The sky of Barovia was dark, cloudy, and generally horrible. But so had it been this way for the past millennia or so.

How many years was it now? Ridged did not know, he had lost track at around 563 at which point he decided to stop counting. After all, what point was there to keep track of time in a place where nothing seemed to change. He looked towards his side, where a dusty old mirror lay. It had cracks and blemishes all over it and rust coating its sides, but it was still usable to an extent. And in it he could see himself, not changed for hundreds of years, still wearing the same long coat, hat, and armor that had made one of the party describe him as a "robot cowboy". He had not a clue what the word meant but he still felt subconsciously it was apt. His robotic form had been a great assistance to his survival, even if being a Warforged came with its own quirks of never changing much. It only made things harder to keep track of.

Well, that was not entirely true. Things did change within Barovia but only to the smallest degree, after all, while Ridged did not know how many years it had been he had a decent idea from her yearly visit.

The crackling of the fire broke his musings, the dark powers would get bored of this game they played eventually. One could only derive so much amusement from their suffering, and eventually, they could be free of this place.

He sighed once more, and pushed himself out of the chair he sat in. He moved himself over to the fire, the floorboards underneath him groaning in protest as he did so. Pulling a log out of the small neatly stacked pile next to the fire he threw one in and saw the embers jump as he did. It brought memories of his friends back before he was trapped here, of their adventures and triumphs. And for a moment it brought a warmth to his heart.

"Ah Ridged", And at that voice, his heart fell, and a small groan came out from him, "It has been too long", the voice was soothing and calming, almost like a warm embrace that would cause even the most war wearied souls to lower their guard.

"Madam Zarovich, to what do I owe the pleasure?", It was tempting, almost too tempting, to pull his revolver out and begin to fire, but that was a fight that he could not win. And it would damage the walls, he had spent too much time getting the wood for that and wouldn't have that thrown out now.

"Oh Ridged, you know exactly why I am here", her smile was devilish, and below her lips, Ridged could see the glint of fangs in the flickering firelight, "You always have the best conversation in these lands, and it is not like the necromancer has anything to say unto me"

"I presume you would like some wine then", He could almost feel her eyes glare into Ridged as he stoked the fire below him, and his mechanical heart began to beat a little bit faster.

"Of course, the castle has run dry and you are the only man here with any taste, or well, automaton", Ridged could hear a small pumf as she sat down in one of the chairs, waiting for Ridged to come and serve her. A few hundred years ago he would have been repulsed at the very thought, but now it was routine.

He left the room, and the woman, as he went towards the cellar underneath the house. It was not as neat or tidy as the rest of the house but it was not meant to be. It was his workshop and as such weapon parts were laid across part of it, while barrels of wine were laid across the rest of it.

He had started to farm small amounts of grapes out of boredom and found that using the bones of the Necromancers soldiers he could keep them alive in the horrible land that Berovia gave him. After the correct rituals to make them truly dead of course. With a practiced motion, he grabbed a bottle and placed it underneath one of the barrels, allowing it to be filled up, the red liquid letting off a smell that was familiar to himself. And just as quickly as he came, he left, grabbing a glass for the woman waiting above.

After another few moments of walking, he re-entered the room, and she was still sitting there a smug smile on her face.

"Just as fast as usual, what kind did you decide to give me this year?", again her voice sounded like honey, as she put her hand out for the glass expectantly. Ridged complied, pouring some of the wine into the cup and handing it to her, before taking his own seat and setting the bottle down.

"Some stuff I made before the Necromancer tried to burn the forest down, made using the grapes from the old winery", getting those seeds was a pain and a half, considering how close it was to the Necromancers home. It took him a few weeks to sneak in just to grab the seeds he needed and many more to shake the undead hordes trying to find him.

"Ah, such good memories, her surprise when the trees began to fight back is something I may never forget", she laughed, again one coated with honey, as she took a sip of the drink, "My, my Ridged, if I didn't know any better I would say you were trying to get into my good graces with this wine", another laugh this time slightly softer than the last.

"I do not have much else to do, so I may as well refine what skills I have now", a partial lie, although the truth was in there. He had plenty to do, from destroying the undead hordes the Necromancer had, or repairing the seemingly constantly degrading house, or any other number of endless things needed done to survive.

She hummed in confirmation while sipping the wine, and they fell into a restful silence. The wind and rain outside seemed to have lessened significantly leaving only a small pitter and whine of rain and wind against the house.

"Ridged", the woman said, still taking the occasional sip from her wine, "do you really want to spend the rest of eternity here?", there was a strange softness in her voice now, not pitying nor condescending, more regretful than anything else.

But that question, it was something Ridged had dealt with for years. He wanted to escape, of course, but how could he? The Dark powers kept all that entered, and no teleportation or plane shift spells would work to get one out. To his knowledge, the only way to get out was to kill the woman in front of him, but he had barely killed her with his full party much less just him, and if the Necromancer escaped then havoc would be wrecked upon the world, "of course I do, although I doubt you would like how I would do it", for all intents and purposes he was stuck here.

