Now, I'd always been a fairly heavy sleeper, but last night, I really wished I wasn't, otherwise, I could've awoken as the first las shot flew over my pillow.
Or be jolted awake as flamers scorched my carpeting. Hell, you'd think that missile launcher striking my bedpost would've woken me up, but for some reason it didnt.
Although, the thing that tipped me off is a lack of alarm waking me up, so when i woke up rather refreshed, and rather late, I looked groggily over at my alarm through the bedposts.
"That's weird..." I uttered, my blurry eyesight seeing the clock, but no light showed its time, maybe the outlet burned out?
I reached over my bed and o my desk, my poor eyesight not seeing a multitude of weapons trained on me at the moment, including a Leman Russ tank I'd won in a later tourney, painted in heavy shades of red...
I grabbed my glasses case, miraculously unharmed during the nighttime firefight, and lucky for my computer, so was my desk. I unfolded the glasses and set them onto my face, looking straight at a tall fellow with a flaming helm, leveling a plasma pistol at my face.
"Weren't you holding a book?" I said aloud, confused as the model was just holding his Eviserator and a book in his pose... I got my answer.
"Don't Move Giant!" Said a voice so loud I could hear it in my head, as the model moved, taking a step forward, my eyes now seeing that he wasnt on his base, his cloak moving as he walked, flames lapping at the air around him.
I turned my head out into my room, a jaw dropping. Dozens a tiny red robed men walked about my carpet, scorched and singed in areas, all of them weapons raised and leveled on me.
That's when my hair caught fire.