Hey all, this will pretty much be my first venture into the realm of Internet fanfiction.
Writing one that is, I've spent many a few years reading them.
So for the time being my first juncture will be at RuneScape.
As a bit of background, I started playing RuneScape a little more than five years ago, shortly before farming was released. I've come a long way since then, and I enjoy a good story as much as any, so it's time to explore some of the better parts of the mythos, just in time for what looks to be the climax of these quest series with "The Ritual of the Mahjarrat". This is intended to be something of a prequel to this soon-to-be released quest.
Disclaimer: I do not own the base contents of this story. RuneScape, its aspects, and associated trademarks are property of Jagex ltd. The player character here is my own, however.
**Warning**, this story section will contain big spoilers for various quests and aspects of the game, especially While Guthix Sleeps and Temple at Senntisten, as well as the lore of Daemonheim. If you have not completed or read about these things and do not wish to be spoiled ROTTEN stop now.
With that being said, on with the show!
Chapter 1: God War II
Dusk began to settle around the northern reaches of Gielinor as renowned adventurer Thorkur—known to his Fremmenik brethren as "Thorkur Far-Strider"—exited the teleportation matrix to his house on the outskirts of Rellekka. He sighed in relief as his day of adventuring came to an end.
Adventuring. Hah. All he'd been doing these past few months was mine the day away down in the Living Rock Caverns. The road to skill mastery was a long one, and at this point he was so experienced in the art that further progress was very slow.
Still, some progress was better than none. He'd be wearing that cape by the end of Rintra. And then he'd have to go smelt all of those dozens of thousands of ores…
Thorkur set his Dragon pickaxe and armor in his workshop, noting from the personal connection that his Crystal Shield was now at about half strength. The sooner he could change it back to a bow the better. He hung his cape on the rack nearby, now missing the warmth is flaming countenance brought him in the cold season.
Rubbing his tired arms, now free from their burden, he made his way to the dining room and tugged the bell-pull, instantly summoning his servant with a pop.
"What is thy bidding my master?" Crooned Alathazdrar in that strangely surreal yet creepy voice that all demons seemed to have mastered.
"Could you prepare me some curry, Alathazdrar?" Thorkur answered, rubbing his eyes now.
"Certainly, my lord."
As the butler departed to the kitchen to ready his request, Thorkur reclined in his mahogany chair, anticipating the hot spiciness washing down his throat.
Alathazdrar returned a short time later and placed a sizeable bowl of the dish by him, which was immediately seized. Thorkur nearly whimpered in delight at the hot taste. It certainly beat the smelly fish and raw vegetables he'd contented himself with throughout the day.
He polished off the bowl and patted his stomach, then reached into the pouch of money he carried (which, he could never help but notice, always seemed to be able to hold ridiculous amounts of gold coins within a small, relatively light space) and withdrew seven thousand five hundred shinies for Alathazdrar, reduced from its normal rate as a favor from the old man and his spell-happy squeeze Zenevivia.
"My compliments Alathazdrar," said Thorkur as the butler took the money. "Your unique blend provides great relief from the monotony of the day."
The demon bowed.
"Your praise is appreciated, as an experienced chef yourself, my lord." Thorkur waved a hand.
"Oh I'm pretty good but nothing terribly special. Many adventurers are more polished in the culinary arts than I," he said noncommittally.
"Be that as it may my lord," replied Alathazdrar. "I've often mentioned that you would do better to work on simpler, cleaner and less menial skills for your first mastery achievements."
"I know you have Alathazdrar" laughed Thorkur, "and I've often replied that when I first left the family to roam the lands the first thing I learned how to do was mine and as such, it will be the first thing I finish."
"My lord is as stubborn as ever," Alathazdrar mused. "Shall I draw a bath?"
"If you would," he motioned.
Later, the sun had long since set and Thorkur headed into the parlor in his night wear for some reading before bed. An offhand spell lit the fireplace for his hypnotic pleasure and comfort as he made his way to the bookshelf. He bent down.
"Letsee…" he muttered, scouring the various tomes he'd collected.
"Abyssal Book…Ancient Hymnal…Dagon'Hai History… Movario's notes…" he paused, then pulled out the two, tagged volumes copied via a magic spell, and sat down in one of the chairs.
