MolochSegundo: The Saga of Orodyn Vartuul
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In solitude...

In your own terms...

I had often wondered why you failed to reach out.

Why your asymmetrical flow of cranky, boastful letters had met their bitter end so abruptly.

We thought you gone - asunder from these lands. Just like you had all those decades ago to push them out.

You left, like any other mortal... you rotted and decomposed, just like the meekest of us.

I guess I am still awestruck. In disbelief.

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We were never truly close.

You thought him better. A closer fit. 

Everything I succeeded in, he outshined me vastly in.

Until I eventually thought myself fine with being supplementary.

I was too much like my mother.

He, so much more in your likeness... I was fine with it.

But even that changed overtime. In virtue and patience, I saw my own thirst for victory groomed proper.

I thrived. I see him  as an equal - as does he. As do we all.

I saw my name engraved as you did - met the same boon and bliss.

I am worthy of these eyes now; of these locks. Am I not...?

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The opportunity to find bliss in that validation,

it is so distant now...

How will I continue to function - knowing your acknowledgement will never come?

Incapable of resolving the steepness in difference between us both, one you claimed so vehemently to be so...?

Was your legacy chosen already? Was it all bestowed unto him? Not a thought spared my way?!

How will I carry myself now? Knowing myself to be the second to you so perennially?

How, father... how?
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To the victor go the spoils, pup. Lest you let this meekness and mercy of yours forfeit glory.

"The climb. It is so thoughtless.
Only tethered to vigor by blind faith. 
Nay an inch more than what I need."

Do you remember what the winds of the frozen north were like at their most unforgiving, brother?

"You'll figure it out.
You're so golden, Oro.
I'm proud to have you at my side, little brother."

Today, you're our lorekeeper. A second party of pilgrims arrives tomorrow morning.

"Brood brethren.
Walk the embers with me once again!
Temper your flesh and hearts in Garljing's name!"

I heard he was dug into by one of those Sarradians from down south, the hunters...

"Ah, what would you expect?
Fifteen, charging into the sandsea like that?
Kids like him, they let their names go to their heads."

He... impaled the slayer's captain, that juggernaut... with his horns!? 

"Hm. I see it now.
You've got his ugly mug.
Frown less. You'll get more girls."

A bone to pick with the Grimmore Patriarch? Bold of him to call upon the eyes of the Red God to witness his duel.

"That's too much, reel it in.
Ah, and...
Sythaeryn would not lose this."

What? Orodyn...? Orodyn Vartuul... won?
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