#aevar

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THE SEVENSWORN PANTHEON — I. THE CHAOS-BRINGER

“Little prince.” Aevar’s voice drew him out of his shock. “Give me a good hunt, hm? I have been bored for far too long.”

god of: strife, chaos, war & battle, endurance, pride, courage, ferocity, honor, and protection. there are whispers that he moonlights as a trickster deity, though when asked he always denies it.

associations: the colors red and blue, eyes, battlefields, warpaint, thundering voices, fire, the smell of leather, and wolves.

known for: his role in breaking the void gate during the night war, his place as the champion & wartime lord-commander of the seven, his title of avok’shai (godkiller) and how he earned it, his claim to ronan aldrea’s life (as foretold in prophecy), and his strict commitment to honor and dignity in battle, notable only because of its oddity beside his relentless and brutal fighting style.

affiliated with: the seven (family), shivaroth (younger brother and former companion; one of the few beings aevar has a soft spot for), ronan aldrea (the adacian prince he is fated to kill), and the army of rhydel (allies). in the past he also walked beside vehkra, a blacksmith famous for forging aevar’s blade, amon’llyra. he is notably the only mortal aevar ever considered a friend.

role in mythology: it is said that when aevar first stepped foot on ishtel, the mortal plane, he gifted the mortals with fire by setting their homes ablaze and letting them learn of its ferocity through firsthand experience. embellishment or not, he was surprisingly involved in early human society, and while most mortals feared him due to the more aggressive aspects of his nature, priests and scholars both agreed that aevar was not evil, but instead represented the balance between primal rage and steady strategy. he gained mortal favor by occasionally gracing their wars with his presence; if its warriors held fire in their eyes and honor in their hearts he would often choose to help the losing side, riding into battle with them regardless of their odds.

role in modern adacia: aevar ceased his involvement in most mortal proceedings long ago, leaving little evidence of his presence save for ancient ballads and stories. because of his absence, most of adacia’s scholars focus only on what they know: his part in fending off the devouring of the world during the night war, as it was his blade that broke while sealing the void gate. most of his earlier endeavors are ignored, especially after he was marked in prophecy as the god meant to kill a young adacian prince named ronan aldrea. as his most noticeable actions and attributes are the flashy and violent ones, it is often forgotten that aevar is not cruel by nature, merely an embodiment of some of creation’s harsher facets. 

the truth, in ronan’s eyes:

Aevar’s face, all sharp edges and warpaint, was softened by the dusk. Ronan could only imagine how he looked; wide-eyed, awed, childish. Afraid.

Aevar raised his blade between them.

“Her name is Amon’Llyra,” he murmured. “It means ‘winged victory’. She was broken many years ago, in the final attack on the Void Gate.”

Ronan took a deep breath. “Why are you telling me this?”

“So you may know the blade that is to kill you.”

He exhaled. Took in the sight of it. Its hilt was carved in a way that made it seem to flow, to reach, while its blade was cut short near the base, shattered by what must have been a great force, a strange juxtaposition of a weapon. He could see it had once been beautiful and pure, untouched by the Void or the darkness.

Much like her wielder.

Sevensworn Character Intro [6/6] | Tag | WIP Page - The Tyrant-King Aevar

Long ago, he would have pulled Shivaroth into his arms and wept into his hair. Today, he stood, and stared, and drew his sword. There was not a hint of emotion in his eyes.

“Aevar,” Shivaroth whispered. “Look at me. Truly look at me. Just let me help you.”

“And if I don’t want to be helped?” Aevar ran a fingertip along the edge of his blade, watching with detached fascination as blood ran down his hand when he pulled it away. “You say I used to know you, but I don’t remember you at all, so you couldn’t have been terribly important. Now step aside, and let me claim the prince.” 

Shivaroth squared his jaw, and stepped forward. His bare feet were silent against the hard-packed earth beneath them, and Aevar watched him lazily as he approached and put his hands against his cheeks. 

“Come now,” Shivaroth whispered. “Remember. What were the last words you ever heard me say?” 

A flash in Aevar’s eyes, a choked gasp, the tightening of fingers on a hilt. A nearly implacable thing - recognition. 

Aevar sat on the edge of the dock looking out into the bay. Watching the ship sails flutter in the wind. Watching the marine life crest the smooth still water of the frigid Fjord morning. It was quiet, calm peaceful. Aevar liked that, at least right now. He needed this time to think about the recent events. Sure he could sit in his room at the inn and think, it would be warmer there, but Aevar had promised Cerri he would get out of his room. Try to socialize with the other members of the House, even if a little bit. He promised her that, and he was a man of his word, or at least he tried to be.

