Trigger Warning: Passing reference to a self un-aliving. Stay Safe folks ~

Balor and Beren

These two were a particularly mismatched lot. It is easier to discuss them as a pair, as they knew each other before they became riders. This was not an unheard-of thing, though it was particularly uncommon. The two worked together in a symbiotic sort of loyalty, a blunt but efficient duo.

Balor was born first. His parents were poor residents of Dras Leona. When he was little more than an infant, his father was arrested and hanged as a thief. The gang he ran with took in the baby when his mother gave in to her grief. He was a large child, and he gained his footing in the group easily. He developed a talent for people and, more particularly, for business. He was almost cherubic, with dingy bronze curls and an easy-going air. This concealed an iron nature that, when combined with a shrewd and ambitious mind, made him a valuable asset to his family. He eventually gained a place in one of the brothels operating on the fringes of the city. He began as a serving boy; cooking, cleaning, running errands, but he was so well-liked by both the workers and clients that he earned a sort of "management" position. It was in this place that he met his lifelong friend, Beren.

Beren had no memories of his life before the street. He was a man of few words as is, and of this period he was particularly taciturn. I know that, at one point, he fell in love with a girl whom he watched starve to death in the gutter they called home. He dragged himself from the place and, eventually, ended up at the doorstep of Balor's establishment. The teen took him in, fed him, and taught him all he needed to serve as a bouncer and enforcer. Beren was as large as Morzan, (though he carried most of it in width rather than heigh) with dark, beady little eyes and a greasy mop of brown hair. His face was ever fixed in grim lines, and his temper was as delicate as any I've ever seen. He was forever rigidly loyal to Balor, though he never explained to any of us precisely why.

Their ascent was arranged entirely by Balor. He used his unstoppable charms to earn them entrance to a private gala in the Riders' honor. They posed as servants but, if I know Balor, he intended to gain something more from the experience. Even he could not have predicted that he would be chosen. Beren stayed behind in the city for over a year before joining him; the dynamic duo could not be separated so easily.

Their training was rather uneventful. Balor smoothed over Beren's many behavioral slip-ups and Beren protected the back of his generous employer. At the end of a Rider's training, there is a period where they must serve the order in any and every capacity: touring the cities, introducing themselves to noble dignitaries, running errands, mediating petty disputes. After this, they are free to pursue more personal matters as their duties lessen with each new rider. Many chose to be assets to the order in whatever capacity they may. Balor decided to retire in all but name; he still responded to the rider's call of course, but unless directly needed he sank his everything into the very venture in which he was most comfortable. Beren attached himself to his friend as ever he had, serving in a very similar capacity.

Over the next decades, Balor built himself something of an empire. He specialized in the pleasure market, though I know he was involved in multiple criminal enterprises as well. He had his hands in many a pocket by the end and was an almost too-perfect example of everything that was wrong with the order. Beren cared nothing for the wealth or status, sticking with his companion more out of plodding habit than actual interest. They would have carried on this way if not for an unexpected set of distractions.

The first wave of issues came from mine and Morzan's defections. The riders were slow to rise, but those with skeletons aplenty in their closets began to fear a mass inquiry. Balor especially stood to lose everything if even one thread of his web were uncovered. Then, as the frequency of our strikes increased so too did the reward for our capture; dead or alive. Now and again we were forced to subtly enter a city to obtain desperately needed supplies. Balor arranged to meet us on one such trip, quite politely inviting me to discuss the price of my survival. I laid out the math for him: side with the riders and guarantee that he would someday be crushed, or side with me and have the crown itself backing his ventures with no authority to interrupt him. He agreed to assist us, though I never put much faith in his loyalty.

For the most part, Balor assisted us in a financial capacity. It wasn't until the last raids and battles that they fully joined us, though they were a frightening pair when they did. Beren preferred blunt weapons; objects that he could flail about without much thought and still ensure that anyone who came near him would be crushed. Balor had a bit more control in his style, but only because if he didn't he would run the risk of injuring his effective bodyguard.

After the war, Balor returned to his business. He became a truly frightening force, one of the only forsworn who concerned themselves with politics. There was nothing he wouldn't do for a profit; I doubt even I uncovered every illicit activity of that one. He took on the title of Enduriel, something of meaning to him I believe. Still, odd things began to happen as ******* began to fade away. She and Beren's dragon were a mated pair throughout their lives, a rather unusual arrangement for dragons. Even without their sanity, they remained close, though it seems this closeness did not extend to her Rider. Her wit fueled much of his success and soon his own overindulgence began to eke away at his hoard. Meanwhile, Beren drifted further and farther down a dark, lonely hole from which he only emerged to lash out at the people around him. Whatever it was that so tormented him, he never expressed to another soul. Several off color rumours developed around the man… but this is not the place for them.

They perished together in the latter half of my reign. They were two of the handful of kills I attribute to Brom, though I give him no credit for it. Balor and Beren's combined strengths were profit and intimidation, and I wouldn't consider either of them duelists. Their deaths sparked, what I consider to be, the beginning of the end of the thirteen. The final five members hung on for decades after the previous death, each of them too cautious or too stubborn to succumb. But, after Balor and Beren the next three died each within a few months of each other. The Varden became emboldened and started hunting them down one at a time, first Formora, then Idril, and finally culminating in Brom's battle with Morzan. As to which informant could have enabled these attacks… my suspicions died with her, never to be confirmed.

These two were a dangerous, if unlikely, duo. Balor took the world in stride, using every wile at his considerable disposal to build an empire that is still very much in place today. If anyone in history were actually capable of getting blood from a stone, it would be he. Beren never made an effort for himself, staying always in his singular companion's wake. I believe that this existence is exactly what the man wanted, though I don't pretend to understand it. In summary, they were a pair of consummate survivors.

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Of the gang, these two probably have the least development? They tend to just blend into the background for me, I dunno... I'm not sold on every aspect of them. R + R?