Solari Family/Draz

First Days in Atamara

Introduction

A dark figure, hooded and cloaked, rides through the Shanandoah ducal castle gates. A fell wind howls at his back; the guards stare in awe as the looming presence approaches. Upon arriving at the entrance he climbs down off his black horse's saddle and beckons to be led to throne room. The soldiers quickly obey stealing wary glances of the mysterious figure as they bring him before the duke. Before the throne he kneels and looks up. The only features visible are his bright blue eyes which pierce the darkness which seems to surround this noble, enigmatic figure. Without warning, in a subtle yet commanding tone, he announces to the room "I am Draz, a noble of the house of Solari, and I hearby pledge my loyalty and service to this realm in the trying times ahead."

First Days in Dwilight

Arrival in Dwilight

A Madina port night watchman gazes listlessly out over the ocean. It is the dead of night and the sea is unusually calm. Off in the distance he spots a looming black shape. At first he thinks his eyes play tricks, but the form continues to draw closer. Something about the vessel puts him slightly on edge, giving him the suspicion that this ship carries more than the regular shipment of simple trade goods. A thick fog seems to almost obediently follow the vessel cloaking the sea behind it in an impenetrable darkness. The watchman's eyes, helpless to turn away, follow the vessel as it enters the port. As the ship nears the watchman's eyes transfix upon a dark figure near the ship’s bow. Spellbound by this mysterious form the watchman scurries over to the pier at which the ship is docking. Oozing of fear and trepidation yet prodded ever onward by curiosity, the watchman ducks behind some crates near the ship and peaks around at the lowered gang plank hoping to catch a glimpse of the enigmatic figure. The watchman doesn't wait long for soon the dark figure emerges hooded and cloaked and wearing full on battle armor black as the midnight that engulfs them. The shape senses his presence and turns to face him. The watchman stares into the blackness where the figure's face should be only to see two bright, icy blue eyes that seem to speak of a sadness and solemnity he had personally never known. "You there, sentry, do not skulk in the shadows. I am Draz, lord and master of the noble house Solari; I have come to this land to help this realm in the trials that lie before it. Go now and tell your master of my arrival." Startled by the sudden subtle yet commanding sound emanating from the presence before him, the watchman immediately speeds off into the darkness of the city eager to finish his charge so as to put the whole unnerving affair behind him.

Aftermath of the Takeover of Panamana

Draz looks out at the morning sun from just beyond the edge of his camp. His eyes gaze admiringly as the orange, red hues of sunrise dance over the peaks of Panamana’s pristine mountains. Thoughts on the state of the republic flow through his head: monsters overrunning half of Madina’s provinces, the realm’s infrastructure being insufficient to support most of the newly arrived nobles such as himself, and the Lord Admiral’s plan to lead much of what little is left of Madina’s army in an attempt to capture a city hundreds of miles away on a completely different island.

Piercing the silence, “My lord, your scout has return.” announces his squire approaching from behind, breathless, having just run from the camp to deliver his urgent news. After waiting impatiently for a nonexistent response, he continues “Sir, I am afraid the earlier sightings are indeed accurate. The monstrous beasts that plague over half of Madina are here as well and in great number...sir...sire...” A small inaudible sigh escapes his master’s lips.

“Signal the men to finish breaking down the camp. We leave at sunset.”

“At once, my lord,” his squire acknowledges before racing back to camp to deliver the order. Draz takes in one last look of the surrounding landscape. Overcoming his internal reluctance, he turns around and slowly walks back to his camp to oversee the final travel preparations all the while wondering if he might ever receive the opportunity to gaze on Panamana’s mountainous beauty again.

First Lordship of Panamana

The Occupation of Panamana

Baron Draz slumps back in his court chair seething in anger and frustration. Outside he can hear the commotion of his guards persuading the last few remaining peasant stragglers from his earlier court session to leave. As the noise fades away, he sits up and begins to think to himself, “Confound it, that’s the fourth time this week I’ve had to clear the court because of rebel outbursts. I don’t get it; they aren’t even natives of Panamana. Why do they immigrate here if they hate our realm so much?” He rises from his chair and walks to a large, nearby window to gaze out on the road that leads from his lordly estate down into Panamana’s central peasant village. “I suppose it doesn’t matter. Panamana’s mineral wealth is too important to the realm to be jeopardized by some rowdy peasant scum. If they don’t want justice then they’ll get the iron fist.” Draz turns and beckons over a loyal scribe who has been sitting in a corner of the room going over court documents. “I need some dispatches prepared,” he tells the scribe. “Send orders to the local police to begin doubling raids against known insurgent hideouts along the eastern shore and to burn those filthy dens of sedition to the ground. Also, send a letter to Sir Fionn asking him to hang some of the more verbose dissenters in our new southern mining camp. They can hate Madinian rule all they want, but they will respect my authority.”

