#also neither of the continuities that tried it utilise roll as a character properly and that is inexcusable

[zosonils]

i gotta properly get back into mega man because there needs to be a continuity that shamelessly dives headfirst into the 'normal school kid who is secretly not human and fights crime' setup and all the tropes and cliches that come with it that isn't a) four issues long or b) bad and i may as well do it myself

[jahaanofmenaphos]

Art by the awesome @tommieglenn!

Of Gods and Men Summary:

When the gods returned to Gielinor, their minds were only on one thing: the Stone of Jas, a powerful elder artefact in the hands of Sliske, a devious Mahjarrat who stole it for his own ends and entertainment. He claims to want to incite another god wars, but are his ulterior motives more sinister than that? And can the World Guardian, Jahaan, escape from under Sliske’s shadow?

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QUEST 09: OUR SPIRITS, KINDRED

QUEST SUMMARY:

When Ariane is kidnapped and the signs point to Sliske, Jahaan is forced to confront the Mahjarrat once again. But this time, things take a turn for the twisted, and Jahaan uncovers the truth behind Sliske’s obsession with him. Can Jahaan survive Sliske’s games? After all, broken bones heal faster than a broken mind…

CHAPTER 5: A MALICE UNLEASHED

Meanwhile…

“So we need to make sure Sliske doesn’t notice Jahaan’s missing?” Ariane surmised.

Rolling her eyes, Idria remarked, “How are we supposed to do that? The creep doesn’t take his eyes off him…”

“Leave it to me,” Ozan assured, leading them all into the next chamber, trying not to let it show just how exhausted he was. His injuries were flaring up again, pain pulsing inside his bandages, and the stress of the situation threatened to bring forth a migraine. His shattered ankle was a new kind of agony, making the simple act of standing up a tremendous effort, but he tried not to let it show. There was no time for wallowing or self-pitying, Ozan told himself, knowing he had to do everything he could to get Ariane and the others out of there safely.

He’d never forgive himself if anything happened to Ariane on his watch.

Unfortunately, he had very little to work with under the circumstances. Like Jahaan, he had been stripped of all his weapons. Nevertheless, Ozan’s smart mouth was as deadly as any bow he could wield, succeeding in getting him both in and out of trouble on many an occasion. So, he thought it best to utilise it here, hoping he could keep Sliske talking long enough to help out Jahaan. Any time he bought was a victory.

Already suspicious, Sliske peered over Ozan’s shoulder, glaring through the group. “Where’s Jahaan?”

“He’s still throwing up after the whole Sir Tenly thing,” Ozan crossed his arms over his chest, hoping his conviction came across as genuine and not a facade. “Give the guy a break.”

It seemed to take, for Sliske rolled his eyes and chuckled, “You humans with your fragile consistencies. Fine, fine. I suppose we’re in no rush.”

Sizing Ozan up with a keen eye, Sliske said, “We haven’t properly been introduced, you and I.”

“It feels like we have, though,” Ozan replied, carefully dangling out his words like they were fishing line. “I know a lot about you from what Jahaan has said. Or, in some ways, what he hasn’t said.”

Ozan had met a ridiculous amount of characters on his travels, a fair few of which he needed on his side for one reason or another. To accomplish this, each had to be handled in the right way in order to not let the stove pot boil over, so to speak. It was like picking a lock - find what makes them tick, don’t apply too much pressure, be patient. From what he gathered, Sliske was one wrong step away from disengaging completely, and he needed to give Jahaan more time. So, Ozan knew to keep it fairly light, to not back the Mahjarrat into a corner, and to favour simpler questions over the more pressing, problematic ones.

He also needed to keep Sliske entertained, curious and baited. In many ways, it was like keeping a small child distracted, though with vastly different consequences for failure.

It seemed to work, for an intrigued glimmer shone across Sliske’s features. “Oh really? Do tell.”

“Well, he spoke of you at the Ritual, the way you saved his life,” Ozan began, carefully. “Then of course, the way you masqueraded as that archeologist to get inside Guthix’s chamber. You really made him paranoid with that one, you know.”

Friendly, colloquial, casual. Ozan had to keep Sliske relaxed, had to talk to him like he would anyone else. “He attacked me in a bar once thinking I was you. So that was nice,” Ozan allowed a light chuckle into his words, relaxing his stance.

“I know. I was there,” Sliske’s grin doubled in size.

Eyes wide, Ozan was legitimately surprised. “You’re kidding!”

