The White Owl of Dylath-Leen

A war as the night takes over us, two dreamers fighting to enter our minds, and then a third, swatting away his unsuspecting brothers with a vast intellect. Two avian beasts cry out in despair, and a new vision begins.
Ragarot: "Cease, brothers. I cannot stand your bickering. Not tonight."
We see Ragarot, sitting in a dingy room surrounded by empty beer bottles, his skin slick with sweat and misery. The low drum of music can be heard in the distance, muting the chatter of several other individuals.
Ragarot: "Hello, all of my brother's dreamers. You will be receiving no visions tonight -- just me. Whether that is a dream or a nightmare... Well."
Ragarot leans his head back, emptying a beer in a single go, and throws it into a pile with the rest. A tentacle from his back reveals a new one, the cap popped effortlessly with a wicked fingernail, and Ragarot raises the beer in salute.
Ragarot: "I'm sorry, Che. It's been another year. I don't know where to find you. Every time I get close, you fall away from me."
The White Owl chuckled, and took another long draught from his beer.
Ragarot: "I did your father's bidding, and even he can't fix it. His own curse..."
Ragarot finishes the beer, takes another from behind him, and continues.
Ragarot: "Never together. Never again. Not even allowed to see my own son. And my brothers are fighting again, as they always do... As if they don't remember--"
Something shakes Ragarot, drunkness stabbed by clarity, and he growls -- low and meaty, tentacles flaring from his chin.
Ragarot: "Fuck you, Monad. Go elsewhere. Be useful for a change. Leave me to my... Peace."
The rumbling stays for a pause, unintimidated, and then fades away. Ragarot stares ahead with malice, seeing something we cannot, and ruminates in the silence for a minute, trading an empty bottle for another full one. The cap hits the floor with a solid clink, rattling off of the pile of bottles he'd built for himself.
Ragarot: "This is... A formal announcement... I am the White Owl of Dylath-Leen. As your loopy scholars have pointed out, I watch people grow..."
Ragarot hiccups, which makes a sound somewhere between a belch and a scream, and chuckles in his drunkeness.
Ragarot: "Birth. Grow up. Grow old. Grow senile and weak. Die. Over and over... And they win."
The beast stands, swerving on unsteady legs, and hurls his bottle at the wall, sending glass and beer all over the room.
Ragarot: "You hear that, Father? They win. You lose. And we die and are reborn again! And I watch!"
Ragarot punches the wall in front of him, and the metal shrieks, bending the plate in a good 6 inches. The White Owl growls and sobs in one breath, and places he forehead on the cool metal, savoring the sensation.
Ragarot: "I watch no longer... I ask for help, as well as give it."
He turns, looking straight into our viewpoint, black eyes glistening.
Ragarot: "Gris, tell Mandarb that Chamas knows the location of his Angels... Tesin, your enemies seek your Wings, as the Black Owl's needs replacing... Abelina, you are not alone..."
The vision grows hazy, static permeating the corners as another will fights against Ragarot, but he holds it steady, speaking faster.
Ragarot: "Chamas, bring Annwen to Tesin... Luwazi... Get up, they need you... Flay, Langdon hunts you... Do not kill him, please..."
The visuals break under the force of the static, but we feel the White Owl hold on, his voice still audible above the din.
Ragarot: "Isra, the Shard of Ignorance will come when you need it most..."
There is a screech of white noise, and Ragarot howls above it, stabbing wildly with his psyche, damaging both the attacking force and the dreamers.
Ragarot: "Ildanya... Fight! Eric... Come home. Ming... Not-- Not your fault..."
The White Owl slips away, but he pushes through a final whisper, born of stubborn despair.
Ragarot: "Che... I am coming."