Arial Meadowbloom

You'll be missed, Chi, I assure you. If you ever pop back online again, don't hesitate to let me know! It's been an honour to work by your side on Adunia as much as we did, and I think that even if our characters don't go down in history for it, they will be remembered by those who matter. Thanks for all the fun times and I wish you all the best in the future!
Peace be with you, iani.~ 

I have known Drone for, I daresay, the whole time I have been on LotC, and I could not have asked for a better person to learn to RP with. He's funny and knows how to RP with reason and meaning, all the best qualities in role-play, in my personal opinion. A very nice choice.  
+1. 

I've role-played with Candy for quite some time now. He is collected during RP and he plans his actions incredibly. His characters move with purpose, usually unknown at the time to everyone else. Only later, at a cleverly planned time, do we learn his true purposes. He's also a fantastic person OOC; calm, cool and collected. I highly approve. 
+1

He knows how to dance.
(Great  role-play, great in OOC.~)
+1. 

Somewhere in Thales, Arial Meadowbloom-Brae sobs uncontrollably, despite all of the comfort offered to her. She not only lost a father-like thing, a brother-ish person and one of, if not her, best friend, but a piece of herself with Elton (Beneton)'s passing. "May the Three w-welcome him with open arms!" she whimpered at his grave. 

Get your lawyer ready.

Here's a bit of a journal found floating in the wind. There is no name signed. 
Malinor, 13th of the First Seed. 

I don't know who they are or how they got here, but I think I like them.

I was just walking around Malinor, like any other day, when I passed the tailor's shop I heard some strange giggling. I turned around with a broad grin on my face, like I usually do, but I saw no one. No one! So I turned back to where I was going and kept walking.

A few paces later I heard the giggling again so I spun around once more and spoke with my most patient voice. "Who's there?"

Suddenly, a black-clothed, very well figured woman stepped out from behind one of the nearby trees. She had a pumpkin on her head. "One is scared?" she asked, smirking. I could tell by her voice she was laughing a little, even though I couldn't see her face. 

 "One is- no," I frowned, taking a step forwards and brushing some blue hair out of my face. "Is that gourd stuck on your head?" I motioned towards the pumpkin sphere that was atop her.

"Not at all," she said, staying where she was despite my advance. "One fancies pumpkins."

"One does, does she," I nodded slowly, gradually getting the hang of the girl's way of speaking.

"Yes, one does," she nodded, tilting her head as she looked at me. 

And I felt the weirdest thing. It was like I was being tickled.

I turned around once more, my hand completely around the hilt of my longsword, only to find another pumpkin-person, but this time obviously a male. I still don't know why they wore those pumpkins, even to this day.

I assumed he was the one who tickled me. "And.. you.. are?" I asked slowly, my sword slightly out of its sheath.

"One does not know," he said with a voice that suggested he was smiling beneath his round, orange mask. 

"Well, what's your name?"

"One's name is Pumpkineer."

"Pumpkineer," I nodded again, turning around to face the girl from before and back away from the pair of them so that they were both in my sight. "Yes, well, it's a pleasure to meet you two."

"One is scared!" the girl cackled. I tried to look at her face through the holes in her pumpkin but there only seemed to be darkness.

"One can tell," Pumpkineer agreed. I let my sword drop back down into its sheath as I dropped my hand to my side. 

"And what's your name?" I motioned to the girl.

"Pumpkiness," she giggled melodically. I wondered if I giggled like that. 

"Right... Well, it's been very nice meeting you.. ah.. Pumpkineer and Pumpkiness, but I should go- Van'ayla." I turned swiftly with a swish of my dress and strode off, leaving nothing but their giggles and laughter behind me. I don't think they followed me, but sometimes I feel like someone is about to tickle me again. And that laughter...

Yet they didn't even ask my name. 

Arial sits patiently as Hamish reads the theory aloud to her. "You know, ian, that makes a tad bit of sense. At least more sense than all these 'bleeding out' ideas. If we bleed someone out of their disease, then not only will they run out of blood, surely, but then the disease is free again too! Perhaps we should try 'vaccinations' on some people... But who?"

Race/Subrace: High Elf, Dedicant, Adunian, Meadowbloom-Brae

Arial sighs faintly, slipping a single piece of parchment between the end of the book and the pieces written by various people.
                Please take note that everything written in this book may not be factually correct.

                These memories are how Hanrahan Brae himself remembered them and they could

                possibly mis-represent characters in his life. Please do not base your judgement on

                any of the names mentioned here from this book. Peace be with you.

~+~

MORIGHAEN

~+~

- Chapter 14 -

Siobhan

"I still don't understand how

they did it. How is anyone so

stupid? So blind? Didn't they

know that was a child?

Didn't I know she was mine?"
Found on a burned piece of cloth.

 

            "Daddy!" Her voice squealed with delight, a tiny and high-pitched but never annoying squeak that constantly filled the Brae-Demones household. Siobhan.

            "Daddy," Selina grinned, mimicking her daughter's voice as she  walked with her, Siobhan's, hands in hers, Siobhan on her own two feet in front of her mother. Han looked up from what he was writing and a wide smile spread across his face. Hanrahan opened his arms to his daughter and she waddled over to him, breaking free of Selina's grasp. Siobhan stood well enough on her own, only touching the ground once to twice on her way to her father before falling into his arms.

            Han lifted Siobhan up high in the air as he stood up straight. She giggled again and clapped her hands like children do and Han kissed her nose. He had his own baby girl. He had his own wife. He had family.

            Later, Selina had to go out with someone for her work and Han was left to watch the child. "Don't let her out of your sight," Selina told him firmly. "Don't let her go."

            "Never!" Han said in the most adult-way he could, even though he was still a child at heart. "Never would Oi ever!"

            "Excellent," Selina smiled again, kissing Han before leaving. Han turned back to his daughter.

            "Wanna go an' play?" he asked with more excitement than Siobhan had.

            "Yes! Play!" she clapped her hands again, shuffling over to him once more and opening and closing her hands. Han understood the signal and picked Siobhan up into his arms, heading out the front door himself.

            They walked to a park not all that far from their house and Han set her down. The girl ran around on the soft, green grass, her father watching her with just as soft, green eyes. He chuckled when she fell, which made her laugh too and forget the pain.

            She eventually dragged Han into running around with her, and he played along as best as he could. "Look, a dragon!" he said as he faked surprise.

            Siobhan screamed in a playful way, pretending to unsheathe a sword, "You won't hurt mai daddy!" Han grinned wider than ever before, beaming at his child.

            After they defeated the 'dragon', found 'loot' and Siobhan became honorary Princess of the Park, Han was tired and sat against a tree trunk. "You go on and play, lass," he told Siobhan. "Daddy's right here."

            Siobhan nodded, her energy nowhere near depleted, and Han's mind drifted to other matters, his eyes getting heavy...

~+~

            "Get over here..."A gruff voice said, waking Han up from his nap. Muted screams made him cringe as he was instantly on his feet. He looked around frantically. "Siobhan!" he called, worry overcoming him.

            After a moment of silence, Han saw them:

            Two men, dressed all in black, were covering Siobhan's mouth as she squirmed and screamed into their gloves. She was easily a meter off the ground, her body far enough away from the men that her legs were not kicking them.

            Suddenly, another pair of gloved hands gripped Han's arms. "Say nothing and you can breathe freely," said a voice into Han's ear, and he did not dare to disobey. He was frozen with fear.

            The men lead Han and Siobhan into a small clearing in the town, a spike already set up with robes lazily sitting at the bottom. "Sit," Han was commanded, and he did so. He shook with fear of what was about to happen, now, and could only pray. Morighaen, save her.. Gronn, please let her live.. Thronn, kill these men..
            The two gloved men who had taken Han to the clearing sat next to him now, and they were both obviously poised to pounce if Han made any movement to get away.

            Siobhan, on the other hand, was guided up to the spike, and told to stand up against the spike. Her mouth was now covered with a fabric; her adorable, unforgettable voice muted once more. Her wrists were also bound behind her. She yelled and was crying streams, fountains of tears, but she walked to the spike, almost falling like she had done that morning when she was walking to her father. But now she was walking to her death.

            More men in black walked out from Morighaen-knows-where and picked up the rope from around Siobhan's ankles. They tied the rope securely around Siobhan's legs and middle, making sure that she could not get away.

            The man's unforgettable voice, the man who had shouted for Siobhan in the first place, now stood between Han and Siobhan, a crowd of men in black now surrounding them. There was absolutely no chance of escape.

            The man read something from a paper and Han had never hated paper so much. He had never hate ropes so much. He had never felt so much anger, hatred- he practically despised the space- the space between himself and Siobhan. He wanted so much to hold her, to feel her, to even hear her again, anything, anything at all...

            Someone walked out with a torch. Han could not tell who because he was being restrained to sit down by several men in black. "SIOBHAN!" he shouted to her, "DADDY IS HERE, SIOBHAN! COME TO DADDY!" He lost his breath quickly.

            The man with a torch walked dutifully towards the spike, Siobhan now being tied securely to it. "In the name of justice..." Han heard the man read from his paper.

            And the spike was lit.

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- Chapter 15 -

Oren Woes

"The sights were amazing: royals

in their true place, blood on my sword

and riots in the streets."
Found on a tattered piece of paper.

           

            He could not tell Selina. This was not her fight. This was not Siobhan's fight, either- after all, she was only six. She did not know what those men were going to do. She did not know what fire felt like.

            But now she knew what death felt like. She knew what it was like to feel nothing, to feel everything. And Hanrahan was left there.

            He was alone again.

            Hanrahan was now not even the same man when the assassins trained him, not even when he killed all the Mori. He was different- colder, darker, more reserved than ever before.

            Hanrahan acquired the weapons he was familiar with from the swordsman in town: two swords, an axe and a mace.  "It seems like you're starting a rebellion," the swordsman laughed, handing Han his newly bought weapons.

            "I am," Hanrahan said with all of the seriousness, perhaps even more, than he meant to. "They killed moi daughter so Oi'm going to kill 'em."

            And, in all truthfulness, that is how it started. They killed his daughter. So he was going to kill them. Simple enough.

            Word spread like fire around the town and eventually around the nation about Han's rebellion, and the people who were told were so into it, they rallied around Han's every word. When he raised an eyebrow, everyone else did too; when he raised a finger, everyone else did too; when Han raised his hand, everyone else did too; when Han raised his sword, everyone else sharpened it before raising theirs.

            Han's first decision was to kill the nobles. "They don' deserve te live," he growled in front of his trust-council. "They killed 'er, Oi'm going to kill 'em..."

            "Of course," the men said one at a time, nodding in honest approval. Han's eyes were a dark, dangerous green. They glinted in the candlelight.

            He said that killing the nobles was just as pleasing, if not more, than killing the Mori. He could not believe, at the time, what he was doing, but afterwards, he was glad he did it. "No more innocents gone," he justified to Godric Armas, one of his trust-council,  afterwards. "No more."

            "But that still doesn-" Godric started.

            "Ssssh," Hanrahan said in a drunken anger, stumbling back out of the cave where he was staying at the time. He grabbed a candle on his way out, grinning as he saw through the windows some of his comrades killing nobles. Han took the candle firmly into his hands and walked into the centre of town.

            He found the largest, most over-done, wooden house he could find. He kept a hand in front of the candlelight to keep it from going out. Once he had located such the house and had moved closer to it, Hanrahan tipped the candle towards a wooden wall of the home.

            It caught fire instantly.

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- Chapter 16 -

The Nature of the Beast

"I still feel the fur around me, the tail

behind me and the hunger inside of me."

Found on a piece of paper with wolf fur on it.

 

            It was raining, then. After the majority of the city had burned down. All the people who had once rallied around Hanrahan Brae were either exiled, executed or in jail at that very moment without trials. All because of Han. Because of him.

            Han pushed his palms against the muddy grass, standing up from underneath the tree that he fell asleep under. He muttered curses under his breath to the place he was sleeping that day, and to the fact that he was not smart enough. He did not know enough. He could not save them all. He did not save them all.

            As he walked through the town, Han considered stepping into the bar. By now, the bartender knew him by name and Han even had his own drink that he could ask for: the 'Regular'. Straight, Adunian Ale. But Han waved the thought away with a shake of his head. No... he thought to himself. I'm.. I'm done.

            Han walked all around town, inspecting the burned down buildings and the signs of lost lives. Because of him. He still could not believe it.

            Hanrahan walked all the way out of town, by himself. He did not mention anything to anyone and he felt he did not need to- or rather, he felt he could not. He roamed for hours, not knowing where he was going- and this seemed very common for him now, since he had done it multiple times throughout his still young, Adunian life.

