Ares Farric’s unrelenting ambition led him to steal the Amethyst of the Dying Star, a cursed artifact of the Night Mother Nyx, in a desperate bid for power. The amulet granted him unnatural strength and the ability to siphon the life force of his victims, but its curse sealed his fate.
Ares Monologue
"My name is Ares Farric. I am 476 years old. I reside in the Farric Manor, one of the oldest and most distinguished houses in Aerenal. Every morning, I rise with the first light of dawn and begin my day with a brisk walk through the estate gardens. The roses are particularly vibrant this year—a product of meticulous care, much like everything in my life.
I follow a strict regimen: meditation at sunrise, correspondence with the Elden Council in the mid-morning, and a solitary lunch on the eastern balcony. A glass of aged Elmsfire wine accompanies my meal—just one glass, mind you. Everything in moderation, as they say. Afterward, I devote my afternoon to studying arcane theory, not out of necessity, but to maintain appearances.
I am, by all accounts, the perfect model of a noble Vanir. Dutiful, disciplined, composed. The kind of man others look to with admiration, or at the very least, respect. I attend every council meeting, sign every proclamation, and greet every guest with the grace expected of my station. My reputation is impeccable, unmarred by scandal or impropriety.
But you see… perfection is a mask, and masks are crafted to hide the imperfections beneath. I know this better than most. I wear my mask well—better than anyone else, I’d wager. They look at me, and they see a Vanir who has earned his place, a Vanir who has risen above his station, who has endured adversity with quiet dignity.
But what they don’t see, what they refuse to see, is the truth. That beneath the mask, there is no brilliance. No spark of arcane power. No divine favor or ancestral legacy to fall back on. I am not my brother. I am not one of the blessed Vanir born to weave the Ether like threads of silk. I am... ordinary.
And yet, I have risen. Not by gift or grace, but by sheer force of will. I have carved a path through this world, taking what was denied to me by birthright, proving that greatness can be forged, not merely bestowed.
Some might call my methods… extreme. Unorthodox, even. But isn’t it the duty of the Vanir to seize their destiny? To defy the limitations imposed upon us by fate? I have simply done what was necessary. What others were too weak, too bound by their morals, to do themselves.
So I walk among them, the perfect citizen, the dutiful councilor, the impeccable Farric. I smile, I nod, I play the role. And all the while, I hold my head high, knowing that I am more than what they see. More than what they could ever hope to understand.
Because in the end, what is life if not a game of survival? A test of will? And if I must bear the burden of their scorn, if I must play the villain in their tale, then so be it.
I am Ares Farric. And I am exactly where I am meant to be.
"I had no gift! No spark of arcane brilliance, no natural talent to bend the Ether to my will. While Maeron carved out his legacy with spell and sword, while Ellavanya’s every word commanded reverence, I was… shunned. Cast aside like the chaff of our line! My place was meant to be at their feet—silent, dutiful, and disposable. A Farric in name only!"
(He laughs bitterly, his tone dripping with venom. His eyes dart wildly between Guy and the other councilors.)
"But I rose! Oh, I rose, didn’t I? Without magic, without the favor of our ancestors, without the Ether to cradle me like a fragile bird. I clawed my way to prominence, inch by agonizing inch, while you all looked down on me. Did you think I didn’t notice the glances, the whispers? The pity? You wanted me to disappear, didn’t you?"
(His voice cracks, but he presses on, his words growing more feverish and unhinged.)
"So I found another way! The amulet—this amulet—it gave me what you would never allow. Power. Authority. Control. The strength to take what I was denied! Is that not the spirit of the Vanir? To rise above our constraints? To seize the impossible, no matter the cost?"
(He raises the amulet, its crimson light casting eerie shadows across his face. His expression twists into a wild grin, his tone becoming almost pleading, as if trying to justify himself to the others—and perhaps, to himself.)
"We are a people of ambition! It is our birthright to defy fate, to ascend beyond what the gods themselves intended for us. Isn’t that why we mastered the Ether? Isn’t that why we turned on the dragons? To become more? To become what we were destined to be? I have done nothing but embody the very essence of what it means to be Vanir!"
"And yet, you call me a monster. A traitor. You don’t see the truth. You don’t understand! I have taken what was owed to me! I have become what you never believed I could be! Is that not worthy? Is that not... divine?"
(His laughter fills the chamber, echoing off the marble walls like the unholy cackle of a damned soul. As the amulet begins to glow with a violent intensity, Ares’s body trembles, his form distorting as the dark magic threatens to consume him.)
"Let them see me now! Let them see the truth! If I must burn for it, then so be it—but you will never forget the name Ares Farric!"
"When confronted before The Elden Council, Ares refused to submit, proclaiming his defiance as he attempted to wield the amethyst’s dark power. However, Guy the Grateful, reflected the amulets power in the avatar state, forcing Ares to endure thousands of years in an instant, his body withering into a frozen husk before the council’s eyes."
Then, Nyx’s curse took hold—his name, his deeds, and his very existence began to fade from memory. One by one, the councilors forgot him. His mother, Ellavanya Farric, no longer recognized his face. His title, his influence, his legacy—all erased.
By the time the amethyst fell silent, Ares Farric no longer existed.
His name was stricken from the records of Aerenal. His seat on the Elden Council was never filled—for none remembered it had ever been occupied.
Only Guy, who had witnessed his fall firsthand, retained the knowledge of his fate. But for the rest of the world, Ares Farric had never been born.