"There is no greater desecration than to corrupt and dishonor the spirit of a fallen being. Undeath is a curse and a blight on this world, to be burned away without hesitation or regret." - Tania Rosewater, Commander of the Legion of the Rose mercenary company
While the division of nations in Ganedan has fallen generally along racial lines, there are many associations which span these lines without issue. The gnomish banking guild, the Goldwardens, has representation in every recognized country and the Red Palm Exchange is rarely far from those offices.
These two groups serve and profit from citizens of all nations equally, although the level of organization and coordination required for such a feat guarantees that not many will ever successfully emulate their achievement. The most common place in Ganedan to find groups without national ties is actually with its many mercenary bands.
Wight
Serving all manner of ethics, morals, causes and ends, mercenary companies have existed since the Silent Age before history was ever recorded. There are some which have carried on for generations, steeped in longstanding tradition, while some others are relatively new to Ganedan, headed by ambitious individuals who desire to make their own mark on the world.
One of the longest-lived mercenary groups on record is known as the Legion of the Rose. Its members are mainly elvan, human and dwarven, owing to the unlikely events which brought about its formation, and they are based in Illanthia and New Illanthia as well as Larocia and its territories.
In AS 616, Tania Rosewater was born to a low-ranking officer in the New Illanthian military named Salek and his wife Esillian, also a soldier. Living in the border town of Amakiir, so close to Larocia, the Rosewaters were often called upon for patrol duty, both to keep watch on the nearby humans and to guard against the many wilderness beasts which prowled about in the Tearwood Forest to the south.
At the time, war with the Larocians was at a low and the main threat to the region was from the growing number of undead in the area. Ghouls and skeletons had always been quite common in the Tearwood, likely ageless remnants of Sithern Kaas' infamous army from four hundred years previous, but, in recent years, higher forms of undead had been appearing.
Exactly one year after Tania's birth, a troop of Amakiir soldiers including her parents, was called in response to some troubling wight activity. The cursed remains of fallen soldiers, wights have been known to recall some of their former training on occasion and group into rough military divisions. One such group had been reported nearby and the Amakiir militia had been tasked with destroying it.
Salek and Esillian left their infant daughter under the protection of the duty captain and rode out early, while the morning mists still clung to the ground and shrouded the reaches of the forest. An hour before midnight, Salek and Esillian returned, the only survivors of their troop, mortally wounded and on foot.
Covered in their own blood and the blood of their former compatriots, the pair reached Amakiir exhausted, only minutes before death would claim them. They made their way to the duty captain, leaning heavily on one another, and, with their final words, bid farewell to their beloved child.
The two were given heroes rites and their bodies were burned to ensure that no unholy corruption could take hold. The duty captain reverently retrieved Salek's service medallion, broken in half during their desperate flight from the Tearwood, and saved it for the orphaned girl. Tania Rosewood became a ward of the council and was sent north to Nya where she grew up surrounded by former military friends of her parents.
With fierce, green eyes and long, flowing, red hair, no one could deny Tania's great beauty and fewer still could ignore the drive and talent which had forged her into a consummate warrior. She honed her fighting skills religiously and it was assumed she would petition to join the New Illanthian army just as her parents had, but she always remained aloof. Her dedication to her country was indeed strong, but another conviction held even stronger.
All her training had been for a purpose, which she finally felt ready to pursue in the winter of AS 646 on the day of her thirtieth birthday. Mounted and armed with an enchanted bladed staff and a shining breastplate, she withdrew a fine silver chain and hung the half-medallion that was all she had left of her parents around her neck. She set out for Amakiir, straight-backed and determined, and then to the ghastly Tearwood beyond.
The last thirty years had changed little in the forest. Darkness still hovered like a sickness and wretched creatures populated the area in great numbers. Tania paused on the edge of the tree line and quelled an instinctive fear the place instilled in her before urging her steed to step across. She delved deep into the eerie wood, seeking to retrace the path her parents' unfortunate expedition had followed three decades ago.
The trees were scarred and damp and the cloying scent of decaying forest hung heavy in the air. Ruins dotted the landscape, remnants of some long-lost human city which had created a virtual breeding ground for the evil that had taken root. For hours, she continued on, carefully picking her way amongst jagged bits of deadwood and half-eaten, shallowly-buried carcasses. She caught glimpses of luminescent eyes lurking just outside the edges of her vision which disappeared the instant she snapped her gaze around. As she proceeded deeper, she became intensely aware of an oppressive gloom closing in all around her.