            His walk eventually lead him into the Orcish desert. Lonely, depressed, sleep-deprived and slightly drunk, Han wandered into an Orcish Shaman's hut. He sat down heavily on a chair and a Shaman turned around to see him.

            "Ug," the Orc said, "Wut doos 'uman wunt?"

            Hanrahan paused for a long moment translating the slight Orcish accent into Common, then into his Northern language that he was raised on. "Oi want anythin' you have," Han says in a hollow voice, "ter get rid of t'e pain."

            The Orc suddenly grinned like a thick child. He clapped his hands together (which caused even Han to jump at the noise and force), and wandered further into the Hut for a few minutes before wandering back to where Han was and giving him instructions.

            Hanrahan could not tell what the Orc was exactly doing, but he did not exactly care, either. Han was ready for just about anything that the Orc could throw at him after willingly leaving his wife and dead daughter back in the city. Han closed his eyes and did what the Orc said.

            When he opened his eyes, a strange feeling rushed over him. It was very... simple. Very uncomplicated and primal. It was almost instincts. Han sniffed around the Shaman's hut for a moment before he saw it:

            His nose was farther out than it had been before. And there was grey fur around it. And he had the strangest feeling to lick his nose. He did.

            Hanrahan quickly looked around for the Shaman again and out his clumsiness, tripped over his new paws and landed sideways on the floor. Han scrambled to sit back up but was not able to, a tail now in the way.  He growled before howling at nothing and bounded out of the Shaman's hut, the Orc nowhere to be found.

            Even if he liked the feeling of the wind in his fur, Hanrahan was still a wolf. A Lur wolf. A seven-foot-tall wolf. One of the scariest animals to roam the lands where people could live. Lur wolves had a tendency to kill for pleasure and that is exactly what Han felt like doing.

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- Chapter 17 -

Princess

"My sister's hairstyles on me were no

comparison to this little jewel. I kept her

warm out of kindness... I didn't kill her for

 mercy. I don't regret it."

Found on another piece of paper with wolf fur

           

            He scampered  through all of the cities in the land now, disguised as- or rather, he was- a wolf. Selina could no longer recognise him, and for that, he stopped caring all together.

            He let his instincts take over. He raided villages harshly, biting anyone who was in his way because he was a seven-foot-tall wolf and nothing could have gotten in his way.

            On one particular morning, Hanrahan was trotting around the woods, looking for a frail animal to have for breakfast. He was being rather peaceful about it, considering the village he had just raided and practically eaten was now in ruins.

            Han walked around the forest with a light air about him, his green eyes scanning the leafs on the ground, acting both on instinct, thief's training and assassin training.

            Suddenly, something cried. Han stopped in his tracks, his ears perking up. It was a high-pitched cry, but not annoying. It was soft. And childish. Siobhan? No... Han stood still for a moment longer. The cry came once more and it sounded more like a child. Not like his Siobhan, but a baby girl all the same...

            Han ran around, silently, trying to find the child before she saw him. And there she was. Just standing there, in the middle of the forest, bawling. She looked lost. She looked scared. She looked alone.

            She looked alone.

            Han took a few steps towards the little girl and she stopped crying, her attention suddenly moving to the seven-foot-tall wolf that was inching towards her. The child did not react at all, not in any way, as she was far too young to understand what was going on.

            Han continued to move towards her, each step getting larger before he was standing right infront of her. She smiled and moved to pet him. Hanrahan tensed up once more. Why is she petting me? But he did not stop her. He thought she needed the comfort. So Han nudged her a little and curled around her, a pool of fur now surrounding the child.

            She was delighted. As Han looked closer and the child seemed to be dressed in attire that only royalty could afford. But she was still a baby. The girl giggled and clapped her hands, just like Siobhan used to.

            Han howled as loudly as he could. The child did not seem to mind the noise. When no one came into the forest after a moment, he howled again. This got people moving.

            After an hour or so of howling and waiting and howling and waiting, some guards came to take the girl to safety.

            Before bounding away, however, Hanrahan realised that the guards were for Oren. Orenian Guards.

             She was an Orenian Princess.

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- Chapter 18 -

Heart-rip

"I was just trying to protect

her; and of course, like

everything else that I've tried

to protect, she got away."

Found on a tear-stained page.

           

            Over the next few months, Hanrahan, still as a wolf, would visit the Orenian Princess, Sophia Horen. They would play together, usually outside. Han could run around for hours and not get tired, unlike the caretakers that were assigned to watch the child.

            Sophia's giggles would echo off of the stone in the castle and off of the trees outside, which made Han's ears perk up every time. Han would just sit there, listening to them for a moment. My Siobhan, he thought. She sounded just like that. But then Sophia would come running around a tree and pounce on Hanrahan, knocking the seven-foot-tall Lur wolf over slightly, but never pushing him over. Han would then howl in laughter and lick Sophia's face, bounding off once more for her to chase.

            Sophia also had a tendency to play dress-up. When ever Han's fur was dirtied, the young girl took great pride in not only washing his fur but also seeing how different coloured bows complimented his green eyes, his grey fur. She seemed to have all the bows in the world.

            Once, when they were just heading for the gates of the Horen's land, heading out into the forests, a guard stopped them.

            "What is that wolf doing with the Princess?" he growled, glaring at Hanrahan's outer shell.

            Sophia just looked up at the massive guard- at least massive from her perspective- and stayed silent. Han returned the glare to the guard, putting his tail on Sophia's shoulder protectively.

            "Get away from the Princess," the guard commanded. He took a large step forwards and unsheathed his sword in one swift movement, something Han had learned back in Assassin's training.

            Hanrahan growled at the armoured guard, but that was a mistake. The guard shouted for help. "A beast is attacking the Princess! All guards to their posts! Lock the gate, protect the King and Queen!"

            Han howled at the guard and his assembling men. They  closed in on him, the circle getting smaller and smaller until there was amour all around Hanrahan.

            There was no chance of escape by standing still. So he ran right through them.

            The men fell like jars over one another, crashing to the green grass, Hanrahan's vibrant green eyes staying straight ahead of himself as he tried not to trip on his way out.

            He found a staircase leading to the wall walk and he bounded up it as fast as he could. Reaching the top before any guards could get to their feet, Hanrahan made a leap off of the wall and out of the castle's boundaries, landing safely on the ground infront of the wall. All that was left was the sound of metal on metal, men trying to stand up, the utter silence of Sophia Horen, and the shouting guards.

            "And don't come back!"

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- Chapter 19 -

Leaving-Taking

"Who knew I took having hands for granted?"

          Found imprinted on a pair of gloves.

 

            After an uncounted amount of time of being a wolf, Hanrahan finally found the unknown cure. He stood up straight, his hands gripped his hilts once more and he could speak properly again.

            But of course, he still was not allowed to see Sophia Horen. He still could not go back and find Selina. Siobhan was still dead.

            But none of that phased him. He kept his head up straight, unlike ever before, and he kept it that way.

            At the time that Han became a man once more, there was talk that everyone was to migrate to a new land named 'Anthos'. People said that the streets were paved with gold, that the stars shined brighter and that the grass was greener. Naturally, everyone else believed it.

            And so, containing what little he had left, Hanrahan packed up everything he owned. All this axes, swords and maces; kilts and boots; drawings and flowers from his daughter; pictures of his wife; a single pink bow. He fit it all into just a few boxes, and got those onto one of the many ships.

            There were hundreds, perhaps thousands of all kinds of people of all races, some who knew Hanrahan, some who did not. The races were split up among themselves for the ships: Humans, Elves, Kha, Orcs, Dwarfs, and a few extra boats for the overflow. Hanrahan loaded onto one of them, which one he knows not, and took a seat.

            He was used to the rock and sway of boats, but most of the other passengers were not. Multiple people were clutching the sides of the boat for their lives, spilling their meals over into the endless blue sea. Han did his best to heal them.

            He also wrote in his journal. After all, when had all people of every race been on one caravan of ships going to one place besides these times when they were moving to new lands? It was an experience to remember, all the talking and noise. People laughed, cried; people danced, sicked; people worked, slept. It was both sides of one Mina on one ship, and Han never forgot it.

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- Chapter 20 -

New World

"The skies were brighter on that new

land, and I just couldn't tell why."

Found on a paper stained with blue watercolour.

 

            The boats docked. Hanrahan got off in his due time, carrying all of his belongings with him. He recounted everything he owned to make sure he had it all and started to walk on the new land of Anthos.

            He walked, like he had thousands of times before, to somewhere that he did not know. Everything he had packed into his boxes now seemed significantly heavier than they did before, but Han did not seem to mind. He was exploring now. Really, truly exploring.

            After walking for Morighaen-knows-how-long, Han came across a Dwarven hold. He walked around the walls and, after further inspection, he found an opening in the gate that someone had clearly just entered. Han followed, even if he could not see who had come in just before him.

            There were a handful of houses in front of him, and snow. Lots and lots of snow. Braemar snow. At least, he though, it seems like Braemar.

            Perhaps the person before him had gone into one of the houses, but whatever the case was, they were not there now, and Hanrahan was inside.     

            He found a few stone staircases and climbed them easily, taking two steps at a time despite all of the boxes on his back. Hanrahan's interest powered his energy level like never before. He felt close to something, on the verge of something, but what, he did not know.

            Once at the top of the stairs, Han entered yet another gate and, beyond that, he found his home.

            'Welcome to the nation of Adunia, approved by the Dwarven High King, Vaerhaven!'

            Adunia, Han thought. Adunia, Siobhan, my sisters, my brothers...

            Hanrahan dropped everything he had right then and there, sprinting around. "Hello?!" he shouted. "Oi'm here! Oi'm looking for te Adunians!"

            After getting in contact with what Adunians were left living in Vaerhaven, a breathtaking Dwarven city of tall building and large streets, Hanrahan set up his own tavern, 'Braemar Tavern'. He might have sold just average ale there, perhaps slightly better since it was Adunian-made and Adunian-sold, but the conversations in that tavern were priceless. It was the next Clan Hall, practically, of the Adunian nation. It is where everyone met every other Adunian, where they bonded, where they spoke about politics and where they made life-long friends.

            However, after raging war with other nations for countless years, the Dwarves could no longer account for the Adunians to be in Vaerhaven. So they sent them out. Every last one of them.

            "How could they jus' kick us oot like tha'?" Han frowned, carrying all of his boxes again. "How could they?"

            "I 'unno," shrugged another Adunian. "They jus' did."

            The Adunian Lord at the time, Lachlan Elendil, led the Adunians out of Vaerhaven. "My people," his voice echoed. "Oi know ye all like Vaerhaven a loot." A grumble of agreement followed this statement. Lachlan continued, "bu' we have ter go.  Luckily, Oi found a place close, so we can stay there an' plan our nex' move." The Adunians nodded hesitantly, unsure of where a half-breed race nation could go and still be as safe as they were under Dwarven protection. But in the end, they all moved to the new place with Lachlan, Hanrahan just behind the Lord himself.

            The Adunians followed Lachlan's plans and ended up setting up their new camp just behind the mountains that protected the Cloud Temple. They named it Dal'Cais.

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- Chapter 21 -

Maiden of Blue Hair

"Maybe it was the colour of her

hair, or maybe it was how her

voice sounded, but she was

someone I wanted to know."

Found on top of a pile of things left in Hanrahan's will. 

 

            After some time in the newly founded Dal'Cais, small shelters were built for the builders to stay in. Eventually, larger homes were built and even a few clan homes were constructed for what clans were still alive. There was, that time, Douglas, Wodesome, Marsh, Illych, Tarus, Brae, Campbell, Elendil, Blair and Armas. Each clan got their own hall, but over all, most people in Dal'Cais spent their time outside- walking around what small land they had claimed for their city as well as tending to the land there.

            The Brae clanhouse was located closer to the gates, complete with a welcoming office, a warm fireplace and the finest rugs. Anyone could walk into the Brae clanhouse and speak to Hanrahan Brae himself as he sat on his desk. They could talk about anything they wanted, anything at all.

~+~

            It was a warm, comfortable day during the Grand Harvest and everyone in Adunia was using their day for relaxing. The gate was wide open (because who would attack a city right next to the Cloud Temple?) and the guards were all in the tavern, having a go at each other and laughing all the same.

            A pale elf with strangely blonde-white hair and deep, assuring red eyes stepped through the gate. He wore all black clothing and light but strong armour on his shoulders and arms. His voice was kind and soft, his head turned to look behind him as he spoke. "Come on, it is just through here." He beckoned for the person behind him to come forwards and follow him. I did. I stepped through the gate, following my (at the time) fiancé, Aedan, with slight hesitation. I did not know where I was, except what he had told me: that the Adunians lived there and that they were nice. I trusted him, yes, but I still did not know where I was.

