Elliot Bellamy
Atlantis - Plains City, unknown location
2342 - January 17 - Noon
When he regained his consciousness (for the second or third time in just a few days), Elliot noticed that he still hadn’t recovered fully from the sudden mana drain. His head throbbed, and his joints ached. He felt as though the blood in his veins had turned to magma.
He blinked a few times, and his vision started to slowly refocus. From what he could tell, he was currently resting against a large tree, which stood alone towering over a lush meadow. His jacket was curled up around him like a blanket, damp with his sweat. Rider stood to his right, his ever-watchful sentinel.
He knew what he would have to do. It was just that he didn’t know if he could handle it in this state. And yet, his time was already running out. A day and a half had already gone by without any gathered information, any established bases. All he managed to was discover the… presence in the desert sands.
Don’t panic. Don’t panic, don’t panic, don’tpanic don’tpanic don’t-
“Rider,” he said with a bit of difficulty. It seemed that his breathing was still a bit shallow. It already took all the willpower he could muster not to break into tears. “We have to deal with that… thing, in the desert. We need to find the other masters. We can’t deal with it alone.”
In the back of his mind, he knew that the chances of the others believing his story, let alone caring about it, were minimal. He was their enemy. He had no doubt that they would see this development as a convenience to exploit. And yet, he had no other choice. Even if there was little to no chance of success, it was a do or die situation for him. If he could trust his instincts, then it wouldn’t be his last encounter with whatever lurked in the desert.
“Ride us to another city. Any of them. All of them. We… we need help.”