Oblivion

Pitch black Oblivion…

David’s abeyance within this void was… underwhelming to say the least. When his world collapsed suddenly from the bright lights of Cold Iron’s activated Battle Master Mech, he thought that God above had decided to finally call for his arrival unto the pearly gates for his final judgement. The Old Ranger expected the likes of Saint Peter or so handling the Reception just before so. He isn’t by far the most religious of folks nor was the purest of acts for one. But he stood by his ethics of non-partisanship as the arbitrary way of how Rangers conduct themselves on missions. But instead of the golden gates of Heaven or at the very least the fiery inferno of Hell, there was…

Nothingness…

There was no feeling, no sight, no taste, not even hearing a single sound. Just a deafening and all-encompassing void.

Abject emptiness…

‘Is this the Afterlife?’ David wondered. His mind pondered gravely by the realization of his (lack thereof) surroundings.

Loneliness, the Great Quiet… and he is to be like this forever?

Just as his grizzled soul was about to conceive of even trying to scream. He heard a faint noise coming to his right, as if there was running water somewhere nearby. Was this a test for him? David wondered just as much as his will was revived with vigor. With what amount of strength left he could muster, David grasped himself clawing his way past this darkened void, like a sunken mariner desperately clinging to reach the surface for oxygen’s sweet salvation.

With three excruciating thrusts of his fortitude, David emerged from the darkness and what greeted him was the heat of a bright sun drying upon his water drenched body.

Panic by his skin suddenly touching water; having years of roaming the Wastelands had taught him the habit that it was better to die of thirst than bathe, let alone drink from water sources contaminated by either radiation, sludge or irradiated sludge. But as he gasped for air leaving his just re-awakened body upon him crawling to the nearby shore, his nose tingled suspiciously, or more of… reversely so. Normally, irradiated and/or contaminated water have a distinct repugnancy to their scent but yet he could not mistake it. With what rare moments he had of drinking purified water that the water grave he had so unknowingly awoken from was scentless if… slightly sweet tasting. It was lo and beholden by his tired eyes, a freshwater spring.

Like a traveler who journeyed his legs unto death, David cupped a hand of the spring water onto his mouth and reveled on its refreshing nectar. Sampling three more times to slake his thirst and to confirm that this vision wasn’t some elysian dying dream. But the water’s cooling kisses were in fact, very much real. He filled his belly and wetted his throat with the spring water to his heart’s content. When he couldn’t take no more, David grasped on his reflection on the shimmering waters. He couldn’t remember the last time he had seen himself in a mirror but the spring water was as crisp and crystalline to an impossibly wondrous degree. Well, wondrous when reflected upon the visage of a man of four decades worth of hardship and strife could capture. Then again, David reminisces, that refreshing quench of this spring water was revitalizing to such an extent that he could swear it added years into his life, or maybe even reversed a few back.

For the very first time in this Old Ranger’s life, he felt like he could be truly at peace with himself here in this strange world or plane of existence, he finds himself wetting the soles of his feet over. Resting upon the shade of a nearby tree, David took on to observe or more leisurely described, read his picturesque surroundings. The Ranger found himself in an idyllic glade whose artful centerpiece was this rejuvenating spring. It was a calming retreat of murmuring waters that sang a lullaby of naturality to his old ears. Garlands upon garlands of flowers, twines and other sorts of shrubberies dangled and intermingled amongst the wood, the stones and soil around him. A pleasant fragrance coming from dewing grass twinkled like stars upon the gentle sunlight above. The land, if this was a real place in the vast Wastelands would have been an impossibility, only dreamed in Books of Old World’s of a time when all was hopeful and bright. Something he had never seen before, but for humanity to be so paradoxically familiar with. Such an old Reads upon the ruined depositories of knowledge, called ‘Libraries’ way back then held a special place in his heart. Now manifested into reality before him, or perhaps as a comforting welcome that his life’s struggle had just ended. The lush gardens of Eden-like remarks were a special way of looking into the world, almost childlike, almost serene enough that he just wants to… just for one moment…

Let go…

But just as he began to ponder the years of his life to this moment upon these peaceful springs. His ears trembled as he heard rustling amidst the bushes behind him.

Instincts returning to him, David found himself to his anguish he has been disarmed, away from any of his gear but the clothes on his back minus his green cloak and Ranger Hat. Thinking on his feet, he leaped upward on the tree he rested upon that had fortunately had mercifully short stature between him and the branches that he plucked off the branch of the tree with one great thrust!