            As I held Aedan's hand, we walked straight through the middle of Dal'Cais, over to a home on the farther side from the Brae clanhouse. Hanrahan watched from his window as we did so. Since Aedan knew Lachlan on a personal level, we bought the house closest to the gate that was for sale and settled in. I stayed inside constantly while he went out and scouted the lands, studied them. I was not left home alone a lot, but Aedan did like to go on trips.

            As I cooked and cleaned, day in and day out, I hummed or spoke to some passerby through my open front door. But one day, when I had left the door closed, someone knocked.

            "Come in," I said, "it is open." Hanrahan opened the door.

            "Are ye Arial?" he asked, tilting his head a little as I turned to look at him.

            "I am, yes," I said, my Adunian accent not yet settling in.

            "Oi came ter talk te ye," he said, still standing outside. I smiled at him and motioned for him to come in and sit inside of my small but comfortable house.

            "Oh, yes, what is it?" I tilted my head back at him. "And would you like anything to eat? I have potatoes, carrots, and I just made some soup..." Hanrahan just laughed his hearty laugh, shaking his head a little. "No, no, thank ye, lass. No, Oi just came to chat."

            "About what?"

            "Anything."

~+~

            And that is how it started, really. Hanrahan just came into my home one day and asked how I was, how I liked Dal'Cais, how Aedan was, how my adopted daughters were and everything of the sort. That his how I knew I needed him and that is how I knew he would never leave me if he had the choice.

--~--~--~--~--~----~--~--~--~--~----~--~--~--~--~----~--~--~--~--~----~--~--

- Chapter 22 -

Family

"It always meant so much to

me. From Siobhan, to Selina,

 to my Siobhan, I knew and I

know I can't live without family."

Found on the back of a childish drawing of Han, Selina and Siobhan.

 

            Hanrahan always had a thing for adopting children. He always loved to care for someone else's child as much as his own, and they appreciated it just as much. Since Han heard the voices of everyone in Adunia at the time, he was in their favour, and as such, he could get as big of a house as he wanted. So he used the space.

            Over the time of him being in Dal'Cais, Hanrahan Brae adopted approximately fourteen children, all of which he remembered vividly, caringly, and longingly. He adopted any child of any race of any age who needed a home, and deemed them a Brae.

            Because of this, children ran around Adunia constantly. The laughter of children rang in the morning air, waking everyone up, and the soft sighs of children lulled everyone to sleep at night. The children were put to work sometimes, making the wheat supplies raise dramatically.

            Some boys and girls, too, enrolled in the Adunian army, and were trained either under Hanrahan or some of the Armas clansmen. Afterwards, every Brae knew how to wield a sword and bring in the crops.

            None of the Adunians minded the children. They all knew that the Adunian race was thinning, and by having a new generation rolling in with one of the original Adunians raising them, there was a new era on the way. Even if the kids running around Adunia were all different kinds of races, they still fit in just fine.

            Hanrahan also brought me into his family as not just an honorary Brae, but his sister. I had all the rights that he did, if not more, and I was considered part of the Brae clan (at least to him), and as such, I was also an Adunian. And to this day, I am still an Adunian, and a Brae- the Chieftess of Brae.

            Hanrahan spent his days in Dal'Cais in peace. No one liked to bother the  nation right near the Cloud Temple, so they never did. 

--~--~--~--~--~----~--~--~--~--~----~--~--~--~--~----~--~--~--~--~----~--~--

- Chapter 23 -

Movement

"That sky was so blue I

 just had to see more

before it turned red."

Found in a piece of cloth inside of one of Han's sheaths.

 

            And then they came. The Harbingers. The cold North. The nightmare of every child he kept during Dal'Cais, and even the nightmare of his Adunian people. The Harbingers did not exactly pose a threat to Adunia since it was so far from the North, but all the same, Han personally took part in their extinction. Or tried to.

            After the news spread that there was a threat coming from the icy planes, Hanrahan packed up a small bag to take with him, should he ever need it. And it turns out he did.

            And opportunity arose one day in Dal'Cais when a group of men, half who had just wandered into the city and half who actually lived there, decided that they were all going to walk to the North and find out about these Harbingers for themselves.

            This is my chance, Hanrahan thought, smiling to himself.

            "Wha's got ye all smug, Brae?" a clansman asked.

            "Nothin'!" Han said quickly, grinning even wider. "Let's go!"

            And so they did.

            They all moved into the new settlement of Ard'Kerrak, and from there, Han studied the Harbingers, especially how to protect his people from them. He found out ways to temporarily to stop them, ways to distract them and more, and wrote it all down in that leather-bound notebook that Dr. Huu had given him all those years ago.

            After a few months at Ard'Kerrak, Hanrahan moved all of Adunia up to the North, and everyone moved into an old White Rose base. The only thing stopping the Harbingers was a small wall and river, and we constantly got attacks. I personally did not mind, and I started working in the Clinic in the White Rose base. I rarely saw Han, as he started to travel all over the land to learn more and more about the Harbingers.

            He read books, interviewed people and watched during Harbinger battles in Adunia to study the creatures. He kept writing in his journal, as well.

            Months, maybe years later, Han deemed the Harbingers truly evil. He decided, finally, that they had to end somehow.

            But not only that they had to end, but that he had to end them. He could not let someone else finish his years' work on the Harbingers, and so he started staying farther away from me to keep me in the dark of his bigger, darker, master plan.

 

--~--~--~--~--~----~--~--~--~--~----~--~--~--~--~----~--~--~--~--~----~--~--

- Chapter 24 -

Dwindling light

"I might be frail and I might be

old, but it's not the life you

live that you remember,

it's the living in your life."

Found scribbled on an Adunian-printed, official paper.

 

            Even as Han got older, no one seemed to notice. He was still the good old Han who cared about orphans and fought for the freedoms of Adunia. But even so, he was aging.

            Some people tried to persuade Han that he was too old to do anything any more, but naturally, Han did not believe them. They told him that he should not go out as much, that he should spend what time he has left in the White Rose hold in Ard'Kerrak with his friends and family. Which he did. On occasion.

            Instead, Han kept going out like he always did. He continued to study the Harbingers even into his elder years, and somehow kept up the energy to do so. He was as enthusiastic as the youngest scientists on his adventures, and that took quite some years off of his appearance. But everyone knew he was old.

            I was working in the Clinic with Hanrahan's old friend Dr. Huu who went by the name of Elton at the time. Work was slow, since the Adunians either never fought or toughed out their injuries. Elton spent a lot of his time studying the land as well. Elton, by that time as well, had taught me all of his tips and tricks to healing people, so I could run the Clinic by myself when ever he went out.

            People came in and out of the Clinic on occasion. Some had broken arms, a simple cold, cuts and bruises- but only one person ever came in with poison. He stumbled into the Clinic, one hand clutched to the wall, the other swinging madly around for more support. "It's.. killin' me," Han stuttered as he made his way through the Clinic. "Teh pain, it's too much..."

            I ran over to Han's side as fast as I could, a few other Adunians in the room as well. I gave him support as I walked him over to a bed in the Infirmary. "What is it?" I said in a rushed, worried voice. "What is wrong?"

            "Poison," he growled as he sat down and nodded in thanks to me. "Poison."

            "Can I get you anything? Water, food, bandages..."

            "Nay. Nothin' can save me now." I went silent. I walked into the other room for a moment and fetched a glass of water before returning.

            "What hit you?" I asked in the calmest voice I could. I was mad, enraged, insane... Not to mention that Aedan was on a trip again.

            "Tha's not important," Han grunted, taking a sip of water. "Oi just wanted ter talk te ye..."

            "About what?"

            "Aboot our promise." I paused for a second. I made very little promises, since I never wanted to let anyone down. And I still do not make many promises, for that very same reason.

            "Which one?"

            "Teh one about me."

            "Oh." I was to keep Hanrahan's memories once he passed, and I was determined to keep that promise.

            "Yer not goin' ter." I narrowed my eyes at him.

            "What do you mean? Of course I am going to."

            "No, no, ye don' understand, lass," he frowned slightly, "Moi memories, the're too much for ye. An' I decided tha' I don' moind if no one has 'em."

            "Well, no, Han, just give them to me now, or... or when ever you think that poison is going to hit you..." I did not know how to get rid of poison back then, and Elton was out on another adventure. I knew, too, that we did not have any potion to cure poison in the Clinic; Elton would have had to improvise. But again, he was not even there.

            "No, Arial," Han smiled to me a little, "Jus' keep your innocent ways. It's too much for ye, Oi'd rather ye didn'." He winced in pain before standing up.

            Just at that moment, Meta Solaray, with his electric blue hair and blue eyes strode in. "Hello...?" his voice echoed. Hanrahan winced in pain again.

            "Meta," I growled.

            "What is it, Arial?" he asked, coming around the corner. He abruptly stopped at the sight of Han in pain. "Han?!"

            "Get oot of teh way, lad," Han grumbled, making his way away from both myself and Meta. "Oi'm going."

            "Where are you going?" I asked hesitantly, not exactly keen on having all three of the men I trusted being away at the same time.

            "Away," Han said curtly. "Good bye, Arial, Meta, and tell Elton goodbye too..."

            I frowned more, sensing something wrong in the air. "Why are you saying goodbye? Are you not coming back?" Han just smiled sadly, picking up a bag that was in the corner of the Clinic and leaving the room. He handed Meta a paper on the way out, which Meta put in his pocket, and he walked with such quickness that I doubted his poisoning. But he was poisoned. And he was leaving.

            "All right, bye!" Meta called after Han, not sensing anything wrong. "He'll be back," Meta winked. "I just know it."

            A few minutes later, someone walked in with a broken arm and that preoccupied the whole Clinic. After they were sorted with a new splint and sling, I sent the Adunian back out and told him to get some rest. I turned back to Meta who had stayed in the Clinic the whole time. "Where is Han?" I asked, since my mind had not swayed too far from him during the time I was helping the other Adunian.

            "What do you mean?" Meta asked, "He just left a few minutes ago, give him some alone time."

            "Meta," I hissed, my temper rising. "He was poisoned and he just left with a bag of Morighaen-knows-what." Meta took the piece of paper that Han had handed him out of his pocket and unfolded it, reading it. I tensed up.

            Now, I could not read Common, and I still cannot. So when Meta pulled out that paper, I did not know what to think. "What is it?" I asked in a taut voice. On the verge of breaking.

            "His.. will.." Meta breathed, clutching the paper.

--~--~--~--~--~----~--~--~--~--~----~--~--~--~--~----~--~--~--~--~----~--~--

- Chapter 25 -

Out with a bang

"Don't forget me."

Found written on a bit of Hanrahan's kilt.

 

            "What are you talking about?" I asked in a louder voice,  making it echo. I twitched slightly at my sensitive ears.

            "It's his will," Meta repeated in a more certain voice, but he seemed just as hesitant as I was. "It's all of his things, all of his good-byes."

            "HE'S GOING TO DIE?" I shouted. And even though I stood on the other end of the Clinic from Meta, he winced in pain, as though I had slapped him.

            "That's what it seems like."

            "AND YOU'RE JUST STANDING THERE?" I turned desperate. I looked around the Clinic and I gathered a clean flask of water, bandages and a splint, stuffing it all into my bag, "LET'S GO GET HIM!"

            "No," Meta breathed again. "We can't."

            "YES, WE CAN," I boomed back.

            "No, he doesn't want us to."

            "TO THE NETHER WITH WHAT HE WANTS," I screamed, "I AM SAVING HANRAHAN." And with that, I made a sprint outside of the Clinic.

            On the way through the gate, I passed by Elton, who shouted something at me that I did not hear. I kept running and noted at the fact that there was the sound of other people running behind me- Elton and Meta, and a few other Adunians who liked all the commotion.

            I ran all the way up to the North, straight to a Harbinger base. There was a ring of fire all around the base, the walls a threatening tall height, the edges of the walls particularly sharp. Only after I was inside of the base walls did I regain my senses and I heard the men behind me shouting.

            "DON'T GO IN THERE, ARIAL!"

            "THEY'RE GOING TO KILL YOU!"

            "SOMEONE STOP HER!"

            I ran faster now, and eventually reached the opening of the Harbinger castle, made completely of Netherrack and the kind of slow dirt that comes with it. I stopped as I saw the last bit of Han's kilt disappear into its depths. "HAN!" I shouted, handling the pain of all the noise, all the movement...       

