The Journey Never Ends (Original Fantasy Quest)

Amin is a paladin true to his oaths. You doubt that you can convince him not to come along with you and Fatoumata. Even if you did, he likely won't do too well outside here despite being the most trusted. He is a warrior through and through, and while he can be personable at times, he isn't the type of person needed right now comforting the people. Especially when they expect him to be part of the main strike team.

Your eyes then turn to Amina as they often have these past few days, pondering on how to guide her through this path she chose. Part of you wants to bring her. She has proven her valor, her ability, and her resolve. You see the seed of something great within her. Yet… what makes you hesitate this time is not the danger to her safety, but the damage done if she pursues too closely to what she believes to be a hero. Her friends may not have been as enthusiastic about this as her, but they all still uprooted their lives and came along on this reckless venture of hers. That is a rare loyalty and bond.

Yet you know better than most that ties are easy to cut no matter how tightly they are bound. Perhaps her friends will understand. Perhaps her friends, in a state of vulnerability in a dangerous time and place like this where anything can happen, will see her departure as a betrayal. And if something happens to them because she isn't here… you know it will break something in Amina. There will always be ways to show her character to the world, now is the time for her to demonstrate it to those that have placed their trust in her.

And so that leaves Noor. You still do not view her favorably, but she has performed admirably and made no attempt to alter the deal you struck with her like some other Advocates might've. While you dislike the idea of her being able to claim credit for personally being part of the strike team, you like the idea of her being openly visible in aiding the city and organizing the operation even less. Refusing their help entirely at this point would be way more trouble than it's worth even if the situation isn't so urgent.

Besides… you are not so saintly to deny someone because of vengeance.

"Amina," you say, laying a hand on her shoulder. "I think your friends have need of you. Dan will struggle to look after them on his own with his mana reserves gone."

"...you speak truly, Lady Dee," she says reluctantly.

You raise an eyebrow at her, "Ser Amina, art thou so craven as to abandon thy companions in their time of need?"

She whips her face towards you, "What, no!"

"Alas, it appears all knights seek glory and fame," you sigh dramatically, ignoring her sputtering protests. "Dost thou not see that danger will not stay within these halls? The people need thy shield."

Amina stands up straight and nods, "Of course! How foolish of me. I thank thee for the timely wisdom, Lady Dee. Best of luck, my brave friends!

Before she leaves however, you tighten your grip on her shoulder and lean in to whisper to her, "Amina, cherish your friends. When you are similarly lost, confused, and vulnerable, they will be there for you. Without those bonds, the life of a hero always ends in pain."

She stands still for a moment, taking in your words, before giving a solemn nod and walking off. You feel eyes on you as you watch the human return to her friends. Looking back at the slightly exasperated looks on the faces of those remaining, you raise an eyebrow.

"What?"

"...nothing," Fatoumata sighs. "I was going to ask if anyone would like to stay behind in case something happens out here, but it seems you've thought of a solution. Amin, how good is she?"

"Could use some more experience, but she makes good use of her strength. If she can get her friends moving again, they can fight off most things," he says.

Noor pipes in, "She's got a good head on her shoulders too."

Fatoumata side-eyes her but responds as if she didn't speak, "Good enough. So long as she listens to the people we left behind, it should work out until reinforcements come. Now—"

"Waaaaaaaait!"

You see a familiar myconid rush towards the group with potions, vials, and other containers strapped all around his body. Two policemen chase him to you all, but stop short when they see the four of you standing together. Iyanu is panting and out of breath when he stops, but he manages to unlatch some strange bubbly elixir with swirling colors as he recovers.

"Let… let me come with you," he says.

Fatoumata shakes her head as she waves off the officers, "I understand why you are so concerned, but we will do our utmost to return your—"

"No!" Iyanu shouts a bit too loudly. "I can't sit back on this. You guys all think I'm a fraud, and I'll admit there's some truth to that, but there is nothing fake about what the Basket of Existence can do. I have some mixtures leftover from my mentor that can neutralize whatever they're doing. Pleaseee let me go with you!"

Amin looks at the elixir being waved about dubiously, "We shall hold onto it then. You are no fighter, having to defend you will slow down the operation too much."

