Covenant: Sanguine Dawn

[Guest]

It has been many years since The Four Heroes of Karduth passed away into dust and legend but still their deeds echo throughout the country. From the remotest village at the tip of the Iron Mountains to the darkest corner of Karduth's famed Undercity, there are few who have not heard about the Great War of Sundering and The Four Heroes role in reclaiming Karduth from the brink of obvlivion.


A tiny hand fell upon the page, halting it's being turned.

"Grampa, who were the Heroes?"

The old man looked down into his granddaughter's eyes, so full of interest and light and thought to himself that the old addage was a lie. Youth is not wasted on the young. They know exactly what to do with it.

"The Heroes were the saviors of Karduth. Once upon a time," the old man began, knowing from experience that was the only way to begin a story worth telling.

"Once upon a time, the nation of Karduth was a fraction of it's current size. It was bordered by another country called Iliam that once lay to the north of the Iron Mountains. This country was ruled by a sorcerer named Zephram. Iliam used to be a place of learning and knowledge before Zephram came to power.

"Zephram was not interested in continuing Iliam's legacy as a nation of scholars and teachers. Instead, Zephram sought only to use Iliam's vast magical knowledge as a weapon to conquer his neighbors.

"Iliam was not a nation of warriors however, and even those senators who supported Zephram acknowledged that Iliam had no army at it's disposal to wage war. Zephram found himself without supporters and his position among that country's ruling class in jeapordy.

"That was when Zephram betrayed us. Having grown up in the small town of Savin where the Temple of Savin is located, Zephram knew about the legendary Crown of Dominion. An artifact from time out of time, the Crown gave it's wearer power over the dead. Under cover of darkness, he returned to his homeland of Karduth and stole the cown from his own family mausoleum. Horrible as that act was, Zephram would soon rob a great deal more from a great many more graves.

"The Crown's power amplified by the magical essence of Iliam's Crystal Spire, Zephram soon had a foul army at his disposal with reinforcements coming from every crypt and tomb. Even the resting places of our country's greatest heroes were desecrated as great men and women were summoned forth as tools of a madman.

"The Grey Legion", as they were called, marched through the streets of Iliam slaughtering all in their path. Now the legendary spellcasters of Iliam were among the Grey Legion's numbers."

"Zephram's theft had not gone unnoticed, however, and four heroes were sent after him to retreive the Crown. The Church of Savin enacted an ancient contract between the Church and the Knights of Karduth. The Knights were created under the auspices of the church to defend the church and it's interests. In time, however, the church was no longer the ruling power of Karduth and the Knights came to be seen as a branch of the royal house. By enacting the ancient covenant between the Knights and the church, the theft of the Crown of Dominion from the church of Savin became an act of war against all of Karduth.

"Unwilling to send the entire army against Iliam, the King sent a single knight out to retrive the Crown. It was a suicide mission that was intended only to placate the church, not actually succeed.

"Cain, The Knight acquired companions in his journey as happens in most tales like this. Melchior the mage joined him, having served as Cain's mentor in the boy's youth. Hecuba, the priestess of Savin came along, accompanied by Shrike, the thief.

"In a terrible battle, Zephram was killed, along with the Crown and Cain, the Knight sent to retrive it. Hecuba had betrayed the group in order to gain access to Zephram and the Crown. Though her deeds did ultimately lead to the destruction of the Grey legion, she would be forever remembred as Hecuba, the Betrayer.

"Hecuba was not without redemption however. After the battle, she used a fragment of the Crown to restore Cain to life and though he was much weakened from the ordeal, he was welcomed back as a hero."

Old eyes looked deeply into young, searching for any trace of the lies that had just been passed between the generations.

"I like that story grampa," the child said before rolling over and snuggling beneath her blankets.