His mood grew grim as he leafed through the writing. It spoke of old machinations of that fiend, Lucien, and the great and mythical object, the Stone of Jas.
A myth that had turned out to be very, very real.
The Fist of Guthix. The Eye of Saradomin. After the events that had transpired a few years ago Thorkur had conducted some research of his own on this lost then found object, and what he'd found only gave a greater sense of foreboding.
The Stone had been mentioned all over. The cryptic writings of Melzar the Mad, desperate scrawls of barbarians whom had perished in the Ancient Caverns, and words of acknowledgement from the Guardians of Guthix upon his questioning all spoke of the same object. Those of the mysterious Oracle had been particularly intriguing.
"Jas left a stone behind," she'd said. Every other reference he'd encountered spoke of the object by different, many names, but this was the only other instance of the name of "Jas". Just what did this mean? It was true the Stone had passed through many hands over the millennia it had existed, or was it even longer than that? Guthix Himself had said that he had only found both the stone and the unshaped world of Gielinor. At different points in time after, Saradomin had come to possess it and Guthix had tried—and failed—to destroy the Stone before hiding it deep underground for ages untold. Was this Jas the original creator of the stone? Was he some sort of precursor god, who'd roamed the realms before even Guthix and had created the basic shape of the world? If so, where was he now, or did that even matter?
Closing the set of notes, Thorkur recalled his own experience with the Stone, which had only raised even more questions.
An unnatural stillness seeped through the air of the Ancient Guthix Temple that he'd discovered and made his way inside of. Solving the riddle, Thorkur passed through the giant stone door, the subtle clinking of the robes that had once been Ahrim the Blighted's the only thing accompanying his trepidation. What could be beyond here that required such complex protection? Judging from the nature of the riddle, it seemed designed such that only followers of Guthix would be able to pass through. The tunnel opened into a large cavern. Stone steps in the middle cornered by columns rose up to surround…
"It can't be…" murmured Thorkur, "the Stone is real, and it's been beneath Lumbridge all this time?"
The Stone was fairly large, and seemed to be made of shapes on the surface. What struck him most was how even and perfect it seemed from every aesthetic viewpoint. Also most peculiar was how it seemed to reflect light that came from nowhere, not quite luminescent itself but clearly not from the torches that lined it. Did conventional senses of the world not apply to objects of the gods? The only part of the Stone he could really understand was the four lights that circled around it. He noticed their color.
"The elements?" he thought as he walked closer to the object, "what does this mean?"
He stopped in front of it. Mesmerized, he reached out his hand… to touch it…
Just before the tip of his glove made contact, the four lights representing the elements abandoned the Stone and began to slowly swirl and drift into the space immediately behind him. As this happened, he suddenly regained his composure.
What was he thinking? He'd discovered an ancient artifact of the gods and he decides to just touch it? He should leave immediately; he should report this discovery to his allies at Falador, lest Movario find out about his deception. If Lucien were to get his hands on this…
"By order of the Governance of Guthix, what rights do you have here?"
Thorkur had been so wrapped up in the consequences of his actions he'd not seen the—well, what was it, for that matter? In place of the four elemental lights there was now what could only be described as an elemental being. Its legs were air with pebbles swirling about, its torso was a joining of earth and fire, leading to fiery arms and a head made of ice and water. It was like those elemental creatures he'd seen before; only he'd never observed one composed of all four.
Nor, he shuddered, had those elementals radiated an aura of such distinct power.
Thorkur gave the most coherent answer he could think of at the moment.
"What?" The Elemental did not give a very understandable answer either.
"Perhaps some violence will make you understand?"
As the Elemental drew up a bow made of fire, Thorkur once again cursed the foolishness of his actions. He really must have more sense than to mess with divine artifacts in the future…
Thorkur hastily uttered a prayer to the god Zaros to protect him from harm and curse his enemy with reflected damage. It had been a very, very good thing he'd gone this whole way fully prepared. He'd donned his most powerful robes and staff while carrying the best healing supplies he had and runes for a simple yet highly effective spell. He also had an emergency teleport if things got bad. As he'd hoped, he was currently protected from the Elemental's ranged attacks, but naturally that would have been too easy for the being wizened to his tricks and fired a magical missile composed of air and water. The spell contained much more force than anything he himself could produce however.