“Ouch!” a loud and startling voice erupted, catching the Ranger by surprise as he reflexively backstepped.

“W-ha?” he questioned dumbfoundedly.

The earth slowly rumbled before him as the resting tree animated before him, uprooting its roots to it centipedal tendrils. Two glowing red eyes emerged forth from its wooded knots and angrily towards the Ranger. An uncannily human face, materialized out of the creases of its wooden flesh formulated to confront him.

“Ouch?” the Tree’s ‘brow’ furrowed in annoyance. “Do you know it is rude to take my arms off?”

“What in the god-damn?” David’s eyes widened as the animated tree towered above him. This tree can move, think AND talk?

Before the Ranger could even fathom further, the bushes behind him burst open. Out came from them, a swarm of butterflies of lilac wings that carried off upon the solidarity of their hundred tiny wings, a familiar looking Crossbow.

“You little shits!” cried a worse for wear Isaiah who tried in vain to pluck his weapon from the butterfly swarm. But like tantalizing branches of fruits, they were, the Butterflies teased his naked hands just an inch out of reach before reeling in barely just within reach yet oh so far away.

“Ice?” David turned around to his comrade.

“Dave!” he gave a buoyant smile that was short but lasting to the sore sight of the Veteran before he turned his eyes towards the Butterflies. “A-a-a lil’…H-Help’ere!” Isaiah tried to reach out again for his Crossbow but to no avail. The Butterflies, after teasing him profusely with its juvenile dance soon skedaddled off to the forest, with the Rookie in hot pursuit.

“Ice I think we need to just get a good grip on…” but by the time David was trying to calmly rationalize with the young Ranger, he had already bolted off.

“Just great! First, I hear of all this ruckus about all the Magic going nuts… next some stranger is ripping the arms of us Treants like he’s some kind of cretin! What next? Succubi Refugee’s from Palette Island living together with Gancanagh?” the Tree pondered before his unfocused thought was rebooted back to the thieving Ranger. “Wait. Oh yes…Give me back my arm you meanie!”

“Ah fuck it…” David cussed to himself. “Ice!” he turned around and gave chase to the pursuant Isaiah.

Not even remotely prepared to even dare stare down on this strange monster, David bolted away from it. Carrying the Treant’s arm, his soaked-clothed body and his sheer will to live, the Ranger jaunted deeper into the deep forest beyond the safety of the spring. He sprinted strode and sauntered through the forest, leaping above with feline-like grace or at least as graceful as a panicked Pathfinder running for his life like himself could tumble through the forest’s labyrinth. He tumbled, with several flesh cuts on his legs and arms. But adrenaline took over his body that he ignored this Garden of Eden’s deceitful thorns.

“My Arm! My Arm!” the Treant wailed as he gave chase to the Rangers.

The very land began to jolt below David’s feet as he jumped across the fallen logs and gloom-light passageways of the forest as he followed Isaiah deeper and deeper into the forest. Vine Tendrils erupted forth from the ground in a bid to lasso the Pathfinder off from his feet, David was much quicker if barely able to juke his way through its assault. His heartbeat raced the more this enchanted assault degraded from a dream to a living nightmare.

“Give it back you little shits!” Isaiah found himself on the precipice of a great giant tree in the forest as the mischievous butterfly swarm ascended atop of hits mighty branches. It’s leaves were adorned with glittering flags and ribbons that vibrantly assaulted senses of the more blasé Rangers who were more used to dreary grey and decaying black.

Luckily, there were several hollow knots and crevasse’s that David saw picked out from beneath its flesh that allowed him to continue the pursuit vertically.

“God’darnit!” David cursed as he followed Isaiah up the giant tree. “Isaiah! Come down from there! It’s not worth it!” he yelled out to the rookie but it fell upon his stubborn ears.

“Oh no! Oh dear, don’t you dare wake my father, you meanie!” the Treant behind him howled. “You don’t like him to be angry! Oh you will be Sorry!” he forewarned the Rangers as he climbed the great tree.

Fighting off its tendrils, David climbed the tree as Isaiah crawled his way atop of a large branch.

“Mine!” Isaiah dangerously leaped over to the Butterflies and managed to violently pluck his Crossbow from the grasp of the swarm.

Landing with a significant lack of finesse, Isaiah held himself back to the Branch with his weapon in hand. Sighing in relief that he finally got his weapon back.

“Ice!” David yelled as Tendrils pursued behind him.

