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Khorasan

(Badly weakened, Khorasan has 5 HP and 10 Mana.)

Being a mage of some considerable power, Khorasan had experienced, and seen almost all the wonders the world had to offer him. He had visited worlds far from Coroleya, and had gazed upon the true majesty of the universe. But none of that in his opinion had compared to the strength and resilience of spirit he had born witness to in the 6th Legion.

He had thought himself a visitor, a guest of this world, taking what he needed to nourish his body. But after the slaughter at the gap, he had seen true courage, bravery, and a purity of heart that had staggered him. Not from just one race, but from all races who still sought to do good in this world. And it was why he had felt such guilt at having to leave them behind. The magic he had relied upon ever since he was a child, too weak to handle the flow of energies that coursed through him. His magic like most magic was derived from power that was a part of the world around him, whereas the darker energies were found further below the surface, the difference literally between light and dark.

Groaning at the wound in his side that had reopened on the ride east, he took courage from the sacrifice of those left behind, and urged his dun mare into a gallop, hooves clattering against the brown brick road, and gritted his teeth in a snarl. The thought that other races did this on a daily occurrence was an anathema to him. Although admittedly without sufficient mana, he was better off on horseback than on foot.

Still at the back of his mind, Khorasan had always thought it odd that so many were willing to commit themselves to such discomfort, not only for themselves, but for their noble steeds, when he sensed something ahead of him. A shift in the wind, the sense of something not right with the world, and slowed down to a trot. The creature that appeared on the side of the road, a thing of shadow and mist that stroked the air with smoke like fingers, and sang, "soft and sweet, sweet as meat, how I'd like to eat your feet. Toast them, roast them, eat them raw. I don't care anymore."

The creature that was formed from mist, stared at him with hungry red eyes, and continued to sing, it's voice smooth as silk and sharp as a razor. A denizen of the Darker Plane, it was meant to act as a guardian for the gap between life and death, but instead preyed on those with magical abilities, feeding on their souls like parasites. No, worse than parasites they left nothing behind, and brought nothing but pain.

Face a mask of stone as he tried to hide his fear, he asked, "what do you want from me, Keeper."

The fog that swirled around it, shifting in color, until Khorasan thought he could see the demon inside, it's frail body made up of four arms, when it vanished back into mist, it's voice becoming a harsh rasp. "We hunger!"

Hands instinctively lifted to begin weaving a protective seal, Khorasan knew he was in no condition to fight, and thought perhaps there was another way. Keepers, like most beings of the Darker Plane, had their own set of rules that they strictly followed, and those rules could be used against them. From what he could remember, each of the rules were linked in some way, and varied from night and day, and yet he could recall most of them.

What do you do?

Choice 1. Try to use your wits?

Choice 2. Attempt to flee?

Choice 3. Fight?