The myconid sticks his chin out defiantly, "I've got more than just the neutralizer! I have invisibility potions, skin hardening brews, and explosives! Those damned cultists didn't know where my stash was."

"Interesting," Noor said, stepping up. "Those are expensive and rare. Not exactly safe to consume either. Are you sure you want to waste them and risk your life? Why must you go personally?"

Iyanu eyes the Advocate, "Who the hell are… nevermind. Well, I just want to be able to clean up my own mess. I can't just let people take stuff from me, betray me, set me the fuck up—"

The myconid cuts himself off, looking down with his large wizard hat covering his expression. Surprisingly, the Quaestor sets a hand down on the alchemist's shoulder, drawing a confused glance from him.

"I understand the need for vengeance and to prove yourself," she says. "You felt weak and helpless, yes? That the few things you valued most were taken so easily from you bothers you fundamentally."

You narrow your eyes at her, but can't protest as Iyanu seems to perk up, "Y-yeah. I know it's dumb and dangerous, but I can't keep relying on others for everything. If I can't even get my cauldron back, I might as well just… just…."

Noor nods, "No need to say it. Well, you three? He's come prepared and willing, and there's precious few in this city capable of both right now."

To her credit, Fatoumata didn't seem as irritated as she might've been normally. Perhaps the events of the day have simply shifted her priorities too much. She simply nods and turns back to the building.

"Very well. You are to stay out of danger as much as you can. Now, it's about time that we begin this operation."

As everyone begins walking towards the palace, you look up at the darkening sky and prepare to recite a silent prayer. The gods have ever disappointed their faithful. You are not blind to that fact despite your faith in the Light. It was not long after you were born and venturing out in the world that you witnessed innocent subjects being sacrificed to bloodthirsty gods by their kings and priests despite their prayers. The many beings that tribes, city-states, and rival kingdoms worshiped did not save them from being conquered by the brutal Meso Empire. Brave volunteers that joined the crusade with nothing but their faith were played with and used in the demon's sick games no matter how much they pleaded to their deities to help them.

The gods could not stop the religious conflicts after the Incursion, or the millions taken advantage of by imperialist Tarshish. People died in droves in the World War, trembling as they held onto whatever comfort they could while being shelled by constant explosives and lancer fire. Famines swept over regions no matter how much the people begged for rain and fertile soil. Many races were discriminated against and killed by those in power regardless of how tightly they clung to their faith for solace. Mothers died in childbirth, and children died in their youth while the gods of fertility and childhood looked on. Those conflicted with their faith were often shunned, and those led astray were condemned despite receiving little to no signs or advice.

The gods brought the elves into the world for a grand purpose and let them die when they outlived their usefulness.

Yet still you close your eyes and call to mind your creators. Surrounded by police cars blaring out their sirens, flickering street lights, the clicking of camera shots, and the crackle of various communicators being spoken through, you prepare to recite an ancient prayer to your gods anyways. Despite everything, you still have faith in them and wish for them to give you the courage to see this through.

There are many debates over why people have faith. Whether it be for practical reasons such as protection and blessings, the communities it fosters, the idea of benevolent, all-powerful beings appealing to some, or simply fervor and zealotry, the justifications are plenty. None apply to you though, and you have witnessed all these explanations either apply to many other things or have alternatives as mortals seek their own ways of understanding the world and self.

You don't think you have the only answer either, but for you… people are fragile. Vulnerable, and so very easy to break and shatter into many tiny little pieces. That didn't mean that the people of Orbis were weak or that they couldn't be very resilient under the worst of circumstances. But for those who lived in the moment and without the certainty many of the beings in the Currents possess, they need to reach out to something or search deep within in order to find the strength of will to press on. To push some of the burden of life towards an otherworldly force, to find inspiration in an ideal, to anchor themselves to a concept or value, or simply to have something to blame when things go wrong.

Though some may put you on a pedestal, you are not so different. Despite your long life and elven psychology and biology, it's clear that you are not nearly as well-conditioned to handle millennia as more spiritual beings. There are so many fears, anxieties, and doubts you go through every day that they don't deal with. The people of Orbis are malleable in ways spiritual beings aren't, constantly accruing scars while being chipped away at over their lifetimes. creating their own unique identity. Willpower, resolve, and determination… these are not meant to be eternal characteristics for mortals. The well has almost run dry for you despite the many who have refilled it.

