Subtitled "Signs and Portents of Things to Come," the title's fitting. Funki paints an appropriatly surreal scenerio for his dream below, with an interesting and odd payoff, that fits the KOL origins of the game perfectly. No dialect in this roleplay at all. The roleplay benifits from that decision. As it turned out, by the time the finale was finally up, Funki was already on vacation from the 'net.
     The first of two roleplays Konall turned out for this, it's something that set an echo that was heard in the Finale, but something I expect to hear if- no, WHEN- Funki makes his much anticipated return to KOL and hopefully AiL as well.

Anyway, here it is- Konall's Dream.

Konall was in the middle of a dream and he knew it. There was that feeling that whatever he wasn’t paying attention to ceased to exist until he focused on it again. Everything was surreal, but in a way you couldn’t put your finger on.

He knew exactly where he was. He was near his home village, his village as it had been before it was destroyed. To be precise, he was in the woods about a hundred yards from it. He walked slowly towards the town.

As he entered the village, he felt drawn to, and repelled from, the town center. He decided to approach it. Konall dreamed in black and white, and the dream began to become a lot more black than white. It became darker and darker as he drew closer and closer to the town square.

As Konall came around a corner, he saw the figures gathered in the village center. Though he stood paralyzed in the street they took no notice of him. Instead, they were in a circle, discussing something. Some were human-shaped, others were shaped like beasts, and one was a giant over fifty feet tall. A few weren’t recognizable as anything, and all were hazy, as if they were made of fog.

The shadow in the center of the circle seemed to be made of more than darkness. It was as if some of the light around it was actually sucked into it. It turned and glanced at Konall, than pointed a finger at him. One of the beings started after the seal clubber.

Konall usually listened to his gut feelings, and right now these feelings all shouted one thing, “Run. Run as fast as you can and don’t look back.” And he did.

He was out of the small village in a matter of seconds. He fled, faster than he ever could have in real life. His feet seemed to fly over the short grass as he made his way through the woods. And then he stopped. Why was he running? This was his dream, his world. Anything in here answered to him. He turned around abruptly. It was there, breathing on his face. Somehow, Konall wasn’t surprised.

Both individuals took a step back and drew their weapons, Konall his long sword and the other its machete. The stared at each other. Konall could now make out some of the details. The figure was male, a little shorter than the berserker, and was wearing a hockey mask. Everything about it seemed menacing, and yet, Konall wasn’t as afraid as he should have been.

And then they clashed. Stab, counter, slash, block. For a minute or two they battled inconclusively. Then, right as Konall was parrying one of his opponents blows, he rammed his left shoulder into the man, knocking him into the ground. The berserker kicked the other’s weapon into the bushes. As he put one knee on the freak’s chest, he ripped the mask off and shouted, “Who are you.”

The thing didn’t answer. It had no face. The closest Konall came to seeing a face was a slight reflection of his own in the man’s blank onyx-like visage. The figure evaporated and before Konall could do anything, he woke up. As he began to get his bearings, he felt something in his hand. He opened his eyes and took a look at it. It was a hockey mask. Konall spent a long time screaming.