Wednesday, 4 February 2015


As I was walking through the train station this morning, I suddenly had a strong recollection of the past night's dream, so I thought I'd write about it.

The station floor was very slippery, you see, just like the stone steps leading to Asher Temple. Although it may be "The Asher Temple", "Temple of the Ashers" or simply "Asher". Its origins and history are obscure, and its denizens were not quick to enlighten such questioners.

The steps were not typical; a long time past they had been sundered by a furious barbarian who did not receive the answers he sought. The path became unsafe, then unusable. Many years later, a visiting sorcerer noticed the path and offered to repair it for a price. The monks could not afford it, so they paid half and this resulted in the anomaly we see today.

The rocks which made up what used to be a rough staircase now float freely in the air; not enough to be simple to traverse but possible with determination and dexterity. Occasionally the rocks drift away from the path a little, requiring leaps of faith to reach. Perversely, the monks prefer it this way. Despite this challenge, it is still common for the temple to receive visitors, so the rocks have become worn over time and very smooth. It's said that the monks are uncharacteristically warm if you manage to reach them on a rainy day.

One day I'm going to actually write an RPG or a story or something, and people are going to love it or hate it.