A pale red moon hangs over a dreary landscape of dirty buildings. I see people milling around those dilapidated buildings, aimless, moaning lowly, as if too tired to protest. They are dirty, unkempt and despair fills their eyes.
A low smoke hangs over the scene, filling the empty spaces between the people. Fires burns along the streets where some people have gathered to keep warm. Others wander between the fires, the cold not touching them.
I notice, from time to time a passing recognition comes over their faces when they see each other in the dim light. They approach, nod at each other and grasp hands or hug. At the first touch though, the pair rapidly separate as if the coldness of the grave is felt.
No one is working, no one is smiling and no one exhibits any signs of caring. I see children, but no one plays, or laughs. The stores are closed, except for a few stands of food…. Few buy food though.
I see a fight break out, a sword flashes and cuts a man. His blood flows bright against the gray light. He returns the blow and severs a man’s arm, but blood does not flow. The two collapse, as if exhausted. The gathered crowd watched the collapsed bodies in apparent anticipation. 5 minutes pass, 10 minutes, 15. Then the two brawlers climb awkwardly to their feet and the crowd moans in despair and deep disappointment.
I hear a rustle of movement at the far end of the street. I see a large retinue of well dressed people striding confidently down the street. Craven walks in their midst.
He surveys the people and seems proud, like a painter proud about a completed masterpiece. A man steps up to him and raises a sword. “You did this to use! You stole our lives!” He raises the sword to strike, but Craven glances at him; his eyes darker than the darkest pit of Hades. What little life filling the man evaporates like dew in the sunlight. His pale body shrinks back against the wall and he stays there, motionless.
Craven turns to the crowd, but does not use his power on them. Instead, he speaks, “You are an ungrateful lot. Through the Power of my Lord, Death I have granted life to all of your departed loved ones. We all live here now, without death because the land of the Dead and the Living are Joined. We need never be separated from our loved ones ever again. And all you ungrateful retches can think to do is complain about your contribution. If you have complaints, I dare you to walk up to the Palace and ask the Lord Death to help you.”
If the crowd appeared apprehensive at all before, it became ten-fold at the mention of the Lord Death. I looked toward the Palace myself, and felt myself speed toward it. I saw a Great Black Dragon of Death and Shadow there. It stared back at me with divine power and somehow knew I was there.
NOTE – do not speak this part – ‘The trance breaks at that point and Moriah returns to herself.”