“Not in the slightest!” Sliske assured, gleefully. “I had a great view of the show! Of course, Jahaan cottoned on soon enough and ruined the game, but it was fun while it lasted.”

Chuckling, Ozan remarked, “He can be a little dangerous with too much liquor in his system.”

“Ah, I know that too,” Sliske’s eyes flashed, casually rubbing his chin. “He’s an interesting specimen.”

“But he’s more than just a specimen to you, right?” Ozan’s tone was slightly hushed. He didn’t give much time for Sliske to formulate a response, continuing, “I mean, you were the one that got Jahaan and me out of harm’s way. I see what he sees in you.”

Crinkling his brow, Sliske’s tone became guarded, yet fused with curiosity. “What do you mean?”

“Well, let’s just say, there was a reason he kept that invitation box of yours all this time.”

Ozan was near certain this was exactly what Sliske wanted to hear. It kept him enraptured, at least, which was what they needed now.

Capitalising, Ozan tested the dangerous waters, wading in by asking, “With that in mind, why did you bring Cyrius to him?”

From the way Sliske’s expression changed, Ozan knew he’d made a mistake. “That is not your concern. Cyrius played the part that he needed to play.”

“You knew how Jahaan felt,” Ozan guessed. It wasn’t a stretch. “And you know what happened when he lost him. If you cared about him, why would you bring back such memories?”

Ozan knew he was losing the thread here, but his own anger was getting the best of him. He wanted - no, needed answers - and biting his tongue was becoming more painful than how his burn scars felt.

“We must confront our demons if we are to ever conquer them,” Sliske’s stance grew more guarded, his face slightly colder and more neutral. “We both know that Jahaan changed on the day that Cyrius and the others were killed. Gone were the days of monster slaying, scaling treacherous mountains and freeing comatose Mahjarrat from their pyramid prisons. No, he lost the light behind his eyes. Then, he found service in the Imperial Guard, fighting Bandos’ mindless beasts. While it was good to see him fighting instead of moping, the routine… ah, it grew so stale. It was counterproductive.”

“It was stability,” Ozan corrected, his eyes narrowing into slits. “It was what he needed.”

“Repetitive, tedious…” Sliske continued, as if Ozan hadn’t spoken at all. “No, he needed a change of scenery. So, I played my part and set the wheels in motion.”

“Let me guess, you got to Commander Denulth?”

“He was easy to persuade,” Sliske confirmed, wringing his palms together. “Everything fell into place after that.”

Ozan could see how pleased Sliske was with himself, his ego getting a generous boost as the conversation continued. “So you planned for him to become the World Guardian?”

“Ah,” Sliske clapped his hands together, long fingers pressing against each other to emit a soft squeak from the leather of his gloves. “That was more of an... unintended consequence. But a fortunate one, wouldn’t you agree?” Ozan bit his lip. “Fortunate? Not how I’d put it.”

“How would you put it, then?” Sliske went on to say, “It’s not everyone who gets to mix it up with Gielinor’s divine. And yours truly, of course. In many ways, he’s better than ever.”

Ozan caught onto the slight edge in Sliske’s voice, one that betrayed what the Mahjarrat was really thinking. It was clear that neither of them believed a word Sliske was saying.

Jahaan was a great fighter, a decent man and someone Guthix deemed worthy enough to declare Gielinor’s guardian. But Jahaan was now under pressure, too much of it. He could be volatile and reckless, and though he tried his best to hide it from everyone, Jahaan was fraying at the edges. He’d been thrown back into the adventuring world of his past too forcefully, and with too much at stake. That letter from Commander Denulth had sparked Jahaan’s undoing. Ozan knew it, and he was certain Sliske did too. The only one who seemed oblivious was Jahaan himself.

While they were conversing, Mary Rancour edged over towards Idria. Rancour had her arms huddled across her chest, hugging herself, despite trying to keep a steely resolve. “How much longer do you think Jahaan will be?”

“I don’t know,” Idria confessed, disheartenedly. “But we’ve got to buy him as much time as possible.”

“I wonder how many more of these sick games Sliske has planned for us.”

“Hopefully this’ll be the last,” Idria bit her lip. “I guess we'll just have to tough it out and help Jahaan as best we can.”

Mary Rancour responded by grumbling something under her breath; Idria could sense her distress, inquiring, “What’s the matter?”

