; its gray-green colour; its delicate surface, granting me soundless steps...

I appreciated the bush. Its tiny leaves flowing in the direction the breeze sent it, then returning carefully to its foremost place on its branch; its size, perfectly providing me with cover.

I appreciated the sword. I slid my hands down it slowly, smiling and sighing happily, admiring the cold and exhilarating texture the elemental metal possessed.

I turned round to find my position, I had became aware, exposed. I was instantly confused, asking myself how the mad-man could've possibly seen me through the bush; I was perfectly hidden by it.

He laughed with an uncaring face.

I was unsure of what I should do. Stand up. Remain crouching. These options sang irritatingly and constantly in my mind. I decided to stand.

"How can you see me, old man?" I looked at him fully knowing of my tough appearance. I almost smiled because I knew that I looked like a hero of great.

"Hahahaha! What were you hiding behind, boy!? Was it a boulder!? A bush!? A crate!!!? Hahahaha!" He laughed snarlingly, coughs interrupting his every second word. He seemed to be the perfect villainous character.

I'd became slightly confused. I darent question the bush's being, and at the same time, my sanity; it was definitely there. Alongside the confusion, embarrassment began to mock me.

The once proud smile morphed into a smile of doubt. I chuckled a little, too. Though none of these happy emotions were indeed happy.

A great man, known as the 'Wise Old Man' told me once that humans think of roughly one million things every second. At this very moment, I could hear his voice saying it.

I wondered, associating the apparently factual commment with my current state of different feelings, thoughts and such- could he have been right?

Eventually I overcame all of the unimportant issues that pressed against my mind. Like foot soldiers on ladders attempting to climb onto a wall, the issues attacked and attacked, whilst my mind fended them off by knocking down the ladders and piercing their being with arrows.

Mustering normality again, I managed to mutter some words.

"You're the mad-man here, not me. How in the God's names did you see me through the bush?" In saying these defensive words, I pushed my empty hand down hoping to touch something. Green shrubbery, rather than something, I pleaded with Guthix.

Nothing. A soft breeze caressed my hand, swirling around it, through my fingers, chilling the tips of my fingernails. It felt as though the breeze itself was attempting to comfort me.

Noticing my hand's movement, the mad-man smirked and dug again.

I looked downwards to where the bush was. I raised one eyebrow and opened my mouth in awe. Following, fear struck me ruthlessly, causing me to scream.

I seen black smoke. A devil, with eyes like rubies glowing, glared at me, enticing my fear to expose itself through other means, rather than screaming.

I staggered a little and shouted, "GET BACK FROM ME! GET BACK! YOU'RE NOT REAL! AHHHHHH!"

I could hear snarling yet again. The sound drew my concentration not to the smoke devil which crouched before me, but to the mad-man.

He was busy digging; muttering words of old, disregarding my screams for help.

Fearfully, I looked back down onto the evil smoke to find the source of the laughing. Still, It glared into my eyes. I couldn't help but remember It from my strange dream, but that was minuscule in comparison to the fear I felt.

"You fight so eagerly with hope as your shield; defending you from reality, and with imagination as your weapon; striking me down in your mind, escaping this nightmare. If you will not allow anger to be one with you, then I.. I SHALL CORRUPT YOU WITH CHAOS AND ANGER MYSELF!" It screamed at me angrily, and I could feel death's embrace approach my life; the shock was too much to handle.

I could directly associate It's words with those which were in my dream. I shivered and stared absently into the devil's eyes. It grabbed my arm with its hands and casted me towards the mad-man.

I turned my head to look at him. He was awaiting my falling arrival with open arms, and droplets of sweat were pouring down his face. He showed no emotion.

Catching me the palms of his hands, he threw me to the ground, although as I looked up at him, I realized I was lower than the ground itself. Panicking horribly, I looked to my left and my right, analysing my surroundings.

I couldn't help but notice the soil that surrounded me like a wall. Dirt began to fall on me, and once again I heard snarling.

I was the reason he dug.

"Wake.. time.. come on.. wake up," a heavenly voice fluttered around my ears making little sense, yet giving me great comfort. I smiled as I listened.

"Wake up! It's time to get up! Come on! Hurry! You have to go, now! Wake up," the heavenly voice became more realistic by the second and my awareness rose to the highest of heights. I looked up to find a girl shaking me. I recognized her face. I couldn't help but think of the dream I'd had. It was a dream; I was waking from it.

"Alright, enough of this. Some cold water should do the trick!"

I was completely awake, but my eyes were still slightly closed. Upon hearing "cold water", I groaned and tried to open my eyes as fast as I possibly could. They kept closing as I forced them open. My mind was willing me to sleep again, but I would rather wake up than have cold water poured over me only then to be brought to my senses!

"I'm awake, I'm awake! Put the water away," I almost sobbed in agony whilst I begged.

I looked briefly to my left and right. I could see soil. Lots of soil. I began quaking in fear - it wasn't a dream. I was going to die. Hallucinations? Hopefully not. Help me, please help me, I begged to Guthix in my mind.

I looked down to my chest as I felt pressure upon it. I saw a hand with a Black glove on it, then as I followed the wrist to the arm, eventually to the face, I recognized the person who stood above me. It was my partner.

I sighed with relief, and a tear fell from my eye. Luckily Dayna didn't notice it.

"Are you ok? You seem pretty shook up. I'm not gonna ask how you got in here," she continued after a deep breath, "but I'm really concerned. I can't leave you in your own house anymore. I mean, does somebody have something against you or.. nevermind. Let's talk about it later. We've got business to take care of."

I nodded and stood up sharply. Waving my hands all over my body and occasionally slapping myself, I banished the dust from my clothes.

"Wait, Dayna," a drop of sweat fell from my brow and I panicked - I couldn't see my sword anywhere.

"What's up?" her face cared about my words, and I liked that.

"I can't see my sword, I mean, I had it last night. Last I had it, I was right behind that bu-" I suddenly realised that there was no bush.

"That what?" she inquired. "Wait, your sword!? How in Guthix's name could you have lost your sword! Oh dear Guthix, this is a problem indeed. We'll need to find it."

I nodded quickly without a second thought, and smiled invisibly, reminding myself how much I loved Dayna. She was perfect.

Dayna had long blond hair, which at the tips, grew more darker. Her skin was angelic; not too white, and not too brown. Her lips were a luscious pink, and when she bit them, I couldn't help but fall in love with her even more. She bit her lip when she was shocked, but sometimes.. she bit her lip when she was trying to be seductive. No, not trying - she was seductive.

I proceeded along the dirty path that lead to my house as Dayna assumed leadership of the group - I followed her. Her hair bounced behind her back and streamed downwards like a beautiful waterfall whilst she walked along the path. It almost touched her brown, leather boots.

She eventually entered my house, and with that, she lifted her arm above her head and landed her hand on it, then let it flow through her hair and let out a big sigh.

"Look, we need to go. Do you still have that dragon dagger your father gave you? It's poisonous, but it will have to do. We can't be bothered about a clean job when we have no weapons to do it properly." she didn't seem enthusiastic about this job, and I couldn't figure out why; she usually loved it - every second of it.

"I do. Hang on and I'll get it. But, when we get back, can we look for my sword? I couldn't have lost it. No, I haven't lost it." in speaking I reached over to a small set of dust-infested drawers and opened the top one.