There were muffled screams everywhere. Seriously, what the fuck was going on? Oh wait. Shit.
This is one of your nightmares.
The screams slowly seeped into focus; most of them cries of frightened and grieving villagers, stricken with the righteous indignation to call her a witch, and blame deaths of family and friends on her arrival. Some, were a bit closer to home. Friends who you'd collected among your travels, their death rattles as their souls left their body, or their final words which dripped acid into your very core, cursing you for being immortal and not dying with them. It took a good bit of strength to not lose your mind during these moments; but you held pretty well. And then, you broke free.
You woke up with a start. Your motionless body which had been floating around in some endless void you'd drifted to aimlessly twitched to life, and you looked at your palms. Pale as snow. Still, you had no blood, no veins, just stardust. If you were cut in half you'd look like you're full of glitter. You continued your daily routine of making sure you were truly all there. You felt your head; still had those slender antlers. Something WAS different, though. Your deer skull was gone. All that was left was the horns. You sighed. Probably stolen in your sleep.
Continuing, you checked your scarf. In the seismograph pattern, you noticed there was a new, small peak. It seemed to be in dimension 62. Oh my god is it the one with that intriguing war? Yes, let's go check.
After traveling through the dimensions, you felt your trenchcoat wavering behind you. Looking across the landscape, you saw two characters running across the landscape, fleeing a gargantuan castle with soldiers bustling inside. You floated down to see what was happening. A small girl, about 14 or 15, with a ripped and matted cape flowing behind her, ragged clothes, and bandages wrapped around her feet, long tangled dark brown hair, and a pure expression of panic, sprinting alongside a much taller, muscled green man with a black mohawk and a beard thicker than the forests of distant lands, bloody swords and a vest with armor plates on it. His boots had fur cuffs, and his pants were held up with a thick belt. Two dirks jostled with every step he took, a large bat strapped to his back, and a similarly terrified expression. They made it to the forest, panting and sitting in the shade of an old oak. They conversed, asking for the others name and general banter. I decided to introduce myself accordingly.
"Hi! You running from the cops?"