“It’s just… That's kind of the point of all of this, isn't it? We're reduced to holding out for Jahaan to come swinging in and save us. We wouldn't even be here if Sliske wasn't so obsessed with him. Don't give me that look. I feel I have earned at least a little rant. Look, I lost my husband and two sons to the trolls. I have broken every bone in my body fighting those monsters. I've grown old and grey before my time, and for what? Sliske captures a magic stone, the gods return and now nobody cares about monsters killing villagers in Burthorpe. And even if they do, they turn to the 'World Guardian'. Not Major Rancour, who bled and struggled to keep them safe. I caught two guards the other day; both of them were slacking off in their duties. I reprimanded them, and do you know what they said? 'It's fine, Jahaan will take care of any trolls that get through’. I… I almost overreacted. It’s like they think he’s some sort of superhuman now. He’s just a man, no better than me, or you, or any of them.”

Idria considered this for a moment. “Wow. I had no idea you felt this way. I… I’m sorry. But I guess it puts it all in perspective.”

“What?”

Idria turned her gaze towards the Barrows Brothers, who were keeping silent guard around the edges of the chamber. “The way the Barrows Brothers sold out to Sliske all those years ago. Why settle for mediocrity all your life when you can lead a glorious crusade? Imagine how easily you could best the trolls with some of those weapons, or an army of wights?”

Mary Rancour’s half-hearted smile was wry. “Believe me, I’ve thought of it. But the price…”

“...Is never worth it,” Idria finished. With a genuine smile, she said, “It was good speaking to you, Major.”

“You too, Idria.”

By now, Ozan realised he was struggling to keep his words in check. Sliske was capable of bringing the worst out of Jahaan, and it seemed like Ozan suffered similar side effects from the Mahjarrat’s dark presence. Everything Sliske had put his best friend through, the world through… now culminating in the kidnapping of Ariane… Ozan’s mind was full of storm clouds, and he fought with everything he had to stop them from breaking open.

However, he didn’t last much longer, and having taken too long to formulate the right answer to Sliske’s latest question, the penny dropped.

“Come to think of it, where is Jahaan?” Sliske wondered, drawing out his words with a suspicious rattle.

“Uhhh… he’ll be here soon,” Ozan gulped, taking a tentative step backwards, wincing as he accidentally put the wrong amount of weight on his ankle. “What, can’t stand five minutes without him?”

He trailed off with a nervous laugh, but the second the words had come out of his mouth, his throat went dry. He knew he’d cut the wrong wire.

There was a beat of silence that seemed to last for a lifetime, causing the air around them all to turn thick and cloying.

As he cottoned on to Ozan’s plan, his sulphur eyes went wide before narrowing into slits; shadows converged around their master with malicious intent. “Oh you’re good, Ozan. Very good. But I’ve had enough of your stalling. Tell me where Jahaan is, or you’ll live to regret it, however briefly.”

“I’m here Sliske,” Jahaan announced, strolling into the chamber with as much confidence as he could muster.

Jahaan’s timing was impeccable; Ozan let out a shaky breath, trying not to let anyone know just how relieved he was to have the Mahjarrat’s eyes away from him, for now at least. But the relief didn’t last long as soon as he clocked that Jahaan had returned alone and unarmed.

At this rate, Ozan knew he’d have to try something drastic. So, when the Barrows Brothers were summoned to guard himself and the other hostages, Ozan made sure to shuffle next to Karil, who had a pouch of bolts just out of reach. Knowing that obtaining one of them could be a game changer, he waited for the right time to put his nimble fingers to good use.

“Where have you been?” Sliske snapped, before shaking his head and instead saying, “It doesn’t matter. Your lies would only annoy me. You know what? Game over. I've had a good time, and whatever you were planning would ruin that. So congratulations, time for the winner to claim their prize!”

“Enough bullshitting, Sliske,” Jahaan rested his hands on his hips, defiance in his eyes. “Let the hostages go and we can talk about why you really brought me here.”

Raising an eyebrow, Sliske entertained him. “Oh? And why did I really bring you here, hm?”

“I read your notebooks, or journals, or whatever they are,” Jahaan stated, enjoying the flash of indignation in Sliske’s eyes. “When I refused to give you my soul, you decided to take it for yourself. These sick games were a way of making me ‘compatible’. And all of this because some lunatic guessed my name centuries ago…”

Inhaling a sharp breath, Sliske demanded, “How do you know about him?”

With a self-satisfied sneer, one he’d seen on the Mahjarrat too many times, Jahaan replied, “Ego loqui Infernal, vos retorta irrumabo. What’s the matter, Sliske? Not what you were expecting?”

