Grey Nights in Greycloaks

[Tattles]

---

Spring, 1732

You never suspect that it's your own people, but I guess I did.
Weiss and Savael's deaths woke me up more than any cup of black coffee ever could.
Osrona is a zoo, a snake-pit, with political games and other stuff making this all so foggy.
But there are some nice people there too.

There was a murder, a church girl.
Eye witnesses said it was occultists.
Or that there was occult magic on the scene.
Or something like that.
I'm getting help with it.

Romani said my hair is dirty.
I think that's because I'm walking in dirty places.
He said he'd wash it and style it.
I think I'll let him.

I have to get to the bottom of this thing.
I know it goes deep, like a gopher hole.
Or a rabbit hole.
A snake hole.
It's a deep hole, and at the bottom are the keys to solving all of this.
I'm sure of it.

[Tattles]

Fall, 1737

It's all far easier in black and white. The world is easier in terms of witches and demons, knights and heroes. The truths are far more cut and dry, what one chooses to fight for is a simpler choice. When the options are good and evil, there are no questions. There are no dissenters. There are no angry crowds calling for war or peace.

There is only action. Or so that's what my uncle's books mentioned. It was easier as a child to believe I understood it all in those terms as well. The bad guy was out there to be caught, the good one on my side.

But simple times do not last that long. In the end, the best we can do is choose what we stand for. So many don't know what they stand for. Money, fame, adoration. They might say these things are worthwhile enough. But I myself could never settle for something so simple. So base. I am lucky to have found my convictions before I was grown.

It is my sincerest hope that the same can be said for the rest of my friends.
I wish them well. I wish them fortune.

Because despite this world and conflict lacking in clear choices of good and evil, I've found a simple truth. When the gun is aimed to fire, there is no right or wrong. There is no in-between. There are only two sides; the one behind the barrel, and the one on the receiving end. And it's all much easier this way.

[Tattles]

Summer, 1741

So many called you demon.
So many others believed you to be our own angel sent from beyond.
But I told you once before that, to me, you were only ever just yourself.

You were a soldier saved by our Rites, and all too soon the second High Leader of our young kingdom.
In my youth, I saw you as a liar. In my adolescents, I saw you as my opposite. And in my adulthood, you were nothing less than the mother I was forced to go without.

--

I distrusted you when you married her.
On the night of your wedding, I told you that you would never be one of us.
And yet you became one of the best of our kin, for you were part of our blood and our blessing long before you took the Rite.

You were a man of great ideas, of thoughts and concepts that could have changed the world over had you the backing to see it through. You showed my people that there were some loves that couldn't be broken, and you became a father that I'd lost.

--

I always spoke of weathering the storm.
But you showed me that you were the storm.
You were the first human I'd ever chosen to trust, and the one who brought me into your home like I was one of you.

We spoke often of the kind of world we'd build together. We were scolded for believing in such idealistic things as peace and prosperity, unity for all. 
You were my Commander, and above that you were my friend.

--

I wonder if I'll be seen as a demon, Asta.
I wonder if I'll be capable of compromise and diplomacy, Regulus.
I wonder if I'll be able to weather this next storm without you, Ilsa.

Each one of you taught me invaluable lessons that I could never repay you for. Each one of you showed me when I was incorrect, when there was a better way to go about something. I wouldn't be who I am today without living through what I have at your sides. And now I must face the fact that you're all gone. I must live knowing that this night will replay in my dreams until the day I pass on. For though I gave the orders, the screams and the fires of Osrona's fall will never be something I can forget. Is this the curse of my blood? Is this what my grandfather knew I'd become?

I wonder if we'll ever meet again someday.
Someday when this is all finally over.

[Tattles]

It's cold outside.
My mother and father are dead.
I don't understand exactly what the man in armor says after that.
I'm too young to recognize what it really means.
It's snowing,
and it's cold outside.

The flowers are blooming.

It's spring and the sun is out,

but I'm running for my life.

I have to get away from him.

I have to get somewhere that isn't there,

anywhere that's safe.

It's summer.

The sun beats down on the training grounds for the younger Greycloaks like me.

The High Lady visits to watch us but I don't feel like she was impressed.

Savael teaches us how to shoot a bow.

I keep looking over at the older Valeborne with rifles.

I decide that I'll use one of those.

Bullets move faster than arrows.

The trees turn orange.

Osronans visit our city.

Their queen calls us savages, but the High Lady accepts her meetings.

I show some of the kids who came with her the cauldron in our tower.

Ilsa becomes my first friend.

It's winter again.
Weiss is dead.
Savael is dead.
The Therian rogue is to blame.
My hands are covered in blood after I was given my brother's head and delivered it to Asta's feet.
I make my vow to the spirits to never tell a lie.
It's snowing,
but this time I understand.

It's autumn.

I am sent to Osrona to investigate the murder of a young priestess.

There's some arguing at the funeral service, but I meet Romani.

He says my hair is dirty and wants to wash and style it later.

I let him.

He becomes my best friend.

It's a cold night.

I am invited to play a game with my friends.

Some of them confess their feelings for one another.

I am poisoned by Nebula Lockwood.

I am ashamed of what I become.

It's summer.

We march against Theria for allowing Duana Kurokaiyo into their home.

I meet her on the battlefield.

I don't hesitate to pull the trigger, but she beats me anyway.

I expect to die, but the witch lets me live.

I am spared by my worst enemy.

She's later killed by a Saint.

It's the middle of winter.

Nothing good happens when it's cold.

But I fall in love with Amy all the same.

