StrongBear

A man, one of which his times of youth have long since surpassed him. A wanderer. The youngest between the great O'Rourke siblings, potentially the last one alive. Lachlan. Surely he was old and gray, his body frail as he eldest merely kept an eye on the aging man. What was thought to be a normal day in Azyln's garden, the mood quickly changes. A courier hand delivers a letter to the frail man. He's felt this feeling before, many times for that matter. First it was his sister, then his wife. . . Now finally his parents. Taken, gone. Sadly, he will never get the chance to speak nor see them again. All by doings of his own, he was never the same after his sister died, he wanted to leave the pain behind but it always found a way to follow him. By far, his father, Edwyn was his favorite parent. But his mother, Maerîl was the better cook. The last O'Rourke of a comeback generation, stands in his daughter's garden. Alone, but that was nothing new. Silently, the old man weeps for whom he's lost. For whom he'll never be able to speak to again. For all he does it utter a single phrase. "I'm sorry."

In due time, the deepest of wounds. . . . heal. As the news of the Nenar's passing spread like a wildfire, once he knew Arle was put back together and being watched, he'd slip of out a clinic and head deep into the surrounding Forrest, alone. With each step that Haldir took, each just as painful as the last, slowly did he find himself truly alone. It was eerily silent, no wind in the leaves and there weren't any critters about. The 'ame eventually collapses, knees driving into the soft mud bellow him. His blood soaked hands plant themselves into the ground in front of him, "They will have what's coming to them, for who ever has done this, they shall rue the day of which they have taken their first steps in this realm." His voice was soft but it was laced with anger and hatred, the emotions finding their release, something which was long over do. First it was one fist into the ground, followed by another and another, until his strikes has little to no force behind them. And then that's when the pain really started to set in - Haldir didn't just lose someone close, he lost someone that called him son, a mentor, someone he looked up. Nenar saved him and he kept his promise of staying on the path of light for Nen, he had grown tired of hurting those around him. She saved him. . . But he couldn't save her. "Reni, you're a good kid. Just miss guided, come to me when you're ready to change." "I will always love you, my son." "I swear, he has changed, I have seen to it. He is here to make better." "Take things easy with your sister, what you did to her wife, that'll take time to mend." "Don't be stupid, be smart like I know you are." "And one last thing, Haldir. Take care of Isilme, you know what will happen if you don't." "I love you, my son." Frozen in place, frozen in time, a calling sudden cuts through the silence. It was welcoming to him but a nightmare to others. He surrenders himself to the night sky and the moon. For a he was a man but he was also a beast, further disappearing into the Forrest, everyone has different ways to grieve the loss of someone they loved, but this one was different. Nenar kept Haldir held together, with her gone, there was only so much Arle could do by herself to keep him sane. But that will be an issue dealt with at a later time, for now, he drowns himself in his curse, leaving humanity behind.

"Lachie, ma said not to play on the stairs!" Thunk, thunk, thunk, thunk.... There he stood in the midst of chaos as the house was changed from something fruitful and full of life to sadness and mourning. His perpetual smile that he always carried was gone, for Lachlan knew what sadness was, but to have to deal with such first hand. Despite holding his head high as his sister would've wanted, the tear streaks down his cheeks paint a different story. He was her right hand and she was his left, their bond was truly something unforgettable as siblings. Lachlan was the witty, annoying younger brother, Naoise was the sweet, caring, tender older sister. They were two peas in a pod, even on occasion they'd take the time to match their wardrobe accordingly for the event. Even if Lachlan wanted to lose his voice, dare never to speak a word again, that just wasn't his place. He had to be there for his family, more than ever now. However, he kept his distance, he couldn't even handle the warmth of a hug from his wife nor his mother. He didn't just lose his sister, but he lost his best friend, the one person he could always turn too when he needed advice.