Sliske was too stunned to formulate one of his usual witty replies. No, instead, he looked genuinely shocked, confused… and with a steadily building fury in his eyes.

Moreover, he looked fit to hurt. “You weren’t supposed to read that...”

“Well I have. All of it. So you might as well be honest for once in your miserable life.”

“I was honest with you,” Sliske growled, venom in his fangs. “I told you of my intentions. We had an agreement. You reneged. You could have made this much less painful for yourself.”

“You felt betrayed?” Jahaan let out a sharp laugh, his teeth bared and challenging. “Don’t like the taste of your own medicine, hm? Well, what did you expect me to do? Hand over my soul to you on a silver platter? You’d get an afterlife, but I guess you don’t care where that leaves me. You never cared at all, did you? Oh, you were good at pretending - hell, you… you had me believing - but you were just using me this whole time. So tell me, why didn't you just rip my soul out of me the first chance you got? Why not send me screaming into the abyss?”

Sliske’s fists were shaking now, erratic breathing struggling to be calmed. "To… to even think for a second that-"

The bolt whizzed passed the back of Sliske's head, a good foot away from the target.

Jahaan was just as startled as Sliske, seeing the bolt fly past him too. Only once he saw Guthan and Karil manhandle Ozan to the ground did he realise where the attack had originated. Unfortunately Ozan’s attempt at assassinating the Mahjarrat had failed, his normally perfect aim hindered by his lasting injuries. Nevertheless, Jahaan knew he had to try and make the spontaneous opportunity count. Surging forwards, he whisked the letter opener from his belt, hoping to make it to Sliske before the Mahjarrat realised what was happening.

It all seemed to go so well; Sliske’s interest was on Ozan, his back turned to Jahaan. Even as the man got closer to striking, Sliske didn’t even seem to register his motions.

Until he did.

Jahaan was so close, too close, when Sliske slipped out of the way, using Jahaan’s forward momentum to his disadvantage as he spun around, grabbed Jahaan’s wrist and snapped the blade from his hands, along with snapping the bone in the process. The sickening crunch confirmed as much before the pain even registered. Tossing his hand aside, Sliske then grabbed Jahaan by the throat, lifting him high into the air before launching him thirty, forty, fifty feet across the room. Jahaan crashed into the stone wall behind him with a shattering force, falling to the ground in a heap.

The lights cut out for Jahaan as soon as his head impacted the wall. Begrudgingly, he was pulled awake by Sliske dragging him to his knees by his hair, though at the rate his mind was spinning, he didn’t register the movement, nor the inherent pain that came with it.

It took a punch across his jaw that knocked out a tooth to force him back into focus.

Several more blows landed across his nose, chin and stomach. Sliske was punctuating each jab with words, but Jahaan couldn’t make a single one of them out, struggling to remain lucid among the beating. Until, that is, Sliske held Jahaan by the collar of his shirt and growled, “I told you, World Guardian… actions have consequences.”

Sliske targeted three more precise and fearsome strikes against Jahaan’s previously cracked ribs, easily reigniting the previous damage. Jahaan fell forwards, but Sliske caught him, sharply kneeing him in the stomach before slamming his head back into the wall. He held him there, watching Jahaan’s half-lidded, barely conscious eyes roll into the back of his head. Once he released his grip, Jahaan crumbled lifelessly to the ground.

Finally sated, Sliske walked away.

Idria, Ariane and Mary Rancour watched in horrified, aghast silence as Jahaan fell to the floor. Inside the grasp of the Barrows Brothers that were restraining them, the three were visibly shaking. Mary Rancour’s mouth hung agape, loosely trying to form a call, a cry, anything to try and rouse Jahaan, but it was for nought. In her line of work, she’d seen battle, bruises and brutality, but nothing so… malevolent. Ariane’s eyes darted between Jahaan and Ozan, the latter struggling fruitlessly in the hold of Guthan and Karil, screaming obscenities. His face was a dark shade of crimson, his eyes bloodshot and tone quickly becoming hoarse.

Gulping, Idria’s eyes were locked solely on Jahaan as she mumbled, “By Armadyl, is he still breathing?”

Her question was answered in the form of Jahaan slowly beginning to stir. He moved an arm first, then a leg, slowly regaining life into his limbs. All the while, his head was a pounding mess of screams and colours; with each throb, his vision blurred more and more. Clawing at the ground, he struggled to right himself, attempting to pull himself up to his knees. Instead, his limbs protested agonizingly, buckling under the weight and forcing him back down with a whimper. Roughly, his face scraped against the stone cold floor, his body convulsing as he coughed up blood.

