BODY-SWAP

A one-off. Raz was feeling neglected, so I let him have free rein. Note to self: Never do this. Next time, you may not get your body back.

Disclaimer: Raziel & Nosgoth were created by Crystal Dynamics and Eidos Interactive.

Sometimes I have these dreams, you know? I guess everyone has one occasionally. One of those dreams that stands out in glorious technicolour from the monochrome of night…one of those dreams that makes you wonder, when you wake, whether you really have been in bed all night…

And sometimes those dreams aren't all kittens and cotton-candy. Sometimes, the dreams aren't even mine.

Raziel wakes up, and it has all been a dream.

Or rather, I wake up, and it still is a dream.

I screech in a most un-Raziel-like manner and skitter away backwards to the wall. My dead wings hit stone hard, but reality hits harder.

Oh god…

I don't dare to look down in case there are hooves.

"Raziel!" I bellow, and my voice (his voice!) echoes loudly in the caverns of Nosgoth. "Raziel, you great blue git, are you here? Raziel!"

It is only as the echoes die slowly away that I belatedly realise today I am the great blue git, and that I have no idea whose dream I'm in.

First good point: I finally have the waistline any girl would want. I swivel my non-hips joyfully. Look at me, I'm a size…uh…minus-10…

First bad point: I am dead. Putting one of Raziel's massive claws to my throat and chest confirms this. These lungs have not drawn breath in decades, and this heart has atrophied.

I pick up a nearby spear from the ground. My own puny arms would have struggled to lift it, let alone swing it. Raziel's dead body has no problem with it. I might as well be holding a cocktail stick.

Second good point: I giggle a little. I have super-powers. Maybe I should get myself some spandex.

Then again…I look down at my new, dream-borrowed body.

Second bad point: Raziel seems to wear very few clothes. I never realised it just looking at him, but he runs around practically in the nude. What is this? Some sort of loin-cloth? And this scarf. Ugh. And why are my forearms apparently swathed in ancient bandages? Fear grips me suddenly. If these unravel, will my arms fall off?

Raziel's hearing is very sharp. My pointed ears twitch. Something is coming down the corridor towards me, and it does not sound friendly.

Bad point to end all bad points: I am trapped in Nosgoth in the body of its messiah, whom everybody is trying to kill. And I have no idea how to fight.

So I do the only sensible thing. I run for it. And I run like a girl. Any vampire watching me sprint through Nosgoth would undoubtedly have been amused by the sight of Raziel, Fearless Vampire Killer ™, scuttling down the tunnels and trying to hide behind large vases.

I duck as two Dumahim snarl past. Fortunately, they seem preoccupied with killing a nearby human being and are not interested in anything that might happen to be skulking behind decorative ceramics.

They set about killing the man quite brutally. It's then that I remember that Raziel, skilled fighter that he is, also has the great innate advantage of tremendous strength.

Even if I can't control the skills this body has learnt, I can at least use its resources.

I leap out, spear in claw. "Hey!" I yell - and I still cannot get over this deep tenor voice, nor the fact that I am speaking without the benefit of a jaw - "You! Over here!"

The vampires rush me, far quicker than I was expecting. I do nothing, intending to simply stand my ground and wait to stab them - but Raziel's body takes over angrily and the world dissolves in fire…

I am pleased to discover (when my eyes return to normal) that I am fine. The two vampires are writhing in flames, and my claws feel curiously warm to the touch. I force Raziel's body through a little dance of triumph - I must be Raziel at the height of his Soul Reaver 1 powers - fully glyphed-up and ready to rumble. Feeling a little silly, I strike the pose, snap my faded wings out to full extension, leap in the air and punch the stone beneath my feet as hard as I can.

I think I've failed to cast the Stone Glyph until I happen to wander around the corner and find a petrified Dumahim statue, ready and waiting to be shattered.

Bad point number 4,506: I am hungry. And everybody knows what that means.

Thinking about it as I trail back to the Drowned Abbey (for want of anything better to do) perhaps eating souls isn't too disgusting. There are worse things. Ravioli, for starters. That weird thing my auntie makes with cheese and pastry. But the feel of it, the sense of ingesting a life, still felt badly wrong. I guess I'm just not cut out to be a vampire. Or a soul-eater. Or whatever.

Hell, maybe I should become a vegetarian.

The Abbey opens up before me, full of greenish water. Rahabim bob on the surface, lazily, ducking under swiftly when my distinctive shadow falls across them. Oh well. Here goes nothing -

And I leap out across the water, heading for a stone plinth far below.

Finding out that his wings are not one of the parts of Raziel's body that operate purely on his own instinct was unpleasant. The water is very cold around me, and I duck myself on purpose, trying to wake me (or him. Whose dream is this anyway?) up. It has no noticeable effect, apart from making this blasted cowl more sodden.

I haul myself out on the rock, dripping like a drowned rat, and sit quietly in the hope that Raziel's supernatural gifts extend to water-resistance.

After a while, I start to hum, softly, to myself.

Several choruses of I'm Henry The Eighth I Am later, and I am just about to start on my best rendition of Saturday Night At The Movies (this place has brilliant acoustics -it's just like singing in the shower, and Raziel's voice is surprisingly mellow) when I spot him.

He's curled up asleep on the roof of Rahab's chambers, obviously having dozed off in the reasonably warm sunlight. His body looks oddly transparent -

"Well, I suppose it would," I comment to myself out loud, "because I'm using it too."

I fling myself wildly across the gaps until I make the roof, my claw-like hooves scraping chips from the stone, and lean over Raziel's sleeping body.

Subtlety has never really got me anywhere in life…not that this wasn't kinda fun, Raz…

I lean in and bellow, in Raziel's loudest, angriest tones: "WAKE…UP…DAMN…YOU...!"

Raziel wakes up, and it has all been a dream.

He sits up from where he has been curled in the corner of VladimirsAngel's bedroom, his hooves tangled in her spare duvet.

"Gosh," he says, to the Angel herself, who is also awake and grasping the edge of her duvet for dear life, "I've just had the most peculiar dream."

"No kidding," says the Angel, regarding him with a great deal of suspicion.

Raziel puts on his most pleading look.

"Is it okay if I come and sit with you for a while? I must admit that dream was rather unsettling…almost frightening. I've never felt so miserable in all my life."

He shuffles onto the edge of the bed and looks at her with huge, pale eyes.

"I dreamt I was a girl," he admits, and this is when VladimirsAngel hits him over the head with a pillow.

P.S. This is what lack of sleep will do for you. *points at the story* This is your brain on nervous adrenaline!!! And never let Soul Reavers sleep over. Bad things will happen to your creative writing muscles.^_^