Growth is painful. Change is painful. But, nothing is as painful as staying stuck where you do not belong. There he sat, alone as always. Always something, always a conflict, it was never easy, endless possibilities, endless theories, endless questions. One after another, the endless torrent of the unknown. The ‘what ifs’. Should I stay? Should I return? Is this where I’m meant to be? There he sat, alone as always. The flame of a new kindling, the rekindling of an old flame. A dove. A cat. Two vastly different creatures, one who was able to spread its wings and fly compared to one who hunts the other, laying in wait, waiting for the time to strike. Hunter versus prey. But only one will prevail at the world's last light. The question asked - who is the victor? There he sat, alone as always. “Will you turn from them, again? Will you do what you did before? Will you hurt them? After everything they’ve done for you. You know you don’t belong with them, return to what you know is best.” - a voice foreign from the world creeps to the forefront of his mind, the conflict ever growing as each day passes, “Is this what you want? Or have you just created another facade of something you will truly never know?” There he sat, at the base of a tree, overlooking a familiar cove. “You won’t amount to anything, even the Gods shy away from you. You can feel the darkness, you can’t deny it, you can only hold it off until it becomes too much to bare.” The voice returns, drowning out the nature and life around. “You will be mine again, I will make sure of it. If not in this life then the one after. You can never run from the cold touch of the shadows of which you belong.” There he sat, alone as always, incoherent mutters responding to no one. “If this isn’t where you want me to be, then where is it? You’ve given no direction. I’m not lost, I’m not misguided. I’m confused. I feel like I’m living someone else's life. Is this mine? I lost everything but I was able to obtain it, again. The temptations you send, they don’t go unnoticed, the options are weighed then passed. It might seem like hesitation but it’s calculations. Picked apart to the very base. Things gained against those that might be lost. These are the lessons that you taught me.” Before he who sat alone, a figure pulls from the shadows. “You were given life, the world was in the palm of your hand. You tossed it aside in the same manner you did your family. So why not do it again? History has a way of repeating itself. Time and time again. We both know that it’s only a matter of time. Reni - you can’t keep running. It’s inevitable. You can only hold me at bay for so long.” Alone, as always. Perhaps this life he’s created was all in his head, the day to day just another figment of his imagination. Were those around him, just another voice in his head? Everything eventually just bleeds together. The fine line between real and imaginative grows ever more distorted as the moon rises and falls. The weaving and untangling, picking and pulling at the strings, trying to move but yet bound in place. Nowhere to go, no one to reach. Caught in the middle, between right and wrong, good and evil, lost and found. The path of redemption is no easy feat and those who say it is, only lie to themselves. As the cracks start to form, only so much can be done until piece by piece, everything starts to fall apart. Just as it did before.

As the 'ame lingers within the rafters of a busy tavern, the missive meets his pale gaze, over and over again he reads it before eventually coming to just stare at the names mentioned, slowly the noise below starts to become drowned by the voices in his head. The same phrase repeating, "You'll figure it out."

A certain son of a Paladin looks over the missive, almost torn. ". . .He said help but if the rumors are true, as a betting man, losing a bet is something I never do. Needs to be played smart and the acts of this, are far from it." He spoke while offering the missive to an animii bat, watching the creature take away the paper.

"The one who killed the queen wishes for an escape?" An amused chuckle turn to cackle escapes the former Prince, "Hear that Severn? Ahaha! The chains never break, she'll still end up in the Hells with the rest of us." Haldir utters towards the dead familiar which was nailed to a distant wall, returning to work while dwelling in his own madness.