            Arms were suddenly thrown around my waist, lifting me high up into the air. "Oh no you don't," the voice said, pulling me over his shoulder so I could not get out. "You're staying right here, with me," Elton said.

            "Let- me- go!" I started to pound my fists on his back, kicking my legs as hard as I could. The tough Doctor never let me go, and for that, I am forever grateful.

            "No, we're going back to the castle, we're getting you something to eat and we're going to talk it through," he said with such certainty that had it been any other situation, I would have shut up right then and there. But I did not.

            "LET- ME- GO!" I roared now. "I WANT- TO SAVE- HAN!" Elton started walking out of the Harbinger base with me over his shoulder, not responding. "LET ME GO, I SAID! LET ME GO, YOU DO NOT CONTROL ME!"

            "No," he said quietly. "But I care about you."

            He walked me all the way out of the walls of the base and we were not a few meters away from the complete Harbinger base before we heard it.

            The explosion.

            Everyone went silent. All the burning fire around the base did not compare to the silence that completely engulfed everyone around us. The falling Netherrack did not change the fact, either, that Hanrahan had just killed himself, along with the Harbinger's base. Fluttering just by Meta was a small piece of Hanrahan's kilt. He picked it up and put it in his bag, not letting anyone else have any piece of it.

            And that is when I screamed myself hoarse. "LET ME SEE HIM- HE CANNOT BE DEAD- FOR MORIGHAEN'S SAKE- FOR GRONN'S- THRONN'S- LET ME GO!"

            I think Elton cried then. I know I did.

~+~

Hanrahan smiled sadly, leaving the Clinic. He ran with what energy was left in him, carrying the bag of explosive on his arm. Please don't come for me, please don't... Someone have the right mind to stay away...

            Hanrahan kept moving along, though, never giving it a second thought. He had the route all the way to the Harbinger base memorised, and he followed his plans. He reached the large gate of the Harbinger base, inside of the walls, and walked in. 

            The inside of the Harbinger castle was a nightmare. There were torches which gave off less light than normal- perhaps because of all the darkness that naturally seemed to spawn inside of such a deadly place. The Harbinger's castle reeked of depression and danger, but that smell was all too normal to Han. He kept his head forwards, the bag of explosives close. He kept walking onwards, down the Harbinger's hall. He had mapped out the base from what people had told him and what he had heard Harbingers say before- he spent far too many nights in the darkness outside of the Harbinger base, listening to their conversations and planning the best and easiest way to get rid of them. Suicide seemed to be the only way.

            As he got closer to their Main room, the largest and most central room in the whole Netherrack castle, Han realised that there was absolutely no natural light streaming in. This, too, did not bother him because of his assassin training. The darkness was his home.

            Han kept his stride, even as faint screams could be heard from tortures downstairs and deaths happening upstairs. Not one Harbinger noticed him.

            He reached the Main room in due time. Hanrahan put down his back of explosives in the direct middle of the room, kneeling down next to it. He took out his flint and steel, holding it in his hands. He moved to light it before stopping-

            He put his hands together unintentionally, placing his head down over them in a prayer. Do not forget me, he prayed. Learn from my mistakes. Take pride in my triumphs. May Morighaen welcome me after this.

            And he lit the powder.

~+~

            A man came up to me not long after that. I was curled up in a ball in the Clinic where I had been working not a fortnight earlier. "Han," I cried over and over and over again. I hugged my knees tightly, ignoring any and all visitors I got. I ignored food and flowers, comforts and insults alike.

            "Arial," someone Adunian muttered to me. I still do not know who it was. "Take this." He slipped a necklace around my neck, one that I had never seen before, one that I would never be able to afford.

            It was a simple chain, big enough to be slipped over anyone's neck. The pendent, however, was uncarved and purple. It pulsed faintly as it was put on me. It was a soul stone.

            Hanrahan Brae was now tied to my soul. I was the last link he had to the mortal world, the last friend he ever trusted and the last Brae to live. We spoke constantly, day and night, in my head. He told me his memories, and I also had access to them, and vice versa. We were closer than friends, siblings- we were as close as any two beings could ever be. Perhaps closer than any two ever should be.

            And that is how I have stayed with Hanrahan Brae all these years. To you, he died some time in the First Seed when that Harbinger base exploded, but to me, he died during the Deep Cold, the 15th, specifically, many years later.

            That Deep Cold is when I decided it was time; that is when we both decided it was time. I climbed up a tall hill in the old Dal'Cais and threw the Han's soul stone down as hard as I could.

            It glided in the air for a long moment, shining in the moonlight for a second before it pelted towards the ground, with all of the will and faith that I had.

            It hit a stone, just as planned, and broke into thousands of pieces.

            You might know pain. But you do not know true pain until your soul is ripped from another's voluntarily; you do not know pain until you kill your own brother on purpose, with his consent; you do not know pain until you know you will never hear their voice again.

            My husband, Aedan, and I then cleaned up every last piece of Han's stone and buried it under a shelter of branches that we made together. I prayed over the pieces, crying, begging for Morighaen to welcome Hanrahan with open arms, to forgive all of his sins.

            I cried when he exploded, I cried while I threw the stone, I cried while I was truly burying him. I might have sobbed because I was killing my own family, but I cried mostly because of what Han had told me before he was finally silenced.

            "Don't forget me when I go."

--~--~--~--~--~----~--~--~--~--~----~--~--~--~--~----~--~--~--~--~----~--~--

As you finish, Arial smiles again. She looks as though she was watching you read this whole time, interested in your facial expressions, your eyes sweeping the page and anything you might have said during your reading. She almost meets your gaze as you look up. Arial pushes a peacock feather quill and a full bottle of ink towards you. "If you wish to write something to him, there are blank pages in the back." 
If you were to turn to those pages, there would indeed be notes written by many other people, all in different language and writing styles, but all addressed to Hanrahan Brae. The first two seemed to have been written much earlier than the rest, and are listed here. Arial smiles at those who pick up the quill.


Selina Demones- 

 

Great Hanrahan was a man dedicated to his nation and himself more than others. He was fickle, a betrayer of his fiance's trust. A man who showed more love to others than his newlywed. And yet I am thankful for his brief company, for in a way he saved me.

Resia- 

 

I made a mistake. Is brea liom fos tu, i gconai.

"There are only seven books currently in existence," she goes on to tell you. "This one, the original," she taps the book still open and in front of you. "One is with Selina Demones, Resia and Meta. The rest are with me, safely out of the hands of those who are not given them. If I find an unapproved copy of this book..." she trails off before smiling again. "Never forget," she reminds you. "But learn." 

~+~

THRONN

~+~

- Chapter 6-

A Sharp Turn

"The sword was brighter than the moon

on that night. I couldn't even

think straight, I couldn't understand

what I was doing, who it would effect,

why I was doing it...

It just felt right at the time."
Found scratched on old paper with red ink.

 

            Alas, not even words on paper can save a man from insanity.

            He, by now, had filled the majority, if not at least half of the leather-bound book that Dr. Huu (whose name had now been found out with a few more conversations). Han carried it with him everywhere, and Dr. Huu now taught him how to be a healer- not a magic healer, however. Just a human healer, a field medic. Han did not mind one bit.

            And yet, even with his new found family and friends, Han was still haunted by the Moris and his families' skins laying across their dark-skinned backs. He still woke up in a cold sweat in his bed, staring straight ahead as the memories of beheaded Adunians swamped him more than Braegdh ever did.

            While roaming around the city of his new-found home, a shady group of men stood in the darkness of one of the taller buildings. They spoke in hushed whispers, their heads hidden in deep hoods and their eyes not even visible in the void of their faces.

            Hanrahan slowed his steps as he came closer to the group, but he continued on beyond the men. Through his years of being a thief, Han had mastered the art of acting like one is lost when one needs information. Once he was out of the sight of the shadow-hidden men, Han hid around one of the building's corners and strained his ears, waiting to hear what secrets these men held.

            Sure enough, the men's whispers stopped abruptly once Han was out of their sight and they straightened up. However, Han still could not see their faces, nor any emblems to give away what group they were part of. The men gathered in close as they straightened and headed off in a straight line down the street, right past Han's hiding spot.

            Han watched them until they made a turn to the right, and he followed them silently. He kept to the darkness and the shadows, no matter how difficult it was. Somehow, the men did not notice Han.

            The men eventually walked all the way out of the city and into a more forest-like area, where there were many more shadows. All of the men walked comfortably now, laughing with each other and talking about nothing in particular. This when Han decided to show himself.       

            He stepped out from behind one of the larger trees and all of the men stopped where they were. Instantly, almost as part of their instinct, they drew their weapons.

            Now, there was all sorts of dangerous metals and woods here that these men had at their disposal. Swords and daggers, naturally; maces extra-sharp; heavy bats; war axes, cleanly shined. Han froze where he was, and so did the men. They measured each other's worth.

            Equal.

            "What do you want?" one of the men said, who seemed taller, stronger- or at least more headstrong- than the others.

            "I- ah-" Han started, still just getting used to being an adult and speaking in Common. "I like your weapons."

            One of the other men there started to snicker, his shoulders moving as he did so, giving away who it was. "Shut up," the headstrong man commanded his comrade before refocusing on Han. "What's your name, lad?"

            "Hanrahan Brae."

            "Well, Hanrahan Brae. I like your bluntness. I didn't even notice you behind us. Come on in, you're now an assassin."

            Hanrahan was pleased with himself even more than when he was writing in his leather-bound book from Dr. Huu. Han trained with the assassins when ever he could, trying to not let Nienna know what he was up to. He got to use the assassin's weapons, their bunkers, their food- he even befriended a few of them.

            But one night, he had the nightmare again. The one he could not get away from. The one he tried so hard to forget. The one with the Mori.

            Han silently got up from his bed in Nienna's home and slipped on his boots. He grabbed the darkest clothes he had and slipped those on, too, in one swift motion, like the assassins had taught him. Hatred starting invading his bloodstream, now becoming more common than his thick, red, Adunian blood.

            He moved swiftly out of the house and towards the assassin's hideout in the forest. Han was let in by the guards, and while he grabbed multiple weapons, he said nothing. No one asked him anything, either.

            Hanrahan clipped the sheathes onto his belt, the little bits of metal shining in the weak moonlight that slipped its way through the trees. Han left the hideout then, walking just as silently over the leaves like he was taught. Where he was going, even he did not know.

            He had heard that the Mori had made it onto these islands, but he had never believed it. He did not know where he was going, or what he would find there, or what he would even do. But after hours of walking, he found it, saw it and knew it. He would kill them all.

            The Moris' hideout was nothing more than the assassins' had, but it was definitely the Moris'. Skins of their foes could be smelled and partially seen from the outside; a thick, wooden door being the only thing between Hanrahan and the Mori. That did not stop him.

            He lifted his right foot and, with all of the trained force that the assassins had taught him, he shoved forwards. Loud, cracking, ugly noises came from the shattering pieces of the door and its locks, but Han paid no attention to any of it. His glare was so angry and blinding that not even he could see through it.

            Hanrahan unsheathed two weapons- swords, which shined in the moonlight that the Mori seemed to love so much. He shoved his way through the ruined door, now standing in the middle of a group of confused, unarmed Mori. And he swung.

            He swung his sword in circles, two weapons doing double the damage of one. He had no hesitation in ripping the Mori, either, and kicking them whenever one got close. He felt invigorated. He felt powerful, righteous and prosperous to avenge his people.

            He felt evil.

--~--~--~--~--~----~--~--~--~--~----~--~--~--~--~----~--~--~--~--~----~--~--

- Chapter 7 -

Gaining Rank

"You can't ever be proud of being an assassin.

 Because if you are, then you will boast

about it. And if you boast about it, then

everyone will hear about it. And if everyone

hears about it, you're no longer an assassin."

Found on the back of an old  promotion for an assassin.

 

            Nienna never found out, either. And Han doubted that Dr. Huu even cared, as long as Han documented it. Which he did. He wrote all about the Mori body that he knew now so well.

            No one asked him about that night. That seemed to be normal in the Assassin's Guild. No questions, no lies.

            So, the next day, when Han went in for training, all the men acted the same, Han as one of their own; perhaps they were closer now than ever. Han could not really tell anymore.

            "Men," the headstrong man boomed as the men ate their meals in different parts of a large room filled with tables and chairs, scattered to seat people with their friends. "We have an order sent in."

            "Just like every other day!" one man called out and a few others around him laughed. The man at the front did not seem amused.

            "A slaver," he said, his voice followed by silence as he looked down at a paper. "A slaver... in a farm, on the other side of the city."

