“Father, what would you have of me?” Thalk asked his father, his voice echoing weirdly through the dream realm they spoke in.
“My son, a mortal, one Goshu, has offended me, stolen what is mine. You must destroy him and recover my treasure.”
“Yes father. What has he taken from you?”
“The miserable human invaded my temple, assaulted my priests, and stole my Golden Hand. Even now he is planning to barter it for the superficial pleasures of the flesh.”
Goshu felt the sack containing the golden hand slap against his thigh, each thump a comforting reminder of his fortune.