It's snowing,

but it's warm outside.

The snow melts.

I am made a Mistseer, the youngest ever at the time.

But the pride doesn't last.

I escape the Osronan King's wedding after everything goes wrong.

Only Kofe is keeping me sane.

The Crown recognizes me.

The midday sun is blistering.
I am forced to fight the Osronans.
I shoot Ilsa in the stomach and take her prisoner.
I try to send letters to Romani, but nothing sticks.
I am allowed to return Ilsa to Marie.
This is the last time we're all together as friends.
It's bittersweet.

The leaves are falling.

I watch Sythaeryn drag Serea Astor's body into the city center.

I fight him to the death.

His blade is at my throat,and then at my gut, but I don't die.

Asta demands he release me, he gives her a command.

I watch my friend Siegfried die.

I demand a Spirit's Witness.

My heart is scarred, my ribs are broken.

Asta leaves me to die, but Amy and Walter bring me back to life.

It's snowing outside.

Marie is killed by Nebula Lockwood, a witch all along.
Osrona mourns.
I wonder what will happen when the fighting is over.
I wonder if any of my friends will even recognize me.
I wonder if they'll be dead.

It is a bitter, cold night.
The High Lady Asta is defeated in battle,
I give the orders to bring the city to its knees.
The Valeborne heed my commands.
I leave Ilsa to drown in the river.
Osrona burns.

I try to pick up the pieces.
I marry Amy, our son is born.
The Vale is healed under my watch, but Kalina is killed.
Walter leaves Myllenoris unhappy with his cut.
I sense his greed growing, but say nothing.

The spring flowers wilt at the edge of the Vale.
While Rolim leads the armies of Myllenoris against Lockwood's plans,
I enter the Vale and make a second pact with the spirits.
I intend to sacrifice myself to save our sacred woods.
I have a Chiron gem in my pocket to see the deed through.
I am struck with an illness, but do not pass away.
Nebula Lockwood is dead.
The meteor falls, but Esshar lives on.

It's sweltering in the city, 

but the Vale's canopy fills the valley with cool shade.

Amy undergoes the Rite of the Chrysalis.
I stay with her within the crystal.
We have more children.
Eurydice grows older.
Things are quiet.

The leaves fall in piles.
Osrona is in disarray,
but I stay home.
I call my Valeborne back.
The humans can have their human fights.
My hope for their kind wanes.

It's snowing outside.
The young girl Nephele is discovered to be a witch.
Her death is only the first of many as peace breaks apart.
Walter kills Ophelia.
Romani disappears.
My last friends are gone, and I don't understand.

I make sure it doesn't stop snowing.
The leaves turn white.
It is always winter now.
I meet Walter at the base of the Tarian range,
and I face the monster I have created.
My hope for humanity is broken.
I make him feel his sins.
I can't stop hearing my own.

There's a blizzard outside.
Demons roam in the woods.
The Coven continues its work.
Eurydice is killed.

And we march to our duty,

Never faltering,

even in the cold.

[Tattles]

"I've seen your kind, time and time again.

Every fleeing man must be caught. Every secret must be unearthed.
Such is the conceit of the self-proclaimed seeker of truth.
But in the end, you lack the stomach,
For the agony you'll bring upon yourself."

Summer, 1758

It's warm outside.
The leaves have turned green once more.
There is no snow on the ground.
I recall much of the past, the bits sewn in the stream of my life's passage. I imagine friends who have long since vanished, laughing amidst games that only children could ever truly enjoy.
In these bittersweet reminiscent moments, I am only interrupted by a similar and cheerful raucous cackle of my children as they make their way out into the city proper from the doorstep of our home.
I had expected a soldier's life. I had expected a soldier's death.
But I found responsibility and authority placed upon my shoulders.
From there I expected to find my end as Asta did, some strange sacrifice for my kin that might inspire them to lose themselves in a fervor of my design. I expected such an end for myself would not have brought about some great sins to be regretted, but a brighter moment of valiance, of honest devotion.
I expected a hero's end knowing full well that I was not a hero.
Perhaps then it is for the best that I lived out those years mending what I could. A path to redemption and forgiveness is not one easily tread, and yet, I made my attempt. Many will never forget, and many still likely call me monster, murderer, villain. They will see it in black and white, but those who knew me best know it was not so easily cut in such shades.
I find some distinct and exquisite peace in knowing that my resignation gave them a refuge to wait out this storm, that they are in proper and guiding hands that are far gentler than mine, that lack the blood still staining my palms.
I've loved my people as much as any could. I've hoped for humans more than most of my kind might find capable. I have seen the lowest of their treacheries and the height of their courageousness.
The hills in the Vale keep me company when my Amy cannot.
These misty and winding paths have become my refuge.
And on some night as the years continue to roll by, my bond and I might pass through some unseen barrier to find ourselves in the next world. I see such visions when the moon shines bright upon my skin, when my pale fingers become translucent in that blessed and reverent beam.
Such is the end I expect now,
an end befitting a person, a human,
or a Teraphim.

On an OOC note, I'd normally not break my biography's fourth wall like this, but throughout the last month or so I've had a lot to think about regarding the game and everything this timeskip offered me. I didn't really want to put this on another thread, and instead wished to simply place it here at what I feel will be the final addition to Finley's bio, and that was a simple thank you to everyone who helped offer the environment that I was able to play him in early on. Whether it was a bitter friendship turned rivalry or a back and forth in some philosophic gridlock, I really did love the story you all provided for me to write him within.
Thank you.