Monsters aren't often supposed to dream. It makes them seem more human, more normal, as if they are misunderstood in some way, and that they are actually people. If a monster dreamt, a person could see themselves as one too, as being so close to them. Of course, if a monster dreamt of nothing but rape, murder, and torture, one was able to...see it still as a monster.
As his strength was sapped, his rage was gone, and his mind feel asleep, Thinker began to dream.
Dream was such a simple word though. Most people would call it a nightmare. He saw people being torn apart, blood and gore everywhere, hapless men and women with varying degrees of wounds in their body. Some were already dead, throats or chests ripped open, one was even still alive, and you could see her beating heart as it slowed down. Amongst the chaos and the carnage, of this unknown city, were figures still moving. More to the point, they were...all Thinker. Each of them a different manifestation perhaps, a different monster, a different version, but he could recognize himself so well. Some were chewing off the faces of great knights and warriors, others were...tenderizing prey. Some were performing unspeakable acts of rape toward faceless men and women. There were even a few who played with the dead bodies of children like they were dolls or toys, forever silenced.
Oh...this was heaven...to Thinker at least. That's all he saw it as of course. Heaven. And it was. Though he didn't recognize the people that were being slaughtered, he recognized the places. These were definitely places he had been, and these might have been people that he had killed before. Of course, after living for so long, after existing and killing so many people, they no longer had faces. Why should they either, he cared very little for his victims...his work showed that.
Things were blurred, and the bodies were gone...he stood in some strange feel, where the grass wept tears of blood, and the sky above was nothing more than a great swirling vortex of red and black clouds, forever being sucked into nothingness. Home. Save for the weeping bloody grass. That was not at home, but if it had been, he probably would never leave. Before him stood...himself. Various versions. Each of them talking, their eyes listless and forever empty. Some were in the form of great beasts that he could become, others were just in various states of transformation, or just stood in his disguised form, the one he took when not a great abyssal monster.
Then...came the scream. The terrible...and great scream from all of them as if they had been attacked. Indeed, they were being attacked. With a sudden guttural growl Thinker's eyes opened just as the glowing branding iron left his abdomen. "I smell THE scent of FOOD in this place." His voice was so...grating to some, it sounded so dark, so primal, as if someone had given voice to a shark. Wild eyes darted to and fro, looking within the room. It wasn't until now did he try to move, and found that...he could not. At least not properly. Shackled to a table. Immediately he tried to look down to them, but he could not move his head.
That's when he began to struggle in earnest. What a sight it must have been, as he pulled and shifted, as he growled and tried to shake himself free. The shackles might have been good, but a caged animal rarely...rarely...likes to stay that way. They would not break, not yet, but he was pulling in earnest, and the table which he lay, was not going to last too long. He would pull the shackles from it, and would be free.
"You taunt ME so with flesh AND blood so close! You dare to BRING the wrath within me TO you? I will have my MEAL and then I will have YOUR soul!" He growled angrily as he continued to struggle and stare at the ceiling. He didn't think till now to look left or right, being able to move his head. So he did...and he could see something.
A flesh golem.
"My FOOD!" He cried, licking his lips with a long tongue, running it over his sharpened teeth. "You KEEP my food just out of MY reach!" He groaned, as if the golem being so close was hurting him. Indeed it was, as Thinker was not used to being restrained, to not being able to do as he pleased. Yet here he was now, being held back. He looked to the other side, to see a woman standing before him. She held no special recognition in his mind. Who she was, he could not say, he had certainly never seen her before. If he had, she would be dead. That was how it worked...though dimly, as he remembered, a woman had gotten away from him...the one on the road...as did those three men.
That mistake would be corrected.
"You! You will FEEL wrath upon your head! You will feel AS I twist your guts from TORSO and devour them BEFORE you! I will PLUCK your eyes from your HEAD...and I will TAKE your soul! I will take YOUR soul and you will make a FITTING toy! Just as the rest of this ISLAND will!" Again, he struggled, and now black smoke seemed to rise from his body as he struggled to try and attack her. He twisted his body as much as he could, one could even hear the joints popping in and out of place as he dislocated them at will, a look of hatred, anger, and animal pleasure upon his face. Curiously enough, the cut on his arm was healed, and now the brand looked as if it had been there for many years, though the scar was staying put it seemed.
A very curious creature.