Thorkur used every advantage he'd brought along to fight with the Elemental. He changed the curses Zaros offered him as fast as he could while making sure to fire spells and keep himself alive. He noted he must not let the Elemental get close to him. An upfront assault would only add to the danger, a mage was best when they kept their distance…
The Elemental suddenly lowered its bow and spoke to him again.
"Do you know what, Thorkur? I've really missed you. It's been such a long time, and your funeral was just such a lovely event."
What?
"And what was it you used to say to me? Oh, I remember it well, since it was like yesterday. Ah, well, I guess you know better than anyone that the good die young!"
"What do you…?" Thorkur started, but he was interrupted.
"Oh well, back to the battle…I'm enjoying it, are you?"
Brutal spells and flaming missiles once again began to rain down. Thorkur barely had time to register that the being knew his name before he returned to defending from some of the heaviest attacks he'd ever experienced.
As the battle stormed onwards, Thorkur began feeling progressively weaker and sluggish. His favor with Zaros also seemed to be diminishing. Realizing what was happening, he uncorked a vial of Super Restore potion and took a swig, regaining his power for the time being. Feeling strong again, Thorkur renewed his assault of Magic Darts. He was about to take another sip when the Elemental's stance once again ceased.
"The bloom of youth only lasts so long. What can any of us aspire to but a glorious death, and yours was glorious."
He was seriously confused now, but remained on his guard.
"Oh, and the other days someone else was talking about how much they missed you. How you used to light the place up with your laughter, but it's all gone now. But you know that better than any of us!"
"You don't make any sense at all!" Thorkur shouted in frustration.
"But of course, it's always nice to talk, though, and 'manners maketh the man', is what you always told me."
And with that, the Elemental lunged at him again.
Panting heavily, Thorkur drank some potion and began praying in earnest. The curses' reflection effect seemed not to damage the Elemental, but guarding himself from damage was crucial, if his dwindling supplies were any indication. Ranged attack switch tactics… magic attack change curses… if it continued much longer, Thorkur would not prevail. Not that he had any idea how much damage the Elemental had received. Or if it was even damaged at all.
As he reached the last few bits of his rations, he noticed the Elemental seemed to be slowly coming apart. Perhaps he'd had more of an effect than he'd thought. He downed his last shark, and reached for his House Tablet…
And then the fighting stopped. His foe looked ready to fall apart, and he himself was on his last legs. But, it seemed the victor was decided, as the Elemental spoke for the last time in a voice not quite it's own.
"'And to protect the Stone until such a time as, near to death, whereby you are relieved of all duties and shall henceforth be returned to your home plane with the gratitude and blessings of Guthix'"
The Elemental slowly vanished upwards to parts unknown, it's job done at last.
Wincing at his wounds and bursting with curiosity over what had just transpired, Thorkur turned around once again to touch the stone.
This time, he did.
The world blurred before him. Images flashed before his eyes, a short trollish figure touched the Stone and became a human… a different human whose name he somehow knew touched the Stone and cheered. The Stone discovered by the Moonclan, then moved far away…
Normal sight returned to him and he staggered back from the Stone, his head and words filled with what he had just seen. As he composed himself, he noticed something else. His wounds were gone. In fact, they were beyond gone such that he now felt more healthy and full of energy than he thought possible. His sword could strike the smallest of targets with precision; his strength seemed able to move mountains, his very skin tough enough to withstand every pain, his intuition greater than any attack to him. He could throw a stone and knock down dragons flying overhead. He could control matter itself as though it was the lowest of magic…
This power! Amazing power!
Unfortunately, his actions would have dire consequences.
Back in his house, Thorkur rested Movario's notes on the arm of his chair. After defeating the Balance Elemental—as he'd come to understand it as—and having his powers increased far beyond even the mightiest adventurers, Movario and his partner Darve, whom he had deceived in order to investigate the cavern, entered the chamber and loudly proclaimed their discovery.
Though Movario declared the Stone to be his and his alone and the foolish Darve eagerly anticipated the thought of selling it for mere money, Lucien had appeared only to snatch the Stone for himself and summoned two demons who were immediately bound to a state of eternal and ultimate suffering. Their rage was tangible and caused the Guardians of Armadyl that had teleported to his location to give aid to quake in fear. Lucien merely laughed at the rage directed at him and forced them to attack Thorkur and his allies. The demons were by far the fiercest of their kind and had the ability to block attacks using prayers as humans did. Luckily, the immense power afforded to Thorkur by the Stone of Jas had allowed him to easily dispose of the demons and free them from their soul-crushing agony. Without the Stone's presence, however, the strength was short-lived and when all was said and done Thorkur returned to his allies in Falador as normal as before.