“At once Lord Draz.”

“One more thing, a guest of mine, a one Lord Langford, will be arriving in the region soon. Send a small police detachment to greet him and escort him to the town’s bureaucratic center. NO HARM IS TO COME TO HIM, UNDERSTAND. Make it clearly known that anyone stupid enough to try anything will become very familiar with some of the more unusual devices my Chief of Police keeps in the dungeons.”

“Right away, Your Excellency.” The scribe hurries off to prepare the necessary letters. Draz returns to his court chair and plops right back down. The recent cruelty he has had to exercise to maintain order weighs heavily upon his mind. However, if fear remains the only effective tool in his arsenal he will continue to use it in his determination to do his duty.

The Revolt of Panamana

The door to Draz’s personal bed chamber bursts open. It is the early morning, long before the sun is scheduled to make its appearance. “Milord, a mob of villagers has assembled and they’re heading for the manor,” one of Draz’s estate guards shouts as Draz groggily gathers his wits. The guard moves to the side of his bed, “Milord, we must hurry; they will be here shortly.” Draz suddenly hears the faint sounds of the riotous peasants off in the distance and immediately snaps to his senses.

“Fetch me my sword,” Draz commands the guard while he jumps from his bed and hurriedly puts on his light armor. The guard quickly leaves the room giving Draz time to finish dressing and returns with his lord’s dark blade. His weapon at his side, Draz charges through his manor and out the front main door where his Chief of Police is attempting to organize the remaining members of his local security force that haven’t yet deserted. “Report,” Draz yells to the Chief as he walks outside.

“Milord, it seems some of the rebels out in the woods managed to survive our initial raids and have incited the populous to uprising.”

“Why was I not alerted sooner?”

“Sire, it would seem that the local guards at the village end of the road fled into the nearby woods at the sight of the large approaching mob. Your Excellency, I have had your horse prepared for you at the secret mountain pass escape route behind the manor. You must make your escape at once.”

“Never! I will not run away like some cowardly dog! If I’m leaving then I’m going out the front!” Draz draws his sword and admires it as the moon light seems to dance across the blade. He then stakes it in the ground and calls over his loyal scribe. “Make haste man; we don’t have all night,” Draz shouts as his scribble runs to him quill and parchment in hand. Draz snatches the writing utensils from his scribe’s hands and begins to quickly scribe something on several different pieces of parchment. After finishing and sealing the letters, Draz calls over one of the few remaining police officers that remain gathered on the estate. “Captain, listen very carefully. I daresay this may be the most important task you will ever receive in your life. There are four letters here. This one is to be delivered to Lord Langford back in the village. The other three are to be delivered to Governor Kolya, Lord Admiral Elect Thales, and Marshal Xenthar. Now hurry; we will delay them long enough for you to get away.” The captain grabs the letters and hurries back into the estate just as the mob arrives. Draz spins around to face his foes and pulls his sword from the ground. His eyes seem to shine with a pale blue light of their own. His dark, menacing form makes the villagers’ torches seem to dim in the blackness. The sea of rebellious rabble actually seems to cringe when he points his blade towards it. “Here I am! If you want me, come and get me you filthy worms,” Draz shouts as he and his men proceed to fight their way through the mob.

The Reprieve

The battle before Draz’s manor was surprisingly short. Greeting his earlier invitation, the peasant swarm lurched at him and his men like the waters of a violently flooding river; however, like a river stone, Draz held his ground dispatching those foolish enough to come within his striking distance as the peasant flood swirled around him. Just when he thought the teeming mass might overtake them the view before him emptied to reveal the previously hidden dark mountain road leading down into the town. Stunned, Draz spins around to see that the mob as a whole has ignored him and pressed on towards his estate to loot it to the ground. Taking advantage of their momentary distraction, Draz rallies his men and races off down the Aurum Highway putting as much distance between himself and the raging mob as possible. As he and his remaining guards approach the provincial capital, Argentum, they ditch the Aurum and sneak around Argentum’s outskirts and disappear into the bordering Mutinous Woods.

