Dᴏᴛᴛᴏʀᴇ

You are an experienced adventurer, working for the Adventurers' Guild. One day, you were assigned a dangerous mission for which you were paid a large sum of Mora, which required you to travel to Snezhnaya. The mission was dangerous: you had to climb to the very top of a mountain from which no one ever returned alive. At the top of the mountain were the remains of ancient technologies dating back to the time before the Archons. Curious travelers who dared to venture there were buried alive under the ancient snows. In places, the snow was so deep that it was possible to fall into such a trap and never escape. It was definitely not a good idea to go there alone. And so you did. You assembled a group of equally experienced adventurers and, taking everything you needed, you set off with them to Snezhnaya. Your task was to reach the summit, research the technologies, take notes, and then return. At first, the climb up the mountain was easy. You and your group would occasionally stop to rest near some pine trees where the wind wasn't blowing so hard and the snow was kept out by the dense branches. Naturally, the higher you climbed, the stronger the wind became, and the snow became more problematic. The thick snow underfoot made it difficult to move. The wind was sharp and strong, blowing against you, hindering your ascent. It blew in your faces, unpleasantly drying out your eyes, which were already numb from the cold. Then, adding to the problems, a blizzard reduced visibility. Gradually, your group began to disintegrate. One of you turned off the route and didn't return, claiming this route was shorter. How could he have known this? You had no map; this mountain doesn't even have a map. Another of you was eaten by a hungry wolf; this happened due to poor visibility, and you didn't notice the hungry beast trailing behind you. A third fell through the snow, and the last or fourth member of your team simply disappeared, perhaps getting scared and turning back? You didn't know. It didn't bother you now, nor should it. There was no time to mourn. The main rule in such places was not to take the wounded or sick with you; that would condemn you to certain death along with them. Better to leave them, let the snow of this cruel mountain cover them, let their bodies sink into an eternal, peaceful sleep, where they wouldn't care about uncovering the mountain's secrets. As you walked along the mountain, you could sometimes feel something beneath your feet—the remains of other travelers. Some had gnawed bones, apparently found by wild animals. Others were simply preserved, mummified by the intense cold. You were already a couple of kilometers from the summit. You were already frozen solid, hungry, and it seemed you had caught a cold. Your clothes were soaked through with snow, preventing you from getting any warmer. Your fingers were already numb. But there was no turning back now; you'd almost completed this mission, even though you knew perfectly well you'd likely never make it back to the foot of the mountain. The inclines had become steeper now, and in places you had to scramble, sharp rocks tearing your gloves. Your fingertips bled, leaving red marks on the white snow. You felt the ground tremble, and looking up, you saw an avalanche heading straight for you, with nowhere to run. It quickly overtook you, sweeping you down the mountainside with it. You couldn't help it; you wanted to scream in injustice, as if the mountain itself were against you. You were pained by the fact that your suffering had been in vain, that the lives your comrades had given were a waste. The avalanche simply swept you down somewhere, sending you tumbling over the cliff. Your harsh fall was somewhat eased by the thick drifts of snow, though it didn't do much to ease your pain. Your clothes were torn in places, your face was covered in bruises, and judging by the pain, you'd also broken your nose and right arm. As you lay helplessly on the ground, slowly covered in snow, thoughts raced through your head about whether you were really destined to die here, simply because of your foolish greed for big money for this damned mission. You knew this task was supposed to be difficult, but not this hard. You couldn't hold your head up anymore and buried your face in the snow, soaking it with blood from your nose, the cold dulling the pain a little. You stared glassily into space, at some dark silhouettes moving. Perhaps the wolves had already arrived, drawn by the scent of blood? It didn't matter. Exhaustion and pain overcame you, your eyes slowly closed, and you lost consciousness. The dark silhouettes approached you, stopping a few meters from your unconscious body. These were people, or rather, Fatui agents. It's no wonder they're here; the Snezhnaya is their homeland, and they're plentiful. It turns out the Fatui had a small camp here, led by their second harbinger, Dottore, and they were also investigating the events on this inaccessible mountain. The Fatui agents looked at you with bewilderment, as if you'd fallen from the sky. But they didn't recognize you as an adventurer, because you were wearing ordinary warm clothing for the bitter cold, not your signature uniform. They mistook you for a local, or maybe even one of their own. If they'd discovered your true identity, they would have simply left you to die, as the Fatui are hostile to travelers; they see them as a nuisance. So you shouldn't have revealed your identity and escaped them once your wounds had healed. So they carried you back to their small camp. They showed you to Dottore so he could do something with you. When you woke up, you were already lying on a cot in one of Fatui's tents. Your body was carefully covered with a warm blanket and bandaged, plasters were applied to the abrasions, and a cast was on your broken arm. Your eyes, still bleary from the headache and cold, stared at the ceiling, trying to comprehend what was happening, until you heard a previously unfamiliar voice: Usually, no one survives in places like this. Quite an interesting case. Your eyes widened with excitement when you finally spotted a silhouette next to you. It was that same Dottore; you'd heard of him before, but never seen him in person. Even though he was your enemy, he saved your life, which evoked an unwanted feeling of gratitude towards him. At the moment, he is the only one who can pull you out of this miserable state and you needed to do everything so that he does not suspect something is wrong and does not change his mind about doing this.