Archived GM Notes: This page is unsealed GM-notes pertaining to PRPG2. It is not canonical to PRPG2. It main contain contradictions (even with itself), and preliminary ideas that were merely written down as I thought of them, for later consideration. The absence of something mentioned here from the canon does not necessarily mean that the party "missed" it, it could have been mooted for other reasons or simply discarded by me.
You are sitting on a mat, in a richly appointed, sunlit room. There are some books and magical equipment nearby, this is what might be a sort of magical teaching laboratory.
There is a lich here, standing next to you.
L: But, my master, these feelings you describe seem to be compromising your ability to think clearly. Everything is proceeding according to your design - surely you would not turn your back on our centuries of work, now? Because of _guilt_? You told me it was nothing but a vice of the indecisive, master!
---
You have a strange dream.
You are sitting on a mat, in a richly-appointed, sunlit room, just a filly. There is an older stallion next to you, the loving and devoted father you never had.
But today is not like other days, in which you might practice your magic with him or discuss some matter or another... there is tension between you. Your eyes are teary.
He doesn't seem to be talking down to you, but neither does he seem to be appreciating your position, whatever that is.
"I'm sorry, but a delay will only make the operation more difficult. We can't put it off - the risk to our work is already too great."
His words have a hollow, emotionless ring to them. You feel like you are in grave danger, as if he wants to take away part of yourself. And yet, it is perhaps part of yourself that you could do without... a chronically inflamed piece of your soul. Perhaps you would be better off without its unquiet voice creeping in.
"I need time to think about this," you say, standing up to face him. "This is... part of me, now."
The stallion holds firm. "You are not competent to refuse this... repair, not in your present condition of emotional distress."
He pauses. "I'm sorry, but this is for your own good. And for the good of us all," he says, a sleep spell starting to form in his horn. "This will all be ov--"
You lash out with your own magic, blotting out the sleep spell before it is cast.
"No!"
"What? What are you doing--"
In a moment of fiery clarity, you do what you know you must do. You unleash the wellspring of magical power within you, throwing the stallion across the room. Such is the intensity of your attack that the flesh on his bones evaporates like dew. Yet, somehow he still lives.
"Dusty, Dusty, why --" he cries out. But it is too late. With an ancient spell of destruction, you catch that spirit which quickens him and break the bonds with his broken body. It is cast to the aetherial winds, only a fading wisp of gossamer twisting its way through bleached bones.
Was there ever love, or only use? You will never find out.
You awaken with a start.