Chapter 20, Undefeated

The tall, scarred man walks silently through the town, seemingly lost in his own thoughts, a troubled look upon his face.  He nods in greeting to those few he knows but does not stop to converse, that has never been his way, as he continues his nocturnal tour of the town of Wehnimer's Landing. 

The town of Wehnimer's Landing is his home, but it is also a place of so much strife and pain over the long years, a place of grievous loss and hideous amounts of death and destruction.  He sees the badly burned girl-child, scrounging for food, and a tear comes to his eye; children have always struck a chord within him, perhaps due to his own traumatic childhood.

Pain and anger seethe within him as he sees the remnants of the destruction wrought upon his home by outside forces, forces both physical and magical, all bent on one thing… the complete and total annihilation of the Free Town of Wehnimer's Landing.  He closes his eyes and he can see, hear, and feel the battles of the past that he has been a small part of; he can feel his blood pouring from his body as it stains the ground red and he can hear the screams and war cries of his friends and comrades as they do the same.  All have bled, in one way or another, to protect his home.

He sees the flames, consuming buildings and people alike, their hunger never-ending, the need to feed upon the defenseless never sated.  He sees the terror in the eyes of the children who have lost their parents, and the forlorn look borne by parents who have lost their children.  The unfairness of it all gives him pause; has it all been worth it?  Did he make any sort of difference, or were his efforts only feeding the greedy maw of death?

Was he doing the right thing when he agreed to so many risky and costly endeavors?  Was it worth the cost, or was it only his ego and vanity that needed to be satisfied?  The Songbird comes to mind, each and every time his mind journeys down this pathway; the assault into enemy territory for the snatch and grab, the death he dealt that night… was the cause just, or was his logic flawed?  It wouldn't be the first time… that is for certain.

His mind wanders back to a time long ago, when he was much different, before the darkness entered his heart… a darkness that he embraced, without hesitation.  He was proud then, almost too proud.  He was one with the Light and walked the lands with confidence and surety; people listened to him and valued his words.

An Imperial town, another war, a far different outcome; his life was forever changed.  Siding with the Light, but using the Darkness as a weapon, as a reason, as an excuse, he shed the blood of his enemies wherever he found them, without mercy or thought; and he reveled in it.  He spent the war fighting shadow with shadow… and he called it just. 

The man, scarred in body, mind, and spirit, never left that war, he remained immersed in the darkness, it ate at his soul until there was little left; there was no return, no penance… no excuse.  He justified his actions as a need, a necessity of the times, and a pathway to victory.

He has done the same thing over and over again throughout the years, fighting savagery with savagery, undertaking a personal war of attrition with whatever enemy was at hand, caring little about causes or freedoms.  He began fighting simply to justify his existence, to give him a reason to be.  The needs of anyone else were rarely considered, unless those needs coincided with his own.  He rarely sought out the counsel of others and they never sought out his; he was an outsider, an undesirable among the ranks of those who were on the side of Light.

He continued in this vein for a very long time, on his own, fighting by his rules, in his own way.  Then came the war with Talador, and along with it came his grand decision, his commitment to the total destruction of every Taldorian knight he could find… and, ultimately, his taking of trophies; his descent into barbarism was now complete.  He had become that which he had hunted so long ago.

The raid on the Taladorian logistics train capped everything off for him.  He slaughtered them by the score, men, and women, most defenseless and weak; but in his mind legitimate targets for his arrows and his spells.  He relished each kill, each time he fired his bow was another step towards victory, in his mind.

Then came Cosima, the Songbird, and the grand betrayal by Drangell.  When he saw her, engulfed in fire, the wedding dress aflame, something within him was awoken.  He tried so very hard to put her out of her misery… one chance, one arrow, one shot.  But, alas, he could not, there was no shot to take, no merciful death for the Jewel of Talador… and so he listened to her screams as they burned themselves into his memory.  He hated them, knowing he had played a part in her death.

He began to change after that, becoming even more withdrawn, more unpredictable, more dangerous.  He had been broken, finally, and he didn't know what to do.  His past had finally caught up with him, and payment was due.

He saw Elithain Cross as a way out, a way to finally end everything, a way to assuage his own guilt.  He was wrong, once again.  He refused the blood oath and was cast out of their ranks… and, though broken, he was still his own man, beholden to none.

Every decision comes with a price, and this time the price was more than he could bear, this time another paid for his actions… and he was shattered because of it.  Never before had he known fear like this, never before had he been unsure of his actions; doubt gnawed at his every decision until he became completely ineffective.  This went on for months, all due to his inability to prevent the love of his life from being taken and used in this fashion… her screams haunted him.

Then, when all seemed lost, and when he needed him most, the Tehir Blood-mage, Teuriz, came to her aid.  He healed her and, in so doing, healed the man as well, brought him back from the depths of despair… he was whole, once again.

The man then began walking the lands once more with a sense of pride and he began to reflect on his life, to look at his past decisions with an honest and impartial eye.  What he saw took him aback, to say the least.  So many times he was wrong, so many bad decisions, all arrived at due to purely selfish reasoning, pride, and vanity.

The road to recovery has been a long, slow, and painful process, riddled with doubt.  As he continues his evening stroll through the town he keeps reminding himself that, though Wehnimer's Landing, her people, and her defenders may have been hurt, bent, and battered, and we have suffered tragic losses, we are unbroken… we are still strong, and we will remain so.

We are Undefeated.