Tense and shivering with unseasonable cold, Tania came to a dreary thicket with a collapsed minaret at its center surrounded by the stench of death and a scattering of weathered elvan armor pieces. She knew this had to be the place where her parents had been ambushed. Her steed grew nervous and she gripped the sharp edges of her medallion tightly in her fist to steady herself as the chill in the air seemed to collect on the surface of her skin.
She sensed more than saw the evil as something stirred in the ruined tower. Tall and disturbingly elegant, the vampire melted out of the shadows, watching her with hateful, greedy eyes. Outrage simmered deep inside her as she noted the glint of the other half of her father's service medallion hanging around the vile thing's neck.
Tania bravely slipped off the back of her horse and matched the creature's gaze, bladed staff in hand. Although they had never met, there was a connection between the two. Where one was a child of life, the other was a product of death. Where one had suffered loss, the other had committed the taking. Now, for one to exist, the other would have to be destroyed.
A host of ghouls, wights and skeletons shuffled out from the underbrush to flank the vampire, crooning and gibbering slavishly to him while their burning eyes remained locked on Tania. They hovered, eager to feast on elvan flesh, but the slightest unspoken command from the vampire held them at bay.
In the blink of an eye, the vampire was upon her, gripping her with steely hands and reaching for her throat with jagged fangs. She fought desperately, twisting, turning, jabbing and slashing to ward the creature off, but it was simply too fast and too strong.
She focused on the dangling half-medallion around the vampire's neck and brought every ounce of her battle training to bear. She lunged expertly and impaled the vampire through the heart. Despite the perfectly executed strike, the creature hardly slowed, twisting the weapon free without pause and advancing on her like a juggernaut.
She struck again and again, slashing the vampire's vitals with well-placed blows, only to watch the wounds heal almost instantly before her eyes. The vampire began to toy with her, the way she imagined it had with her parents so long ago, carefully cutting shallow but strategic wounds in her flesh that bled uncontrollably with its razor-sharp talons. It prowled confidently toward her, staring her down and crippling her resolve. Muscles burning and throat tight with fear, she backed down a step and her assault began to lose momentum. She struck out, a weakened, tentative attack, only to have it blocked with such force that her weapon nearly wrenched from her grip.
Dizzy from blood loss, she dropped to her knees before the creature, breathless and weak, struggling to remain conscious. She refused to die like this, alone in the depths of a cold, sickly forest. Her vision blurred and swimming, she staggered to her feet with buckling knees and gripped her staff tightly, steeling herself for one final stand.
As the vampire advanced for a killing blow, an arrow sheathed in fire streaked out of the forest and slammed into its chest. Hissing in pain, the vampire dropped and scurried into the nearby crumbling ruin, tugging violently at the embedded arrow as a flood of minions lunged forward to finish the helpless elf.
Tania closed her eyes and prepared for death, but the creatures that came for her were not cold, bloodthirsty undead, but rather a group of intermixed humans and dwarves outfitted in the garb of outlaws. They swarmed around her in a defensive circle, waving burning brands and heavy clubs to keep the undead back. Their leader, a tall, dark-haired, blue-eyed human, put a protective arm around Tania's shoulders and helped support her failing strength. Assured that they were there to protect her, she released her tenuous grip on consciousness and sank into darkness.
She awoke in a crude encampment hidden somewhere on the western edge of the Tearwood Forest, under the care of the leader of a mixed group of the outlaws. His name was Casserem, a former knight of the Blue Order who had lost faith in the practices of his church and left to pursue a new calling of his own design. While Casserem and his followers were self-admitted bandits, they adhered to their own particular code of honor and targeted only rich aristocrats, particularly those with unfavorable reputations with the local populace. Casserem's roots with the Blue Order ensured that his people maintained a degree of conduct that put them a cut above the typical highwayman.
Bandaged and unable to walk at first, Tania had no choice but to allow Casserem to tend to her wounds. During this time, she shared with him the tale of her parents' demise and her crusade for vengeance on their killer. She also spoke of her life in New Illanthia and Nya in particular. Open and friendly, Casserem exchanged a few tales of his own, revealing how he had fallen out of favor in the town of Southdowns and left with a group of loyal men and dwarves to find shelter in the Tearwood. The outlaws had learned to understand and deal with the ways of the undead and used fear of the dark forest to defray any serious attempts from Southdowns to capture them.