“Dave!” the Rookie’s eyes sparked with enthusiasm… only to descend into shock as he saw the tendrils readying to capture them in their jade embrace. “Fuckin’ hell!” Isaiah, not thinking clearly nor focusing on balancing loses his grip and fell down.

“No!” David tried to grab the young man’s hand but he too fell alongside with him.

“Desna save them!” the Treant cried.

In a split second, the mischievous butterfly swarm, all in unision darted towards the falling Rangers. Their un-countable numbers split into two groups, one to whisk away each of them into a featherfall.

“Let us go!” David struggled amongst their legionary grip. The pollen scented butterflies did not only assault him with their miniscule little claws but also of their overwhelming musks. Causing the Old Ranger to sneeze profusely.

Their bodies tumbled and jumbled across the sky until the swarms found themselves upon the middle of a great glade after a good distance away. After taking them to where they wish they can let them go safely, they dropped them down…

All into the mush-cushioned landing of white fluff in one great splat!

“AAAHH-CCHOOO!!!” David sneezed as he clawed his way out of the mushy white fluids that coated both himself and Isaiah. Those Butterflies somehow triggered something deep inside him…

As he removed the white stuff from his eyes, David realized that the mysterious object tasted surprisingly sweet… something milky... something like icing.

“NO!” cried out a new voice. “They ruined the cake!” A man of auburn crown leaped from his chair in outrage, spilling his mug of golden beer beside him. He wore a leather tunic and overcoat of a nobly rich red with silver outlining.

The two Rangers found themselves surrounded by a myriad of many strange folks. Beings mutated to that tested the sanities of taxidermists and exploratory illustrators in toga’s as whiter than anyone in the world could bleach them. They were followed by a golden crowned yet black-eyed woman of knife-pointed ears dressed in nothing less than a sultry set of lingerie. Speaking of knives, sitting opposite of her was an hulking juggernaut whose armor walked the fine line behind a darkly knight and a barbaric champion. With his swords-crowned great helm, weapons tarred in ashes fused to make in a facsimile of a battle worn crown, the juggernaut observed David and Isaiah sternly with his masterly gaze. But that one wasn’t the only Monarch on the table, but sitting across David’s eyes was a woman who may as well call herself, the Queen of the Butterflies with her regal-sized wings unfurled behind her and a wisp-like dress that left little to the imagination of what she hid beneath to rival the lingerie wearing blonde who sat near her. And perhaps the only reasonably dressed individual in all of this menagerie is a mug-holding young man who wailed about his Cake being ruined. His curly hair of auburn toppings and loosened strings along his leather attires emitted a laid-back aura on his jaunty choices of attire.

“Of all the things you can cry about Cayden… it’s this? Your Cake? A Cake?!” the Armored Man scolded the mundane looking man with the Auburn hair. He may have been adorned in a crown-like helmet made of blades yet his voice boomed unequivocally. “Ti’s a miracle of you is even here in the first place!” he pummeled the table his heavy-handed gauntlet.

“Oh, calm yourself Gorum dearie.” the alluring knife-eared blonde attempted to console the Armored Man. “I know Cayden worked so hard to make this Cake for Desna’s new guests for this soiree of hers. Don’t make him upset!”

“Shut up Calistria!” eyes flared with fire upon Gorum’s war-torn visage. “And you! I don’t know you… Intruders? More Invaders brought forth from the Cataclysm?” the armored entity pointed his sword upon David and Isaiah, a blade searing with fire and fury.

“Gorum! Calistria! Cayden!” the Butterfly woman yelled. “Be at ease! These, ‘invaders’ ARE my guests.” She calmly addressed. A soft smile glowed upon her lips as the queen-like woman beckoned them.

“Them?!” the Armored Man, the Sultry Blonde and the Auburn-haired Reveler turned to the Butterfly Woman in surprised unison. “You would want THEM?!”

“Forgive the tumultuous welcoming… but please sit down! You are welcome here. I prepared all of this for you!” She smiled. “I am Desna, the Song of the Spheres.” The Butterfly Woman introduced herself with a welcoming albeit for the Ranger, a very unnerving smile. The likes of which he typically associates with three kinds of people, Psychopaths, Cultists and Psychopathic Cultists.

“How can I trust you?” David growled suspiciously at Desna. “Who, What the hell are you all?” he asked them all.

“To many… even for the likes of you would call us ‘Gods’ but to ourselves… you can just call us… ‘Outsiders’.” Desna answered.

“Gods? God? What? Ah what the hell is going on’ere?” Isaiah shook his head.