A smile formed on the woman's face, yet again not cruel nor condescending, "I suppose so, the gods are cruel and do not wish to see me leave. Nor do I think they wish for you to leave either."

What was going on here, first she complimented his drinks and now she was acting….human almost? "What is your point, I believe there is something you are trying to tell me but I do not yet see it"

"Ah Ridged, so intelligent when it came to your little toys but not too much else", another sip of wine, "Simply put I wish for us to cooperate, neither of us wishes to stay here for the rest of eternity and certainly not with that hag of a Necromancer in the mountains"

So that was her play, try and get him onto her side and find a way out. Did she maybe find another way out after all these years, or was she just trying to fool him. "You and I both know that is impossible, the only way out is by killing you and then leaving, nothing else I have tried has worked and I doubt the necromancer has fared much better."

"Of course she has not", the venom in her voice was deadly now, "she refuses to see the basics of her situation here, and keeps trying to defy the dark gods in all ways she can"

Ridged grunted, the Necromancer kept making the same mistakes again and again, as while the Dark gods were evil they were not idiots, they could find the cracks in one's armor and exploit them easily. The crack in the Necromancers was pride, and the woman in front of his was love. "And you suppose you can do better than her then, even with all the knowledge of the universe at her fingertips?"

"Of course, she may have that but just because you have intelligence doesn't mean you can use it, all I need is your trust to get out and then you are free from me or any duties you may think you have here."

This was a trap, it had to be. Time and time again she had tried to trick him with the idea he could kill the necromancer or that one of his party members had come back to look for him. Not to even talk about how she manipulated them during their time in the first go round, it had to be a trap.

"Oh Ridge, you can trust me, what do I have to gain from killing you in a trap", her voice was almost mocking in tone, as if she knew exactly what he was thinking.

"Several things, first that comes to mind is making me into a Vampire spawn and using me to try and kill the Necromancer so you have the whole valley to yourself, or worse."

The smile stayed on her face as she took another sip of her wine, "I do not wish to be here either, and you may very well be the only person who can assist me to escape, so why should I betray you?"

"Maybe you will not betray me to start, but after we escape you will not be as kind will you?"

She scoffed, taking a final sip of her wine, "Mayhaps but you shall not have much time to choose", she said crypticall, setting the wine glass down as her body began to dissipate into smoke, "Do not disappoint me", she said as her body finally became smoke and seemed to be blown away by an invisible wind, all that was left was the empty wine glass and a small letter with a rose attached to it.

If Ridged could raise an eyebrow he would, he had seen her disappear like that a dozen times but never once leave something behind. He looked closer at it, the letter had elegant calligraphy and the bold sign of the Zarovich house was on its seal just above the calligraphy. He picked the letter up, breaking the seal and looking within it. There seemed to be a….ring of some kind? Odd, was she trying to win him over with gifts of some kind?

But at that thought he heard a moan from outside. It was one he had heard many times before and it signaled nothing good. But before he could react a crash veered through the house as the entire building shook, shrapnel flying throughout the main hall of the mansion.

"Oh dark gods…", he mumbled as he turned to look out the nearby window. A whole horde of zombies and skeletons were advancing upon his home, slowly marching up the hill, while several abominations of flesh and bone followed behind clubs that looked to be uprooted trees in their hands.

"Come out Ridged", a voice called out and his blood ran cold, it was him, "You were a fool not to accept her offer once, come out now and I shall offer you a quick death", the one party memeber he did not want to see ever again.

He did not have much time, so he stuffed the letter into his pocket, and began to run towards the basement. As he ran out of the room another crash came as something impacted into the building once again, sending Ridged flying down the stairs towards his workshop.

His momentum came to an abrupt end as he slammed into the wall beneath next to the stairs, so clambering up Ridged threw himself towards his workbench, grabbing the parts laid out on them and quickly assembling his rifle. After a few moments he slung the rifle onto his back and pulled a pack from underneath the table.

He had made this pack a long time ago when he thought the undead forces could advance towards his home and potentially ambush him when he did not have any of his weaponry or materials on him. It was filled with ammunition, spare parts, and some money, perhaps an old instinct but it did not weigh him down much and a few gold for magical components was never a bad thing.

But as he did the groans of the undead was very audible to him, as was the smashing on his front door. It wouldn't hold out long against the horde but it could give him enough time to run. The presence of Sylvar here meant that the Necromancer had gotten bored of their game or was confident in his ability to kill him. It was a shame but not the first time he had to run, there were dozens of hiding spots around Barovia he could run into, but for now he just needed to get out.

With quickness that could only be done by someone who was used to moving in such conditions he ran through the small tunnels leading beneath the mansion, dug out aeons ago before he even came here they were hidden that he didn't find them until relatively late into his tenure within the building, but useful they were.

And with one last heave of effort he came out of the winding tunnels into the rainy lands of barovia. Even from this distance he could hear the horde starting to move into the house, and he groaned. That was going to ruin all the carpet and the walls, he had just finished them a few days before. Well not like he had much else to do once they left again.