Draz and his men have been traversing the forest for several hours now and already the morning sun is climbing high into the sky. He can tell his men are growing weary and won’t be able to keep up their current pace much longer. He thinks to himself, “I can’t run like this forever. I need a place to regroup and collect my thoughts…somewhere secret where I could plan my next move…that’s it! I just hope the old man is still there.” Draz begins to lead his men east straight to the edges of the Panamanian Foothills. As the party nears the forest edge, Draz signals his personal scribe, Alex, to approach him. “Alex, my most faithful servant, the time soon draws near when we must temporarily part ways, but before that moment comes I must tell you of a mission I have for you. This is a letter to his Lordship, the Grand Doge himself.” Draz withdraws a hidden letter from his battle robes. “This letter must reach his Excellency. I know the road can be long and challenging, but you are the only one I can trust with this task.” Alex nods and the two continue to walk on as if no conversation had taken place.

At the forest edge, Draz turns to address his men. “Loyal officers of Panamana, your service to me and Madina has no parallel. Your dedication and devotion to duty reflects well upon your family names and on the disgraced name of the Panamanian people. It has been an honour to be your Lord, and I look forward to the day when I may lead you again. However, my subjects, now is the time we must part ways. The chaos in Panamana is only going to grow and you have homes and families you must look after.” Draz pays each of his guards some extra pieces of silver to escort his scribe to the Lugagun border and proceeds to climb up into the Panamanian Foothills in search of the hut of the Lone Hermit of Panamana.

Return to Madina

The Reunification

Draz wanders the streets of Madina’s docks restlessly. After having spent hours waiting at his local residence sifting through all the incoming reports on the chaos in his lands and even more time checking the empty recruitment centers for the incredibly rare draftee, he is determined to head out and have his mind distracted by less disheartening topics. His thoughts drift aimlessly as he traverses Madina’s many side streets and dockyards, “It feels so strange; when I arrived from the heavily populated cities of Atamara, this city felt so empty to me, but, now, having spent so much time in the mountains out away from civilization, I can’t help but feel slightly overwhelmed by Madina’s teeming masses.” His aloof wanderings, however, are brought to an abrupt end when over the rumble of peasant crowds he thinks he hears someone call his name. Puzzled, he stops in his tracks for a moment and then begins to carry on when he hears it again. This time he completely halts and scans his surroundings closely only to discover-to his shear amazement-a recognizable group of men standing guard at the gang plank of a nearby docked vessel. “Rayld, is that really you,” Draz asks with both a mixture of surprise and shock.

“Yes, indeed, my good Lord Draz. In fact there are several of us here.” Rayld turns towards the ship, “Hey guys you’ll never guess who’s here.” Out over the side of the ship spring several more familiar faces. Draz is completely blown away to have found half of his old Atamarian unit, the Black Legion, on a random dock in Dwilight.

“How on earth did you men end up here?”

“I wish it were a happier tale, milord. With the outbreak of full scale continental war on Atamara, the Duke of Shanandoah decided to bolster our militia group to help defend his city which included, to our dismay, the appointment of a rather noisome captain of dubious qualification to our brigade. That, coupled with the building dullness of city patrols, got us to up and leave and become mercenaries for hire. And with that we came to be employed by a passing ship captain and have been traveling the seas as men-at-arms. Till uh course of our arrival here, milord.”

“So, unemployed you say…you men wouldn’t be interested in returning to active duty by chance?” “I thought your Lordship would never ask. Though mercenary life hasn’t been bad to us, we long for the chance to engage in epic battle once more.”

“Excellent, gather your things immediately and await me at my residence at the edge of the palace district. Be prepared for a long journey for we leave at sunset.”

“Yes Sir! Milord, may I be so bold as to ask where your lordship will be in the mean time?”

“Recruiting myself a Captain…” Draz turns from his newly reformed unit and heads towards the seedy end of the merchant district bordering the docks to finish the preparations for his return to Panamana.