Once she regained her feet, she often stayed near Casserem. When he trained with his men, she assisted as much her recovering health would allow, furtively learning as much as she could about the ways that had kept these outlaws alive in the heart of undead-infested territory for so long. Under normal circumstances humans and, to a lesser extent, dwarves looked on elves with distrust, but Casserem's men welcomed her as if she was one of their own and the bandit leader himself grew very fond of her. Gradually, the budding mutual respect between them blossomed into more, something few humans or elves would have expected possible. |
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Tania stayed with the outlaws for almost a month before she became strong enough to make the trip back to Amakiir. When the time came, Casserem and his lieutenants escorted her to the northern edge of the Tearwood and reluctantly saw her off. It was a bittersweet parting as human outlaw and elvan soldier quietly said their goodbyes. She rode into Amakiir just as the sun sank beneath the western horizon, a hero who had seemingly returned from the grave.
News of Tania Rosewater's reappearance spread quickly in the days that followed her return and the tale of her battle with the vampire lord only grew in the telling. Instead of returning to Nya, she remained in Amakiir and gathered supplies for a journey of a different sort. Though she had never said anything to Casserem, her plan had always been to return to the Tearwood, wiser and better prepared, and finish the vampire that had slain her parents.
As Tania rode out once again, a troop of hardened elvan warriors who had heard the story of her crusade met her at the gate. Like her, they had all suffered personal loss at the hands of the undead and her tale had inspired them to join her in her quest for vengeance. With steady conviction, they demanded to be accepted into her service. Unable and not entirely willing to dissuade them, she agreed and took them with her to the edge of the dreaded Tearwood and beyond. As the troop of elvan undead hunters delved deeper into the twisted old forest, Tania did her best to prepare them for what they were planning to face. Much of what she'd learned from Casserem and his men required more than simple instruction to understand, but every scrap of information she could convey would be of benefit.
As they moved, elvan soldiers flanking Tania and her white steed, the forest became steadily more sinister. Unlike the first time she had come through, when undead beasts had hounded her every step, the air was dead, silent and still. Something had already found them. Tania halted the group with a swift gesture and gripped her staff tightly as they all fell into ready stances around her.
"I knew you'd come back." A familiar voice called out to her from the shadows, "It's just too bad it couldn't be under better circumstances."
A tall, dark-haired, blue-eyed human approached slowly wearing a wan smile, his hands raised in a show of peaceful intent. Behind him, a score of humans and dwarves in similar posture filtered out from amid the twisted trees and thick underbrush.
"Casserem." Tania smiled in relief, lowering her staff and gesturing for her soldiers to stand down.
Trusting in their new leader, the elves lowered their weapons, but remained protectively close to her. After so many years of war, suspicion was a natural reaction between elves and humans, a difficult instinct to forget.
"The undead are massing." Casserem informed her gravely, "You'll need help."
He turned to one of his lieutenants, a sturdy dwarf with a bald head, bushy red brows and a broad, gap-toothed smile, and cocked an amused eyebrow.
"Fortunately, Renned here has never had much use for vampires, your old friend in particular."
Renned nodded and patted an over-sized hammer strapped to his chest with a wink to Tania.
"Yeah, I think it's only proper that we introduce ourselves to the neighbors."
"It's good to see you again, Ren." Tania returned the dwarf's smile, remembering him fondly from her recent stay with the outlaws, "Glad to have you along."
Moving as a single unit, the inter-mixed humans, elves and dwarves drove on through the forest. It wasn't long before the dread denizens of the Tearwood came for them. Wights, skeletons, zombies and ghouls centered on the group, as if sensing the promise of fresh, warm blood to spill. The elves met them fearlessly, with bared steel and unfazed conviction, welcoming the chance to avenge themselves. Meshing their own tactics to that of their allies, Casserem and his outlaws filled in defensive and support gaps in the elvan attack. Undead fell on all sides, unable to withstand the dedicated onslaught.
Tania, Casserem and their collective followers cut down dozens of undead as they carved a direct route to the vampire's lair, but for every one that fell, two more seemed to take its place. The blasphemous things shambled out of the tangled briars in force and crowded together defensively, abandoning their bloodlust in the face of such forceful retribution.
The stench of corruption choked the air as the dwarves, elves and humans clove through the army of walking, desiccated corpses and spilled their putrefied entrails onto the dark grass. In a tight, wedge-shaped formation, they pushed their way to the ruin. The sheer mass of undead effectively blocked any path to the sunken ruins, but the allies spearheaded their way through the wall of rancid flesh undaunted.
Unsurprisingly, they found the vampire lord waiting for them, standing calmly in the wreckage of the decrepit tower. As it had done before, it brought its minions under complete control with only a slight gesture of unspoken command. The dozens of ravenous undead immediately ceased their attack and moved to surround the vampire, crowding against one another and glaring at their prey with barely-controlled hatred.
