[OOC] Hey gamers, decided to do a little lore story from the perspective of Ailred and the choice he has been given by the Sword of Caius. There are themes of madness, insomnia, and PTSD so if those trouble you, please don't read it if you think it'll trigger you. Otherwise, enjoy!
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Night One
Eyes bloodshot, staring at the ceiling, four hours now, only four more until morning. Ailred let out a slow exhale, eyes bleary he stood, moving out of the bedroom and onto the balcony to overlook the shadowed Floral Court. A blink and it was on fire again, the Avantl did not move this time, he was used to seeing it ablaze. It haunted everything he was down to his very core, but like in all things, he remained standing, an immovable object. It was times like these that it became hard to keep such a moniker. In daylight assumptions of him returning to what he was weighed him down. Like a darkness it crept at his mind, what people assumed, what people wanted, what people needed.
Worsening matters, he was cursed with flashes of information the moment his eyes would close, thousands of futures flooding through the Avantl's mind. Every now and again a memory floated into his mind. That was what really stung, a memory of him first turning to Extinguisher, haunted by a ghost that followed him as he walked. A familiar voice, a familiar shade, a Wymarc. It appeared between trees, like a third, a child between the two. "You cannot be good, Ailred, you are just like me, we are both /monsters/ running from what we are. Just admit it." It echoed over and over in his mind eventually a fist, slamming it into the wall enough to dent it. He shook his hand off, shaking his head. "As long as she doesn't… do anything, as long as I can decide in relative quiet." He spoke, clueless, slipping off into the night to meditate, only four hours until dawn.
Night Two
Sleep was for the weak, or at least that was what the Avantl kept telling himself after the fifth hour of staring at the wall of the small leytech workshop he built himself, toiling away would at least make the thoughts fade. Suadhira did do it though, the bounty had began and each one tormented… it would be Ailred's fault. After all, her only reason for such a bargain was to do something productive while Ailred tried to decide but he couldn't. He simply couldn't. To say no was to give up, and to say yes was to give in. Suadhira was right, they had tried peace and love and each time it had failed, but he couldn't just give into that hate again, right? It was just as he told Neokarr, that each of them were dealt a losing hand and would have to just ride it the best they could. Each strike of the hammer into metal created a rhythm, something he could fade into.
As he stared at the wall, his mind began to wander, in the Dogarten Monastery, the words echoing throughout the halls as Maddox yelled. "Let go of your hate, it's killing you." The Avantl listened for a long while, she was right, it was ever so slowly killing him. Even now, even months past overcoming the Mantle it still burned within him. That hatred he had felt so lividly, the hatred that all thought was forced onto him by Caius. It maddened him, everyone saying that it should be gone and yet… it still remained, burning into his mind.
Night Three
It was beginning to set in: madness. In desperate attempts to figure out the right path and prepare himself for the worst he had driven himself further and further from family further and further from friends. It had been done, had Suadhira planned this out, could she know? Even with the prophetic gaze of Palatino he wandered directly into what he wanted so desperately to avoid. He was alone again, at least for now. He thought he had gotten used to being alone, years as a sanguine and months as an Extinguisher, a survivalist by birth, he had to be alone, but now, it was an unwelcome homecoming.
He stared at the flickering sublime light of the candle, growing distant and more distant into the darkness of the abyss as the world grew a shadow around him. Eyes flickered, begging to close though the Avantl stayed awake, every moment they fell, a swarm of visions appearing. Rosaria cast in bright crimson flames, a silhouette of a warrior of Caius in front of it watching as judgment was delivered.
Night Four
The Avantl stood there, it had to be hours now standing at the balcony of the Dogarten Monastery, looking down to the lake below. Despite the distance, the words still felt like they echoed around the empty halls of the monastery. "You can always choose!" "But can Caius conquer the world, if he can't even conquer one man?" "It feels as if we just got you– got you back." "He has a fondness for little men who used to keep his oaths" He gripped his head as if it would make it stop and knew all the same it wouldn't. Even if it weren't in his head, the next time he stepped out into the world, it would come at him again. Thus, he remained.