The combined organizations of the White Knights of Saradomin, Crux Eqal of Guthix, and the Guardians of Armadyl were now at a loss for what to do with the situation, for the Mahjarrat Lucien now possessed both the Staff of Armadyl and the Stone of Jas, the latter of which had enabled Guthix to shape the world and create the Rune Stones and the former of which had allowed Zamorak to banish Zaros and become a god.
His allies had known that the Staff was involved in the incident that caused Zamorak to ascend to godhood, but they hadn't known how it had happened. Thorkur, however, had learned of firsthand accounts from ancient ghosts that had been cursed by Zaros upon his banishment. Invisible, immobile, immortal and unable to communicate with the physical world, the ghosts told Thorkur, the only one they could with his Ring of Visibility and Ghostspeak Amulet, about how they had come to be cursed. After a long account of thievery and deception, Zamorak had acquired the fabled Staff of Armadyl, and with it's help the Mahjarrat plotted to destroy Zaros, who amassed a vast empire with many followers as the most powerful god. The two met and dueled, with the earth shaking and the heavens trembling, and though Zamorak was a fierce machine of war, his power could not match Zaros. In the most unfortunate of circumstances, Zamorak embedded the Staff into Zaros' back, who then fell upon him and impaled the Mahjarrat with it as well. Acting as a conduit, the holy Staff transferred some of the power of Zaros to Zamorak. Zaros began to fade from this world, while Zamorak seemed to become more real.
More god-like.
Now on equal power with the others, Zamorak began to gather followers to take over Gielinor. Thus began the Third Age, one totally of war. The God Wars.
Thorkur had never revealed this information to anyone else, not even his comrades in arms, for fear that it could somehow fall in to the wrong hands. He'd so far aided the few Zarosian Mahjarrat left to return their fallen god to this realm, and it seemed nearly complete, as he'd heard Zaros' voice communicating with Azzanadra with his own ears.
If Lucien was planning to become a god and unite the Mahjarrat to usurp Zamorak's leadership as he himself had to Zaros, did he know this information? If using the Staff of Armadyl to become a god required the power of an existing god, then hopefully the Edicts of Guthix would prevent that scenario from reoccurring. Or would the Stone of Jas allow for ascension without that? Furthermore, the Edicts of Guthix seemed to only apply to gods whom had been directly involved in the God Wars. At the time, this had meant most of the gods, but Thorkur had witnessed power from gods before, implying that the laws of Guthix did not restrict the Desert Pantheon and Zaros himself. If Lucien became a god, he, too may be unrestrained in his desires of power and destruction.
The Mahjarrat themselves further added to the complications. A race of extremely powerful and immortal shape shifters from the hellish realm of Frenskrae, they'd originally been united by Azzanadra under Zaros until the afore-mentioned incident, when most of the Mahjarrat shifted their allegiance to Zamorak, the one who could provide them with pleasurable battle. As information on Zaros was still incomplete, Thorkur remained unsure of his ideals. The fact that the Mahjarrat had been under him and his actions before the War, it at first appeared that Zaros was an evil god. Yet, sources all over spoke of the ancient Zarosian empire, which had stretched from the tip of the wilderness to the southern reaches of the desert and all the way into Morytania, as the most prosperous and peaceful in history. Even if the god was of questionable morals, did that really speak for such a society? The Mahjarrat he'd met who were still under Zaros certainly seemed much nicer than their Zamorakian brothers, if that was any indication.
As such, Thorkur had allied himself with the remaining Mahjarrat in the Zarosian sect and helped them in his resurrection, a gamble which would soon pay off, one way or the other. He desperately hoped his efforts weren't in vain, that there was a chance for the world to improve and to aid in the balance under Guthix. He hoped that his actions combined with those of Lucien did not spark a new war between gods to ravage the realm, for if Zaros was as powerful as the stories said and malevolent as was possible Guthix may not have the strength to stop him like he did the others. And Lucien was still a wildcard in this scenario. A god who possessed the Staff and the Stone and cared for nothing but the ways of evil? It could end up as the worst threat Gielinor had ever faced. Maybe Guthix or even Zaros could stop him. No mortal had the power now.
