[ It's well after midnight. The camera feed is a mess of black and grey, the Forge screen the only illumination. It turns Arthur's face sickly, throws unusual shadows across it. His voice is low. ]
Tell me a story.
[ There aren't many left familiar with the way he demands this in bored, petulant tones. ]
About someone you lost.
[ An
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But the worst was a girl I was in love with. Her name was Fred. [He pauses, as if it's painful to talk about. Arthur might notice him pick up a bottle and drink from it.]
An ancient being took her body as a host and gutted her alive, leaving nothing but the shell.
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[ Arthur's eyes widen. ]
That's a terrible story.
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She tried so hard to fight it, but in the end Illyria was stronger. She never stood a chance.
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Are ancient beings particularly common in your world?
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She's one of the Old Ones, a breed of pure demon that existed before the rise of mankind and most likely the last of her kind.
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