The throne he sat in, the crown he wore - empty and broken A summons arrives, distance traveled, a meeting held. Many words spoken, the back and forth, the feeling of unease and dread filling the air. The man in question at the center of attention - a failure, one after another. Truths and lies mixing together, the world of the unknown slowly coming to light. His crown falters, the devious grin he once wore turns to shame and defeat. The smart Princeling, one so cunning and deceitful caught in his own web of lies. The man in question, one who turned away, the one who thought he fooled the world, all it took was one fatal misstep. Haldir. Twas a normal day or one apparent, tinkering in his lab as he usually does as of late, closed off from the world, unread mail piling up along with countless missives. Severn, his familiar, arrived with another bundle of letters, filling through before he voiced something of importance. A meeting. The only letter to meet his pale gaze, his brows furrow. He collects his belongings, packing his lab for the potential of a just in case. He summons two to travel with him, and they set off. Each city they passed, fear and dread pulled heavily over his countenance, even if they were normal occurrences of his day to day, something was different about such, it pulled him elsewhere. They arrive, he knocks. The conversation starts off with friendly banter, a brief moment of catch up. Then the mood shifts, the candles start to flicker, the light in the room dims. A few more words of a brief exchange. A solemn nod was given before he was forced in the center, all eyes, there and unseen, were on the DreadPrince. The hellish flame that once resided in the DreadPrince’s soul - was finally snuffed

Voices, these voices, I hear them, and when they talk I'll follow, I'll follow, I'll follow what they say. A deal has been struck; two lives spared, one taken. “Haldir, why are you here?” The familiar druidess inquires to the young ‘ame. “...I’m not sure” The rain never seemed to stop, just the constant pitter-patter of droplets hitting the rooftops, soaking the cloth between armor plates of the denizens of Numendil. Something was coming. The voices, the chaos. The voices started again, the ‘ame drowning out the world around him to focus on them. This time, the voices were different; they wanted something, something more than what Haldir is. “Guide the Princess. Stick close to her.” There was slight hesitation in his movements, scared? No—fearful; for this was no peasant, but one who could certainly cost him his head. Alas, the he follows the order given, finding the Princess, and sticking to her side. Then chaos erupted; first it was the dark mist creeping from the Kingswood, then those atop and below the battlement were met with horrid creatures, and the fight began. Conversation in the square continued, calming in a sense, keeping the woman’s focus, gaining her trust in such a brief time. As the fight poured into the square, the cultists were focused on those who were nearby, it was their time to escape. “Follow me.” He spoke under his breath. He takes the woman’s hand, guiding her through the fight, deeper into the city. Rounding a corner, then another—before coming to a location that was previously picked not by him, but by the other. The voices in the elf’s head drowned out the screams, the cries for help, the shouting. Another step of hesitation befell the 'ame while he continues forward, muttering beneath his breath, shaking his head. Suddenly, a bright flash of light erupts from before them, the ripping of a portal into the void to which they were both pulled into. The same sense as before, the falling, the weightlessness, abyss. “Wait, please.” He pleads. Strike after strike, piece by piece, he was struck down, over and over again. His breathing became labored and raspy, blood streaming from his nose and the corner of his maw, fighting to keep his head up. Surely this was going to end… but no, as the horror didn’t want death, it needed something. The Princess was binded and chained to the heart while the other bound and dragged away, forced to watch a ritual. “Save the Princess!” A voice shouts. Another fight erupts, those of Numendil followed, they needed to save their own. As chaos ensued, the ritual grew closer to its end, another portal of light ripping through the void. The world around Haldir grew cold, he lost the familiar feeling of eternal warmth and his vision grew distant, the sound of shouts turned to a ringing in his ears. He spares a brief glance to everything around before his head eventually falls, unconscious. He and the Princess were saved, taken…both alive but barely.

Deep within a cave unbeknownst to many, the Dreadprince suddenly wakens from his brief slumber, sweat rolling from his brow - "The first of five, more to follow." He spoke, his voice echoing off the cave walls, his gaze dancing around the shadows, "Always watching. Always listening. Never alone." He repeats over and over again, succumbing further into his own madness, his voice falling silent, just the constant twitching of his lips as the words continue.

Be at peace brother, whip it up in the kitchen and become an amazing chef. I will drag you into Overwatch matches though - you can't escape me!

Adrian, the friend who died many years ago, tackles the familiar man upon his entrance to the seven skies, "Aha! Finally you made it, we need to drink and banter like old times. It's been far too long."