            The room was silent. No one liked the slavers- not even the assassins. They proved themselves the be hard to kill, since the slavers were in the business of staying in the shadows, too.

            Han did not know this. He raised his hand, his voice confident around his new-made friends. "I'll take it, then." Some people turned around in their chairs to see who had said that, and their faces broke into cackles afterwards.

            "You!" one of them said, slapping his hand on the table. "You couldn't kill that idiot if he wandered in here unarmed." Everyone else in the room seemed to agree, though they said nothing, waiting for Hanrahan's response.

            "Oh?" Han said, his temper rising. He was always on edge these days. "You're telling me I can't do it?"

            "That's exactly what I'm saying," the other man said smoothly, sitting back in his chair and finishing his plate of food.

            The room stayed completely silent as Han stormed his way up to the headstrong man, snatched the paper out of his hands and for good measure, Hanrahan slammed the door on his way out of the room.

            He ended up in the hallway, leading out to the offices, the bunk rooms and the weaponries. Without any hesitation, he walked into the room full of weapons like he did on the night of the Mori and re-armed himself, aside from the dagger he now always kept inside of his clothes, easy to reach.

            Han clenched the paper in his hands as he sheathed all of his familiar weapons. Once he was outside of the weapon room, he unfolded the paper and read it. The man was caught enslaving men, women, children...

            Disgusting, Han thought to himself, to do that to a child.

            He, however, took it all in stride and walked all the way to the slaver's hideout. He was stopped several times on the account that a Northerner was not usually seen roaming around in the warmer lands with weapons on his hips. "Business," Han lied bluntly. "I sell these."

            "How much for that axe?" an official asked, nodding to a diamond-bladed, iron handled axe engraved with some family crest that an assassin had stolen from another order.

            "Two million Minas," Hanrahan said in the most serious voice he could get out at the time, in his rush to find that slaver. He was filled with anger again for the lost mothers, fathers, sisters, brothers, children. They're so alone, Han thought once more as the official let him go with a roll of his eyes, "People think they can sell anything for any amount of Minas these days."

            The rest of Hanrahan's trip went terribly. He almost got lost at one point, and when he finally made it to the slaver's hideout, there were guards outside, expecting just what Han was. However, Han did not look like an assassin- he just acted like one. He was still that brown haired, green eyed northerner who ran around the heather with his sister. Or at least, to his advantage, he looked like it.

            "What's yer business?" A gruff Orc asked in the best Common he, too, could speak out. He has the toughest Oricish accent that Han had ever heard.

            "Just visiting," Han said casually, moving to go in through the door just behind the Orc.

            "Oh-ho nu," the Orc chuckled darkly, picking Han up with one hand and placing him a few meters away from the door. "Not in there yer nawt."

            "And why not?" Han asked defiantly, however when he was placed back on the ground, two swords and a dagger fell out of their sheaths and onto the ground.

            For a moment, both the Orc and Han watched the weapons sitting uselessly on the ground. Finally, the Orc made the connection. "Assassin!" he shouted, stomping on Han's weapon, crumpling them into useless heaps of metal.

            "No- no, no!" Han shouted back to the Orc, moving backwards as fast as he could before turning around and sprinting for it. The Orc, luckily, did not follow Han and when he was out of sight, Han stopped to catch his breath. He needed a second plan.

            Han looked round the bare valley before noticing something now so normal to him that he took it for granted. Trees, he grinned, I can climb the trees.

            And that is how he did it. Jumping swiftly from tree to tree like the assassins had taught him, Hanrahan made his way into the slaver's hideout through a window, snuck his way into the slaver's office, covered the slaver's mouth and behead him before sneaking back out. Not a single noise was heard. Nothing was noticed. For good measure, Han unlocked a few of the doors on his way back out of the window, least there be slaves hidden behind the doors. There were.

            "You did it!" the headstrong man said in surprise as Hanrahan walked causally back into the assassins' hideout with the slaver's head in his bag.

            "I did," Han beamed in a hallow way. "I did indeed."

            "Congratulations, second-rank assassin. You did it."

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- Chapter 8 -

Into the Shadows

"I couldn't believe anything back then. I

couldn't believe that people could kill people

 who kill people for money. I couldn't believe

that they were all killed. But I think, most

of all, I couldn't believe that I was alone again."

Found on a tear-stained page in a rotting book.

 

            All the assassin men sat in their spots once more in the Meal Room, laughter echoing off of the walls. Some men left here and there to go to their job, which were done at random times to not give away their positions nor their intents.

            That day, Hanrahan had no particular jobs to do. Even though he had been a second-rank Assassin, almost a Master Assassin, for a few months, and that he had hundreds of jobs every week, he had nothing to do then. He sat laughing with his friends and eating the cheap bread that everyone stole for the good of the community.

            Hours passed in the Meal Room, filled with rum and cackles, the amount of people in the room thinning out as the day wore on. Which was strange. "Hasn't anyone come back yet from their jobs?" Han asked idly between conversations. That brought light to the situation.

            "Oh.. I guess not," one of Han's friends said, looking around the room, suddenly looking worried.

            "Where did they all g-" Han started before he was cut off with a swift, 'Sssh!' from the other men. "What?" he whispered, leaning closer to see what all the other men were looking for.

            Footsteps were heard outside of the Meal Room doors. "Check everywhere," a royal voice bounced from behind the door; the sound of heavy, metal armour was heard in response to the King's commands. "Check this room, that one, all of them. I want these scoundrels caught today, men, today!"

            Then it hit him. I'm an idiot, he thought, I kill people. I ruin their lives. I make sure they are never the same again...

            "Go!" Han's friend hissed to him, nodding to a door near them. Luckily, they were in the back of the Meal Room, so even if the King were to open the door, he still had to make his way all the way through the Meal Room to reach them.

            All the men made it into the second room safely, the last man stupidly slamming the door shut. "IN THERE!" the King yelled, supposedly bursting into the Meal Room just as the door was slammed on the opposite side from him. But Han could not know, because he did not see the King then.

            The man who had shut the door giggled childishly at his success and the rest of the men in the room glared at him until he was silent. All the men then just stood there, hoping to not be noticed. They all stared at the door. Except for Han. He was looking for an escape, being a self-taught thief and almost a Master Assassin. He looked frantically around the room but he did his best to not show it to his friends. After a moment or two of looking, Han noticed a window just a bit away from him. Silently, swiftly, without being noticed by anyone, Han made his way towards the window and open it as well. All the men's eyes were still on the door. The King's footsteps were getting louder, the armour noises now filling the Meal Room.

            There were hushed good-byes, silent 'Nice working with you', 'I will never forget you!' and 'Tell me wife I love her!' Han did not say anything. He snuck out the window and dropped onto the soft forest ground gratefully, making for a run as fast as he could. No one stopped him, no one said anything, no one even saw him leave. He was a shadow of a thief. "Assassins," he mumbled to himself, sprinting distances much farther than the normal Adunian due to his assassin training, "best of luck to you all."

            He arrived back a Nienna's house for a much-needed vacation, and he lied to her about all the places that he had seen.

            Later, when he went back into the Assassin's hideout, with different clothes and a different haircut, he just stood in the front for a long while. The King and his guards had attacked over a month ago and were satisfied that they had purged the land of all sins.

            Hanrahan did not even have to open the door to the hideout- there was no door anymore. All the windows, too, were smashed in. The hallway just inside of the door that lead straight to the Meal Room and lead off to the offices, room and weaponry room was stained with blood.Any and all postings on the walls were taking down with such force that it looked like the wall had fallen over in some places. The ceiling was caving in and there were puddles all over the floor from the rain storms that had followed the attack.

            Han idly, numbly, moved into the Meal Room. He opened the door in the back with hesitation, for the first time in his life. They were all in there. Dead.  And now Han was alone. Again. So he left, into the shadows.

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- Chapter 9 -

Heartfire

"That was the only clarity I found in

those days. That was the only light, the

only heat- the only thing that never left me.

The only thing I knew I would always have."

Found in a book full of notes on the Faith.

 

            Han sat at the table with Nienna across from him. She had made some kind of soup-mixture. Han moved his spoon around his bowl for a solid three minutes, staring at the contents swim around his utensil.

            "What is it?" Nienna asked over a mouthful of soup. "Aren't you going to eat? It's cold out there, and you were out for a while..."

            She was right, it was cold out there. Winter cold. Middle of the Deep Cold cold. Han sighed.

            "Where did I come from? Braemar?" he asks boredly, still not eating. Snow fell behind him in a constant waterfall. Nienna watched the snow just beyond him for a moment before looking back to him. "That's what you've told me."

            "But- I mean- where did the Adunians go? Where did our culture go? Where did the Braes go?"

            "Well, one is sitting right in front of me," Nienna grinned widely to Han, trying to get him to smile too and failing. "Most of them died," she says, her smile flickering.

            "Right," Han said firmly, standing up from the table with an abrupt sort of air around him. He dropped his spoon onto the table and soup splattered the newly cleaned surface. Han strode towards the door, away from Nienna. He grabbed his wolf-fur coat before leaving and heaved it over his shoulders as he opened the door.

            "Come home for dinner tomorrow night," she called just after him, "and I'll have your soup waiting for you."

            Don't waste a thing on me, Han thought.

            And again, Hanrahan had no idea where he was going. He had no idea what he was doing, nor what he had ahead of him. He just kept walking. And walking.

            And walking.

            After what felt like hours, even days, Han came across more fir trees. One was standing in the middle of a clearing- except it was not exactly a fir tree... It was more... white. A white birch.

            Han moved forwards to get a better look at it, and upon closer inspecting, he saw that the tree was surrounded by large stones- stones that formed a perfect circle around the tree. The tree also had a small lake around its roots, however the water did not freeze over, despite all of the snow coming down. What in the world... Han breathed.

            Hanrahan reached out to touch the tree himself, to prove that he was not insane to himself if no one else. But just as he was about to touch it-

            "Get oot of t'e way, ye idioit!" a man's voice shouted at him sharply, in a mixture of Northern and Dwarven accents. Han froze where he was in his wolf-fur coat. The accent seemed so familiar, so common to him, that he did not even have to look.

            "Are you Adunian?" he asked obviously, leaning away from the tree and retreating a safe distance away.

            "Aye!" the man, Eze'kiel Tarus. called, "Now git away from t'e tree of Morighaen!"

            Hanrahan tilted his head, "The tree of what now?"

            The man look flabbergasted. "Are ye nawt Adunian too?" the man raised a suspicious eyebrow.

            "Oi am," Han answered, getting the hang of the man's accent. "Oi am indeehd."

            The man walked out from his hiding spot behind the tree and made his way towards Hanrahan, looking at him up and down. "Certainly from t'e North..." Eze'kiel Tarus commented, nodding in approval. "What's yer name, lad?"

            "Hanrahan Brae," Han said, standing still as the man watched him. "What do you know about the Adunians?"

~+~

            Over the next few months, Hanrahan gradually stopped going home to Nienna and ended up learning about the Faith of the Adunians with that man by the tree. Hanrahan learned that there were Three gods that the Adunians worshipped: Gronn, of life; Thronn, of death; Morighaen, of mischief.

            "Ye seem ter know a lot before I even tell ye!" Eze'kiel Tarus laughed one day, after he had explained the relationships between the Three.

            "Aye," Hanrahan grins, "I've been writing all you've said down.. Right here." He took out the leather-bound book he got from Dr. Huu and he showed it to the man. Eze'kiel was amazed.

            "Ye write it all down there?" he breathed. "Come, come, Oi'd say it's time fer ye te be a Father o' Faith."

            Not many people know about Heartfire. It is a very rare kind of magic these days, based off of the magic of Thronn. Only those who have devoted their time to studying the Three can cast such a kind of magic.

            Heartfire is the combined power of Gronn and Morighaen, channelled through Thronn and then bestowed upon the caster. The magic is just as it is named: Fire. Thronn is commonly, in the Adunian culture, associated with fire, and so that is how he presents his magic to the Adunians.

            Heartfire can warm someone's hands, help heal a wound faster than medicine could and to burn the darkness out of someone's soul- or, if they are too dark, Heartfire can burn the actual victim. Not pretty, but holy.

            Hanrahan mastered Heartfire. He loved to cast the magic of his ancestors, of his deceased family, and he showed it off where ever he could.

            "Ooh, fire evocation," said a passer-by in the city one day, not entertained. "So... original."

            "Ahem, Heartfire, lass," Hanrahan corrected her. "Dark-souls beware!"