“Hello! Strangers! Can you at least sit right now? Your dirty butts are on the cake I made. And funny…” the Auburn-haired Cayden grabbed their attention. “Did I or did I not put Strawberry Jam on the Cake?” he tickled his balding chin.

“Cailean, that’s Blood…” Gorum pointed at the crimson strands that tainted the white icing of the former cake sourced by the cuts David had gathered earlier.

“NO! It's ruined!” Cayden howled as the heavenly treat eroded before him.

“You need to stop drinking AND cooking whenever we hold these parties again, Cayden Cailean.” Gorum chastised him.

“That is RICH coming from the Goddess of Fornication!” Gorum crossed his arms with an authoritative snarl.

“And Vengeance!” Calistria pulled up her corset up to her bust and corrected the Armored Warrior. “Oh do I have to demonstrate again to a brute like you why they call me ‘the Savored Sting’?” she dilly dallied with a knife around her index finger in a subtle display of her hidden thorns beneath her voluptuous demeanor.

“Please everyone! Denizens of Elysium! You are going to ruin our chances of us propositioning these two Otherworlders.” Desna stood in attention and fluttered her wings of her incessant table guests. A displacement of her displeasure was enough to silence their bickering.

“Propositioning? What is this all about… I remembered an explosion… then blank… and… and…” David sputtered about, his head still ringing from all of this sudden madness that fell upon him.

“Thief!” yelled the voice of the Treant that the Ranger had plucked his arm out from earlier.

“Gwyned! Oh, heavens, what are you doing here so far from the Springs?” Cayden Cailean asked the animated tree man.

The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

“That Stranger there not only stole my arm! He beated me with it!” the Treant threw an accusatory finger upon David.

“You beat a Treant with his own arm?” Gorum’s gaze turned to David. “That… that is glorious of you! Perhaps this insane plan of Desna might be interesting after all!” he beamed approvingly.

“Oh, sweetie…” Desna cooed the Treant. “David… that is your name is it not? The one with the vulgar set of teeth is Isaiah too? Can you please give Gwyned his arm back?” the Butterfly Woman gently requested.

“I have no reason to trust you… or any of you for all I care.” David pulled himself and Isaiah off the table as they wiped off the Cake Icing from the bodies.

“Would you trust me if I give you back this in return?” Desna bargained as she bestowed on a velvet box David’s Pip Boy. “Quite an interesting contraption is it not?” she purred.

The Ranger didn’t even notice until now that his Pip Boy, a one of a kind find he had managed to scavenge many years ago was missing from his wrists. But still, this sit down with these mysterious beings was still alarming his instincts that this could be some kind of elaborate ruse of sorts, but couldn’t muster enough cognition to figure out what this Desna and the rest of the denizens of Elysium truly want of them.

“Gonna need more than that to convince me!” he dismissed the being. “But thank you.”

“Then perhaps this should!” Desna stepped forward and in a blink of an eye, she had glided over to David, her grand height of majestic difference easily towering over him and held his arm.

Panic struck David as he readied to fight for his life, raising the severed Treant’s Branch like a club only for a soothing bright light to engulf the wounded arm that Desna grasped. The Butterfly Woman’s grip wasn’t a grip at all… more of a gentle if loving caress as the wounds that lay opened before him sewn themselves back together.

“H-how?” David’s eyes widened in astonishment on the now unblemished skin that cleansed his body of all damage.

“Elysium is a place of nurturing, care and laughter. I do not tolerate harm both accidental, self-inflicted nor… be given to one of its denizens.” Desna held out her other harm expectantly towards David’s Treant Branch Club. “Gwyned asks that he have this back. May I?” she gently asked.

“Fine…I am listenin’.” David reluctantly opened up on the Song of Spheres.

He and Isaiah quietly took together two seats next to Desna as the gathering of these strange beings settled themselves back at the grand banquet table. Gwyned promptly took back his arm and fused it back together on the severed part of his body before quietly begging his leave.

“Y-Ye… Yee say you wanna prop---po-sis’hun us righ’?” Isaiah’s cake smothered mouth haphazardly asked Desna.

“I will be answering any important questions of yours here within this moment… but the task I have for you all must be done in haste.” Desna took a deep breath and began her speech.

“I am listening then.” David nodded.

“You and your world have been… for lack of any simpler way of saying… calamitously conjoined with the world of Golarion. A world that is deeply of interest to all of us here in Elysium.”

“Very-very-very violently I may add!” Cayden Cailean added.

“Our world… conjoined? Meaning… uh…?” David pressed.