So you pray, because you must cling to any hope, comfort, and resolution that you can from something else. Because you struggle to get up from your sleep every day, and because your heart is beating out of your chest at the thought of confronting a demon candidate with only three other people and an untrained alchemist. Because you fear you will not be able to protect those around you like the many times before, and because you are cracking under the weight of an entire city's fate on your shoulders. Because you still hold remnants of the skittish elf you were all those years ago, who stood in shock and helplessness at the countless evils and atrocities of the world and cowered away behind an uncaring disposition.

Daghda, may the light of life not dim this day,
Morrigu, give us warriors the strength to see a bright new day,
Ildanach, ensure that our weapons never falter,
Ogaim, let this be a moment of growth for the world,
Brig, allow the beauty of the world to withstand those seeking to despoil it
Fraiwa, grant us a victory feast instead of ruin on our return,
Gefn, aid in returning families all their loved ones,
Hekate, shut the gates of the underworld so that none will pass this day,
Oh friends who desired a world of peace and safety,
Watch over your last child this day,
And lend her the strength to defeat a terrible foe.

For a moment, you think you feel something stir within you, a comforting warmth sweeping over your body. Then the sirens and voices return to your hearing, and you open your eyes as cold resolve replaces the warmth. There is no more time.

---

"Ughhhh, Deir. Why do you always take me to the worst places when we go out together? It's like you don't love me anymore…"

"Please stop talking, pest."

The fairy peers at the Advocate, "Huh, didn't know you were hanging out with the bootlickers. Did she make it shine for you, Deir?"

You resist the urge to chuckle as Noor tightens her grip on her weapon. Despite the serious demeanors of everyone accompanying you, you don't tell Ophelia to stop. Charging into danger while too tense and tunnel-visioned has killed many.

Iyanu, who has been looking at Ophelia in wonder for the past few minutes, speaks up, "U-um, is it true that fairy dust can be used to make any potion stronger?"

"Yeah…" Ophelia says as she sits on top of his cap and hat. "Sadly, I don't know if I wanna be mushed for it. Well, unless you have something to offer…"

The mushroom looks tempted, "I may…"

Noor cuts in, "You shouldn't make deals with suspicious beings from the Currents, Iyanu. It's always too good to be true."

"Ah, but we can trust the reliable devil-worshiper to be fair with us," Fatoumata snipes back, though you can tell her heart isn't into it.

"We're more… devil-inspired," she says to the skeptical looks of those around her.

"This is probably the entrance," Amadi interrupts, opening a partially hidden door. "It's the only way down in this area of the palace if what the sensors concluded is right. Everyone knew there was an underground section of the palace here, but…"

Fatoumata goes to stand next to him. "I know, I know."

The old human shakes his head, "I've noticed some of the old guard slowly disappearing. Some of them retired peacefully, but a few here or there simply disappeared. I didn't think anything of it until suddenly I didn't know anyone here. I should've suspected something when the mages were replaced. Don't know why they kept me around."

"Their strongest probably awaits us below," Amin says as he looks over the staircase leading below.

Noor joins him, "It's time to flush out the rats into the hellfire then."

"Good luck to you all. We'll cut off anyone trying to escape," Amadi promises.

Four of you nod back at him while the last flies off without a look back, but Fatoumata looks at him for a moment before leaning in for a hug. The old human returns it, a grim expression on his face as he pats the daughter of the friend he loyally served not too long ago. You all remain in respectful silence for a few seconds until they separate and Fatoumata twirls her rifle.

"Move out, everyone! Amin in front, Pathstrider and Maamoun behind, and I'll cover you all. Iyanu, don't die. Ophelia… well, I suppose she'll know what to do."

Nods all around as everyone walks through the entranceway with purpose. Silence reigns when you all enter the sprawling hallways. The mana is roiling and sickly down here, causing far more than a simple tingling as it slithers through everything. You resist the urge to shiver as you nock an arrow, the charged air causing both an intense awareness and a sickening disgust to sweep over you.

