Over seven years of war and death Aladaar saw more pain and suffering than he had ever imagined.  Children fighting dogs for the scraps of food left behind by invading armies of fear.  The grounds pounded into mud by thousands of iron shod boots and the blood of men running like new rivers into the seas.  He felt at his wits end, for every force they smashed there were two more behind it.  There was no end, just war and death.  He felt as though the world was nearing its end.

     On Yuletide, 3rd Era, 2347, Aladaar sat praying for the end to this war on that most holy night and was disturbed by a light tapping on his shoulder, it was the sage Isk.  No one is sure what was said that night as no one heard them, they were only seen talking softly from a distance.  When the sage left, Aladaar stood, gathered his belongings, and left without a word.

     He traveled for days on the back of his war horse Stephonne, went past the Great Walls and into the heart to the Eastern Continent.  He found nothing but battle after unending battle as he crossed the very heart of the enemies home.   After the death of Stephonne by a poisoned arrow he went on foot, never stopping driven to the point of madness by some unearthly need to reach an unknown goal.  He found himself climbing, climbing ever upward over the black and gray rocks slick with torrential rain and dead plants and things that he couldn't, wouldn't take the time to identify.

     When he reached the top, wounded, exhausted and bleeding from a thousand battles with no clear victory he found a gigantic circle of power with flowing blood marking its runes and etched into the black rock under his feet with such mavolent perfection he knew the was no the work of any creature of this world.  Standing opposite him was a young boy, dressed as if he was just returning from school.   Aladaar stared at him curiously and cautiously.  As he stood looking at the boy across the circle shadowy figures formed a ring around the glyph to watch what happened, and though he had never seen them before, Aladaar recognized them as the thirteen fates.

     "What are you doing here, child?"  he asked.

     "It's me Aladaar," he smiled sweetly, "We've been waiting for you!"

     "We?"

     "Me and mother!  We have been waiting so long for you to come home!"

     "Home?"  Aladaars eyes narrowed, "Who are you?"

     "You don't remember?"  the boys face fell slightly, "I'm your brother, Fear.  Our mother is Despair and you are Weakness.   It's about time you came back to join us, the world is almost ours!"

     "What?  That's not possible.  I'm a man like any other, not some unreal entity."

     "Oh come now!"  grinned the boy, "You cannot deny who you are.  Just take a look at yourself.  Beaten, hurt, cold, hungry, fatigued, you're falling even as we speak.  Just take my hand and it'll all be alright, we need you."

     Aladaar slapped away the offered hand, "I am not weak."

     "Oh really?  When your adopted parents died you cried for weeks.  You still cry now and then.  You have lived your entire life getting beaten up.  Oh sure, you stand up and look like the big hero but examine it.   When the king redrafted you as a general you turned it down, afraid of the responsibility.  Weakling.  You came here, didn't you?   Why?   You don;t know do you?  You just couldn't help it!  Weakling.  Now quit being a pain and admit it so we can rule this world!"  Fear clenched his fists and shook in anger.

     "No, that's not right... I, I have always done my best."

     "And look how far its gotten you.  No home, no family, no children.  If that's your best then you really have no place to argue with me.  Please, Brother, Mother and I have been waiting for so long for you, please come back to us."  The boys eyes turned sad.

     "No, I won't.  I am not who you say I am.  I will not give in."

     "You worthless bastard.  This is not a game!   This is the final hour, now get on your damn feet and lets get on with this!   We haven't worked this hard just to have you screw it up now!"  He screamed at Aladaar.

     Aladaar stood slowly.  "This is the end.   You've lost.  I won't be beaten by you, not today, not ever."   Aladaar raised his hands to the heavens, "Its all over now anyway."

     The blade exploded from Fears chest with a spray of blood as he looked down in disbelief.  Aladaar looked at the blade of Wyrmbane Serra Gradese protruding from both his chest and Fears and grinned slightly.  He looked back behind him and saw the face of time smiling warmly as she eased him to the ground and he passed softly to the world were he belonged.

     At the death of Aladaar and the boy all despair, fear, and weakness left the hearts of the children of Aegis and they rose forth in a mighty swell destroying the forces of darkness and once again reclaimed their homelands.

     On the black mountain top the thirteen fates gathered closely around the body of Aladaar.  They scattered his items of power through to world to be uncovered when they were once again needed and returned Aladaars body to his homeland to be interred with honor.  To this day Aladaars tomb is considered sacred ground by all religions (including those of darkness) and is a Mecca for warriors who go to pay homage to is memory.

     Many things are still debated about Aladaar to this day.   Who were his real parents, was he in fact some sort of avatar of weakness?  If so then who spirited him away as a babe to be raised as a human to learn strength?   How old he was when he died is even in contention as the records of his enlistment in the Army were stolen thousands of years ago by a collector of rarities looking for an artifact relating to Aladaar.  Also thought of is if Aladaar had any children.   He had needs just as any other man and was not known for being chaste by any means so it is very plausible that descendants of his roam our world toady.  No one is truly sure of any thing relating to Aladaar and some would even debate that the never existed in the first place.