Da Hadez Family/Balian

The House Da Hadez originates in the realm of Darka on the continent of Atamara.

Balian Da Hadez

Background

Balian Da Hadez was the eldest son of the respected Darkan war hero Luthor Da Hadez.

Fiery, opinionated and somewhat bloodthirsty he was a fierce warrior and a formidable foe.

His mother Luessa, a stern woman of noble blood, died from an infection contracted during his birth. Although Luthor and his second wife, Lillith, doted on his eldest son and gave him the happiest childhood possible Balian eventually grew to despise them both. He blamed his father for his mother's death and accused him of betraying her memory by remarrying. The strain of this family conflict drove a wedge between Balian and his beloved half-brother Severn. Events came to a head when Balian attempted to assassinate Severn whom he thought, incorrectly, was trying to usurp his claim to the Da Hadez legacy. Balian was foiled and was forced to flee to Norland where his straightforward approach to warfare stood him in good stead. With his exile to Norland Balian's scorn for his family grew into a burning hatred that would only be quenched only by his return to what he ssaw as his rightful place at the head of the Da Hadez family. Balian worked his way up the ranks of the Norland militia, initially as a scoutmaster then as a front-line commander. His bloody-mindedness, refusal to back down from apparently hopeless battles, penchant for leaping from the walls and charging enemy armies and his uncanny ability to survive such bloody encounters earned him both the respect of his Norland brethren and the dubious nickname of 'Deathwish' Da Hadez. For considerable time he was appointed Baron of Moramroth and on numerous occasions was involved in desperate defense of the strategically vital, but inhospitable, mountain region before stepping-down to allow it's rightful Baron, Peny, to return. Later he was appointed Count of Ashmoor, a position he held until his death although he was rarely away from the front lines long enough to enjoy his lands and was able to spend only a few scant days there. A founder member of the much feared Army of Thor's Hammer and a long-time member of the Norland Military High Command and The Althing (Norland's high council) Balian was eventually granted the position of Marshal of the Army of Brackhead; acting as second-in-command to the newly appointed Minister of Defence; the legendary General Derack the Daring. As Marshal he played a key role in organising Norland's army during it's long, hard war with Eston. He was part of the infamous raiding party that wreaked havok in the heart of Eston towards the end of that conflict. Having attacked the city with a group of five tired soldiers the previous night he was the only foreigner in Masillion the morning that the city seceeded from Eston, an act which caused Eston to surrender the war to Norland. The conclusion of the Norland-Eston war brought with it the retirement of the greatly respected Minister of Defence Derack The Daring. Balian was seen as his natural successor and took on the role with little fuss or fanfare. He oversaw the rebuilding of Norland's military infrastructure during a long period of peace until the start of a bitter war with Minas Ithil a war which he fought without compromise or doubt but which he saw claim many of his friends before it finally claimed him also. The veteran of countless battles, Balian Da Hadez had a wealth of scars and wounds from his many battles and duels and was missing more than one finger and an eye. In rare moments of levity he claimed to be reaching Valhalla 'in instalments'. Balian Da Hadez died a hero's death leading his realm's army in the defense of a newly occupied region. Faced with the entire Talerium army and the survivors of the Minas Ithil army, which he had crushed that morning, his tired and ill-equipped force stood their ground against the numerically superior enemy; making them pay in blood for every inch advanced in one of the bloodiest battle in Atamarran history. Norland claimed a vital, if costly, victory. Balian Da Hadez met his end having leapt from the walls with a handful of men to delay the enemy advance and buy time for his archers to bring their weapons to bear. Though his death was observed by many witnesses Balian Da Hadez body could not be identified among the vast field of remains following the battle. While his spirit surely resides in Valhalla his body is presumed to rest in an anonymous mass grave in the fertile soil of Winwich.

Roleplays

Moramroth Gorge

2005/12/13

Lord Balian, battered and bloodied, stands with a small group atop the walls of Lord Peny's family home. He gazes down the outer wall into the shadowed depths of Moramroth gorge, the abyss whispering to him, inviting vertigo and promising oblivion. He turns his back on the deep void and addresses a small group of surly and defiant men who stand before him, bound by rope at the wrist.

