I had a very High Fantasy dream, and it didn’t help that I appeared to look like the reincarnation of Red Sonja for most of it.

I started out in some village/town, standard issue medival hamlet, as a guard, although the guards in this case fell somewhere between the police and Attila the Hun’s flunkeys running a protection racket. There were a lot of small sandy islands, I remember that. Was having a fling with the captain of the guard/chief thug. It ended badly, and betrayed, I stomped off into the wild, thugs in hot pursuit.

High fantasy characters are often idiots, and I think it may be the setting that warps the brain, because my first act was to try and disguise myself–as a guard–and go back. Since even in a medival fantasy town, six foot plus redheads with waist length hair, wearing armor, are something of a rarity, this worked about as well as you’d expect. The chief thug set someone to tail me, a young, idealistic Archetypal type. He tracked me down to a magic shop, (which also sold Stephen Brust books, oddly enough) where I was trying to get my eye color altered, (because obviously a haircut was totally out of the question.) Not wanting to kill him, I allowed him to continue tailing me, and left town again.

At some point in there, I acquired a goblin army, or at least battalion. Sure, they were technically evil, and it took two of ’em to work a crossbow, and they weren’t very bright, but they were MY goblins, and I liked ’em. The guy following me got made my second in command, since he was marginally smarter than the goblins, even if he did keep trying to convince me to return to the Chief Thug. We had some pitched battles with elves (bastard elves!) who were riding tigers and very small mammoths. The most vivid part of the whole dream was trying to shoot these tigers in the eye with arrows–I was aiming, and tracking, and releasing, and mostly missing in the dream, staring into this big milky yellow-green eye.

Having finally won over those jerks on the pygmy mammoths, the goblins were having a well deserved loot of the bodies, when this guy rode by in a purple buggy. He was evidentally the most powerful man on the continent, and he wanted me for something–human sacrifice or duel or nookie, I dunno, I just didn’t want any of it. Panicked, and worried for my poor goblins, I told ’em to go back to wherever goblins come from with as much loot as they could carry, it’d been a pleasure working with them, and I went off into the woods to try and lead this weirdo in his bright purple buggy off. There was a chase scene, I climbed a tree, and finally the buggy parks underneath said tree, and the idealistic young archetype gets out and says “Hey! It’s okay! He went home, and his driver was looking for a new job! The goblins said hi, they went back underground, and they left you the wargs to keep you company.”

Armed with three very friendly wargs, this young idiot, and a disgruntled buggy driver, it was pretty much no wonder that we were captured immediately by the driver’s former employer, and as I was fighting the regulation swordfight-up-a-staircase, I woke up.

Damnit, now I want an army of goblins.

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