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    Greetings fair traveler. You are wondering how I acquired my name no? Simple. I am a fan of the Playstation 1 classic game by the same name: Alundra. The main hero, an man who can enter dreams, is called the 'Releaser' and by a few people, 'Dreamwalker'. As for the other half to my name, I often daydream, true, but it is also a reference to the game as well.<br />
    <br />
    In Inoa, the village Alundra is sworn to save, there is a girl by the name of Sybil who only dreams during the day; while she is awake, thus earning the moniker. She could see into the future through her dreams and tried to help Alundra by warning him of what she saw in hopes the hero could prevent them. But alas, the girl is murdered by the corrupt town priest Ronan, who works for the villian.<br />
    <br />
    "Do you ever dream, my friend?" Jarlaxle asked.<br />
    <br />
    "Everyone dreams," Entreri replied. "Or so I am told. I except that I do, though I hardly care to remember them."<br />
    <br />
    "Not night dreams," the drow explained. "Everyone dreams, indeed at night. Even the elves in our reverie find dream states and visions. But there are two types of dreamers, my friend, those who dream at night and those who dream in the day."<br />
    <br />
    He had Entreri's attention.<br />
    <br />
    "Those night-dreamers," Jarlaxle went on, "they do not overly concern me. Nighttime dreams are for release, say some, a purging of the worries or a fanciful flight to no end. Those who dream in the night alone are doomed to mundanity, don't you see?"<br />
    <br />
    "Mundanity?"<br />
    <br />
    "The ordinary. The mediocre. Night-dreamers do not overly concern me because there is nowhere for them to rise. But those who dream by day...those, my friend, are the troublesome ones." <br />
    <br />
    "Would Jarlaxle consider himself among that lot?"<br />
    "Would I hold any credibility at all if I did not admit my troublesome nature?"<br />
    "Not with me."<br />
    <br />
    <br />
    He paused and looked to the west, and Entreri did too, watching the sun slip lower. "I know another secert about daydreamers," Jarlaxle said at length.<br />
    "Pray tell," came the assassin's less-than-enthusiastic reply.<br />
    "Daydreamers alone are truly alive," Jarlaxle explained. He looked back at Entreri, who matched his stare. "For daydreamers alone find perspective in exsistance and seek ways to rise above the course of simple survival."<br />
    <br />
    Entreri didn't blink.<br />
    <br />
    "You do daydream," Jarlaxle decided. "But only on those rare occassions your dedication to...to what, I often wonder?...allows you outside your perfect discipline."<br />
    <br />
    "Perhaps that dedication to perfect discipline is my dream."<br />
    <br />
    "No," the drow replied without hesitation. "No. Control is not the facilitation of fancy, my friend, it is the fear of fancy."<br />
    <br />
    "You equate dreaming and fancy then?"<br />
    "Of course! Dreams are made in the heart and filtered though the rational minds. Without the heart..."<br />
    <br />
    "Control?"<br />
    "And only that. A pity, I say."<br />
    "I do not ask for your pity, Jarlaxle."<br />
    <br />
    "The daydreamers aspire to mastery of all they survey, of course."<br />
    "As I do."<br />
    "No. You master yourself and nothing more, because you do not dare to dream. You do not dare allow your heart a voice in the process of living."    <br />
    <br />
    ---Jarlaxle Baenre and Artemis Entreri, The Promise of the Witch-King
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