Symbols and runes are drawn all over the walls and floor in blood, cursed ink, and whatever foul fluids cultists see fit to use. The smell alone might have caused someone to throw up, but the gore on open display lit by the candles and light fixtures both cause even you to tsk and begin gingerly moving through the halls. As you pass a still beating heart encased in the crevice of a wall, Iyanu retches from behind you, unused to such an environment as a magic-sensitive and noncombatant.

"S-shit… what is this?"

"You're feeling it too, Mushroom Man?"

Iyanu yelps as Ophelia pops into existence on top of his hat again, though the shock seems to help remove a bit of his uneasiness. The rest of you stay focused even if some of the tension has dropped.

"Anything up ahead, Ophy?"

Ophelia points forward, "Yep, a bunch of baddies are coming for you already. Must've tripped some alarm on the way here. Then two really nasty thingies are at the very end not too far from each other."

"One of them must be the cauldron!" Iyanu cries out, trying to adjust to the fairy's weight. "If it's close to whatever you guys are facing, we won't need to split up too soon."

"Possible, but focus up everyone. I can hear those "baddies" coming," Fatoumata orders.

It's when you all enter a room and are momentarily taken back by swinging bodies attached to ropes and stakes inside it that cultists rush in from the other side. Thankfully, Amin recovers quickly and rushes forward while you and Noor fan out behind him. You hear the cocking of a firearm from behind you and incoherent roars from ahead, and then the fight is on.


Adrenaline coursing through your body, you shoot down two cultists charging at you with jagged blades before jumping over another to shoot down someone with a rifle behind them all. Landing and spinning back around, you whip your head around you to check your surroundings and where you can best contribute.

However, your companions clearly don't need you as they go on to crush their opponents. The paladin caves the skull in of a helmeted cultist before swinging his body to take down three more rushing towards him. He then pivots and goes to elbow a hulking gnoll across their face, cracking their neck instantly and breaking the left side of their jaw while leaving it hanging. Amin takes a step forward and drives his leg deep into their midsection, sending them flying into a crowd of cultists wielding lancers. He leaps after them as they scatter, causing the floor to crack from where his feet were.

Noor is on the other side of the room of you, wielding her strange scepter with two prongs on either side of the orb in the middle forming a bident. She twirls the weapon with ease as she cuts limbs and heads off, dancing between bullets and energy projectiles both. You spot a mage hurling a purple bolt of lightning at her, only for a strange red and black sigil to appear before her causing it to fizzle out instantly. Raising one of her obsidian gauntlets, the cultist magician suddenly screams as infernal chains wrap around his torso and binds his arms to it, cooking him alive.

Meanwhile, crisp, sharp shots with a distinct crack echoes around the room, almost muffling the sounds of other firearms. The cultist you jumped over is already dead the moment you look back, and the countless bodies that tried to surround the three of you laying on the floor indicate that Fatoumata is in a state of utter focus. Just as you're about to shoot down a few cultists running at her from the side, she steps forward instead of back and opens fire at one from only a few meters away. The cultist falls as her head is snapped back from the impact, and when the other cultist reaches the miu, she stabs at him with a hidden blade she reveals on her rifle and pulls the trigger all in one smooth motion.

Turning away once Fatoumata removes herself from the two fallen bodies, you look to Iyanu almost hyperventilating at the carnage occurring before his eyes. Ophelia laughs from atop his cap as she fires a pink beam of energy from her finger that lances through a stray cultist charging at them. Their body shudders for a moment, bending over, before suddenly exploding in a shower of gore and bright pink light. The alchemist covers his mouth as the fairy cheers. It seems Iyanu is protected. You're sure he'll be fine.

You loose a few more arrows, but the battle is already over. Noor and Amin almost bump into each other once, while Fatoumata nearly shoots the Advocate when she makes an unexpected movement, but accidents are avoided. Once the last cultist for now is dead, you shake your head and huff. It seems to be a recurring theme in your travels here that mortals will step up to the various challenges standing in their way, and it only makes sense that the desire to protect their home and seek answers is pushing them beyond their limits. The fact that they don't necessarily need you is… both comforting and disheartening at the same time, but you shake such sentiments off. You need to be ready if, no, when the tides turn against them.