He took a deep breath of air, and while he did not need it strictly speaking feeling the air go down his throat was still calming in a sense. His mind then went to the letter, and he pulled it out from his pocket, it was crumpled but the ring was still there. But on the other side there seemed to be words.

Odd, they were not there beforehand.

"To Ridged-23", it read, "If you have opened this letter and seen the ring I hope you shall take a leap of faith to trust me this once. I give you my solemn promise that once we have escaped I shall trouble you naught nor shall I hold you to any obligations. Meet me at lake Baratok and I shall explain.

For both our sakes, trust me."

He scoffed, another attempt to try and trick him into going along with her just to be killed.

"You thought you could run Ridged?", a menacing voice said from behind him, and Ridged quickly turned the pistol out looking towards the man who said it.

The person in front of him was wearing grand clothing with gold and platinum laced into his clothing, and upon his face lay a wicked smile with fangs pointing out of it, "Sylvar, you traitor, what do you want with me?", he almost spit the name out, as he pulled the hammer back on his pistol.

"Ah nothing much old friend, merely coming to inform you that our greatest lady is coming to grace you with her presence, and I have come to make you bow before her '', small bits of ice began to form around his hands as his smile grew wider.

"You will have to tell her that if she wanted an audience she would get a corpse, although considering her tastes she would probably like that."

"By the lady", he said in fake mockery, "how could I ever survive such a rousing one liner from an old hero", he sneered at the word, "face it, you have lost, join us and we shall allow you to serve as a servant automaton if we are kind."

The only answer that he got was two sudden crack's as two bullet's flew towards his face.

The first narrowly missed while the other hit Sylvar in the shoulder, but while one side of his body was recoiling the other lashed out as an ice shard emerged from his fingertips and embedded themselves into Ridges chest. Both were thrown from their feet and similarly both recovered.

But whether luck or quickness of reflexes, Ridge was able to recover first and he began to run, spotnaiously teleporting from side to side as he dove away from his former party member.

"YOU CANNOT RUN FOREVER RIDGED", he shouted, still firing off ice towards the running warforged.

He did not respond, simply continuing to run until he eventually got to the nearby forests. He would be safe here; they were his place to hide and not theirs. And however much he wanted to beat Sylvars face in he was simply too unprepared to fight him, especially with the horde backing him up and his flight.

But even as he began to run into the forest he continued to move until he could feel his legs carry him no more and he came to a stop by a tree. Now he had time to think, and time to plan. Sylvar was obviously confident, and the Necromancer was coming from her lair in the mountains to likely try to end the war between the three of them.

If he was unprepared to fight Sylvar saying he was une-prepared to fight her was understating it significantly. By far the single most powerful caster in the entirety of Barovia, she could likely kill him like one would a wasp in a one to one fight. That left him with several options still. His magical reserves were still decently full even after his quick fight with Sylvar, so he could potentially get to one of his several hiding spaces, but…

He looked down towards the letter, it was still in one hand, crumpled more so than before but the ring still in it and words still partially readable. She could have killed him there and then kept him busy long enough that escape was not an option from the horde or of taking him out while he was fighting Sylvar.

But she didn't, but then could it be an even deeper trap to try and pull him in? Was he perhaps looking into it far too deeply. That instinct to look deeply had kept him alive all these years, and almost every part of his body told him to not believe her and go to his hiding holes.

Yet another so desperately wanted this facade to end, he wanted to escape from this prison, to no longer be the warden that kept both sides from escaping. To not be a slave for the dark powers enjoyment.

But was he willing to take that risk? Had he lasted this long simply to fall apart after all that effort and pain? If this went badly his soul would be taken by her and likely turned into a beast of pure evil or something worse than that. All for what? A chance to run away from this place that probably wouldn't even work?

He mulled over it as he walked, until he eventually came to the road, and saw it twist into two directions. He knew these paths well enough and knew where they led. Ironically enough one led towards where she had wanted him to go, while the other went to one of his many hidey holes scattered around Barovia.

Unconsciously he began to walk towards the second, as he had done a thousand times before. But he stopped only a few steps towards it. He was about to walk the same road he had a thousand times, accepting that his life was doomed to forever be in a state of fear and potential treachery. Anything else felt like a distant memory, anything beyond the same repetitive cycle of three immortals fighting each other in a dead land.

But the other road...he had not travelled that one for a long time, not since he first came to Barovia did he travel that one. He looked towards it, and felt a voice inside him speak up.

"You will die, eventually. You are either going to accept you shall die in a pointless existence where you never experienced the light again, or take a chance and live a life instead of exist"

Maybe the voice was wrong, maybe he would eventually be able to kill the Necromancer and then the lady of the land, and then escape. But every day that felt more unlikely. But….if it was right, then he could potentially see the sun again, be around living beings instead of mimicries of them, or any of the other dozen things that his party had talked about in the long time since they sat around the campfire and told stories.

All it took was a leap of faith, right? One last roll of the dice in an eternal game.

And so he made his choice.