“Fused.” Desna answered. “Your world amalgamated, came together oh so suddenly with Golarion, our own world that it had caused a cataclysm not only in their but also the Outer Realms of the Heavens and Hells that surround our plane.”

“I know this is hard to understand, but what Desna is trying to say is…” Calistria attempted to abridge the sophisticated speech of the Butterfly Woman only to be interrupted by Gorum.

“Both your worlds and our worlds went to the proverbial dung-heap!”

“You mean ‘Shit’ sir?” David asked.

“Yes… what my fellow Gods have spoken.” Desna nodded. “Do forgive me… but the Damage by this cataclysm has been harsh upon all of us.” A bereaved breath emitted out of her mouth as she placed her quivering hand upon her breast.

“What kind of damage are we talking about?” David inquired. “Are you saying our worlds have combined?”

“Our worlds, right? Places? Home?” Isaiah pecked. “Is Ma safe? Is Steel Town doin’ alright?” he quivered fearfully.

“America, Europe, Asia, Africa? Do they sound familiar with you?” Desna replied with a question.

David shuddered; they were the names of the great land masses that the Old World had called themselves once before.

“Their scattered peoples and their lands now lay loose and roam below us in Golarion. This Cataclysm...” Desna explained. “But the Outer Spheres, one of which is Elysium of which we now stand upon, lay wounded and so are others.”

“What is an Outer Sphere?” David asked.

“Of Nine Planes of Existence of the Great Beyond from your Material Plane. They keep the fabric of reality of the Material Plane affixed and in order… before the Cataclysm.” Desna answered. “Several cycles ago, a great burning sphere tore through two of these Outer Spheres in between the vacuum of the Astral Plane that separates us from the Material and Inner Spheres. Inner Sphere being what is…”

“Can you just get to the point?” David rushed along.

“The Cataclysm wounded the Material Fabric of the World and Magic has run out of control on the Material Plane of Golarion… of which your Planet of Earth is contributing to this chaos.” Desna summarized.

“I thought you are all Gods here?” David sighed stressfully on the incoming information. “Fix it!”

“That is where the problem lies…” Desna sadly remarked. “You see, we Gods of the Outer Planes have… Domains… areas where we have control over. I am the Goddess of Dreams, Travelling and Luck.”

“Cayden Cailean!” the Auburn-haired man said. “I may not look like a ‘God’ like everyone here… but if your looking for a great time… I hold all the best parties.”

“Oh please, your low-brow tumbles do not compare to my gatherings!” the Blonde Goddess snobbishly dismissed him. “I am Calistria, the Savored Sting. Goddess of Trickery, Lust and Revenge.”

“And let me guess… the big guy in the armor?” David pointed to Gorum. “War? Just a wild guess.” He snarked.

“A Clever Warrior.” Gorum nodded acknowledgingly.

“Well then, where’s the God of Magic or whoever is in charge of fixing Material Planes and all?” David asked.

“And therein lies our problem. Hence why I summoned you all here.” Desna sadly informed them. “The one you speak of, of whom I mourn greatly for is Nethys, the All-Seeing Eye and God of Magic has been dead for these past cycles. Remnants of his corpse, his powers, still draw breath, yet without its master, the Mana run wild in his absence. Nethys demise, the catalyst of what brought us here together. A crossover of unlikeliest of happenings… yet alas! Here we are… discussing of how we must deal with this crisis.”

“We speak of Astral Spirals tearing cities asunder, Shadowfell Fog and Choking Mist burning fields to dust, Leylines being bemoaned in absolute pain. Much I find some misery breeds company… and anger… even my greatest of heralds have their limits!” Calistria spoke forth, her voice heaving into a faint.

“Basically, stuff that shouldn’t be happening, is happening! And we both don’t like any of this shite.” Cayden Cailean explained. “My followers are going to run dry if they can’t even harvest some wheat for the Beer in Peace!” he sadly looked at his flagon of beer that now had emptied of content.

“So why bring us to this? Why make me and Ice here help you?” David asked.

“Your reputation precedes you… Your kind are… quite a sight to behold.” Desna opened her hands and tallied her fingers from left to right. “One is that of your resilience that you Desert Rangers in the face of such terrifying odds. Secondly, help those who are helpless as best as you can, approaching every time you hitch yourselves upon a crossroads from its merits and only its merits alone. Free of any predisposed favoritism. Thirdly, and it’s quite a spectacle to be honest just knowing of it for me and the rest of the Azatas’ here that you have a reputation of causing a ruckus, chaos and all other sorts of upheaves no matter where you go in your quests to build --- to build some kind of resemblance of peace and goodness from your world. Colorado, California… and of course Arizona.” She recounted with a solemn smile that gently allayed the Ranger’s intrigues.