"Woohoo!" Ophelia calls out, "Just like old times! Go go go my loyal minions!"

The jubilant cheer from the fairy breaks the spell that seems to have fallen over everyone as they look over the slain bodies. Despite having given the order to kill and all combatants here having done so before, they are still people of the modern era. They have not grown entirely used to such lethal encounters, which you believe is mostly a good thing.

"We should move on," you say to break the silence. "And Ophy, no calling us minions. It's rude."

Murmurs of assent and a snort from Noor is your response as everyone gets back into formation. Iyanu shakily makes his way towards you with his eyes almost closed. There's no time to reassure him, so you settle for a hand on his shoulder. Ophelia hums and plays with his hat, both comforting and unsettling the poor myconid as he tries to shut the world out.

The group dispatches the foes that come after, all as the repulsive mana in the air begins to congeal and thicken. While your team is strong and experienced, there is no way a group of four can come away unscathed when attacking a stronghold like this. Amin stumbles at an inopportune time due to his previous injury, letting a cultist swing a baton hard at his helmeted head. Noor hisses as a bullet passes through her storm of steel and hellfire and penetrates her reinforced suit. You and Fatoumata cover for them and take down their assailants, but weariness is settling in on you all as the air becomes heavier and more charged.

Iyanu is barely coherent now, not even reacting to the carnage around him as he shakes from exposure to the corruptive, nauseating energies of the Abyss. As you start nearing the epicenter however, he suddenly whips his head back up and looks to a locked door to the side.

"There! It's… there!" He gets out, resting a trembling hand over a flask as he points with his other.

Fatoumata glances at the door, "Okay, standard formation everyone—"

"Let me break it down and go in first," you interrupt. "You three need to save your strength."

Amin's face is covered by his helmet, but you can feel his stare, "I am still perfectly capable of being at the front."

"Yes," you say, striding forward. "But why risk it now that we are so close? I can recover from whatever happens."

Noor cuts in, "You can barely stand Iyanu. Are you sure you don't want to hand us the right mixtures?"

The myconid shakes his head, "Alchemy isn't just… mixing the right ingredients together to get a specific result. That's chemistry. There's a process and skill with magic required in complicated situations like this, especially when the mana here is so… grrhk, turbulent."

Everyone goes quiet as you stop before the door. As they all get into position, you step forward and kick the door down with your full force behind it. Almost immediately you are tackled by a screeching monstrosity whose slobbering mouth finds its way to your shoulder. Annoyed at being bit again, you snarl and tear it off you with your free hand before driving its head into the ground swiftly followed by an arrow.

You catch sight of the others handling them. There's only a few, but they resemble a horrific cross between demons and various mortal races. With horns, purplish skin and fur, and feral expressions, you fear what the cultists might have come up with if they had more time. Still, with everyone having gone through the previous encounters with little injury, you manage to cut them down despite their slight physical enhancements.

"How d-dare they…" Iyanu mutters to himself. "They broke the taboos with the basket…"

Peering into the room, you spot two panicked robed figures scrambling down raised platforms over a sizable black cauldron with swirling white decorations of various plants and alchemical ingredients drawn on it. You quickly aim your bow and shoot them both down, and the group pours into the room filled with various ingredients, bodies, and books strewn about with the usual bloodied symbols drawn over everything.

As if in a trance, Iyanu stumbles his way to the stairs leading up to the platform, not even sparing a glance to the dead alchemist next to it. You and Noor go up the other side to look into it. What you see nearly forces you to throw up as the nauseating mixture of bright, ever-changing colors exerting a mental pressure on you all. A round shape resembling a head begins rising from the bubbling broth, and you direct teary eyes to Iyanu.

"Can you do this?"

Iyanu stares into it, his face a rictus of fury and resolve, "I can, but you all should go. It'll take me a while."


He draws out a potion and after running a finger down the glass container in a certain pattern, pours it into the cauldron. For a moment, the colors start stabilizing into a sickly green, but soon it starts shifting again. The head disappears at least. Seeing his attention solely taken by his task, you and Noor leave him to it. There is no more time, and you'll have to trust him. Hopefully you all have taken care of most of the cultists and that closing the door here will block off the rest.