"So do I the old man said...so do I"

 

[Morgoth]

Walker reveled in his power. He always had. That would one day be his downfall. He sighed. He knew that. That thought had gone through his mind many a time. But that would have to be dealt with in stride. He looked up, seeing the broken window once more. He growled. Those peasants were becoming rebellious. That brought him to a new thought. What would he do about those bastards? He didn't like them. They were weak. They were stupid. They should have been taught their place. Like his children. But instead they dared attack his own manor! He may not like them and they may indeed be weak and stupid, but they outnumbered the nobles 100 to 1. Not what you could call good odds. But he had many friendships among the nobles, some spanning centuries. And the nobles were each much more powerful than those peasants. But that wasn't even near his main problem. Those other races, hiding out there, in this ruined city. He growled once more. Something would have to be done about them, wouldn't it? Very well, he needed more time to think. And more strength. Fresh blood would do the trick. He called for a human. One was brought, trembling in fear as the doors closed behind him and Walker approached. "Don't fear mortal. You should consider yourself fortunate. You will be turned by me. No small honor", he whispered, clutching the man and drawing him close. He reared his head back and swung it forward, skinking his teeth into the man's throat. As he began drinking, the holes widened and blood poured freely. He continued drinking as the man went into spasms. Walker held him tight, clutching him ever harder as he felt life and power seep into him, until finally, with a loud crack, the man'd spine snapped. He sunk into Walker's arms limply until Walker had finished his grim business. Then, he licked the neck clean and called for an attendant. "Make sure he turns correctly. If there are any impurities, call me", he ordered. He smiled, licking his lips clean. Power, yes, power. It was all he needed. All he had of any import. And only more would come. He broke out into a sudden laugh.

 

[Guest]

Outside the Tavern, an old man, after having just put his granddaughter to sleep, was on his way to wash out his mouth with some good strong whiskey.

A voice whispered from the shadows...

"Relmin!"

The old man stopped. His hands instinctively reached for weapons that were not there, had not been there for decades.

"What do you want Hecuba?"

The speaking of her name was accompanied by an unsettling slithering noise, moist and reptilian. Mercifully, the figure remained indistinct and cloaked in darkness. Relmin was certain that seeing Hecuba, in even the untrustworthy light of the moon, would tear whatever sanity was left from his mind.

"I heard your story Relmin. I was surprised that such an accomplished storyteller as yourself could overlook the greatest of the four heroes."

"Take your flattery elsewhere Hecuba. Besides, she doesn't need to know what I was. Better that way."

"Ahh Relmin Lightfinger...The Silent Hand...The Shrike...The Death Whisperer..."

"Stop it Hecuba!"

Pasersby paused for a moment to watch an old man have an argument with a darkened alleyway, then continued about their business.

"You never did like that one did you Relmin? Much as you pretend you don't care, you enjoy being one of the Four. It distracts history from what you were."

"History doesn't care what I was before I met up with you Hecuba," then, after a deadly pause, "I wonder why that is?"

"Do not presume to lecture me on my place in history cutpurse! I know all too well how I am remembered."

Hecuba emerged slightly from the shadows, perhaps an accident of her rage, or perhaps intentionally to paralyze her old comrade with terror. Thankfully, she vanished back into the darkness before Relmin's mind could snap under the impossibility of her physical form.

Relmin waited a few minutes, then began to walk away from the alley.

"I send you a warning Lightfinger." Hecuba's voice was exhausted and her tone was not conversational, but official.

"Spare me your threats witch! I'm done with you."

Relmin's rage outweighed his common sense and he'd dared do the one thing no mortal would dream of doing and expect to live a long and happy life afterward. He had just called Hecuba the Betrayer of Karduth a witch...to her face.

Realizing this, Relmin flinched back from her stunned silence, expecting a flash of light and excruciating pain to segue him into the great beyond. Nothing came, and on a deep, primal level, that scared him more.

"The Crown was shattered, not destroyed. Zephyr was defeated, but the power of the crown lived on, not in him, but in us."

"What?"

There was nothing...Hecuba was gone.

 

[Guest]

"Old Man...you look like you've seen a ghost!"

"Didn't piss yourself did you?"

Relmin's entrance was marked by rauccous laughter from a table occupied by a rowdy group of thieves. They may have been some of his own...perhaps not. Not that many in the Undercity knew who he was. There were a few, strategically placed about the slums who knew his true identity, but they wouldn't give up their hard-earned anonymity unless he was actually in danger. The one behind the bar however...a thick-necked former safecracker who owed Relmin his life, looked like he might enjoy re-assuming his old knickname of "Boneshard" and snapping a few limbs.