“I am still not so sure of WHY should we help you? Hell… HOW can we help you? You only just got me and Isaiah right now.” David questioned back.

“For one, if this Cataclysm continues to sunder Golarion and Earth below us right now… then both worlds will be lost! Everything we hold dear shall be turned to dust… scattered about to the void! Not unless you can mend those remnants of Nethys’ corpse that have afflicted upon the world.”

“No! We can’t let this happen Dave! We gotta do it.” Isaiah turned to his senior.

“Still a tall order ma’am… a VERY tall order!” David fretted. “Why can’t you get your followers to ‘mend’ this shit of yours?”

“The crass of you!” Calistria snobbed. “No wonder your world was left to the likes of him.” She loosely muttered.

“The Cataclysm has… shackled some of our abilities and divine fonts to our followers. Although some were able to access their worshippers and perform their duties just better than others such as some of the Angels from Heaven… us Azatas’ here in Elysium has… how do we say this… grabbed the shorter end of the stick?” Desna then handed David on his palm a lavender stone that showed brilliance “This stone came from the corpse of an old acquaintance of mine. He claimed to be the Prince of all the Astrals… of those who used to keep the old Order of things before this catastrophe. I… we… we had some of our differences but… he would have wished I gave a part of him to you. Use this stone, to mend those Wounds that now lay scattered at the world below. The more it repairs, the more I can be able to send more of these Stones to further heal our Golarion and your Earth.” The Song of Spheres spared a moment of silence before returning her smile back to David.

“If I were you, you should start with the smaller ones and then work your way up to the bigger ones…. Baby Steps?” Cayden Cailean mellowly leaned over the table, helping himself with the mushy remains of what is left of the unadulterated white cake he had made earlier.

“I am thinking I am getting it now… The more I help you the more you can help me help you more?” David nodded. “But what's in it for us though? After we are all done with this shit? What do we get in return? This isn’t some simple patrol trip you are making us do.”

“I have known of your exploits, Rangers, the things you had to do to survive in your harsh world. I can easily sympathize.” Desna placed her hand on her heart. “Once you have repaired the fractures from Nethys’ Fall I can promise the restoration of your world from its sickness.”

Desna then hovered her hand over a bright green flame of faerie fire. It sparked not of searing heat, but of youthful vigor. It was a small orb, yet David and Isaiah could feel its reinvigoration rain down on their bodies by their closeness to it alone.

“This before you is the Seed of Elysium, a sprouting Panacea, a cure that is being slowly made whole. It contains a sliver of Elysium you see before you. Lush, abundant, free and thriving in all of its beauty. It will reinvigorate both of our worlds from their plights. The Cataclysm of magics for us, the maladies that poisoned your world from its terrible war. These ‘Bombs’ of yours you call them? As if it never happened.”

“You aren’t joking?” Isaiah gulped. “Ri-i-ighh’?” his tongue throbbed for confirmation of what Desna was hearing.

“I do not, but alas, this seed requires nourishment.” Desna let forth a solemn smile beneath her anxious plan of hers. “It will require the Aid I seek to ask of you for it to grow in power so it may bloom.”

“So let me guess ma’am. We fix those ‘wounds’ of yours that ‘Seed o’alease-yum’ gonna be able to be powerful enough to fix all of this shit?” Isaiah asked.

“The Seed will siphon a part of the magic you have managed to mend wherever you may find it run amok from whilst the rest shall return to the Elemental Planes where they came from. With enough power siphoned, I will be able to implant this seed to fully amend the Cataclysm that had conjoined our worlds together so violently.” Desna answered.

A means to cure the Poisoned Earth, the Wasteland? Desna chuckled blithely on their doubt.

“This is still too hard to believe… how can I trust you first of all?” David addressed the table of deities.

“I had healed your wounds have I not?” Desna responded. “I can simply just let you all go now if you want to decline. But you Rangers always try to take a chance on everything do you not? Even a small, possible, tiniest chance that you can find a way to solve this conundrum would you take it? I offer you something in return for your skills in surviving and fighting such beastly lands. And look at you now, pondering what to do now that you all just stumbled upon Elysium like confused tykes. If I send you down below to Golarion right now, you wouldn’t be able to last much without my aid… or any aid as much matter, not when these magicks run amok since this calamitous conjunction of ours continues to ago uncheck?” she reasoned with them.

