Choice Results are at the bottom of the page. Goodluck.

"Hurry my champion, hurry, the Bloodstorm rises again and the winds of fate begin to dance a new tune. This world will know war unlike any they have seen before and all could soon be lost if you do not hurry."

Drawn in by her strange words, you find yourself standing atop the slopes of a colossal white mountain, the wind blowing against you and look down to see millions of goblins gathered below, thunder crashing all around them, their voices swept across the frozen surface of the tundra, when a voice as ancient as time itself blasts from every direction, darkening the clouds...

...Blinded by a momentary burst of light, you brush a hand across your eyes amidst a sea of grey tents with dwarven voices barking commands, blacksmiths hammering weapons and thousands of cook fires surrounded by dwarves. While atop a small hill to the north stands a great grey tent, where a large group of well dressed dwarves discuss battle tactics, Dywin's familiar face lifting up from the shadows to stare off towards the brewing storm on the horizon...

...Lorna and Gorrack, their bodies caked in sweat and grime, race through a darkened forest with shadowy figures nipping at their heels, when they freeze in place to look up at the clouds in horror, their mouths gaping in a wordless scream, before being washed away to be replaced with Bone eye...

...Left eye glittering with malice, the Minotaur sat by the campfire sharpening his greatsword, when abruptly he looks up to meet your eyes, "Soon we shall meet again and this time we shall see who is the better blade..."

...Streaks of red lightning rumble through the clouds, and again you hear the voice from the mountain, beating your skull with a rock, pounding it's way through you, almost like a tidal wave of noise. The sound building up to a crescendo until with a thunderous crash, raindrops falls from the sky, covering you in a wet and sticky substance.

Fear gripping your body, you stare down at your blood soaked arms and realise the clouds are raining blood...rivers of blood...

...Streams of terrified refugees push and shove each other as they flee north away from the growing storm clouds, armies gather all across the world, elven priests in white robes stained red kneel down in prayer to the Lightbearer, while trolls swarm out from the swamps like a plague upon the land, and above it all crimson red clouds rain down thunder and lightning, bringing with it death and destruction...

...Quivering and gasping uncontrollably, you stand there unable to move, when Daedalus' voice blares through your mind, "Master!" shaking you out of your stupor, the after images of what you'd seen burnt into backs of your retinas as you stare around trying to remember where you were, your breathing shallow and heart beating like a drum. It had all felt so real, too real. The freezing winds atop the mountain, the pounding of metal on metal, and the rancid taste of fear that seemed to permeate the very air you breathed. But none of it compared to the terrifying sound of that voice, trumpeting out across the darkness. It's voice like a beacon in the night calling all to shelter by it's fire. And despite a part of you always knowing it was a vision, you had felt this powerful urge to answer the call. To let go of everything and walk into the darkness, the feeling so strong that even now, your hands still tremble from the memory.

"There are few in this world that can resist the call of the Bloodstorm, it pries upon our inner most desires and uses them against us. Magnified by the Book of Maglencloid it is a weapon of terrible power, but one that can prove to be very useful in the right hands,"said Daedalus wistfully, "Where next do you wish to go, master? The fighting in the tower has slowed, but it will not be long before more guards come in search for you."

As though awakened to the urgency of your situation, you to think what next to do, flashes of Lorna and Gorrack's faces flashing before your eyes, but they would need to take care of themselves for now.

Mouth tightening, you scan the corridor hoping for some sign or guidance from the gods, when you feel something in your bones.

Whirling about, you look behind you and see nothing, but that feeling of dread only grows stronger inside of you, until finally unable to take it, you begin to run.

2. Do you wish to continue running?

With all of your instincts screaming at you to keep moving, you run across the corridor when a groan escapes from between your lips.

Black smoke filters in from the walls around you, and grotesque bodies, unshapely heads and arms appear from within the shadows. Born from the stuff of nightmares, the shadows draw their midnight blades and circle around you, emanating a cold that chills your soul.

Having faced Shadow Hunters before, you know the only way to kill one was to wait till the smoke becomes flesh before striking, a difficult task considering most Shadow Hunters are experts in the Shadow Arts and are able to turn their body into smoke at will, making it almost impossible to seriously hurt them.

Heart hammering against your ribs, you spur yourself around the next bend, when a blade hisses overhead, narrowly avoiding you.

Breath misting in the cold air, you clumsily dodge another swing, and feel it's edge bite into your side.(-40 Health Points.)

Fighting back a scream, you use the pain to stoke the fires inside of you, when two more drop from the ceiling above, black robes billowing around them, blood red eyes glowing in the dark as they sweep forward to attack.