But, the Mahjarrat still had one weakness. Every five hundred years a Mahjarrat's power would grow weak and thus a ritual was held far up north to replenish their strength under the syzygy that would manifest. The ritual was a destructive battle, which ended when a Mahjarrat, usually the weakest, was sacrificed and its energy absorbed by the others based on who was closest to the center of the site. Thus was how their species survived the ages. Mahjarrat politics essentially revolved around this ritual, often deciding who would be sacrificed and who would receive the most power. Deceit and treachery reigned in the years before the ritual as they sought out only their own interests.
Thorkur got up to stoke the fire before returning Movario's Notes to the bookshelf and pulling out those of Zemouregal, the cousin of Lucien. These notes gave individual descriptions of each Mahjarrat as well as provided dates for the past rituals. Many Mahjarrat lived still and it would be a long time before the last one fell at the hands of the ritual, yet it would hopefully happen one day, as Enakhra, the only female Mahjarrat left, seemed too obsessed with Zamorak to—as Zemouregal put it—"sire more of our race".
He flipped through the notes, alphabetized for every Mahjarrat who had ever arrived to Gielinor, and took note of which ones were the most significant to both sides of the coming conflict.
Jhallan, one of the weaker Zarosian Mahjarrat who Thorkur had freed from an icy prison and escorted to an area underneath the ritual site where he hoped to secretly receive a large portion of power. He was currently so weak he probably wouldn't be of consequence until after the next ritual, but he had been benign enough and may be helpful later.
Azzanadra, former leader of the Mahjarrat who'd been sealed in an ancient pyramid during the purge of everything Zarosian. Thorkur had worked hard to free him and in exchange he'd taught him powerful, ancient battle spells. More recently, Thorkur had helped him establish contact with Zaros to aid his return, granting Thorkur use of the Zarosian curses, which were more powerful than normal prayers but required greater amounts of piety. Azzanadra was helpful, powerful and completely devoted to Zaros, he'd likely be Thorkur's most important ally.
Sliske, "the serpent tongued", was still largely unknown to him. Even the other Mahjarrat seemed to be unaware of his allegiances or intent, only that he was powerful and ruled over the shadows. When Thorkur was helping Azzanadra restore the Senntisten temple, the odd old man he'd seen over the crypts of the Barrows Brothers had more or less revealed himself as Sliske. He'd previously only said nonsense, perhaps maintaining the façade for hundreds of years, but he greeted Thorkur and gave him information on what he'd needed for the temple before returning to his disguise, saying it was not safe to talk openly for long. After further research Thorkur had concluded that Sliske had been the "shadowy figure" that'd reanimated the spirits of the six brothers. He would most certainly be important in the future, though exactly how Thorkur did not know. He seemed to support Zaros, at least.
Zemouregal, the cousin of Lucien and the formidable Mahjarrat who many times had lain siege to Varrock and had bound the hero Arrav to be his undead slave. After retrieving Arrav's heart from Zemouregal's fortress and stopping Varrock's latest zombie invasion Thorkur hoped to have made great progress in hindering his plans. Perhaps most importantly, Zemouregal seemed to underestimate Lucien. In the conversation Thorkur had overheard, Zemouregal's servant mentioned that Lucien may be close to finding "it" (which Thorkur now believed was the Stone of Jas), and the Mahjarrat had scoffed and replied, "I've no time for objects of fairytales". But Lucien had indeed found the Stone, and now Zemouregal was unknowingly at his mercy. Hopefully that of Lucien would now undermine the threat Zemouregal posed.
And then there was Lucien himself. Weak in sword but strong in spell, Thorkur now had a very personal vendetta against him. People who had been the mightiest of heroes, the wisest of teachers and the best of friends had dropped like flies before Lucien. Though he possessed two artifacts of the gods, Thorkur had vowed to stop him, and put an end to Lucien's madness in any way possible. If that meant risking a new God Wars, he would do it for the chance of avenging his comrades and restoring the balance of the world. Images of the statues in Falador's park flashed through his mind.
"Turael… Duradel… Hazelmere… Sloane… Ghommal… Cyrisus…" He closed his eyes to the flames flickering in the grate which reminded him so much of Lucien's evil spells.