Looking down upon Jahaan, Sliske’s eyes were empty of compassion. “So, you want honesty. Is that right, World Guardian?”

Through the ringing in his ears, Jahaan could barely string his own thoughts together, let alone decipher Sliske’s words. He was too busy trying to remember where he was, and why everything was hurting so damn much.

Sliske’s eyes practically burned with yellow fire, though the face housing them was deathly stoic. “Then here’s the truth for you: I didn’t want to say this, but your soul is damaged goods. It was shattered into a million pieces and barely put back together. You should be grateful that I’m even interested in it.”

Summoning the Staff of Armadyl to his hands, the shadows slithering around the room converged at Sliske’s feet. “But you’ve read my notes. You know why I am. If it’s any consolation, I have grown rather fond of you. I believe the bond we share is greater than that of friends, brothers, or even lovers. If I had to put a label on our relationship, I’d say we’re akin to soulmates.”

Letting out a hollow, mirthless ghost of a laugh, Sliske said, “A fitting term, wouldn’t you agree?”

Motioning towards Guthan and Karil, the two brothers brought Ozan closer to Sliske, forcing the young man to his knees as he groaned in protest, failing to shake off their grasp. Sauntering over, Sliske gazed down in cold amusement as Ozan glared daggers at him. Cupping the man’s chin, Sliske remarked, “A clever one, aren’t you? Yes, you’ll do quite nicely…”

Stepping back to the centre of the expanse, Sliske turned back to Jahaan, who was still curled over on the ground. The corners of his mouth upturned cruelly.

Loudly, so to break through the volcano storming inside Jahaan’s head, Sliske continued, “None of this had to happen, World Guardian. You chose to betray me. I was happy to sacrifice one of my kin for your cause. Had you kept up your end of the bargain, none of your friends would have had to suffer, I would have extracted your soul without such torture, and you could have spent eternity as a youthful wight. But plans have changed…”

Turning with a cruel sneer to Ozan, Sliske was all malice. “I no longer care for your presence, World Guardian. I’ll still have your soul, though. But one of the last things I want you to see before I send you ‘screaming into the abyss’, as you so poetically put it, is another wight to be added to my collection.”

“NO!” Ariane screamed, struggling desperately against the hold of Ahrim, but he easily outpowered her. “DON’T TOUCH HIM!”

But such an outburst only made Sliske laugh, a terrifying, haunting cackle that rattled inside Ariane’s chest. Ozan was wide-eyed and terrified, helpless against the weight of two brothers holding him down, their half-dead claws digging into the burns on his arms.

“S-Stop…”

The ridges of Sliske’s eyes lifted in perverse amusement. “What was that, World Guardian?”

Dragging himself to his knees, Jahaan coughed up another cocktail of bile and blood, trying to orient himself to being upright while the world spun around him. Blinking away the tears in his eyes still left light pulsing through his retinas in crude splotches. Everything was out of focus, Sliske included, but Jahaan managed to lock onto the tall silhouette. Fragments of his memory were returning at a snail’s pace.

“Stop…” Jahaan repeated, clutching his broken ribs, wincing through the pain. He was shivering violently, his head hung low, unable to lift it. “Please... stop…”

Lowering the Staff, Sliske slowly turned around and looked down at Jahaan with the satisfied glint of a predator who had cornered their prey. A stiff slash of a smile stretched across his face, warped like broken glass. “Well, isn’t this a sight to behold. The mighty World Guardian, Gielinor’s brave hero and Guthix’s chosen one… on his knees and begging.”

“You don’t need to hurt him,” Jahaan’s speech was slurred, blood dripping from the gaps in his knocked out teeth, but he managed to stop shivering enough to speak somewhat coherently. “You don’t need his soul. You need mine. I won’t fight anymore. You can make me a wight, you can kill me, I don’t care. Take my soul and let them leave. Please…”

Clenching his fist tightly around the Staff, Sliske’s low voice was ever so slightly wobbly as he said, “You know, Jahaan, I believed you the last time you said that. For all the chances you had to end me, you couldn’t, and I believed you truly didn’t want to see me gone. You accuse ME of only pretending to care, but perhaps you should examine yourself before throwing around such accusations.”

He turned away from Jahaan, a determined resolve acting as his mask. “It’s too late for us now, Jahaan. You’ve… hurt me. And now I’m going to return the favour.”