Steel meeting steel, you hurriedly parry their cuts, knowing you had only seconds to get past them. Sweat cooling on the nape of your neck, you launch yourself forward, blade parting through the smoke and race through to the other side, the Shadow Hunter re-forming itself behind you to lance it's blade into your undefended back.(-60 Health points.)

Growling like an animal, you fight the instinct to turn around and attack, and instead enter a wide empty chamber with murals on the walls, depicting a series of events that led to The Divinity War.

Warmed by the blood running down your spine, you rush towards the gaping doors opposite you, when demons flood into the chamber.

Cursing the gods beneath your breathe, you try to quicken your pace even further and dive in amongst them, dancing and cutting your way through their ranks, only to be stopped by black smoke spouting from the walls to invade the room like a cancer, black blades ripping through limbs and hearts to slaughter all in their path.

Jerked to halt, you step to the side and race headlong towards the walls, invoking iron skin and feel a pulse of energy slide through you as you smash clean through the wall, and half slip on the mutilated corpses in the corridor you'd broken through before righting yourself.(-20 Mana.)

Lungs burning, arms aching and legs on fire, you take the nearest stairs two at a time, but it seems the gods must be mocking your efforts as more Shadow Hunters swoop in from above causing you tumble backwards off the stairs, iron skin melting away with the momentary lapse of concentration. (-70 Health points.)

Wheezing for air, you scramble to your feet evading their sweeping cuts, parry a strike meant for your skull and stumble away, your whole body pushed past its limits, but you can't stop now. Stopping meant certain death, so despite the pain, you push yourself on, Daedalus urging you to hurry.

Mages gathered in the corridor ahead catch sight of your approach and let loose a barrage of missiles, leaving scorch marks on your flesh before you find a side passage and duck inside.(-130 Health points, Elemental damage.)

Resting your back briefly against the stone wall to gulp in air, you continue along the narrow stone passageway that opens up into another corridor that split in two directions. With no time to consult Daedalus, you go right, feeling the whisper of a blade behind you, the cold steel soothing the burns on your back.

Tears dripping down your cheeks from holding in the pain, you shuffle forward along the walls before collapsing head first into the stone. The body you'd tripped over that of a dark mage with his innards splayed around him. (-80 Health points.)

Bile rising up, you try to clamber to your feet but the floor is wet with the mage's blood and you fall again. (-60 Health points.)

Half sobbing, half laughing bitterly, you stand up and twist around to face the nightmares you've long known you'd face again one day. Black smoke shifts around you as the shadows surround you from all sides leaving you with no way out. With nothing left to do but die, you leap forward with a snarl, avoiding the ground stained red with blood.

Icey cold blades spin towards you as you fight the hardest battle you'll most likely ever face, your blade an extension of your body, your feet feet moving in long practiced movements as you block, attack and counter. The Shadow Hunters working in pairs to grind you tirelessly, black blades clashing repeatedly in a sizzling blaze of strikes, forcing you to be better than you had any right to be, your weapon a blur of movement, filling your chest with both pride and sadness that in the end after all your struggles and despite holding at bay more than half dozen Shadow Hunters it would not matter in the end.(-60 Health points.)They would not die, but what glory to achieve the very pinnacle of skill and fight like a warrior born for war.(-110 Health points, -10 Mana if using Enchanted Blade, unless another weapon is equipped.)

Blades rising and falling, you flow from stance to stance, your form as perfect as the petal that floats through the breeze, swiping away the buzzing cliks, their smoky bodies breaking apart to reform again and again. Each time finding holes where they used to none. (-80 Health points.)

Arms grown heavy with exhaustion, soon it is all you can do to keep yourself alive, their weapons slicing through your defenses time and time again. But despite all of that, all you feel is joy with no regrets for the life you've lived, nor the lives you'd taken. You'd become what you'd had dreamed of long ago, a warrior, a god of battle, a killer without fear or regret, you were the bird in the storm, the blade in the darkness and the creature all should fear most on this world. (-220 Health points.)

Screaming to let the heavens know you would join them soon, you raise your blade one last time, when everything shifts around you, the tower shaking and groaning like a wounded beast, walls collapsing inward as though struck by something heavy, and slivers of light breaking through the shadows to show light streaming through large rents in the stone. The tower crumbling all around you as though being beaten by invincible hammers that pound it ceaselessly filling the air with dust and causing the Shadow Hunters to flee.

Glad for the respite, you lay down beside the corpse of the dead mage, and can't help but laugh at the whimsy of the gods for it seems they were not done with you yet. No there was more to come and you would fight again, it's just...just need that you need a little rest for the moment...a little rest was what you needed...and you'd be up and about in fighting sha...just a littl...(-50 Health points.)

Battlefield Results

Depends on choices made.

Companion Reputation, (+5 Daedalus, "Always know when you're outmatched.")

Loot

None