You meet back up with Fatoumata, who looks at you with a grim expression.

"What is it?" You ask.

"Amin left with Ophelia to scout ahead a little. We're very close to where this all ends. Your friend nearly got knocked out from whatever they're doing there."

Looking to the side to see Ophelia slumped over Amin's shoulders, you're relieved to see her awake enough to give you a tired wave.

You steady yourself and nod at her, "It's time then. Fatoumata, are you truly ready for this?"

The miu has been bundling everything she's been feeling beneath an authoritative and cold face, and you know that everything she's been holding back will break free eventually. She likely won't crack now, but a reaffirmation of her resolve can only help. Fatoumata takes one look at you before nodding sharply and turning away.

"I will do what I must."

---

The grand doorway is already open when the five of you approach the final confrontation. You and Amin both stand at the front as you all warily step through. While the doors do not slam shut behind you, it still feels as if you've crossed a boundary you cannot walk back through on as your feet take you unerringly forward. Echoes may have sounded across the surprisingly bare room if it weren't for what was already occurring at the center.

President Musa stands within a swirling barrier with his back to the approaching group, staring up at something hidden by a strange misty fog. Four figures stand around it chanting incomprehensible words that seem to send reverberations through the room and press into your mind. Underneath the barrier is a glowing circle that blurs your sight the more you try to look at what it contains.

Suddenly, Fatoumata pushes past you, aims her rifle, and fires a bullet without hesitation at her father.

So close to you, you're almost deafened by the sound and the resulting impact that makes your hearing crackle wildly. Unfortunately, the projectile only causes lines to radiate out for a second before returning to normal.

The President turns with an indecipherable expression on his face, "I see you have finally arrived, Fatoumata, as I have anticipated—"

The demon hunter ignores him and fires her rifle again. And again. And again. Each bullet bounces off the barrier one after another, with only a slight shudder of its exterior to show it is affected at all. When her rifle finally clicks shut and runs out of ammo, she calmly stops her assault and begins to reload.

"Are you quite finished—"

Fatoumata fires one last bullet at him before speaking up as if the past few moments didn't occur, "Musa Jatau. You are guilty of corruption, treason, enabling acts of terrorism and criminal activities, and conspiring with demons. Remove this barrier, submit without a fight, and you and your accomplices may receive a trial. Persist, and if we are unable to arrest you, the central government will be forced to enact more drastic measures."

Staring blankly at his daughter, the President remains stock still for a few seconds until his whole body starts shaking suddenly.

"The central government," he spits. "Those spineless fools couldn't hurt a fly. You may not understand now, Mata, but this is the only way forward for Sumeri! Do you think I haven't agonized over a way to change things for the better through the system? No amount of campaigns, negotiations, and debates will save us from our eternal downward spiral."

Fatoumata scoffs, "And so your plan is to turn to demons and cultists? They have sought nothing less than the destruction of our people and lands."

Musa shakes his head and begins pacing, "Our system is broken, Mata, created by fearful people desperate to hold onto power from those seeking change. History may say our confederacy was formed in response to Tarshish, but the roots of it extend all the way to the Crusades."

"What is your point then, Mr. President?" You say, anger building at the implications of what he is saying.

"Demons have served as a convenient rallying point for those in power to point at while stifling any advancement or growth," he begins, the madman staring off into space. "Have there been monstrous demons that have destroyed the lives of many? Yes, I do not deny that. Still, no matter how much those in power try to stamp out the cults, people flock to them."

Noor sneers, "Because they are weak-willed and sinful. What of it?"

"There are people of such character in any group everywhere drawn by charismatic voices, Advocate, just as people don't need a malevolent being to direct them to committing horrific acts," he counters. "Many more than you think in the 'cults' work earnestly and tirelessly for the betterment of Orbis and to shatter this shameful status quo enforced by the establishment. The demons understand better than most how people must truly live, and they can never be stopped because of that no matter how hard other powers try."

Fatoumata looks livid, "You were a demon hunter for decades. You have seen the horrors and depraved acts they commit. How can you deceive yourself like this?"