            The woman rolled her eyes and walked on, not taking a liking to Han's magic but not causing a fuss either way.

            During those days when Han would cast Heartfire constantly, he honestly, truly felt warm. He had finally found a way to peacefully remember and avenge his family who had died and he had learned a magic. Hanrahan revelled in his own power, using Heartfire for light, warmth and entertainment. He constantly sat on the deserted street corners at night, lighting the fire in his hands and putting it out, lighting it and putting it out...

            Hanrahan never felt less alone, sitting alone in the lonely city.

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- Chapter 10 -

The Squire

"For once, I felt like I was actually needed

there, even if I had to be a doctor. I felt

like I was wanted. I felt like I didn't have to go."

Found on the back of an old map of Ildon.

 

            Tiredly and by the light of his Heartfire, Hanrahan walked all of the land, before eventually settling down in Ildon. It was a beautiful city, filled with beautiful people, and, as he had never known before, beautiful peace.

            Ildon had almost anything you could need- all types of food from all over the discovered lands, different medicines, different clothes and services, but there was a need for surgeons. So, with the help of Dr. Huu's book, Hanrahan retired to Ildon to become a surgeon.

            He did honest work, taking people apart, taking out the arrow or poison, then stitching them back up. He got good pay and he finally had learned the worth of gold. He knew his medicine backwards and forwards, as well as all of his patients and doctors that had come through Ildon.

            He could not ask for anything more.

            "Oi, do ye need somethin'?" Han asked to a heavily clothed elf who sat just outside of the Clinic where he commonly worked. Hanrahan had a bloody rag in his hand and he used it to clean off the rest of the blood and Morighaen-knows-what off of his hands.

            "No," the elf said curtly. "No, I am all right."

            Hanrahan walked closer to the mali. "Are ye sure? Oi mean, I have soup inside..."

            The elf looked up at Hanrahan- however his face was still hidden beneath his clothes. "...All right," the elf said, standing up in the blink of an eye. Must be a trained assassin, Han thought to himself as he lead the mali into the Clinic with a grin.

            They talked for hours. Aemond Ili’thiari, as turned out to be his name, was the last surviving Phoenix Elf. His people and his culture had died out, and he had been left alone to retire to Ildon...    Hanrahan showed him many things, among them Heartfire, and that was truly when Hanrahan realised that he was not alone in his loneliness. Other people were just as alone. Everyone was just as alone.

            And just as quick as he came, he left. The Phoenix Elf gave Hanrahan his thanks, and then he was gone. However, Hanrahan never forgot him.

            Just the next Elven week or so, he came back into Han's life. Hanrahan was sitting in the main hall in Ildon, wasting a free day away.

            Aemond, on the other hand, was also in the Hall, however he was playfully climbing the walls. Hanrahan raised an eyebrow, idly watching the child from a distance, discreetly taking note of him. Climbing so young, Han thought. What an assassin he would make...

            Han abruptly stood up. "Son," he called. Aemond looked over to the Brae, tilting his head slightly as he clutched to the wall even though he was not a meter off the ground.

            "Yes?"

            "Ye dun climb loike this," Han mimicked the child's clumsy climbs, landing back in his feet. "Ye climb loike this."

            And so, Hanrahan taught Aemond the proper way of climbing things. The assassin way.

~+~

            Among others, Han also trained Meta Solaray and Kinra Stark.

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- Chapter 11 -

The Golden

"I couldn't believe in something like

her. I couldn't believe in what she was

doing- I couldn't understand it."

Found on the back of a water painting of Selina Demones.

 

            After months of training with Aemond, he had finally gotten used to teaching someone. Hanrahan Brae could finally understand what it mean to be a teacher, a tutor, a mentor. He could, at last, give his knowledge to others without having to give them the journal that he still had from his 'childhood' (or at least what the Adunians considered childhood).

            Once one particularly training session had ended, Hanrahan sent Aemond home and he himself had meant to go back to the Clinic in Ildon as well, but had wandered off into Arethor.

            Rebuilt from ruins, Han found it personally appealing that a place that used to be so alone could be so filled with life. And so that is when he met her.

            There was a large crowd, for some reason, which Han thought was odd. Usually some kind of guard came to check out the situation or someone in the crowd was shouting about the problem, but neither of those seemed to be happening. There was just a large group  of people standing in the rebuilt Arethor- and people of all kinds: peasants, the lowly upperclassmen, the nobles- every kind.

            Hanrahan made his way to the outer rims of the audience and, thanks to his Adunian height, he could sort-of make out what was going on in the middle of the huddle.

            He could see two different kind of fabric, both on the ground. And blood. Lots of blood. The larger of the two beings in the clothing appeared to be the back of a woman, leaning over someone else. Healing them, no doubt. Han made his way closer to the middle of the huddle. His mere presence now, after all of that thievery and assassin training, gave off an aura of authority, power and a man who knew what he was doing.

            Only, he did not know what he was doing. Usually, when Han saw someone in need, like those lost kids on the docks, he just saw if they needed medical attention- and this time, he was not drawn to the patient, but to the doctor.

            He gradually made his way to the edge of the middle, able to be so close to the woman who was supposedly helping the wounded person that he could touch her if he wanted to.

            Han watched her carefully like he watched Dr. Huu, eager to learn the ways of the masters. He waited for her to bandage up her patient, but when she did not even reach into her bag for medical supplies, something felt wrong.

            Hanrahan moved around the edge of the circle to get a frontal view of the situation.

            She had a grace about her. He could not tell what it was at the time, but something about her golden and white robes gave off an air like his posture did. But she was merely sitting down and still gaining his respect.

            Her brown hair cascaded down her shoulders in perfect waves, almost like Han's attempted to but then gave up halfway and decided to just go the other way. The woman's red eyes glowed- was it with magic or happiness?- as she worked over her patient.

            Han shook his head to free his mind of those thoughts. He focused on what the woman was actually doing and he narrowed his eyes. She was not using any form of "normal" doctoring techniques, nor did it look like she was attempting to. Her hand moved over the other person's wounds- which, now, that Han noticed, could probably have been sewn up just as easily and bandaged. This magic-y feeling overcame Hanrahan once more and he shivered. 

            But his eyes were narrowed still. The woman finally finished up with her patient. She had done such a magnificent job that the person could stand up on their own, when mere moments before they could barely breathe. "Thank you!" they said breathlessly to the woman. "Thank you, Selina!"

            Selina, the woman Han at been narrowing his eyes at, nodding in response, a smile light on her face and her aura not leaving even when her eyes' glow had seemed to calm down. "It was no trouble."

            Once the patient and most of the crowd had left, Han took two steps and was face-to-face with Selina. "You!" yelled into her face, not having particularly learned manners with girls from Nienna.

            "Me!" Selina shouted back playfully, adjusting something in her bag before looking back to Hanrahan. She looked him up and down; that action seemed far too familiar to Han, as he had done that hundreds, perhaps thousands of times before to people he did not know but knew had some value. He stood up straighter. "You don't look hurt," she said to him honestly.

            "To t'e Nether oi'm not!" Han retorted sourly. "Ye just- ye just healed tha' man! Just loike tha'!"

            "Aye," Selina nodded, catching onto his accent in a childish way. "Tha' Oi did." She grinned up at him, clearly waiting for a smile back.

            She did not get a smile. "Ye can' jus' heal people loike tha'!" Han shouted once more, breathing heavily. "Ye can' jus' put people loike me outta business!"

            "Oi'm not puttin' people loike ye outta business!" Selina said in a rather hurt voice. "Oi'm just healin' 'em."

            "Lies!" Han shouted to her, "Yer magic! It's all lies! Ye can' do a thing fer yerself! Ye can' jus' learn t'e normal way of doin' thin's, can ye? No, ye can'! Because yer magic folk! Ye don' know what yer doin' half the toime, but it works, so ye go with it, ye call it more magic, and ye don't know the truth about nothing." Han was out of breath by this time, but his face still held it angry, intense shape.

            "Fine," Selina growled back at him, losing his accent. She moved to shove him down to the ground and, caught off guard, she did so. "I'll just go, then. See how you like being alone." 

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- Chapter 12 -

Roses

"I had lost everything again, and I didn't

know how to repay her... So I brought the

closest thing to Minas that I had: Flowers."

Found on a small card, the scent of roses about the paper.

 

            He could not stand it. Who was she? Who did she think she was? Why was she healing that person? Why can't I get her out of my head? Han sat straight up in his bed, running a hand through his unwashed hair. He turned his head slightly to the right to look out the window.

            The sun was just coming up, the sky a weak orange-black colour, and no one else in Ildon was awake. The patients in the Clinic would surely still be asleep, but there were other surgeons to take care of them today...

            Hanrahan swiftly got out of his bed and brushed out the creases from the clothes he was wearing and, from seeing a bit of blood flaking off of his hair from a surgery he had performed yesterday, he sighed. Han walked downstairs in his house and washed himself up.

            "Where is Selina?" Han asked around stupidly, carrying a shoulder-bag that looked like it was ready to burst with something. His hair was cleaner than it has ever been, combed out as best as it could be and his green eyes were determined. "Selina, tha' woman who was healin' that man t'e other day?"

            "Oh, she lives over there," an official told him casually, nodding towards a castle in the distance. "And her name's Selina Demones."

            "Selina," Han breathed under his breath, "Demones." Hanrahan nodded his thanks to the officer before almost running to Selina's home. He stopped abruptly at her front door, a large Wizard's castle looming over him, suddenly catching his breath, suddenly realising what was doing. Hanrahan Brae, he thought, what are you doing?

            I'm going to talk to her, he thought back to himself.

          Why?

          Because I owe her an apology.

          No, you don't. She's blind and daft, casting magic like that.

          But she's beautiful, and smart, and wants to help people.

          So what?

          That's what I want to be.

          And that settled it. Han reached into his bag and took out a full bouquet of roses and left them outside of Selina's door.

          Han walked back to Ildon, and he could not shake the feeling that someone was.. watching him. That someone had opened that door just a crack as he had turned to go and had seen him. Had identified him.

          When he woke up in a cold sweat the next morning before sunrise, he washed himself again, got dressed, picked roses and walked to Selina's house now that he knew where it was.

          And the next morning after that, he woke up with assurance. He parted his hair properly, dressing with a large grin on his face. Picked the flowers with a bounce in his step. Left the flowers with a straight attitude, being completely aware of what he was doing.

          And the next morning, and the next one, and the next one, and even the next one...

          And the one after that, Han left the roses at her front door, a few more than normal because he had woken up so early that he had time to eat breakfast before picking the flowers. But just as he was straightening up to leave...

          "There are more today."

          Han jumped and looked up at the wide-open door. There she stood, with her perfect, honey-brown hair, her soft red eyes, her scarred but clear skin, her charming aura and her white-gold robes, standing in the doorway. There stood Selina.

          She grinned at him.

          He grinned back.

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- Chapter 13 -

The Day That Never Came

"That roof was broken, for sure. As was the

rest of the city, and the nation, and the

land, and my heart, for the time being.

 But when I heard her talking like that..."
Found on the back of a faded wedding invitation.

 

            It did not take long for Selina and Hanrahan to become friends. They spoke often, and were on first-name terms. Han adored her- she was everything he wanted to be. He could not even imagine a life without her, even if he had been living one thus far.

            Thunder and lightning came a few months after Selina and Han had made up with each other. Thunder and lightning meant stay indoors. Do not leave. Meaning Hanrahan could not leave to check on Selina and vice-versa. But nothing could stop Han once the storm subsided.

            He was at her house just as the sun was shining through the last clouds. "Are ye allroight?" Han asked breathlessly, seeing how many years it had been since he had trained with the assassins. "Anythin' wrong?"

            "Ah..." Selina commented idly, "the ah... The roof was shot with lightning, but I'm all right."

            Han let out a sigh of relief, moving into her house with swift motions, climbing the stairs and looking through her lightning-made sun window without glass: the hold in the roof. "Oh," Hanrahan said in an almost defeated voice. "Oi ah.. yeh, tha's a hole allroight."

            "So can you fix it?" Selina asked hopefully. Han looked at the damage around it; the rim of the hole was charred; it was certainly lightning that had hit Selina's house. All of the furniture around and below the hole was soaked down to the grains. Some candles were put out mid-burning and blankets sopped uselessly on the floor. "Can't you, Han?"

            "O'course I can," Hanrahan said gruffly, "O'course I can."

            And thus, every day, for the next Elven fortnight, Han fixed Selina's roof with the best materials that his surgeon Minas could buy him. He knew how to build roofs by hand- after all, all of Braemar had been build with just wooden and stone materials- and he enjoyed doing it, too. Fixing her roof meant Han got to spend even more time with Selina, just the thing he wanted.