"You might have if you'd seen who I'd seen," Relmin said as he approached the bar.

"Who's that old timer?"

Before Relmin could answer, a voice boomed from a shadowy corner of the tavern.

"It was Hecuba, an old friend."

 

[Saucy_Chris]

The young thief named Sion looked up from his newly aquired book, his eyes darting from one window of his 'room' to the other, the shadows seeming to shift in the night air. He frowned and pushed the chair back, standing and drawing his dagger from his pack. He moved to the window and looked down to the streets, his ears acute and aware of the rustling of feet in the alley below. He crouched slightly, his eyes focusing on a minion of the undead, perhaps a demon or a vampire, running through the alley and onto the street. He sheathed the dagger and returned to the table, grabbing his pack of 'goodies' and heading for the door.

"Time to find out why the moon looks so sad all these nights" Sion said as he slipped through the door and down the steps to the alley way.

He reached the alley and stopped, crouching quickly behind some garbage as another undead minion ran past him. He moved silently in the night, his speed easily allowing him to keep pace with the demon, following him around corners and through smaller pathways. Sion could sense that this minion knew he was there, the demon's speed increasing along the cobblestone alleys. Sion chuckled in the soft breeze and moved a little faster, coming close enough to the demon to tickle his feet. They had just passed by a local tavern that was a hang out for theives when the demon stopped, spinning so suddening that Sion almost bumped into him before he could kick off the cobblestones and seperate him from the demon.

The demon spoke softly, his voice seeming to be carried from the foulest regions of Undercity. "You t'ieves jus' don't know w'en t' mind your own business do you?"

Sion chuckled, his hand ready to sieze the dagger if the demon choose to attack. He spoke clearly, wondering who else was lurking in the shadows, "Your stench was just too strong tonight, so I figured you were up to something and I wanted to check it out."

"Well," spoke the demon, "consid'r your luck gone."

The demon's speed had increased a little as they stood, and it caught Sion off gaurd, the demon's fist colliding with his gut, sending him into the nearby alley by the bar. The demon followed and found this a mistake, much to his dismay. Sion dropped from where he had been in the air, his heel connecting squarely with the back of the demon's neck, sending him careening into a nearby pile of trash. Sion stepped forward and then stopped, hands seizing him from behind, pulling him deeper into the shadows of the alley.

"What the....!"

 

[Morgoth]

Walker stepped into the carriage. "Let's be off now. I know a great tavern and I am quite in the mood for socializing. If someone's stupid enough to try and rob me, well that'll just be my luck!" he said. "Let's be off now!" he ordered. With a clatter, the carriage disappeared, pausing only for the gates to open. He went from the carriage, walking to the door and stepping inside. The scene inside confounded him. An old man sitting at the bar. Several men, obviously thieves, seated at a table, staring in open-mouthed horror at the shadows.

 

[Guest]

Relmin smiled at the whithered figure sitting in the corner. Not unlike himself, the man's age was apparent although there was still a kind of stength to him. Despite the crooked back and feeble hands, there was a power that lie very near the surface with him.

And for the second time that evening, Relmin looked into the eyes of an old friend.

Melchior's gaze had lost none of it's power, nor his voice any of it's weight. Relmin lost himself in his friends eyes for a moment and remembered at time when his limbs were stong, his reflexes quick and his blade was...

Perhaps it was best to live in the present.

"What brings you here Melchior?"

"Same as you I'd wager. I had a conversation with Hecuba."

Relmin looked around the room. Formerly strong and rough men were cowering in their chairs. All but the dimmest and the drunkest of them knew in whose presence they sat. Here were two of the four heroes discussing Hecuba the betrayer, a figure that many of them probably believed was no more than a spectre dreamed up to scare them as children. More than a few of them probably thought that both Relmin and Melchior were long dead as well.

Legends often are.

"Come...let's find a quiet place in the back where we can talk, old friend."