His voice is soft, measured, calm.

"Soldiers of Eston. You were captured in the MacRoth farmhouse in the act of violating the women therein." He raised a hand, indicating a small group of women and girls standing nearby. There was barely a grunt from the group of men he faced. "We subseqently found the men and children of the household slaughtered." Another grunt, but also maybe a flicker of a smile, just a hint of tooth. Enough. Balians head bows, his eyes shadowed as if in prayer. "How do you plead?" It is almost a whisper.

One of the accused, eyes incandescent with hate, unleashes a stream of bloodied spit, striking Lord Balian in the chest. Balian waits, head bowed still, as the wind howls through the gorge, snapping the Peny family banners in ripples of sharp, percussive cracks. Finaly he raises his head and smiles broadly at his prisoners. "You are free to go." He sees the confusion in their eyes, witnesses the braziers of hate flicker and fade, to be replaced with the fragile candleflames of home. "You are free to go with them.." He nods, indicating the group of women and girls to his left.

He watches the condemned struggle to comprehend as they turn and stare at the women. He watches them examining the beautiful, expressionless faces for clues. He watches them as they take in the cold, dead eyes. Deserts to tears. He watches them as they notice the raking pins, the coils of hemp rope. The skinning knives. He watches the fragile candleflames flicker and die. He watches as one by one they turn and run, sobbing. He watches as they throw themselves from the wall. He watches them fall. He watches for a long time.

In silence the guards and the women leave the walls and return to the world of the living.

Lord Balian remains. He watches.

Moramroth Fields

2006-01-16

Lord Balian Da Hadez, Baron of Moramroth, member of the Althing and advisor to the Military high command of Norland grunts and picks himself up from the mud.

His victorious adversary, a belligerent saddleback sow, snorts defiantly at him and wanders off to root around the base of the empty food trough.

With good humor Balian swats away the weathered hands that reach urgently to assist his ascent from the mire. "Slippery as an Eston infiltrator that one!" he jokes. A man with a face like a walnut passes him a rough hessian rag to wipe the mud from his face. "She'll come round when she realises her brood are all in the barn, Sir. She always was a difficult one. Twas only my wife who could.." The elderly farmer's voice tails off and a moment of lonely meloncholy clouds his rough features. "Ah well, such is war. We have all lost someone." he sighs. An earthenware jug appears and Balian takes a great swig of Appleshock Cider then passes it to the farmer who does likewise.

There is a murmur from the four or five poorly dressed men surrounding him as a young man in fine but faded silks enters the field at a run. "Lord Balian! Your scouts approach the keep!" He cries, panting for breath and deperately trying to keep his footing on the tretcherously slippery ground. He fails, and falls headlong in the mud, eliciting a raw guffaw from Balian and the assembled farmers who grasp each others arm lest they join the young man now flapping like a landed fish in the mud. "More speed and less haste young scribe." Balian advises, helping him to his feet and passing him the rag.

"We're all but done here now Sir." rumbles the eldest farmer, nodding towards the disinterested sow. "Then I'll to the keep and you to your homes - good eve to you all." replies Balian, placing a hand on his shoulder. "Sir. I.. that is we..", The gruff farmer looks around his companions nervously; taking in their cautious nods of encouragement. He holds out his fist silently and lets it unfold, revealing nine small and well-worn gold coins. "For the war effort, Sir." He whispers, embarrassed.

Lord Balian smiles, accepts the coins and nods silent thanks. The farmers turn and make way toward home, their hushed conversation all but inaudible in the rising wind. "..dawn till dus.. ..ot many of his standing would I'll wag.. ..build Moramroth with his own bare han.."

As Balian and his scribe turn and trudge through the mud towards the keep the mud stained Baron of Moramroth grins broadly, content in the knowledge that there is more to nobility than simple honour and prestige.