"I have finally opened my eyes, Mata. Four decades have I bought into the lie fed to me by the Light and government that if things stay as they are, and I do my duty, things will get better. That the demons bring only ruin," he stops suddenly and begins to tear at his fur. "And what have I achieved listening to that? Absolutely nothing! The cults never disappeared! The governments never stopped bickering! People kept dying, and not all of it because of cultists, while many towns and cities are already practically ruins!"

He glares at all of you with his arms outstretched, "The barrier between Orbis and the Currents cannot be broken because of the celestials. The only way is through rituals such as these. Some may die, but soon, we shall have the paradise we deserve. It is as you said, many have lost their loved ones for this cause. I shall be no different. I too must give up who is most precious to me."

Fatoumata's eyes widen, "No, you didn't—"

The mist suddenly dissipates as the chanting grows louder and louder to reveal a white furred miu tied to a post with her mouth gagged. She looks with terrified eyes at Fatoumata for a moment before suddenly convulsing in agony as purple and red lines start forming on her body through her fur. Strong gusts of winds sweep through the underground room as you're all forced to cover your eyes and brace yourself. The last thing you see is Fatoumata looking as if her whole world has been torn away from her as she cries out a name.

Instantly, you feel as if you are being blown one way and the other despite knowing that you haven't moved. Your heart rate spikes as the earth rumbles beneath you, and a chill sets in as you begin to recognize these signs. Struggling to breath as you fight to stay anchored to the world, you freeze as a terribly familiar heat burns its way through the chaos.

No. No. No. It can't be.

The Unceasing Black Flame That Reduces All To Ash...

Ash clogs your throat as the scent of smoke, fire, and blood overwhelms everything that came before.

The Winds of Change Heralding The End Of Societies…

The wind picks up again to spread the heat and smoke even more, and you suddenly feel lost within a great storm.

The Shaper of Land And Life, Bringer of Ruin and Renewal…

You collapse to your knees as you feel your hood and mask being torn off you while holding onto your bow and quiver as tightly as possible.

I Am Disaster Made Manifest.

Working up every shred of resistance you can muster, you push against the wind and nock an arrow to your bow.

I Am The Caorthannach and Caillech, and I shall not be denied!

With one final spike in heat that almost scorches your exposed face, the winds and rumbling finally begin to die down. Gasping for breath, you crack open your eyes slowly to see your nightmare.

The chains have already fallen and scattered onto the floor as what was once a miu slowly stands from the ground. Smoke rises from her purple-tinged white fur, and a circle of black fire forms behind her head. Her eyes are replaced by swirling orbs that are constantly rotating and changing color. You watch as the rest of her body seems to morph before your eyes, a shimmer appearing as her form changes to something different for all who look upon her.

The Caorthannach, eternal adversary of the elves, is the demon who clashed against the great civilizations your race helped build. Through storms, floods, eruptions, earthquakes, blizzards, hurricanes, or simply all-consuming fire, she has always sought to tear down bastions of safety and stability. To reduce everything to ash as proof that nothing can, or should, last forever. Having consumed and adopted the title from the previous Caorthannach and Caillech both, her domains have expanded throughout the millennia to encompass the winds of political upheaval, societal decay, and most of all, change as a whole. She has sowed chaos in every region of the continent, and wreaked havoc in Sumeri during the Second Crusade.

Before anyone can say, act, do, or even open their eyes for anything, you draw your bow and desperately shoot an arrow at the Caorthannach's head with the barrier now down.

She snatches the glowing arrow out of the air in a blur of movement. You watch with dread as she tilts her head and observes the projectile sizzling her skin before snapping it in half effortlessly.

"Ah, such an enthusiastic greeting from a child of my dear departed friends… it is good to see one has survived the many years."

You hear footsteps behind you and quickly bar whoever it is with your arm.

"I will handle this. Stay back!"

Fatoumata tries to push past you, "No, no! That's my sister, that… I have to…"

"Oh Mata," the monster says with a soothing tone. "I'll chat with you later, okay? For now, I must attend to another matter."

The Caorthannach lifts a hand and sends a gust of wind that knocks everyone back but you and her. Taking one last look back, you see Fatoumata's face twisted into an expression of pain, grief, and fury as she reaches out a hand towards her former sister. Then with a simple wave, a barrier made of swirling winds and flames surrounds the two of you and isolates you from your allies.

