Nightmares and Dreamscapes
This page will contain notes for any nightmare scenarios are heroes go through
Sage – The Battle for Atlanta
A lean man in a crisp blue union uniform stands on the horizon.
He stares off in the direction of Atlanta.
A slight summer breeze whips up ash, cinder and blows the smoke up revealing a badly burned arm sticking up out of a pile of burnt rubble.
Somewhere behind him the sounds of war rage. The ash is being soaked with gray-back blood and the cacophony of there death rattles and screams of agony are accompanied by the percussion of rifle and cannon.
At his feet, half-buried in ash is a partially scorched doll that must have been some little girls.
Two horses ride up behind the man. “1st Sergeant Mortimer?!”
Sage turns too look at the men. His corporal, a brave young man from outside of Wichata named Stephen Turner and his younger brother, a private by the name Elmer and no older then 15.
“Sir we’ve been ordered to regroup a join the assault on on the Confederate lines.”
They took to many casualties taken the railroad to launch a frontal assault.
“Estimates say the South has taken much higher losses sir”
A large gray mottled horse steps up to Sage from his right, it’s eyes black as obsidian. It stomps the ground and snorts.
It’s urging Sage to ride.
The three men ride through the twisted carnage of the battle for Macon. Twisted Confederate soldiers, some horribly ripped apart, others still clinging to life crying or screaming.
The horses hooves make wet sucking sounds with each step, accompanied by a low-muffled crunching or a dead-branch crack and occasionally a wet gurgle or cry.
It’s the dead and dying confederates to thick on the ground to be avoided by the horses.
“1st Sergeant!” Three union men salute. One leans against a gatlin’ gun, his leg wrapped in a bloody bandage.
Behind them are seven southerners, 4 soldier (2 wounded), a boy to young to fight, a girl who must have been his little sister, and an old woman.
“Sir we found these gray-backs hiding in a barn. When we went told them to move out so we could burn it, they opened fire and killed Sergeant Parker.”
Jeb Parker had been one of Sage’s friends, a man he had know since the Mexican / American War and who had enlisted with Sage and his son.
When they join the main force things seem off. The Confederate high-ground seems to stretch up too high. All around them the buildings seem scorched black the windows glowing orange-red and the sky is going dark from the smoke of fires.
“One good push boys!” Sherman maybe or Morgan, yelling over the lines. “One good push and these Confederate scum bellies will break and run!”
The Union bodies of one failed charge already litter the hill.
Sage turns on his horse his men have formed. Men, boys really but it’s his duty to ready them for this.
The men fix bayonets and prepare to charge.
“CHARGE!” The order comes out and the charge begins
As the Union troops make there way up the hill, the buildings that had seemed to be smoldering burst into flames.
Casualties start about a quarter of the way into the charge and the terrain begins to get rougher.
Sage’s horse is leaving flaming hoof prints as it gallops. The men being killed by confederate fire are instantly burn to ash and bursting in clouds of hot cinders.
The bursting casualties increase as the enemy lines draw near. Sage can feel more of his men are among the fallen. Then in this moment of distraction an artillery burst blows up just behind Sage.
He uses the blast to launch into the enemy lines and begin fighting, the few remaining members of his unit, including the corporal and his brother soon join the fray.
The battle rages, men die in horrible manners.
In the fighting Sage sees the corporal, he looks remarkably like his oldest boy. He seems to be doing well and then a terrible scream comes from one of the building.
The corporal is hit by two fire balls from some explosion and is burned away in the blink of an eye.
Another artillery blast rocks the ground.
The private makes his way to Sage and helps him up.
It is almost impossible to tell who is who, both sides uniforms are starting to scorch black.
There is a wall of flame the way they came incinerating everything in or near it. The only choice is to fight on into the city.
A large confederate soldier comes stumbling out of a burning building, starting to burn himself, spots the two of them, let’s out a rebel yell and charges.
Corporeal – D:2d8 N:2d10 S:2d10 Q:2d8 V:2d8
Fightin’: Brawlin’ 3d10 Dodge 2d10
Mental – C:2d8 K:2d6 M:1d10 Sm:1d4 Sp:2d8
Fist Daggers STR + 1d12
-The daggers cause hit targets to catch fire on a D6 roll of 1.
His flaming hands are melting into long, black daggers.
He and the boy fight for their lives, a boy who looks like little Phillip might have if he lived longer.
The rebel kills the boy, ripping him asunder and he bursts into ash.
The rebel slams Sage face down into the ashes in the street and he chokes down a huge mouthful.
His face is covered in ash. It’s getting in his nose and eyes.
It throws Sage against the wall and charges but misses. Sage shoots him in the face.
Sage kills the rebel finally as the battlefield is engulfed in smoke.
Sage makes his way through the thick and oily smoke. The smell of brimstone gets thick in the air. As he breaks through the wall of smoke. He see’s his daughter standing there in front of some large building into which a woman is hastly rushing wounded soldiers and civilians. Lily Ann is skin and bones, her young face gaunt with sunken eyes. “Pa” She smiles. “Please turn back. This war will take more from you then just us.”
There’s a whisper in his ear. “Clarence.” It’s Mary Ann. “They killed us all.”
“Pa, it isn’t mama.” Lily pleads.
“It is me Clarence, you know it is.”
It could only be here she’s healthy and beautiful just like he remembers.
“They killed us. You can make them pay. Use your hate.”
Sage notices his hands engulfed in hellish flames but there is no pain.
He’s standing in the door way of the building. The wounded, the woman, children all cower inside. He can feel the flames of Atlanta at his back. Lily has crouched down, hugging her knees, and looking like a little girl again, she’s looking up at Sage with an expression somewhere between pity and fear. On his right hand Mary Ann has turned into something primal and wild, an avatar of the flame.
“Please Pa. It wants your sou!l Don’t do this.” His daughter begs tears evaporating from her checks.
“DO IT! USE YOUR HATE! MAKE THEM SUFFER FOR WHAT THEY DID TO ME!”
The brimstone stink is overpowering. Sage’s arms are engulfed up to the elbows, flames spill from his mouth, burning his neck and face.
His daughter crying and the cackles of the thing pretending to be Mary Ann sound a 1000 miles away, drifting through the flame. Sage is filled with an unimaginable power, a force of nature.
The flame bursts from him and incinerating the people cowering before him in an instant. There death cry rises up in unison and form a twisting laughing entity in the flame, a figure that can only be the devil reaching for him. It rips Sage’s burning soul from his disintegrating body and lets flow away into the flames. In the end his daughter had been right, the war would take his soul.