The Slann, Pol'y'toad's eyes slowly close. It has been a long, drawn-out day of battling the hoardes of Chaos. He still believes in the will of the Old-Ones for he does not forget, unlike some of the others have. His Pala quin slowly comes to a halt under the shade of a familiar looking tree. Sleep. It is time to sleep. Eyelids begin to feel heavier and heavier. Sleep comes easy. The sweet nothingness of rest.
A loud roar reverberates throughout his body, starltling him awake. Next comes the guttural noise of Saurus and the squeaks of Skinks speaking. Then comes the smell of meaty delicacies of every sort. But most of all came the familiar heat, hot and humid. The sun's rays filling him with life.
His eyes slowly open and he is back. Back to his favorite place in Lustria. Back in his Temple-City. Back in the cheerful park.
Pol'y'toad had created it long ago with the help of his magic, the cunning engineering of his Skinks, and the brute force of Kroxigar. He does not know why he had the instinctual need to build the park, but it gave those who have rarely seen the majestic beasts of the forests a chance to see them outside of battle.
The park also seemed to have a strange effect on his followers. It brought out a sense of joy and excitement. It was one of the few places you could here a Saurus laugh like a mad warm blood.
He floated down the cobbled path flanked by his trusted Gaurds, past the Carnosaurs, past the Cold-ones, past the Bastiladon. He could almost make out what he knew was the aviary with the Terradons and Ripperdactyls.
He was just coming to the food and drink stations, of which have filled his nostrils the entire time with the smell of sweet meats, that are run by a certain spawning of Skinks. He felt something cold and wet run down his face. He looked up but saw nothing but clear blue skies. Drip. Drip. Drip. The dream shattered around Him.
His eyes slowly flutter open, the joy and energy flow out of him as the rain runs over his body. The smile fades back to stoic complacentness. He was back in the world of the present. Back in the endless time of war. But even through the drizzle, he could make out the shapes in the clearing before him. It was in a very familiar pattern. One from a time and a place long past. And he could feel the faintest of smiles begin to form at the corners of his mouth.