“Okay, we will play along with this… not like we got much of a choice at the moment.” David sighed and shrugged his arms as he answered Desna.

“They’ll help us? They’ll actually help us!” Cayden Cailean leaped for joy

“Well… I could see some more interesting sights now… too with these Otherworlders.” Calistria chuckled, caressing her lithely bee-patterned whip.

“Fight bravely. I will gaze upon your coming battles with eager anticipation.” Gorum slightly bowed in acknowledgement.

“Well then where can we begin? We’ll be practically on our own when we get out there. Hey! Since you’re a ‘goddess’ or whatever… you got like maybe we can have one of your followers to at least guide us along when get out there?”

“She betta’nt bite though, most Cultists I know weren’t the nicest of folks… no offense.” David huffed.

“Of course, I’ve spoken to one of my Spherewalkers to aid you. I can see her dreams resting upon the ruins of an old but once great city called Katheer. Meet her there. She should be able to point you to the right direction. Follow my guiding star to your destination… I will be watching you with Elysium’s Gaze and my fascination with you. That, and I know of more of your Kind that once you explain this plight of ours shall surely aid you. Here take one of my little ones with you as a gift from me.” Desna lulled their ears, The goddess allowed forth one of her ocean-blue butterflies to accompany David onto his shoulder.

Of which he promptly sneezed involuntarily…

He would have swatted that little bugger off his shoulder if it weren’t the passing mention of Desna about the

“So, you want me and Ice here to be your clean-up crew?” David shrugged. “I have done weirder shit than this… but I guess I don’t really get much of a choice right now. So how do you exactly want me to ‘mend’ these wounds?”

“My magic is able to put objects and my own kind within Golarion but not powerful enough to bring anything out until some of the rampant magics in the world can be restored.” Desna stood up and walked forward to open a Dimensional Door into the amalgamated Golarion and Earth.

“Damn David! Sure, we can’t stay for some of the treats… it looks pretty sweet!” Isaiah protested whilst haphazardly grabbing as many of the Banquet food as he could from the table into his pockets.

“Before you go.” Desna halted them just before they were about to enter the Dimensional Door. “Have you not forgotten your sword?” She handed him his old Marksman Rifle back to him. Followed by a few clips of the appropriate 12.7-millimeter ammunition.

“How?” the Old Ranger wondered.

“Let us say… us denizens of Elysium aren’t all just about sunshine and flowers. Sometimes, we too can be just as capable of violence… when we have to be.” She winked. “Now off you go!”

“Good luck!” Cayden Cailean “And you owe me a Cake as tall as Lord Sword Head here!”

“You really should stop cooking drunk Cailean… You’re just one mishap away from lighting the kitchen on fire.” Gorum once more chastised him.

The Rangers, their blessings in hand bid a farewell as they entered the Dimensional Door, off to their upcoming new adventure in the now amalgamated Golarion-Earth.

[-]

“Could have sent us down more softly! I think I got sand in my pants!” David spat out the loose sand that suddenly came into his tongue as the two Rangers landed upon a great dune as their Dimensional Doorway journey ended. Landing on the Material World upon the sun-baked sands of this region of Golarion-Earth, the two Rangers fought through the desert heat to regain their bearings. “We need to find some water quick. I don’t know if we can handle this sun.”

“A roof too.” Isaiah loomed over the horizon. “Hey tha’se star that pretty fairy lady showed us righ’?” he pointed to the Polaris-ine bright gem that decorated the amethyst sky over the dunes.

“Yeah… wait… oh fuck I should have asked that Butterfly Lady how far is the journey from here to Ka… Kat… whatever the Star is supposed to take us.” David contented himself to recall what the Goddesss words on his head.

David pondered on his task now and what the Goddess Desna spoke to him earlier. Maybe they could find the others, the rest of the Desert Rangers or more of their people in the Golarion if the Goddess is to be believed. They are probably just as confused as them but with a bit of an explanation they can count on the other Rangers, the NCR and the Brotherhood to pitch in on this endeavor. That and if they can connect the dots between the other Gods they met plus Desna’s own followers to be reunited and reorganized, they too could help fix this mess they all find themselves in. It was perhaps the most unusual of ways of trying to fix a problem, reuniting physical gods of flesh, sight and touch to their followers, then what else is new?

But then there was Dr. Commander Cold Iron…

“Hey look over there! Some kind of… house over there...” Isaiah pointed out to the distance, breaking David’s meditation.