In the blink of an eye, Sliske reeled back the Staff, then thrust it forward and channeled a spell from it. Blue energy poured from the tip, striking Ozan’s chest. The heaviness of the energy pulled Ozan down like gravity; he felt like he was going to be dragged through the stone underneath him.

“NO!” Ariane cried out, watching in horror as Ozan writhed in pain, attached to Sliske’s beam. Idria and Mary Rancour were paralysed, transfixed by the sheer torturous power on display.

It could only be described as a miraculous bolt of adrenaline, but something gave Jahaan the strength to pull himself to his feet. He propelled towards the light with the desperation of an crazed animal. Everything was just blurs and colours and shapes, but Jahaan ran headfirst regardless, no plan in his mind except for ‘KILL’.

He didn’t make it far enough; while keeping the Staff and his grip on Ozan firm, Sliske shot a powerful bolt of shadow magic behind him. The spell collided with Jahaan at such force that he flew back to where he’d just crawled from, causing the world to go black.

When the beam from the Staff ceased, Ozan fell lifeless to the ground.

After a few beats of horrified, sickening silence, Ozan suddenly began to stir. Slowly, he came to his feet at an almost robot pace. Ariane only allowed herself a mere second of relief before she realised what was happening, and reality sunk in. Ozan marched over to Sliske’s side and turned around, staring through her with hollow, pupilless eyes.

Ariane knew she couldn’t let her emotions, her desperation, her grief control her in that moment. She needed to remain strong. She needed to keep calm and focus.

Ozan wouldn’t want her to break down, not now, when innocent lives were at stake.

They had to escape or this cavern would be their tomb.

Then, miraculously, an idea came to her. Using strength she didn’t know she had, she wrestled one hand free from Ahrim’s grip, disorienting the undead brother with her rapid movements. She reached out for the wand that he kept holstered at his hip, but could only brush the edge with her fingertips. The next thing she knew, she was on the ground, as was Ahrim.

“Ariane, NOW!” Idria shrieked. The Guardian of Armadyl had launched herself and the brother holding her into Ariane, causing all of them to topple to the floor. Fortunately for them, the downside of wights is that, without constant instruction, they were slow on the uptake. Thus, Ariane managed to throw herself towards Ahrim’s wand and snatch it up before she could be subdued.

Knowing she only had one chance, Ariane had to make this spell count. Taking aim at Sliske was far too risky. Instead, she aimed at the rocky ceiling above them and channeled the strongest spell she could. Upon impact, the cavern’s supports crumbled instantly. Rocks crashed to the ground, effectively creating a barricade between them and Sliske. But as she could still hear the Mahjarrat’s booming voice, she knew it wouldn’t be long at all before he broke through.

Now, they had to RUN.

Throughout all of this, Jahaan was slipping effortlessly in and out of consciousness.

So, he didn’t notice when Mary Rancour picked him up and slung him over her shoulder.

He also didn’t notice the four of them charging through the maze of tunnels, praying at every turn they’d find a rope or a ladder to ascend them to the surface.

He didn’t notice when the Barrows Brothers broke through the rocks and stormed after them, nor did he notice Ozan among their ranks.

He did, however, notice when they found a rope ladder leading up towards a trap door, as Mary Rancour accidentally dropped him trying to steady herself on the ladder.

With his head spinning like a throwing disk, he tried to blink the blurriness out of his eyes long enough to go, “W-Whereee am-?”

But the very next second, he was being hauled to his feet, his hands placed onto the ladder as he was furiously instructed to “CLIMB!”

Oh, he tried to protest - his body practically screamed with objection - but the sound of Idria’s pleadings, the sight of Ariane’s fearful eyes, and the way even Mary Rancour looked like she’d seen a ghost she was desperate to outrun triggered some residual survival instinct within Jahaan, and it allowed him to climb the ladder.

When all four made it out, Mary Rancour quickly found a sharp-edged rock to cut the rope ladder behind them, and her and Idria sealed off the trapdoor by heaving a large stone slab on top of it.

Doubled over on the ground with exhaustion, they fought for breath through rasping throats and manic-beating hearts. All except for Jahaan, who didn’t move at all.

“Oh gods,” Ariane leapt over to him. “He keeps slipping out of consciousness. We need to get him to a healer. NOW.”

DISCLAIMER:

As Of Gods and Men is a reimagining, retelling and reworking of the Sixth Age, a LOT of dialogue/characters/plotlines/etc. are pulled right from the game itself, and this belongs to Jagex.

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