He remained staring into the lake, eyes pulling up to gaze over the wood, though it was different. It was not the Regalian Park he looked over, but a familiar oak of life and freedom, the echoes of laughing and happiness swallowed by a fiery rage. The Great Tree's saplings burned to the ground, as sanguiverous cackles resounded amongst the shadowy remnant of what they sought to destroy.
Night Five
The Mana Tree is quiet at night, all the peace and happiness that irradiated from it by the Ordvaan and flocks of merry-goers silenced by the darkness and shadow. The Avantl watched the fire intently. Wings covered his shoulders, a small warmth emanating from them. He watched quietly over the grounds of the holy-place. It wasn't his, never would be his, yet still it gave him hope quietly. For a moment during the hellish week he had, there was an ounce of solace, while everything was gone such meant he had little left to lose, or at least believed so. The Avantl for a moment in the darkness of the world, had finally found a light, ephemeral but it was something.
As Ailred watched the fire, darkness began to encroach on the man. He blinked, moving to a stand in the middle of the woods. The leaves, the sulfuric smell, the humidity, there was a place like this, the Avantl knew it well: Guldar. He paced through the woods, sinking into the forest floor with each step. At first, he thought it was water, until the smell of iron passed through the toxic gas. Blood pooled around his feet as he began to run through the woods, faster and faster but it felt with each step he was getting deeper, trees were replaced for bodies, before coming to a clearing. A Pyramid– No… a Mountain, stood massively tall with a massive Maquixtl Archon with broad draconic wings stood on top of it. The Mountain made not of stone but of bodies upon bodies, a titanic structure of hatred and wrath. The Draconic Knight at the top bellowing out fire in a furious roar, the name of Qaarn sung from every stone and tree. The Conqueror of the West grown stronger.
Night Six
The Avantl sat in his kitchen, hands in a bowl of ash. He came to, shaking his head confused at how he had ended up in such a state. The lack of sleep was getting to him, uncertainty and madness crept at every inch of his mind though he still as he tried could not sleep. The lightning from Gyrivenn's strike still surged through his veins. There were those few who could resist the weight of the sky, who were unstoppable in motion and immovable in belief, an Eternal Challenger. It was after all why he was in such a spot, his words ringing in his ear "I was spit out into the world and taught to kill… and I proceeded to do so until I had killed so much that I garned the attention of a God"
A memory came to mind, a world cast as a painting, a place within the irrealis a far mutation of the world, yet so similar to home. A pocket of reality centered around an anchor, a massive red presence of magic. Two Greater Demons of Fire and of Sand. The Avantl was mundane at this time, the coat wrapped firmly around him as two axes rested in his hands. A charging wall of demons came forward, and the Avantl leapt into the fray. Ailred smiled at the memory, for all its violence, it had meaning. It had hope.
Night Seven
The Avantl laid in his bed, so little time left and it felt so very fleeting. Like sand slipping from between one's fingers, the week that he had to decide was consumed by rage and fear. Darkness closed in like jaws around the Avantl, weakness proliferated in him, the past week was taxing on his physicality as well as his mental state. Now though… there was a resolve spreading throughout the mind of the Avantl, heavied breaths not of tear-stains but of resentment fading then to resolve. It was a steeling of himself for the day to come, sleep wanted so desperately to avoid him but here, the meditation was done not out of fear anymore. It was patient, calculating, and angry. A decision had been made in the Avantl's mind, doubt… still had its room to wander, but for now the Archon knew his path.
A soft vision came to his mind, an Elven lady of dark complexion stood over the stairs to the dungeon. Bitter cold wafted from her and sunk into every inch of the Avantl's soul. Of the ice that formed on the ground of stonework, Ailred could see his reflection in it; crimson eyes of darkness and hatred peering into him as his gaze drifted back up to the ice mage. A once-sanguine herself as she spoke quietly. "Ailred… the Broken, a fitting title for you now."
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