"Lucien will not be allowed to escape with his deeds. Your deaths will not have been in vain. I'm still alive. I can make a difference."
Pushing his mind away from these macabre thoughts, Thorkur contemplated the last, and perhaps most mysterious Mahjarrat on his mental list of importants.
Bilrach could prove an even greater wild card than Lucien. Like Lucien, Zemouregal underestimated him, believing Bilrach to hold no importance whatsoever, except that he was "Zamorak's lapdog". But not so long ago, Thorkur, along with everyone else at the time, had suddenly and randomly been affected by a strange power. In confusion, Thorkur went to the various seers that dotted the lands. None could say what the power was, only that it was "great" and "dark" and originated in a northern area near the Wilderness. Not long after, a group of Fremmeniks went to investigate, at the head of which were Marmaros and Thok. They'd discovered the most intriguing and dangerous of things, a mountain which housed strange dungeons. Abandoned, infested with beasts from other worlds, and tainted and warped with dark power of unknown origin, the party had traversed the lairs, experienced its harshness, and christened it "Daemonheim". Of the party, only Marmaros and Thok made it to the bottom. Now Thok was the sole master of "dungeoneering" and Marmaros seemed so mentally scarred that he could barely interact with people. Thorkur and many, many other adventurers had answered the call and slowly began to make their way through the many floors. Scattered about were chronicles and journals detailing the labyrinth's history, and the implications proved disturbing. The Mahjarrat Bilrach had, in ages past, discovered the site to contain a dark void buried deep underground, and had made extensive efforts to tunnel his way down, summoning demons and creatures and indenturing humans to work under him. Ages and ages he dug deeper, intending to unleash Zamorak from his imprisonment below in what he referred to as The Void. His efforts were incredibly large scale, but he'd kept them secret from the other Mahjarrat. More experienced adventurers had told him of the insanity of the lower floors, and of the growing disturbance of Bilrach's writings. The first entry was dated to the Second Age, while the last was dated to only about four years ago. They implied that Bilrach had made it to the bottom, but after that the trail went dry. Bilrach was nowhere to be found, it was unknown what happened to him, what he may have unleashed, and what exactly was at the end of the dungeons. Marmaros and Thok spoke of how they'd found a rotting corpse at the bottom floor and a mysterious old man who said it was an illusion and that they'd die if they saw what was really there.
This confusion of the situation left Thorkur lost as to where Bilrach's place in all of this was. Could Zamorak really be freed? How would this impact the other Mahjarrat and the next ritual? Would Zamorak really tolerate an attempt to usurp his power?
Thorkur sat back and yawned tiredly. The fire had nearly died out and he was overdue for bed.
"If I may, my lord," Alathazdrar said from behind his chair, "your fallen brethren would likely appreciate that you get your rest if you are ever to make efforts against Lucien."
Thorkur would acknowledge his butler's words and turn in for the night, but first…
"Alathazdrar, you may have more knowledge in this area than I, what do you think would be the reaction of Zamorak's followers if their god was overthrown?" The demon shook his head.
"As Zamorak is the god of chaos, it is nearly impossible to tell. The most likely scenario would be that the worshipers would follow any who adhered to the ways of chaos."
"So all we know is they'll almost certainly be against us. Perfect. The Saradomin followers may also decide to smite any evil fiends they perceive in the name of order. They'll be easy to predict, at least."
Alathazdrar took Zemouregal's notes from the side of the chair and returned them to the bookshelf.
"I would advise that you keep your wits about you. The climax of these events is nearly upon us, and your actions may decide who will inherit Gielinor."
"Of course, Alathazdrar." Thorkur stood up. "You are dismissed for the night." Alathazdrar bowed, and teleported to his quarters.
He walked through his study over to the bedroom with his four-poster. For now, tomorrow, the day after, and the day after that would consist of more mining.
"The peaceful times of the Fifth Age are becoming turbulent, like days long past. We are all about to arrive at the crossroads of destiny. But whom will the times choose? Will chaos and despair rule the world, or is there a ray of hope in our future?"
Soon Lucien would make his move to rally the Mahjarrat under him. Soon Sliske would emerge from the shadows, and soon Zemouregal would learn of just how little impact his actions now had, for soon the northern reaches of Ghorrock would bear witness to the ritual.
The Ritual of the Mahjarrat.