Tania rode forth with her bladed staff held high and her eyes locked on her parents' murderer. She made no speech, nor did she feel the need to issue a challenge. The first time she faced the vampire, rage had blinded her, blunting her years of battle training. Now, thanks to Casserem and his outlaws, she understood the true nature of her enemy and would not make the same mistake again.
With her allies flanking her, she hopped down from the back of her horse and squared off with her enemy. The vampire lunged immediately, reaching for her throat, followed by an army of slavering servants. She skipped back and slapped the vampire's grasping hands away with the flat of her blade while Casserem and the others neatly intercepted its servants and separated them from their master. As humans, dwarves and elves battled bony, wretched undead on all sides, Tania and the vampire faced one another in single combat.
The elvan woman fought with a very controlled, defensive style, stepping and parrying against the vampire's constant aggressiveness. Circling and deflecting with her blade, she ignored obvious openings to vital areas and slowly established control of the fight's momentum. Her enemy began to grow impatient and angry, lashing out with great violence, but she maintained her composure. More than once, the vampire slipped through her defense, but struck only glancing blows. Tania ignored the small pains, gradually working her opponent into the vulnerable position she needed.
A wight broke away from the chaos surrounding them and lunged for her. Without missing a step, she hamstrung the creature's backwards-facing knee and turned to keep both it and the vampire in sight at all times. The vampire leered, sensing advantage, only to grimace in outrage as a well-placed flaming arrow impaled the wight through the skull and destroyed it.
Smiling and bleeding from a shallow head wound, Casserem offered Tania a short salute from across the battlefield before wading back into combat. Seizing Tania's moment of distraction, the blood-drinking fiend roared and lashed out, diving for her throat. She smiled, sensing that her moment had finally come, and spun around the vampire's clumsy charge, bringing her blade up and over in a powerful and impeccably-aimed arc.
Noble Vampires
Elvan steel chopped cleanly through the vampire's neck, severing its head and dropping it to the grass in a heap. Tania stood over it in awed silence, almost expecting it to rise up, headless and unfazed. Slowly, reverently, she found the missing half of her father's medallion in the damp grass and draped it over her head. It was over. Thirty years of loss had been avenged in a single stroke. Somehow, she had imagined the moment to have more weight to it.
She had little time to consider as a pair of skeletons closed on her, followed by a prowling wight. Even with the destruction of the vampire lord, scores of undead remained and the battle still promised to be a difficult one. One of her elves and a dwarf from Casserem's group fell in at her back, facing outward in a three-sided formation, and Tania joined the mass combat along with them.
Without their leader, the undead were vicious and hate-filled, with little concern for their own safety or that of their kin, but the combined forces of elves and outlaws steadily wore down their numbers. The battle carried on for over an hour, as smaller and smaller waves of undead converged on the area, but the defenders fought well together and repelled them time and time again. As the last of the creatures was brought down, Tania slumped to the ground with a thin, triumphant smile, resting heavily on her staff as she regained her breath. They had won. The undead of the Tearwood Forest had finally been defeated.
"Tania!" a familiar voice cut through the air. It was Renned, his face drawn and spattered with drops of putrid undead fluids, and he was dragging Casserem's limp body under his arm.
She jumped to her feet and rushed to Casserem's side. He lay in his lieutenant's arms limp and pale, his eyes staring blankly and dark blood caked around numerous wounds to his body.
"There were too many of them." Renned shook his head sadly, "No man could have survived what he took."
Tania knelt next to Casserem's body and looked into the emptiness of his eyes, her throat tight with grief. He had shown her much in the past month, things she would hold dear for the rest of her long life, and he had been taken from her by the withered claws of death. Her heart aching for what might have been, Tania took his hand in hers and prayed for the gods of his people to remember the man and not the outlaw.
Now that their vengeance had been taken, the elves had little to return to in New Illanthia but the sorrow and grieving they had buried in the name of retribution while Casserem's men remained outlaws without a leader and outcasts among their own peoples. A strange bond had formed between the remaining dwarves, elves and humans that day, as political boundaries were forgotten in the face of a greater cause. They felt connected in their isolation. When they pledged themselves both to Tania Rosewater and her crusade against the undead, she proudly accepted both out of respect for them and a sense of duty toward Casserem. With a force of trained soldiers under her command, she carried on the fight to destroy all unclean spirits for many years to come. The Legion of the Rose had been born.
- Denuren Califson, Legion Field Scribe |
