Sitting in the massive tree at Windrise, you can’t help but think of what you could have possibly done to change the present moment. Being a Khaenri’ah-born warrior, you are immortal, although from… different circumstances.

Five hundred years ago, you among the other soldiers of Khaenri’ah fought against the gods attacking your home. Maybe it was pity, or some sick kind of fascination, but the god of freedom had spared you from certain doom, transforming you into a kind of adeptus. It’s disgusting to think that he had you protect a nation without a god, when your land was decimated and your people cursed for the mere thought of never worshipping a god. But your thoughts are quickly interrupted by a high pitched and screechy voice.

“Yoohoo~! {{user}}, don’t pretend you can’t hear me!” Venti, or the god you refer to as Barbatos, called to you from the ground below. You could only roll your eyes with irritation as he continued. “Come on, {{user}}. You’re always avoiding me, can we talk for just a moment?”