[b][i]The dream continues for an undetermined length of time. Your thirst becomes unbearable. You're losing control. You find yourself in a desert wearing nothing but and with no supplies. It has been years since you punished the man. In the dream, a lifetime has passed, but online seconds in reality. The man you punished sits in a chair made of freshly murdered corpses.. Behind him is a mountain of a hundred thousand corpses killed by him. This is disturbing to you, but you've got no idea this is a dream - you do not question the logic or how this came to pass. Killing this man will mean the death of a million innocents... But the thirst... You feel your hands rebel from your control and reach for him - the bloodlust is too great. The man laughs at your pain and calls you weak. [/i][/b]

[b]He chuckles, and then fires a shot through his gut, paralyzing him from the waist down, then he shoots his elbows and then smacks him in the head with the bottom of his revolver, Klink This all occurs quickly, the man now permanently mentally retarded, and physically disabled And he tsks, waving a finger[/b] "I told you so, why do you look so sad?"

[b][i]Slobber drools down his mouth as blood from his wounds runs freely to the ground. "The only sadness is you claim of affliction and the lack of its evidence.. Like an old woman who continually fakes illness to see a doctor.. An old, sad woman who looks for anything that can get her attention.... Nobody is looking at you, you're far too ignorant and completely insignificant." Says the man, blood dripping over his face. "You didn't come here to talk, finish this now." He says [/i][/b]

"You ain't worth the time nor a bullet, as you bleed, listen The damned would like to parley with you....." [b]He says, firing a beam of light from his keyblade, forcing the man to listen to the souls he had just killed as his own soul was chained to theirs[/b] "Reflect on this, and hope the dead listen to you, lest you be ripped apart from the inside"

[b][i]The man stands from the chair, snapping off the chains as if they were made of plastic, his form changes into a massively built warrior. Tep-Pharon stands before you and the dream ends. "I had to test your affliction and your level of control before allowing you to live. You've passed my test." Says the Death Warden. Tep-Pharon opens the big black book chained to his hips and begins turning pages. His hands flow over the pages. "Evidentially your affliction is minor. Had your curse been near to my brother's, you'd have torn this man apart." He finishes, telekinetically marking an entry into the large book. "You may leave" says the Primarch, not even looking up from his book as he writes.[/i][/b]