That bastard will have to wait…

Situating across their eyes, was a square-shaped structure boxed atop of a commanding cliffside. A singular sanctuary amongst these sandy wastes. With night slowly falling upon them, they couldn’t afford to be caught on its frigid kisses, not in the clothes they wear at least.

“I guess it’s worth a look.” David holstered his Marksman Rifle by his shoulder and together they walked the structure.

One hopes that David the best-case scenario they can expect some hospitality from whatever folks that may be there if any. Worst case its abandoned. Either way, he just hopes that he could at least have a moment to absorb all of this turnover of fate he and the Rookie had gotten themselves into.

After a brief walk, with the looming house getting closer and closer, amongst the distance, David spotted a rushing dust cloud heading straight towards them followed by the gradual rumbling of thundering hooves.

“Isaiah twelve’o clock!” David knelt down.

The Rookie followed as the oncoming dust clouds began to encircle them. Amongst its thunder, the Rangers heard the faint neighs of steeds followed by the unsheathing of blades. Their robes were of alabaster white with golden threads adorning sacredly amongst their lamellar armor. They were some kind of Outriders perhaps? If they were mere bandits however, now would have been the time to strike now but they only seem to vulture around them in their cantabrian encirclement.

“Man yadhhab hunak?” one of the Outriders spoke in a foreign tongue.

“Hey I mean no harm!”

“Min 'ayi balad 'anti?” the same Outrider dismounted from his horse, his curved sword still at hand and approached David and Isaiah. “Eamaluk fi Khamsin 'alays kadhalika? ant jasus!”

“Was’dey sayin?” Isaiah fearfully asked David. The Rookie, fearful of the Outrider’s unknown intentions readies to aim his crossbow at the approaching Golarionite.

“I don’t know… just know sudden movements. Do what they say… right now. We are not in Texas no more…” David reluctantly gave his judgement to him. It was perhaps the worst possible advice he could have thought of right now against such alien hosts who surrounded from every corner.

Isaiah lowered his Crossbow as the Outrider now came only one meter away from the two of them.

“Astahabahum 'iilaa alqaleat liliastijwabi.” The dismounted Outrider yelled to his compatriots as if he was ordering them.

Before David and Isaiah realized what was about to happen to them, coils of golden chains wrapped around them. Like Snakes enwrapping their prey, the Outriders bound them to their steeds, confiscating their weapons before speeding off in captivity towards the fortress.

“Dave! What do we do?” Isaiah panicked.

“Stay calm, we can’t show them any weaknesses. I can get us ou--- mmmppphh!” the Veteran Ranger attempted to reassure him only for another of the magical coils to gag his mouth shut.

“Yajib 'an yasmatahum” the Leader Outrider nodded. “Autlub min almubtadiiyn altaeamul maeahum fi alwaqt alhalii. Aunzur 'iidha kan bi'iimkanihim alhusul ealaa 'ayi 'iijabat minhuma. yajib 'an nastaeida lituqus alsalaa.” He ordered one of his minions.

“Altaw'am Chelassi? Tutoria we Tomos? Dhat mara Marsaa.” The Outrider bowed his head and obeyed as he dragged the captive Rangers away to the great structure.

Getting past the gate, It was much larger than he had discerned from such an initially far off observation. The structure had a battlement with armed guards and armories stacked readily outside to stare upon the great beyond. It was to the Rangers Horror that this was in all likelihood they stumbled upon some kind of fortress filled by some militant nomads who took no kindly to strangers intruding upon their land. The fortress however, despite its attempts to keep a martial appearance, had its wear and tear. Ruined walls of crumbling stone to such a degree that half of the ramparts were not safe to stand upon let alone to provide a safe overwatch to. That and there were not enough braziers or any other discernible areas of light that one can use to see through the darkness of the upcoming night. It was a fortress just waiting to get ransacked if it weren’t for the redoubling efforts of these white robed Outriders in keeping dominion over.

Overlooking the Fortress beyond the otherside of the cliff’s beyond were tents that housed incensed smoked homes for this locale. This was also complemented along with the apparatuses to house animals of burden and for husbandry. A small if surprisingly wholesome community of nomads was assembled here on the grandfatherly protection of the Fortress above them.

Before the light escaped his eyes before entering the Fortress’ Underground, David saw in the distance a flag of what this structure’s allegiance was to: a Winged and golden Ankh as resplendent, serene and bright as the robes of these Desert Outriders snow white robes.

Bright as the Unconquered Sun.