Tell us about yourself. It was an innocent enough statement, but one he never really had a good answer for. What- who am I? He was storied, he had been the villain, the hero, the victim and the victor.
His experiences were both rewarding, and traumatic, and the balance between the two was hard fought and often impossible to find.
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Lightning flashed over the Monastery of Silver Threads, a long forgotten fortress high in the mountains. It was a familiar place, one of comfort and solitude for the war-weary priest. It was best described as a refuge from the daily goings-on of the multiple facets of his life.
Old Night, and typical Barovian weather cared little for an individuals need for solace- and peace was something that came to Audric in fleeting, rare moments. These moments were short lived enough that he rarely found the time to enjoy them, for the great many friends he'd lost along the way haunted him like a looming specter. He carried with him many of the worlds grim secrets, and could not find the strength or fortitude to pass them on to another, as they had been so carefully bestowed upon him.
He knew of the Old Gods, he'd met the keepers of the Monastery, and he knew the truth of the Castle and of the Morninglord. What good had it wrought?
Every man or woman armed with the knowledge to fight the supreme evils of the land had all met the very same, brutal fate. They were openly massacred, their families torn apart and their friends turned, or left alive simply as a reminder that they had failed.
He could not bring himself to condemn another to the same fate of knowledge that had been bequeathed upon himself, for every step of progress forward was met with swift and decisive retaliation and those that had shared his drive to push forward had all but vanished.
He was alone with nightmares that shook his faith and resolve, and opted to do the best he could without prodding hard enough to unleash another unstoppable bloodbath. Even his passive resistance had a toll he had trouble enduring-
The flashbacks of Emmaline screaming, something he did not witness in person, but the mental image of a dear friend being consumed by a God(ess) not her own was tough to bear.
Morvayn following soon after-
Anya, Alek, and Loredana being welcomed into the embrace of the Morninglord- fangs bared-
"Thy Lips Be Cleansed"
So very, very many more.
Every hard fought victory seemed to be matched with an almost immediate unimaginable loss.
The solitude of the Monastery was always welcomed, because at least there, no one heard him scream in his sleep. The fear and terror of additional loss would fall only upon the ears of ghosts and vacant keepers- No one would see the fractures in his armor.
It was partially why he showed no fear in battle, towards beast, human, life or unlife- He had seen far worse in his nightmares. The Threads is where the Chaplian Lacroix began his story, under the tutelage of Zachary, for an active resistance- and it was likely where his story would come to a close, though perhaps the significance of that was lost to even him.