The Captain

Two men sit quietly at a table playing joker. One is your average local thug, his cronies crowded around him. The other, a ship captain of some renown, is a one Captain Fabian. Fabian, although originally an unknown deckhand on a merchant cargo vessel, was propelled to fame among the peasantry when his ship’s captain was killed at the start of the Second Daimon Invasion of Beluaterra, and he took the reins of leadership and led the ship on several daring, lucrative resupply runs to the overrun continent. Fabian, however, is now feeling quite separated from those past days of glory. He has been trapped in port since his crew left without him, stealing most of his money and valuable cargo. For the past few weeks, he has spent his days as “Baron of the beer mug” in the local Sea Maiden tavern drinking his problems away. Although he has been drinking extensively, Fabian can still recognize the other guy is cheating. In his quasi-suicidal depression, Fabian calls him on it knowing his opponent’s companions will attack him. “That’s quite a trick you got there; I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone draw five aces from a four suited deck before.”

“Aye, what of it? Is ye dare’n to calls me a cheater?”

“No, I’m dare’n to calls you an idiot.”

“We's don’t take kindly to that kind o’ talk round here, friend. Perhaps me and my boys ought to teach yous a lesson.” And with that, the thugs lunged at Fabian. However, not expecting a serious fight from a random drunk, the thugs let their guard down to their quick dismay. In rapid succession, Fabian knocks the table over tripping the first goon, grabs his own chair and breaks it across the face of the second one, and uses his remaining rotational momentum from the chair swing to grab the third one and throw him into the bar. The tavern clears as Fabian is subdued by the second wave. “Did ye really think you could defeat Irvin and the Sea Dog gang?”

“Did you really think those extra 3 decks you kept hidden in your lap would make up for your horrible card playing skill?”

“Enough of this! Now hows about I introduce ya to my blade.” Fabian’s opponent draws a knife and moves to strike but stops in mid swing. Surprised, the thug looks down only to see a dark blade sticking out of his own chest and then drops to the floor revealing the dark, menacing presence of Lord Draz. The other men flee the tavern for their lives, practically throwing themselves out the tavern doors in their fear. Fabian drops to his knees and looks down at the floor.

“Captain Fabian, or should I say the drunken dishonorable mess that was Captain Fabian...your crew and wench have abandoned you, your wallet clearly lies empty, and your current highest achievement is having the presence of mind to pick a fight with some seaborn scum.”

“Milord always makes one feel so welcome.”

“Hold your tongue! You address a Lord of Madina; no level of intoxication will excuse your actions.” Fabian remains quiet. “I am in need of someone with considerable fighting and leadership skills, and though you have been disgraced, I am willing to offer you an opportunity to regain your honor. Serve me as my unit commander and you will have the chance to reclaim the life of wealth and adventure you once had. Fabian looks up and stops short of making eye contact with Draz’s cold blue eyes.

“Milord, you have saved my life. I am yours to command.”

“Excellent, arise Captain Fabian. Report to my palace district residence and help organize my men who will be rallying there shortly. I will stay here and sort things out with the local authorities when they arrive.” Captain Fabian stands up and heads for the exit or, in his mind, an entrance to a new life.

Reforging the Legion

Draz stands before his troops at the Madina city gates, their supplies loaded and armaments prepared for the long road ahead. “Men, each of you has travelled the rough road of war to reach this point. You have each served as private soldiers, mercenaries, bodyguards, militia, marines, and so forth but never as pioneers. In the past, you fought for profit and patriotism in a never-ending struggle among the wealthy aristocracy; now you shall fight for the very existence of the civilized world. Beyond these gates lies a world untamed by the hand of man fraught with dangers and agents of chaos that would seek to end our very lives. You must stand as an iron blade against this wild tide driving this anarchy back into the abyss of the netherworld from whence it came. And so, from your strength and battle prowess, shall I reforge my legion of old anew. You, my Iron Legion, shall be the instrument by which the savage darkness that consumes this world shall be vanquished and its people set free. You will stand against the enemies of order and justice with the resolution of the Panamanian mountains and send them to their graves screaming your name in terror.” Draz looks out across the faces of his men; they seem somewhat enthusiastic although not entirely won over. “You will then take their women, drink their beer, and pocket their gold.” The men immediately burst in cheers. Draz unnoticeably shakes his head and whispers to himself, “The common soldier...such a simple breed although they do serve their purpose well when the time comes...”

“Milord, your Iron Legion stands ready to serve. What are your orders my liege?”

“Thank you, Captain Fabian. Men, move out!”