            "I'll get over him," Selina mumbled one day as she sat in the room just below the hole like she always did, Han hammering away at a panel, Selina sipping at a cup of tea.

            "What?" Han asked dumbly, honestly not hearing her. However, she seemed to be in a trance, in her own world.

            "I'll get over him, he's just like the others..."

            Han stopped hammering for a second now, and pretended to fuss with his materials on the roof so he could listen to what Selina was saying. He let a few materials drop to the ground to make it seem realistic. "I'll get over him," Selina repeated.

            Han grinned broadly, returning to making all the noise he needed, knowing that Selina was talking about him, and determined to make sure that she never did get over him.

--~--~--~--~--~----~--~--~--~--~----~--~--~--~--~----~--~--~--~--~----~--~--

A blue haired elf, Arial Meadowbloom-Brae she calls herself, sits at the largest table in Alras' Tavern. In front of her sits a large, leather bound book with three words on the cover: 'When I go'. She smiles brightly at you, and suggests you buy a drink at the bar and come sit with her to read her book. This is for those who do so.

 

When I go.
The original story of Hanrahan Brae, recounted by Arial Meadowbloom-Brae.

~+~

DEDICATED TO

HANBUIFAGYR LA TENE SKARA BRAE
~+~

I was not personally asked by Han himself to write his story. We always spoke about writing it all down, but it was never done while he was alive. I feel it is my duty to relay to this world what he had confined in me. I know it is what he would have wanted. That is why I have included excerpts of his writing and say where they were found. His story is in his words, merely edited to be understood in Common. He would have wanted his story shared, his memories remembered by if not me, everyone. He would have wanted people to learn all that he did, and not make his mistakes. I have committed all of the stories told here to heart, to mind and to soul. Han and myself were closer than friends; we were family- closer than blood could ever be, closer than any two people, perhaps, ever should be.

I regret nothing.

I remember everything.

Yours sincerely,

Arial Meadowbloom-Brae

THE ORIGINAL AUTOBIOGRAPHY OF

HANRAHAN BRAE.

Acknowledgements-

1326 - The First Seed  - Day 15

Selina Demones, my one and true love, who I would give all the gold in the world and more to have her back.

 

My dear sister, who valiantly fought at the Braegdh Battle of 1236 and died at the wee age of seven.

 

My older sister, who lay dead at Braegdh beside my younger, along with the rest of my family: Fiana, Morgana, Maghean, Caeldwr, Varien, Bordu, Mor'du, and Siobhan.

 

Artorus Elendil, the greatest Adunian king to have ever lived during my time; a grand man who wrought no misdeeds, mistakes, nor evil actions; he was just, fair, and kind above all, and I thank him for coaxing me out of my 'civilised' shell, and into the Highlander I am today.

 

Isabella Elendil, for being the younger sister and daughter I never seemed to be able to keep.

 

Aemond Ili'thiari, for being my one and only son, for the bond we shared was stronger then anything blood could have brought.

 

All the Clansmen, and each and every Clan chieftain: Ira Blackwood, Gavin Douglas, Eoghan Campbell, Caln McHarnish, Alan O'keefe, and Godric Armas.

 

Nienna Calm, for teaching me how to write and always being eager to help me learn.

 

Dr. Huu, for teaching me my skills in the medical field, to which I will always be grateful for.

 

Sathoro Shadeleaf, for teaching me how to speak Orenian, and proper culture.

Found on an old piece of paper, just before it fell into ashes.

--~--~--~--~--~----~--~--~--~--~----~--~--~--~--~----~--~--~--~--~----~--~--

- Book 1: Gronn -

1. Life at Braemar

2. DubhLannach

3. Druaoi

4. Montfluer

5. Proper Education

- Book 2: Thronn -

6. A Sharp Turn

7. Gaining Rank

8. Into the Shadows

9. Heartfire

10. The Squire

11. The Golden

12. Roses

13. The Day That Never Came

- Book 3: Morighaen -

14. Siobhan

15. Oren woes

16. Nature of the Beast

17. Princess

18. Heart-rip

19. Leave-Taking

20. New World

21. Maiden of Blue Hair

22. Family

23. Movement

24. Dwindling Light

25. Out with a Bang

Preface-

--~--~--~--~--~----~--~--~--~--~----~--~--~--~--~----~--~--~--~--~----~--~--

     I have fought many battles. I have seen many deaths. I have caused many deaths. I have seen happiness beyond even my years, and I have caused such happiness as well.

          I have caused mischief in the safest of cities and I have scared the bravest men. I have embraced change more than I have embraced some of my family and I have left everything behind all for the sake of the greater good.

          I have lied, stolen and killed for my own benefit, and I have also done so for the safety of those I care about. I have seen every land until my death, never holding onto any worldly possessions, save my darling Selina.

          I have conducted heists that are not challengeable even by Oren's armies and I have forged swords for the fears of the world. I have created, wrecked and healed my own worst nightmares. I have, countless times, laughed in the face of death.

          But that is not what this is about. I am writing this not for mere entertainment, not even for the history that this collection of memories contains. I have not written this to remind people of what I have done wrong, nor what I have done right. I have not put my quill on paper to keep myself from going insane- or maybe I have. Along with my agility, I have lost the sense of telling what is sane and what isn't.

But I am not writing this for you. I am writing this for purity; so I may be forgiven for all of my sins, and welcomed with open arms not only to my dearest Selina, but to Morighaen as well, when I go.

Enjoy.

 

Hanrahan Brae.

Chieftain of Brae.

 

Found in a molding book, without a title.

--~--~--~--~--~----~--~--~--~--~----~--~--~--~--~----~--~--~--~--~----~--~--

~+~

GRONN

~+~

- Chapter 1 -

Life at Braemar

"One can't really begin; the life that the

 average Orenian or even Adunian would

know is something so incredibly foreign

 that to have a glimpse into it would be

akin to looking backwards in time."

Found on a piece of rotting paper.

 

            Huts clung for their lives in a clearing of a thick forest, resting just over a cliff. Children ran up and down the sheer drop of rocks, not caring for the danger. Up in the Aegisean North, lush, full, green fir trees licked the uncertain, grey skies that hung over the cliff and its adventurers. Small streams wove their ways through the fir trees like needles through fabric. Terrible soil was the home of hundreds of mossed rocks, some rocks shaped into the perfect shape from being sat on for generations.  

            There were no roads going neither into nor out of the city, and there was no need for them, either. If you were to walk into this settlement by accident, it must have been some kind of Godly action, sending you to the Adunians for a reason. Because one does not simply walk into Braemar.

            The city, as well, had no walls nor fortifications. What was the need? The Adunians were out in the middle of no where, not planning to move, and after all, one of their Three gods is of nature, so what use is it to keep him out?  This is why the city looked so natural that it could have been made by Druids.

            The layout of the city was simple enough. The main clan house sat right in the middle of the clearing that Braemar claimed. The fishing rooms were those huts that stuck to the cliff for safety, being in the perfect spots to catch fish. The main houses of the clans were buried much farther from the cliff's drop off, being underground closer to the mountains. This not only helped to save space, but it also kept the buildings warm in the ever-lasting winter.

            It is essential, too, that it is mentioned that Braemar was built on nothing but stone tools. All of the buildings were built by hand and stone with the trees that were felled and stones that were collected from around the forest to create the clearing where the settlement stood.

            To put it simply, Braemar was a Northern's paradise. It was filled with hunting, culture and acceptance all around. Nothing was ever denied in that society for being too "out there" or "strange", simply because they were in Aegis, they were in the North and there was no one to tell them otherwise.

            And who was a Northerner than Hanrahan Brae himself. At the time, the Brae clan was minimal, but over the years it never really did grow anymore. Han grew up in a family of seven: Five girls and two boys.

            And by the Three did those girls change him. His hair was done up every morning and preserved every night. His face was painted down to the detail,  his skin was cleaner than any water could make it and his eyes were always happier than any gold could ever get him.

            Out of the five major girls in his life, Siobhan, as he has told me, was by far his favourite. She had fire-red locks and spotted freckles on her face while young Han had scraggly brown hair and honest green eyes. Other than that, they were the exact picture of the other.

            Siobhan was usually the distraction. When the pair could not find anything else to do, they would try to ambush some unsuspecting  passer-by, and they usually found one. Siobhan would create some kind of diversion, then, out of no where, Hanrahan would go bounding towards the victim and trample him. Many people fell this way, and laughter always came afterwards.

            Other times when they had nothing to do, Siobhan and Hanrahan would go on adventures (worrying their mother sick). Just to name a few of the safer adventures, they were: running around the vast fields of heather, climbing the sheer cliffs above the Adunian Sea and bringing back 'treasures'.

            One particular treasure happened to be a wooden chest. On top of the chest was a paper, written in a language that Hanrahan did not understand at the time- Common. He asked around to find out what the paper was, and no one could read it either. Han left the paper with the chest, least someone come along and be able to read the paper for him and the rest of the Adunians.

             When Hanrahan opened the chest, he found an immense amount of shiny stones. Little did Han know that he had just found a chest of gold, worth over one thousand Minas. He set it aside. When his mother had found the chest, she, too, did not know what to do with it, and thus chest of gold was forever resting uselessly in the corner of the Brae clanhouse.

            It was later found out that the page was an Orenian shipping Ledger and that chest of gold had been on its way to an Oren city.

--~--~--~--~--~----~--~--~--~--~----~--~--~--~--~----~--~--~--~--~----~--~--

- Chapter 2 -

Dubhlannach

"Never have I hated something so much to this

day, and I yet daily thank the gods for

their painful, swift demise into

darkness and death."

Found on a torn piece of cloth in deep red ink.

 

            So far, the Mori'quessir served only one purpose: to bring about suffering, pain, and above all, death.

            Started by Hanrahan Brae himself, the war with the Mori has never stopped. The Braes have fought endlessly in the past, and there is a story as to why. There are reasons.

            After Braemar, the Adunians had set their camp up on a swampy northern flat near Menorcress and named it Braegdh. The setup was almost exactly the same, but there was less... "charm". Less nature feeling, what with the ground always being soggy from water and not from snow.

            Also by this time, the Adunians had begun to be noticed by the other nations, and the other people had taken a liking to the Adunian ways and cultures. So, naturally, spies came.

            But back then, they weren't just any spies. They were Mori.

            The Adunians put up with the Mori for quite some time, never being violent with them, being as accepting of Mori as someone sane can be. However, whenever any mere hint of Adunians hurting the Mori was sent out, the Mori would scuttle back into the shadows of the swamps, hiding from the shine of the Adunians' axes. Eventually, the Mori got used to hiding and the Adunians got used to carrying around weapons. Oh how the Adunians missed Braemar.

            The first sign of true warfare between the Adunians and the Mori was when a Mori caught a sheep. An Adunian sheep, no less. The Mori had stolen  a sheep and the Mori was caught by a senior Brae (his name was Aernach or something close).

            The Brae captured the Mori and the sheep, let the sheep go, flayed the Mori, beheaded him and nailed his skin and head to a tree just outside the Village and right by the sheep's pasture where the Mori had stole the animal.

            Naturally, when the Mori caught sight of this they immediately retaliated. For two solid days, two Elven days, the forests were filled with piercing shrieks, war chants, drums, cries of death, despair, hate and anger. Light weakly came floating through the trees from both raging fires and innocent candle lights, attempting but never succeeding at removing the smell of death from the swamp of Braegdh.

            On the third day of the battle, the elder Brae's flayed Mori trophy was taken down from its mantle and tossed carelessly into the bog, along with a collection of other valuables and food. And for that, for a short time, for what it was worth, the raiding and annoyances halted.

            Later, a few "brave" Mori men snuck into Braegdh and caused ruckus among the Adunian people. Needless to say, they died agonizingly, as the Adunians had just gotten through a rough patch in their history and they were in no state nor mood to save the mere lives of Mori.

            Addicted to warfare, the Mori came back. They broke into one of the houses in Braegdh and ransacked, looted and bloodied it. The family was no where to be seen in the house. This, according to Hanrahan, is what really caused the entire conflict between the Braes and the Moris.

            After the supposed killing of that Adunian family, the battles between Moris and Adunians escalated. The Braes killed dozens of Moris, throwing their bodies into the now boiling and sickly bog along with the rest of their dead relatives who had trespassed onto Adunian land.

            Finally, the Adunians put up their own walls for protection, scared witless by the cruelty of Asulon that they had never witnessed before.