"Now we are free to speak."

You reach for another arrow and loose it at her in response. She catches it once more with ease, watching with slight interest as the lightning crackles against her hand. The mana in the air begins to render you almost numb to all but the heat spiraling around you as you glower at the demon.

"Hmm, you are no Sunspear or Dawnblade with that bow of yours. Yet, I do not recall Farsight or Trueshot sharing your appearance… who are you, child, to have survived when they did not?"

Quickly preparing a spell in your head, you draw an arrow and keep it hidden behind you. It is a struggle to concentrate on it though as the tingling in your hands and body forces you to grit your teeth and tense as much as you can to push past it. And still the invisible heat coils around you, almost mocking you as it straddles the line between being uncomfortable and soothing.

"Ahhh," utters the Caorthannach after a moment's thought. "I see now. You are the lonely Drifter. My apologies, sorrowful strider of paths. The stories of the other elves have ended, leaving you to carry their legacy alone. If I had realized an elf yet remained, I would've come to your side straight away."

A screeching arrow is released from your bow to shear the candidate in half, yet she disappears just as it is about to strike her down. Before you can react, she reappears in front of you with arms outstretched. A dozen different ways to respond surge through you, and in the split second before she can launch her attack, you take a step back and go to draw another arrow—

Two hands take hold of your own, and for some incomprehensible reason, you hesitate as your battle instincts and drive are replaced with a strangely familiar longing.


"My friend, I understand your anguish and anger. Your people are gone, and the gods have abandoned you to live out your life in Orbis alone."

You scowl, desperately trying to hide the trembling of your hands that has overcome them, "You are no friend of mine, deamhan."

She merely smiles and says, "Perhaps not at this moment, but you and I know better than everyone that things can always change. I can be with you and stand by your side, if you wish, so that we may be friends eternal."

Your breath hitches. She dares? You desperately want to tear your hand away from her, yet… yet, the damned thing stays in place. There is nothing compelling you to stay still, so why…?

"I do not mean to diminish your past friendships," the Caorthannach says to placate you. "I simply empathize with your current situation. You know there is little place for you here now, and how many times have you traveled across the same paths over and over on this single continent? Can you bear to see a new generation grow old and pass away again? Deirdre Pathstrider, I say no more! You do not have to go through this cruel cycle for one moment longer."

Despite all your experience, all your memories screaming at you that this is a lie, you cannot help but listen to her, enraptured. It is as if you are dying of thirst and finally found an oasis in the desert. The thought of things finally changing for the better for you, the pattern that you have lived through for thousands of years finally breaking…!

The de—unassuming human with messy hair stands before you, an awkward but eager smile on their face, "Come on! There's so much to explore. So many places, and friends that'll never leave us… I'm a little nervous, but with you here, I know things will be fine. I promise that I'll be with you every step of the way, and that this journey will never end."

You take a step forward without hesitation towards the human, who now has one arm outstretched as if to draw you into an embrace. The wish that has been buried under the weight of millennia has resurfaced and stands right before you. A light breeze brushes past you, and the nostalgic scent of a true adventure the likes of which you have not experienced in centuries fills your senses. The warmth from before now feels like a comfortable blanket, as if you are peacefully resting by a campfire with close friends.

For a moment however, a sharp pain burns deep within you. Flinching, clarity returns and allows you to begin rapidly search your mind to figure out what is happening right now. How are you in this position where only a few moments ago you were confronting the President with Fatoumata and the others? The situation, your feelings, and even your thoughts are all changing too much. With less than a second to act, you take one look at this familiar visage of friends long gone and make your choice.

Choose One:

[] Kill them. Kill them now.
Receive a -1 debuff to all combat rolls, but lets you come to some of your senses and start the fight.

[] Hear them out… is it truly too good to be true?
Pass a 3d6 DC 18 Conviction Check to remove the -1 malus and gain a bonus. Fail, and receive additional debuffs depending on the result.

Deirdre has Great Conviction, giving her a +4 bonus to all Conviction Rolls. Additionally, she has Weight, which gives her an additional +2 bonus. It is a fateful event however, and perhaps her conviction is not the only thing resisting the candidate's influence...

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