The Night of Solace
The echoes of a lone torch, cackling in the pitch black corridors beneath the great bastion of Tyrs Hand were the only sound of comfort in the dark for an old soul. The cold air had sunk in the world above as the sun began to set, its last rays of light cresting over the ridges off in the distance. Life in the city had not been better for some time, even as plague swept the fringes of the Republic and recently made its claim on the capital shattering the gates and destroying many buildings, its people were strong, and had hope on their side. But the dark below was all consuming, for these tunnels were made as a last hideout for the people of the city, stone carved walls and thick wooden doors at regular intervals like checkpoints, but the torches that hung the walls were not lit. There was no golden glow in these halls, and there has not been for some time, its place was taken by something hotter, and something less forgiving. The faint blue glow that passed down the labyrinth from its source, the closer one came to it the hotter one would become. Brutalius did not expect visitors this low under the streets. His place of solace to be alone where he hid his relics. Tomes, scrolls and artifacts of Eredar fashion adorned the walls and chests, the relics that had once donned the walls of the command room where he issued his orders to the proud warriors of the Republic, now rested in the darkness. The large Eredar hummed a song, a melody older than himself, it had no real words to it, at least none that time could recall but the tempo was there. Sharp grunts and low grumbles in a sequence that could put a child to sleep, and the chimes of Y’tera seemed in tune. Brutalius sighed as he stopped the song, and laid down a scroll he was reading, the runes were all faded but he knew what they were by heart. “It’s been a long time since the Army, I wonder how the cause goes.” he muttered but the chimes faded away into the voice of a Naaru. “They follow Turalyon well, but you have lost your way.” a crackle from the mans armor broke through the silence of the room. “You cannot lead, when you are lost yourself, The man I bonded with all those millennia ago would have never fallen of the path so easily.” silence came again as a chilling wind blew its way into the room, the papers flapped upwards but did not move, dancing as the winds passed. Brutalius sagged his shoulders and looked at his hammer. “I have not changed!” he snarled at the crown. A mistake as in retaliation it let out a deep boom, the noise vibrating through his skull, and causing him to rip the crown from his head and toss it to the side. the voice retorted to the Eredar, “You are right! You have not changed, but the world around you has!” The crowns glow brightened painting its surroundings blue as a faded and distorted apparition of the once whole Naaru took form before him. “You refused to change your ways and lost your power, lost your friends. lost your weapon, and part of me!” By this time Brutalius had stood up on his hooves and looked at the hovering form scolding him. “They’re your people up there, part of who you are and part of your charge and yet you retreat down here, covered in darkness. Lotra’ad this will never do!” The crown boomed again, seemingly shaking the ground beneath Brutalius and forcing him to take a knee or risk falling over.
Brutalius looked up at the apparition, its form fading in and out as this display was no doubt taxing on the shards that controlled it. “They give me no choice! They fear me, so i stay down here and come up when I must!” Brutalius barked back, hissing. “That name died on Argus, died with my people! I. AM. BRUTALIUS!” he shouted as he dragged his hammer back over to him, using it as a crutch to help him stand while he regained his balance. Y’tera wouldn’t have this and rumbled. “You are Lotra’ad, son of Bro’taris and Ytreia, you are not some heartless machine, you are a living being with feelings like them. You may have forgotten what those names are, and what emotion is but you can never shed them.” The Naaru had faded but the crown still glew brightly. Brutalius looked down at the stone floor and sighed, dropping his hammer to the ground, cracking the stone on impact and falling to the ground with a monstrous thud. “I have not forgotten who I was, but you understand more than any of them, the life I have lived, you have seen my memories, my friend, my victories and my greatest defeats. I lost so much because I let myself get in the way of victory. Friends dead because I was to prideful on the battlefield.” A lone tear, trailed down Brutalius’ cheek and fell to the floor. “I was forged to be a weapon, to be unstoppable not because I cant fail. . . But because I can! Because I have failed, and I just cannot fail now.” another tear streamed down his face as the crown faded, it went silent for only a moment but it felt like eternity to Brutalius, ironic how even one moment to an immortal can feel like this, but it stung and Brutalius was enraged, gritting his teeth. “So what!? You scold and leave! Is that - -.” he was cut short as the chimes kicked in overdrive and images taking shape out of light danced around him, and for once in a very long time. The once great general was awestruck. “You, how do you have these?” he protested meekly, his tail fell to the ground and his jaw slackened. The Naaru echoed in his head. “We bonded, I know your past as well as you do, but it seems I know you better than even you do.” within the images came two familiar faces, one of a male and female Eredar smiling at Brutalius. “Your parents. You do--” The voice was cut short as Brutalius shed several tears, something in his heart had snapped at the sight of his own genesis. His mother called out to him. “Come Lotra’ad your father has a new toy for you from the outpost.” he heard it like she was here standing before him, even though they were seperated by ages, and before he could respond he heard a young boys voice call out from behind him “Coming Mommy!” but this was what truly had snapped him, and he could never had prepared for it. Running towards him as clear as day was himself, no older than a century charging with a small toy in hand, Brutalius knelt down to look at the boy but the memory simply moved through him. The Brute closed his eyes and sobbed. The images faded away as the darkness closed in, and the all to familiar voice came crawling into his head again. “You are not a weapon Lotra’ad. You are a guardian, but you have forgotten what it is you were supposed to protect. What you need to protect is not down here, it is up there, and they need you now more than ever.” Brutalius sniffled and wiped his face with his gauntlet staying on his knees, shoulders sagged while his knuckles rested on the floor saying nothing. “Lotra’ad I cannot show you anything that should change your heart more than that.” silence still remained .
Brutalius stood, walking over to his crown and picking it up from the ground. For the first time since the Republic was formed he inspected it and was appalled to see the damages it had sustained, So much brute force had been used in such little time that the crystals were cracking, and the metal had warped its shape, no longer beautiful craftsmanship it now looked as if an ogre had smashed it with a boulder and gave it back. He then walked to his hammer and lifted it from the ground, its glow faint and pulsing. “I do not need to see anymore old friend.” he then placed it back on his head, the Blue glow faded into complete darkness with no light in the room around Brutalius. Then with a bright flash and a howling song the light returned, no longer blue and dark but golden as it was once before. There was no relentless hate, now there was only a will. One long forgotten in the epochs of time, a will not to be a weapon but a will to be a savior and a guide. Brutalius opened his golden eyes and smiled, turning around towards the halls that led back to the city streets. “I guess to see what I had become, I needed to look at what I was. Thank you.” he put his hammer back in its holster across his back and laughed. “First stop, to get my sword, and then.” he stopped short, but had peaked his friends interest. “And then..?” it asked and with a bright smile Brutalius said. “And then to right my wrongs.” and with that he began to walk down the hall and back into the city streets, no longer as a blue beacon of rage. But as a golden ray of hope.