Aevar rubbed his hands together, he looked down to the water, staring at the reflection of himself --

"All I see is a failure...a good for nothing failure. Yeah sure you helped save Lady Breianna and Lady Meryim from the clutches of that fat bastard, but there was others there, hell there was an entire army providing a distraction. But you made a promise to Tayllah, you said you would watch Alex's back and he would watch yours...yet look who is sitting on this fucking dock and who is probably getting tortured...you failed yourself, you failed the House, you failed Tayllah. You call yourself a Protectorate, defender of those that are under the Banner of House Haethon, yet you couldn't protect one man, a man you consider your friend. Instead you became a tool of his captor...a messenger boy..." Aevar scoffed, letting out a pained laughed "Twice in fact have I been his tool...twice he has spared me...he is right there will not be a third, he is damn right because the next time we meet...I will be watching as Alex drives a dagger straight through his skull. The next time we meet I will be lighting the fire that burns his body to ash so that he can never come back to harm Tayllah, to harm my friends....to harm my family."

Aevar stood up still staring at himself in the reflective water. He shook his head turning to walk away towards the inn. He didn't bother to speak to anyone, just headed straight for his room. It was more organized then he could have ever made it. Cerri did a good job considering the mess he had made only nights before. He smiled lightly thinking of her, she has helped him through this more then the others, she offered a shoulder when he needed one most and he admired her for that. He entered the room trying to keep it organized, it looked good this way. He approached the foot locker at the end of his bed, he pulled the key from around his neck to unlock the chest and rummaged for his journal. It had worked for him in the past while he was in Draenor, maybe it could help now. He pulled out the neatly bound Leather book, still in good condition from lack of use lately. He flipped through the pages reading the entries he had written back in Draenor. He could feel the anger in the words he had written even now. "Why am I so angry..." He flipped through each page reading his past thoughts. "Am I really like this...is this all that defines me as a person, these anger,guilt filled words..." He took a moment to just sit on his bed, journal just gripped in his hands. After a few minutes he would take off his chest piece and the shirt underneath staring at the scar that adorned the front of his upper right chest, the disgusting Shadowmoon Clan crest just staring back at him. The memories of that day rush back to him...he could almost feel the pain of that cursed Dagger digging into his skin. He fell to his knees staring to the floor, he was sobbing a little bit. His left hand moved to cover the scar 

"Why do you have to be so stubborn. You cause everything that happens to you yet you get angry when people try to help you...you get mad and try pushing them away because of your pride. Because you think you grew up on your own for a few years you think you don't need anyone...." He looks up, just his head peering into the Mirror, he wipes away the few tears the adorn his cheek. "You fool yourself saying you don't need anyone...but you do. You need everyone in this House. They let you in with arms wide opened and you forget that...Mother...Father...they may be dead...they wanted you to have more...they raised you better then to be an arrogant self centered fool. You are shaming them with the way you act...they may be gone...but you still have a family. A family that has put up with your shit...and you show no gratefulness for it. You are shaming them as well. You need to fix yourself. Become the man your parents raised. Become the Protectorate you need to be for this House. Be the friend you need to be to whoever needs it. You need to be the real you now...the game is over...the farce is up. Time to start new Aevar Stenwulf." 

Aever stood up and put his shirt back on covering the scar that he hated so much. He grabbed his Journal opening it to a fresh page.

This journal has been an escape for me. A way to vent my anger in the past. As i read the past pages I have come to realize the kind of person I am. My anger may not show on the outside, at least not all the time, but after reading the words that developed in my mind over weeks and months, it is clear to me now. The recent events have mentally destroyed me. Finding out Breianna was kidnapped, I felt like I had not done my job as a Protectorate, but as a House we stood together and got her back. But barely a day or two after that was the event that has me writing this journal entry. A simple mission, to see where a foe may be hiding ended up going horrible wrong. Alex was taken prisoner by the Hooded figure, I myself wounded and used as a pawn in his game. Mentally it has destroyed me. Ever since i first met that figure face to face...I see him in my sleep every night...it haunts me even when that nightmare passes. I feel responsible for Alex's capture...he gave up because the bastard held me to knife point...I feel it is my fault.

I can't stand to even show my face to Tayllah. She probably hates me for not following through with the promise I made to her. I haven't seen her since that night, the look on her face when she realized what had happened to Alex, it made my heart drop. She must be so lonely in that House, she may have Ophie and the Governess, but what she must think every time she looks towards those Mountains, knowing her fiance is somewhere out there getting the worst of her mentors punishment. I need to see her, I need to tell her I am sorry. I just hope she will listen.

But where there is darkness there is light. I think my light has come from Lady Leighton...Cerri. I don't know I just feel calm around her, something I need. I feel i can talk with her about anything that bothers me, and I hope with How i have acted with her she feels she can do the same with me. I know she is seeing another, I respect that, regardless of that I hope we can have a friendship, one where even though I wish we were together, she can still trust me to be there for her.

I guess this entry is going to be short...I feel as though I said all I can say. I know this will not help with the issues going on in my mind now, but just the act of writing about it helps me see more clearly. I just hope things can be right again within the House, that calm can be restored. For everyone's sake.