Mordraith's page

About Mordraith

My life was once one of peaceful bliss. I was the eldest son of the King of Denmarsch, a small kingdom east of the Nentir Vale. My wife, Catherine, had blessed me with three beautiful children: two daughters, and a son, sturdy as an ox he was, at least for an infant.

I wished life could have gone on this way forever, but alas fate had other plans for me. As my father grew older, he eventually fell ill, and I was the first in line for his succession since the arrival of my newborn son, who would insure the lineage for at least another generation. Before this date, my younger brother was the one the throne should have gone too, since his wife had already given birth to two sons, and if it was customary that the elder son be crowned, privilege was always given to a guaranteed continuity of the line, instead of simple birth order. But since I was now father to a healthy boy, I was back in line as first heir to the crown.

A position I did not yearn for, content with the life I led as a father and husband, but that I was ready to accept, as it was my duty to rule upon my father's lands with a strong but fair hand.

As it often is in families such as this, my brother was always jealous of me. Of the fact that as the eldest son, I always received more attention. Of the fact that I was the heir to the throne, a position he had hoped to inherit for the past few years. And finally, he was jealous of Catherine, my wife, which was the fairest lady of the land, and of the relationship we shared, while his marriage had always been… tumultuous to say the least.

He had planned everything; I had foreseen nothing, stricken with grief as I was. As soon as my father passed away, before the customary new moon had arrived, which would mark the date of the crowning, he struck. He had handsomely paid off the less loyal of the guards, and washed of the keep with his retinue like a tidal wave of blood and death, butchering everyone who was loyal to me. Guards, maids, servants, all were massacred. I fought as best as I could, but was soon overwhelmed by the number of the traitors, so I retreated to my chambers, hoping to escape with my family.

But I came in too late, only to witness the murder of my wife and children, watching horrified as my brother plunged is blade in the heart of my dear Catherine, his guards bent of the cradle of my infant son, and the broken bodies of my daughters on the floor. I had lost everything. My kingdom, my family, my wife. Before the assassins could catch up, and before my brother could see me, absorbed as he was in his murderous folly, I escaped, using one of the few secret routes he was still unaware off. All I had with me was my family sword, and the few personnal belongings I kept on me usually, as I had not yet retired for the night that evening.

I can't remember how long I walked. I could not afford to stop, as I would not be safe before I crossed the borders of the land, of MY lands. I had lost everything, To my own traitorous brother. All that remained in me was pain and grief, which as time passed was slowly replaced by an overwhelming feeling of anger, bitterness, of hatred. The gods had forsaken me, I had nothing left. Nothing left but my now pointless life, and a desire for vengeance. I would have my vengeance

It was that night that the dreams began. A bright red spot, surrounded by darkness. Pulsating like the heart of some forgotten being. It spoke to me, beckoned to me, saying it could offer me what my heart desired, the power to take my vengeance, to unleash my fury upon the ones that had betrayed me.

When I woke up, I found myself following the directions the voice had given me in my dreams. I strangely recognized the road marks it told me I would pass. For weeks I walked like that, trough plains and forests and hills, trough good and bad weather. I had stopped in some small township, to purchase the equipment necessary for outdoor life, a backpack, a tent, a bedroll, and some supplies. It was a new life for me, but I could always manage to find sustenance, somehow.

Night after night the dreams would come back, the red pulsating light speaking to me in riddles, showing me the way. Then, one day, after weeks of traveling, I arrived. I came upon ancient ruins, of ages long past.

Following the indications the voice had told me of in my dreams, I searched around and found an opening, a hidden stairway going down into what appeared to be catacombs. I went down for what seemed and eternity, trying to remember what I had dreamed about. Left, right, right, left, left, straight for a while then right again. Going trough an intricate maze of tunnels and chambers. This would be the kind of place where all manners of horrific creatures would lurk, yet I did not feel fear, nor did I encounter any opposition, tough I could feel the gaze of… things, staring at me from the shadows.

I then came upon a great chamber, the main chamber of what seemed to be an underground temple, with a great stone door, and an altar. I lit the torches in the room, approached the altar, covered with symbols, carved deep in the stone in intricate patterns, leading trough a small gap in the center of the stone.

I do not know why, but I held my hand above the altar, can cut my palm, letting my blood trickle inside the stone. Then, the voice spoke to me again in my mind, though this time I was wide awake. I congratulated me on making it all this way there, and for giving it strength. It said it could give me what I yearned, the power to get my vengeance, but for a price. It said it felt great potential within me, and it would be a shame to see it wasted. But it wanted me too prove my devotion, my will, and the extent of me desire for revenge. "What will you give to be granted your vengeance?" the voice asked. "Anything", I heard myself answer, out loud though the voice only spoke in my head. "Bring me an offering. A sacrifice of innocence. The blood of new life. Now go, and return with your gift to me…"

I left the catacombs, puzzled. As I came up, the sun was rising, and I pitched my tent, and for the first time, my sleep was dreamless. For a few days, I stayed in the forest, wondering what the voice meant. The rage and pain would not leave me. I had the means to get my vengeance, so close, yet the way to obtain it eluded me. Then, on a bright and sunny day, as I was fishing near the river, I heard voices, clear and loud, and laughter. Intrigued, I followed the voices to a small clearing, where a man and a woman where sitting, picnicking in the sunlight. I came out to offer my salutations, but the couple, seeing me all dirty, carrying only a sword and few other possessions must have mistook me for a bandit. The woman screamed, and the man sprang to his feet, drawing his weapon, already charging. I had no time to explain, so I drew my sword in defence. I was planning to only defend myself, trying to explain the situation, but as we fought, the pent up rage and anger of the recent events overtook me, and suddenly I was facing my brother again, his sword glistening with the blood of my wife. Howling like a madman, I broke the man's guard, and plunged my weapon in his chest, feeling the life seep out of him. I saw him fall dead, yet I felt no remorse. He had brought this upon him.

The screams of the woman accompanying him brought my gaze up, and only then I saw, and realized. She was many months pregnant. Then the solution to the riddle dawned upon me. A sacrifice of innocence. The blood of new life… What is more innocent than a newborn, if not a baby YET to be born, and his loving mother? Determined, no driven, not pondering the morality of my actions, I yanked my sword out of the dead body laying before me, and headed to the screaming woman, now begging for her life. I quickly knocked her unconscious, and carried her all the way back to the ruins, and into the catacombs.

She woke up as I was finishing tying her up on the altar, looking at me with horrified eyes as she realized her predicament. She again pleaded for me to spare her life, the life of her unborn child. But I would not be swayed, and simply answered "Such is the price to pay, a sacrifice of innocence." And I plunged my dagger into her hearth, letting her blood flow freely, filling the carving in the altar, dribbling to its center.

As she blew her dying breath, her life and that of her child leaving her body, I felt filled with power. Eldritch might coursing trough my veins, dark secrets echoing in my mind. The large stone gates behind the altar slowly parted, and I entered, ready to begin my meditation, and my training. The voice taught me well, and it kept its promises. I have acquired newfound power, the power to scour the very soul of my enemies, inflicting unspeakable torment upon them.

Tough I am not proud of my actions, I do not regret them, as they were a necessary price to pay, so I could obtain the power and the strength to make things right. To punish my betrayers, and avenge the ones I loved and care for. I am now ready to head out again in the world, and face my enemies: my treacherous brother, the nobles who supported him, as well as anyone who dare oppose me.

I no longer bear the name of my family, as it is the name of my enemy. I am now simply known as Mordraith, the Black Sun…