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The cloaked man starts at the mention of his name and the statement after it. How could this man know his name? Daven shakes his head to force his focus back onto the subject at hand, and realizes the man never answered his question. “Are you the prophet or not old man?” He asked, his impatience beginning to show in his tone. He had tracked down dozens of dead ends on the Bastion over the course of the last ten years, and if his sources were right, this prophet knew more about the Bastion then anyone but members of that militaristic group.
“Well to your question I answer yes and no, for while I am a prophet of sorts, I am not as old as you may think,” Ruttum replied evenly, for it was true. At first glance his hair and clothes gave the impression of age but his hair was not truly gray, instead it was almost pure silver. His clothes, while having the look of a beggar’s attire, was really just old, not tattered. The clothes did not make the man in any case, and these particular articles of clothing did not truly match a man of this interest.
“No riddles prophet, I need answers and I know you have them to give,” Daven stated bluntly, staring hard at the man.
The prophet returned the stare and answered, “I am the prophet you seek, child of vengeance.”
“Then you have information on the Bastion?” Daven questions in an anxious whisper. Even being excited that this was the man he sought, he wasn’t foolish enough to attract attention to himself where the Bastion was concerned.
“If you want your answers you shall have to follow me to a more private location,” Ruttum states, turning slowly and striding into the inn, which compared to the first one Daven had visited, was in much better shape. He stood outside for a second, but blew an irritated breath and hurried inside. He was annoyed quite a bit at the prophet’s actions, but now he was also intrigued. Daven couldn’t help but wonder who this Ruttum was in truth. He may be, or have been at some time, a prophet but he is obviously something much more.
Daven quickly walks to Ruttum’s side, and falls behind him as they journey up the stairs. Daven couldn’t help but notice the silence of the inn’s patrons, and the respectful stares they shot Ruttum’s way. The prophet suddenly comes to stop in front of an old wooden door. He digs in a bag at his side and, after a few seconds, removes a key from it and slips it into the bronze lock in the wood. As the door unlocks, Daven’s heart begins to race. The prophet moves the door open slowly, and as he enters the room a dry, somewhat pleasant aroma hits Daven. After a moment he identified it as the only thing he could think of, age and solitude.
“What is it you seek to learn?” The prophet asked, the ghost of a smile on his face, one that indicated the prophet knew something that Daven did not.
Daven doesn’t fail to notice this as he replies, “I need to know of the location of the Bastion’s lair. There is someone there who did something to me that I have to pay him back for…” As he states this, his gloved hands clench at his side, with him oblivious to the action.
Ruttum sighs and looks down. “I know this man has caused you horrible pain in your lifetime, but there is something else I know. You will die if you face him before facing the path fate has mapped out for you.” the prophet says, his voice strong. He suddenly looks into Daven’s eyes, his piercing gaze rooting Daven to the spot.
“My path? What are you blabbering on about prophet?” Daven tries to pull his eyes away from Ruttum, but finds he is unable. “And how did you know any of that?”
Ruttum seems to not of heard, or chose to ignore the last part and continues speaking. “Your destiny is closely intertwined with many others, some who you shall come to cherish as friends, others whom you shall hate with as much passion as the one you seek. In order for you to kill the demon you seek, the one with the red-streaked, ivory hair, you must complete a challenge set out by the Gods themselves. You must fulfill a prophecy that foretold of one such as you to save our land from many of its evils, and then to combat his own pursued evil. This prophecy, woven by fate, shall require much from you.
“Your trials shall occur in five realms, four foreign to you, and one linked forever to your heart. The first trial will have you venturing to the last of Nature’s domain, and gain it, and its people’s, trust. The second trial calls for you to travel to the domain of Survival at its harshest, and in that land search out two lost peoples. You shall befriend both and gain the one’s gift. The third of your trials consists of you making your way into the Eldest realm of our knowledge, and earn its respect. The fourth consists of surviving in the realm of Strength; the strength of earth and fire. In that realm, you shall accept the quest put upon you by one of our Domain’s eldest people.”
“Your final trial is the most trying for you must return to the place that you began your quest, and open yourself to the truth. And that truth will grant to you your strongest gift…”
Finally, Ruttum fell silent and just gazed intently at Daven, awaiting his reaction to the statements the prophet had just made.
Daven returned the look, and let what the prophet had said set in. Despite everything, he knew the man was telling the truth, and if that was true, it was his destiny to do these “trials” set to him.
“…Ruttum, if I accomplish these feats, will you disclose to me the secrets of the Bastion and the one who I seek?” Daven looks intently at the prophet, determination set on his face.
“Of course boy… Now off with you to accomplish the tasks set for you by the Pantheon!” With that exclamation the room was suddenly bathed in a powerful white light and as it faded a moment afterward, Daven discovered the prophet had gone.
“Where have you gone Ruttum?” Daven asks into the empty room, not expecting an answer. He stands and looks around the room, and seems to notice it has lost something as Ruttum had departed. He lets out a sigh and walks slowly out of the room, as though the task just put upon him was almost to heavy to bear.
He departs the inn, not looking at the patrons, and walks out into the streets. He looks up and his eyes seem to shine a bit more, as though he has set himself up to the challenge. “Better get prepared,” he says to the open air and strides with purpose towards the nearest merchant cart to procure supplies for the road ahead.

*****


Ruttum watches as Daven moves out of view, a smile plain on his face. He turns away from the window of the room in which he had revealed Daven’s destiny. “I wish you luck Daven, for the task given to you is more trying then any task of those who came before you. Be brave, and we shall meet again. Farewell…” There is another flash of blinding white light and Ruttum once again is gone as it clears.