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Illusion

Illusion

here was a man, in the old days, whose name filled those with dread. A human with the ability to inspire fear like no other, he held entire towns in his sway in those lonely mountains of Hokkaido. Where he roamed, people trembled. Even when he wasn’t physically around, they looked over their shoulders. For he had mastered a strange, dark magic that allowed him to be where he was not. At least, seem as if he was. Even when they slept, he haunted their visions.

He had taken delight in tricking them, playing with them and their minds like a child would with their toys. For he viewed them all so beneath him, below his station, that they did not matter in the long end. No shogun could hurt him, no one would even dare to come into his domain. There wasn’t a man alive that could stop him.

So they sent the one that was not a man at all.

When I came for him, he threw his entire series of tricks and abilities at me. Strange magicks, illusions, and then eventually brute force. Each time, he was blind to what was not working. It infuriated him, making his blood boil. It even hissed as my blade struck into him. But the failing of his demise was that of ignorant rage.

For if one’s foe is detached from the world you know, fear holds little.

Fearsome would be an often used describer for you Sandman. With a visage of wrapped bandage and jutting teeth, you are the perfect thing to haunt the nightmares of the world. It’s certainly helped you out with each person previously you’ve encountered. A dimming of lights, a spot of violence, and the chance to haunt your victims in their dreams. It makes, at a first glance, a powerful foe.

But when you look deeper, the sand blows away to show the truth. Your tether to the mortal plane here is weaker than any other being on the planet. You hunt in dreams, but the tools that you use there are replaced by mere brute force.

Built on illusions, you merely crumble away when true pressure is really applied. Dust into the wind.

Have you found it difficult to find me when you stalk your realm? You can hunt, search all that you can in those dreamscapes of yours. My shadow won’t be found among them. Your realm of dreams does not reach me, for what do I need of sleep?

Without those ties, the illusions and fear that you hold on others falls like sand in between my fingers. All that remains is the physical brute, and that is nothing that I haven’t seen before. So run forth, scream your rage as the night exits. It leaves you more open, exploitable. Showing of your weakness. And when that time comes, the surprise will glimmer in the morning light with a brand new gift.

You’ll greet the sun with a sword through your chest.