Warning: this page may contain
SPOILERS
for the quest Children of Mah.
It was easy enough uncovering the source of his hastened degradation. The tower before him dominated Freneskae's horizon and was certainly an awesome sight to behold. But there was something else that captured Ptolemos' attention like nothing ever before...
It was Mah, an elder god, and she was dying.
This alone should have broken him, mind and spirit. The mere existence of Mah meant much and more for one whom refused to believe the old legends. Mah... Mother. Creator and destroyer. This was without a shadow of a doubt the second most troubling revelation that graced Ptolemos during his journey to Freneskae (the first being his realization that he'd lost his supply of candy along the way). Suffice it to say that his mood, much like the taste in his mouth, was rather foul. To think it all began with his master's poor choice to return to the Godless, and now this. He was stuck on a dead world, slowly dying with a fading elder god for company and nothing sweet to suck on.
Oh, the unfairness of it all.
"Ptolemos." The sudden interruption of his thoughts nearly sent Ptolemos tumbling from his slate perch. It was quite fortunate that his diminutive size afforded him no small amount of stability. It would never do to address your equals at knee height after all. Neither would losing your cool in the face of an elder god whose existence you'd vehemently dismissed for ages. Such were his justifications, of course, and his alone. Ptolemos cleared his throat. "Kemses. You've returned."
Kemses, indeed. The thought of working together with his old ally and recent rival seemed preposterous. That was before they'd both felt the sudden drain on their energies, even more so than either of them had ever suffered before. Something was obviously amiss. It was, however, the former Zamorakian loyalist that approached Ptolemos about the issue; to 'bury the hatchet' as humans were like to say. The irony was not lost on him. Ptolemos knew better than anyone just how much effort it took to bury a hatchet, especially when in flesh. Even now, after all the events leading up to that moment, Ptolemos could still feel a phantom pain where his right hand used to be.
"Ptolemos." Kemses repeated. His expression and the solemnity of his voice were disconcerting. That did not bode well. "Our suspicions are confirmed. The Empty Lord is returned." The shock must not have registered on his face for the skeletal warrior continued unabated. "The Mahjarrat now gather before the tower, and there is more." Those were not the words Ptolemos wished to hear. But ignoring the reality of their situation was ill-advised, and so he gave a quick nod of affirmation and listened with the hope that this Zaros was just another one of Sliske's twisted games.
Alas, it was not to be. Ptolemos found Kemses' recount of Zamorak's appearance and defeat as outlandish as any fairy tale, although one look at Mah was enough to make him keep these reservations to himself. But then, as they almost always do for him, things went from bad to worse.
The world began to shake with such ferocity that Ptolemos lost his balance and fell from his perch. Fortunately Kemses caught him, an act that wounded his pride more than any fall could his health. "It's just as the Empty Lord foretold." Kemses' words were calm, but his voice betrayed his concern and wonder. "Mother Mah stirs." It truly was a pity that Ptolemos could not gloat over his ally's apprehension; between managing his own fear and his humiliation at being held like a defenseless babe, there was simply no time.
"Then you must act now lest we succumb to her draining our powers or are both laid waste alongside the rest of this world." There was an authoritative air about Ptolemos, or so he fancied, and his words were spoken so as to brook no argument from Kemses. "You must go now and participate in this ritual as best you can using whatever means you have at your disposal. Mah's power will be vast. Take as much as you can. The Mahjarrat will not notice amid this chaos, surely." A lie, perhaps, but what choice did they have?
"To what end am I to collect this power?" Even with the very real promise of power beyond mortal comprehension, Kemses finds a way to ruin it all with his incessant need for clarification. But with the looming threat of complete and utter annihilation, Ptolemos had to oblige him. It was the least he could do.
"Our people are the dregs of Mah's divine descent." His voice was resonant and unwavering. That was a surprise. "The gods have forgotten us, and the Mahjarrat ignore us. But we are more than Freneskaen detritus. Take her power, Kemses, and grant our true kin greatness and immortality that a god like Zaros or Zamorak could never provide them. That is my command."
"But what of you, Ptolemos?" This was one question too many. What did he not grasp about their situation? He could not stress it enough: there was simply no time for a discussion! Or maybe there is...
"I mean to confront Her, Kemses. Perhaps I can delay her awakening long enough so that this ritual can succeed. It has to. It may seem madness to even attempt such a thing but it must be done. Of that, I'm sure." For once since they'd first met and began working together four years ago, Kemses was silent. It'd never been an easy thing reading him, what with his fleshless face, but his lack of heartfelt acquiescence conveyed enough.
