Solari Family/Draz
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 presense 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."
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.
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.