            The Battle of Braegdh, 1236, took place on the 5th day of that Deep Cold. The anger and hatred had grown so much that the Adunians' newly built walls were adorned with Mori skins and the Moris were strutting around, showing off their newly flayed human skins. The humans that covered the dark skin of the Mori, at this point, included many Braes.

            The Mori stormed into Braegdh that night of the 5th, swords gleaming, eyes glowing and a thick, malicious intent surrounding them like the thickest fog. Even though the Adunians have been standing watch all night, vigilance sometimes is not enough to hold back a bloodthirsty army of human-skin-covered Mori.

            Hanrahan was standing watch himself at the docks of Braegdh, ready to escape into the thick of the night in the blood-stained waters of the swamp, a boat at the ready.

            Which he gratefully used.

--~--~--~--~--~----~--~--~--~--~----~--~--~--~--~----~--~--~--~--~----~--~--

- Chapter 3 -

Druaoi

"Bugs. The sounds of birds, of... people.

But the language they were speaking,

gods above, so choppy, so blunt, so... foreign."

Found on a ripped piece of paper.

 

            Two days of solid rowing through the blood and insides of his family and enemies pushed Hanrahan to exhaustion. He finally gave in to his tiredness and rested in his boat.

            His ears twitched at strange noises, but his mind did not register what they were. He could not tell what those buzzes were, what the mumbles in the background were.

            When Han dared to look up from his lazy posture, he saw the overgrown flora and fauna on the ground, so thick that he could barely see the dirt where their roots were.  He saw the huge, close trees shooting up into the sky, almost touching it.  He saw the naturally blue sky through the trees' branches, a sky bluer than anything he had seen yet, bluer than any Adunian sky he had grown up under.

            He also saw another face looking at him from a distance. The human looked at Hanrahan from underneath his large, nature-infested beard and he looked over his staff that looked like he had decorated a branch from a tree with more of the tree.

            The unknown man said something to Hanrahan, something he could not understand, something in a different language. Han tilted his head at the man, though his movement was slow and slight due to Han's lack of energy.

            The man walked easily over to Han's boat and offered him a hand to stand up and get out of the boat,  which he took quickly. Han was eventually lead, with the help of the man's staff, into the Grove.

            Hanrahan Brae had washed up on the shore of the Druids.

            He had also just met Callax, a Druid of whom I know very well, or at least I did at a time. He was, for the whole time I was a Dedicant, an ArchDruid, that being one of the highest ranks a Druid can reach whilst they are alive.

            The Druids fed, bathed, clothed and generally healed Han after his traumatic trip from Braegdh. They did not, however, ever speak all that much, since Han knew only Adunian and the Druids knew Common and a few other commonly-used languages such as Elven and Orcish. To communicate, Hanrahan had to use obvious hand gestures and drawings when ever he could use a quill and paper.

            The beauty of the Druid's Grove overwhelmed Hanrahan after such bloody scenes back at his home. The soft, lush forests compared to his rough, pine forests made him do a double-take every time he stepped outside. All of the different kinds of bugs in the Grove amazed him as well. He seemed to take considerable interest in the world around him, much like he had done when he was younger.

            The random yet seemingly in a pattern rooms where the Druids slept and did their work was always an adventure for Hanrahan, making him remember the days of his youth. He remembered the simple days with Siobhan and the chest of gold that was probably looted by now.

            He left the Druids with a single, easily explained good-bye.

            He waved.

--~--~--~--~--~----~--~--~--~--~----~--~--~--~--~----~--~--~--~--~----~--~--

- Chapter 4 -

Montfluer

"When I got off the boat at the godforsaken

islands in the middle of an ocean, I never

felt so lost in my life."

Found scribbled into the remains of a piece of wood.

 

            He was indeed all alone. He had voluntarily left the Druids, but Han was, once more, utterly alone.  The islands of Kalos and Elysium did not cheer him up either. They brought, along with the act of remaking all of the nations and societies, confusion.  No one knew where anyone else was.

            Lost children roamed around near the docks and parents blindly searched for them just a bit more inland. The builders picked up their tools and materials, hiking off into the unknown to setup the first steps to a settlement and the political figures of the day were just standing around talking.

            Hanrahan honestly had no idea where to go. So he just walked.

            Even without knowing Common, he got around rather well, being able to understand hand gestures of people and able to pick out some letters in the Common-written signs. He walked for a few minutes, perhaps a few hours, perhaps a few days, and eventually realised that he had no shelter. No food. No money.

            And that, naturally, is how he started stealing. It is not that he meant to- or maybe he did mean to, but above all else, he had to. He could not do anything else. He could not speak Common, he could not read Common... How else would he get by these days?

            It started very minimally. Only a crumb here, only a carrot out of this chest, only one potato from that farm. But eventually, Han got hungrier and hungrier...

            Gradually, it became stealing for breakfast, stealing for lunch and stealing for dinner. Hanrahan mastered the art of staying in the shadows, staying out of the light. His dark hair proved to be of good use for once while he waited in the darkness for his next victim- for his next meal.

            The things Han stole may seem just like petty thefts to you and me, but to Han, a "tween" Adunian who had held that whole chest of gold, those thefts were an act of change.

            He was a changed man now. He was not the Hanrahan Brae that ran around the fields of heather in Braemar. He was not the Hanrahan that even washed up on the shores of the Druids' Grove. He was a thief.

            And who would befriend a thief?

--~--~--~--~--~----~--~--~--~--~----~--~--~--~--~----~--~--~--~--~----~--~--

- Chapter 5 -

Proper Education

"She's the reason I can talk now, how

I can communicate, how I can even write

this down for myself..."

Found on a clean piece of paper.

 

            I have personally met Nienna Calm and I can approve of all that Hanrahan goes through in this next chapter of his life. When I met Nienna, back on the small islands before Elysium, she had a warm smile and an even warmer heart. She looked me kindly and lead me to a pair of chairs. She took out a book from her bag and opened it to the first page, placing a gentle finger on the page to move along with the words as she read out loud to me- anyone's first attempt to teach me how to read and write. It did not work- but I have never forgotten that one favour that she has done for me that I have yet to repay.

            And it appears that Han had the same experience. As he was a thief that could not communicate with the common person, he was kicked- and at times even shoved- to the bottom of society. She picked him up off of the ground where he was, tween-attitude and all, and clothed him, taught him and overall befriended him like no one but Siobhan had ever done before.

            For starters, Nienna taught Hanrahan how to read and write in Common, which aided him in all of his years to come. She patiently waited as he practiced every pronunciation, every writing of letters, every reading of words. She took all of his problems and neatly folded them, placing them all those miles away in the chest of gold and kept them there. She befriended a thief.

            As it turns out, Nienna was always more of a motherly person to Hanrahan than a friend. She told him to stand straight, chest out, hair parted properly and clothing cleaned. She made him into an almost political figure- with no fear of getting his hands dirty. She raised him as her own child, and he treated her like his own mother.

            She also highly approved of Han's interests.  One day while roaming around Montfluer, a man was standing just outside of an untitled building. "Oi," the man called to Han, beckoning him over. "Do you need a job?"

            Han was taken aback. Who would offer someone like him a job? And why? Hanrahan attempted to form a sentence in understandable Common. Thinking had been the easy part. Now speaking...

            "Yes," Han said firmly, "I do need a job. Do you have one for me?"

            Han was already looking the man up and down for any valuables: the man appeared to carry several Minas with him; his clothing was more upscale than anything Han had seen roaming around Montfluer; the man also had the strangest outlook on life that Han had ever seen.

            "Take this, then," the man said, easily shifting a leather-bound book into Han's hands without him even noticing. Han looked down at the book, still unsure of how it got there, before the man continued: "Write it in, won't you? Keep it at hand- you never know when you might need to write something down." And with that, the man was gone.

            Han ran back to Nienna with his new found book and showed it to her. She nodded in approval, quickly turning back to her own studies as Hanrahan moved into his room and sat with the book on his bed.

            For the first time in his whole life, he was prepared with true, steel weapons. He could now both read and write, and had all the means to do so. He could fill this book with anything he wanted, anything that pleased him, anything that passed his mind momentarily.

            So, naturally, he did. Hanrahan spent his days filling the pages of his book, wearing out the cover only to recover it with more leather, then only to wear that out, and on and on.  He wrote about the nature around him, the nature that he had seen; the people around him and the people that he had seen. What more could a young Hanrahan Brae want?

--~--~--~--~--~----~--~--~--~--~----~--~--~--~--~----~--~--~--~--~----~--~--

I've known Drone since forever and he is one of the most creative people I know. He's always ready for immersive role-play and he doesn't take 'no' for an answer.~

+1.

Shorsand was one of the first people I really enjoyed to RPing with when I joined LotC, and I can safely say that his RP is involving, dimensional, hilarious and adaptive.
He does not go one moment without some action happening.
He keeps bringing old things from RP back, keeping a continuous theme throughout his character and leaving no detail behind.
Shorsand is very witty and punny, even when no one notices (but I usually notice).
Last but not least, he can adapt to any situation in RP and can create some of the most incredible situations imaginable by even a fictitious, online gaming server.
+1. 

((Hi, I don't know if this still counts as a Clan or if you want to list it, but Arial is still the Chieftess of Brae. Good setup, too!))

Two leaflets seems to be left behind where ever Candy is seen last... they look as though they were both part of larger papers at a time but have lost their way over the years...

Like the fire may destroy

 Arial would pause for a moment during her day to think of Han's memories and to pray to the Aspects, Three, and any other Above Being that Hanrahan doesn't get into any more trouble than he already has. Not that he's alive... Not in this realm, anyway. 

Arial seems uncomfortable with the raised voices from earlier, however at the mention of Hanrahan, she seems to calm down slightly. She also seemed to mutter something at Han's name, perhaps a small prayer or something of the sort. She speaks with a soft voice, "It seems the both of you are very passionate about this nation. What more could the people ask for than a devoted triumvirate? I believe that is the clearest, most bloodless choice. No Adunian blood or otherwise needs to be spilled." 

Arial nods in agreement with Cirimas' words and ponders for a moment how Aep got to stay in the room if this was a closed meeting.

"Ahem," she coughs quietly as though to get attention. "It was Kayrin who was in charge of Adunia for the past years, and it is because of him that it still exists... Nothing against you, of course, Dranan, but the Elendil family has this tendency to just... have family who are the 'true blood' of Elendil coming from Aspects-know-where, I daresay... Perhaps a co-ruling would best fit, seeing as you have yet to rule Adunia, Dranan, and Kayrin seems to have some experience. Yes, please either speak with the people themselves or resolve to a quiet, peaceful transfer of power, or leveling of power. Least the Adunian people leave this nation because of the quarrels with the royalty."

((Edited after noticing Chi's response.))

((I forgive you, Vaerus :3))

Arial raises her hands a little like someone would to stop a speaker politely and respectively. "Dranan... No hostile words, please. We are not picking at each other- perhaps it is because of Kayrin that Adunia has not yet fallen completely.... And perhaps it will be because of you it rises once more to its former greatness- History can show and time can only tell. Though.. History is written by the victors, and time is yet to tell. So while we wait, can there be no peace between the both of you? Could Dranan not- I say 'rule' for lack of a better word- Could Dranan not 'rule' Adunia for the time being, and Kayrin oversee some part of it? Or perhaps a co-ruling would best fit this situation, seeing as half of the families- or clans- are on Dranan's side, while the rest are on Kayrin's (or have absolutely no idea what is going on... Which I do not blame them for). Though perhaps we should not be splitting Adunia, but bringing it together," she speaks, putting her hands together as she does so((for symbolism of 'together')). She looks patiently, under the shadow of her hood, from Dranan to Kayrin with a calm aura about her. Her voice is almost soothing.  

Arial looks politely to Dranan, tilting her head slightly. "And your side?" she asks in a confident, yet curious tone. 

Arial frowns slightly underneath her hood. "I do not run this meeting, perhaps, but I keep it running smoothly. We do not need a fight to break out here, honestly.. I was informed that the purpose of this meeting was to define each of you, and for the Grand King to decide, or for me, or whomever to decide, who will hold the throne to Adunia. If that is wrong, please correct me," she nods a little, "and with a smile, too, please. As you said, Arnorian represents Kayrin, Cirimas represents you, the Grand King and his people are their own entity... I am here, unbiased. I am only here to help."

"I ask kindly," Arial says in a quiet, level voice, even though the sound echoes naturally off the walls, giving the impression that she is everywhere at once, "that no one else speak until both parties - they being Dranan and Kayrin - speak. Thank you in advance for your cooperation." Her face still hidden underneath her hood, she waits once more for Dranan to present his side.