"I will do as you say and collect this power." Oh, how wonderful. It was like Kemses to ignore the whole 'saving the rest of our people' bit. Yet it must suffice. "Good luck against Mother Mah, Ptolemos. You will need it."
"Yes, well...thank you." Uncomfortable silence filled the void between them. Ptolemos was eager to see his ally off and quickly, but there was some things that had to be said when one was this close to eternal oblivion. "You were a capable ally in the past, Kemses, and I hope you prosper as all our people should." Certainly not the most inspiring farewell, but he was making the best of his very serious situation. Kemses gave Ptolemos a quick squeeze before setting him down gently.
In the span of a few seconds he was gone, the magic from his teleportation spell warping the view of the tower beyond and making it dominate even more of the sky than it already was. Ptolemos sighed at the sight. Why must fate make a mockery of his height so close to the end?
"Here I thought he'd never leave." That voice...
"You shouldn't be here, Rosaline." It was more an observation than anything. Freneskae was both too dangerous and impossible a place for her to be. Then again, it was he who'd taught her how to survive through even the worst the multiverse had to offer. That was something to take pride in. "I imagine you heard everything."
"I heard enough." She reached for something on her belt. "Here. You dropped this outside the World Gate." No, it couldn't be...
It was.
Sweet, sweet succor!
"The Godless are undeserving of you, my master. Truly." His bag of candy was considerably lighter than it'd been before his journey began, but Ptolemos was familiar with the disadvantages of having a sweet tooth. For returning his prized supply Rosaline could have as many fondants as she desired. He wasn't a fan of mint anyway. "One such as I can only have so much bombast before his courage begans to abandon him. This gift would sweeten even the most fatalistic of hearts." Ptolemos popped a caramel cup inside his mouth so as to better emphasize his point.
"So you're still going to face that elder...whatever." Was that skepticism he detected?
"Of course. I'm a Dream of my word." Neither Zamorak nor Zaros could take the spotlight from him now. The name 'Ptolemos' would be eponymous with 'savior' in the language of his kin after this day. Unfortunate that he wouldn't be around to see it, more's the pity.
"You won't survive." Unlikely, yes. However, the void couldn't contain him. Could an elder god? He figured the odds were against him. Yet fortune favors the foolish, and it certainly favors him, as proven by the sudden rush of energy around them. Ptolemos knew what it meant, could feel the confirmation in the pit of his stomach.
Mah is dead.
"What was that?" Rosaline Eloise Haines, as oblivious as ever. Here they were, in the presence of something momentous, and she couldn't even sense it. Mah, the elder god that had created his race eons ago, was suddenly no more. Such an event was incredible, inconceivable, and...
Kemses. Ptolemos could no longer feel his companion's presence. Could he have escaped Freneskae, or was he found and slain by someone or something else? If alive, had he a portion of Mah's energy? That much was unclear. It meant little now. Ptolemos could feel the Mahjarrat nearby, engorged by the ritual that was Zaros' design. The pull on his energy was gone as well. That meant there was hope for his people after all.
"The elder god Mah is dead. My kin are free." Rosaline seemed to understand. He was grateful for that much. The Dreams of Mah would survive this day. Ptolemos had seen it through, Zamorak and Zaros be damned. In spite of his victory, though, something felt off. Perhaps it was merely his elation at not having to confront an elder god. Yet such success was rare for him and deserving of candy. Why not? He spat out the remains of the caramel cup and went for a handful of purple sweets.
Oh.
Ptolemos was seized by panic after the initial shock of watching his candy bag pass through his hand to land at his feet. It must be Mah. She was a vengeful creator and knew he'd never worshiped her like his people had long ago. This was an act of divine retribution. One maddening thought after another possessed him. The lure of the rifts, a dragonkin with yellow, gleaming eyes...
It wasn't a very painful process, being unraveled from existence. True, the timing was atrocious and left something to be desired. Somewhere a familiar voice was nagging him. Just a moment longer. There was something he had to say.
It was over. Ptolemos was gone, his last words echoing inside her head...and more. The memories of a Mahjarrat, his ancient knowledge and power that would soon be hers, and hers alone. Yet there was more for Rosaline on this dying world beyond the warm corpse of an elder god. Something Ptolemos saw before it was too late. Opportunity for those that could reach out and take it...