This is the story about, and following up the recent event ‘The Purge’ that was held on April 21st 2012. The information in this story is mainly Out of Character, though some obvious things such as the change of power, the death of the lord and emir and such may be considered IC knowledge due to the speed with which such news would spread.
The Crimson Emir was being tended to by his doctor in his chambers when the castle began to shake on it’s foundations, an army was marching over the fields of Lvennkhal. The brave sergeant Korallos Straller interrupted his training and stormed in, stating “The enemies are at our gates my emir, what do we do!?”. The emir found a moment of clarity in his delirious state and commanded the man to take the Emir’s equipment and man the walls for the defense. The sarranids were heavily outnumbered when the gates were torched and a flood of angry warriors and civilians alike stormed the residence of the Crimson Emir. The Sarranid forces were shattered, and the attackers feasted their hate on the corpses that remained, leaving only those who surrendered barely alive. When the attackers reached the Emir’s quarters a final bloody battle took place that cost the lives of the last remaining sarranid forces, but not before Lord Galenos himself was lethally wounded, as a mamluke dug an axe deep into his lungs when he stormed through chamber the door. The frail and sickly emir was mamed and beaten by the furious mob that remained, and dragged around the townsquare while being beaten and spat on by bystanders. He died a gruesome death, and his corpse was imprisoned with the the imprisoned survivors…
Mahmoud Al-Bahraad shook his head in dismay. A message had reached him, sent by a handful of Sarranids that managed to escape their death and imprisonment, though broken and beaten from the battle against the Rhodoks. It was his fault, having made the mistake of becoming greedy and claiming his piece of the Lvennkhal region. It had resulted in an devastating decrease of his wealth (As he had to fund his own campaign while he was there, and was responsible for the financial support during Emir Daem’s rule too), and the loss of the lives of many good men during their assault, the occupation, and the Rhodok purging of Lvennkhal. His only son dead, and one of his most favored lords reduced to a pile of blooded pulp by the angry inhabitants of the region. It was not long before the High Sultan’s men would stand at his gates and -after a short battle with Al-Bahraad’s men- would claim the head of Emir Al Bahraad along with whatever remained of his riches, in compensation for his severe failure and lack of responsibility.
Back in Lvennkhal the vast collective euphoria that followed after the victory against the Sarranids, and reclaiming of the home land, was quickly replaced with a collective mourning for the death of who was widely considered one of the last remaining local Lords to be a capable ruler: Lord Galenos. He had died while fighting valiantly for his kingdom during the siege of the Sarranian colonial city. Nesdin was devastated when he was reached by the news, and had left Lvennkhal the night of the battle until further notice. How much more of the king’s able men would have to die to hold this handful of cursed mountains? How many more lives would it take to stabilize this province that had been in war, on and off, for two centuries by now?
Judgement was passed by various Rhodok councils on the matter, and though the cultural history and association that the Rhodoks had within the region, it became clear that by now the the struggle for Lvennkhal had cost much more then it would ever again profit the Rhodoks. A conclusion came forth…
Lord Berci had been fond of all his sons and daughters who one by one were great at arts, crafts, sports, tactics, combat and studies. All of them, but one. This had bothered Berci for a long time now, as this specific son ruined the spotlessness of what would otherwise be a family portrait of nothing less but heroes and legends at their respective subjects, a role model family of historical proportions. Lord Berci was well aware that whenever or wherever one would speak of the greatness of himself and his children, there would be at least two people that -for whatever reason- would mention: “But what about ‘that one’ son? Is a chain not as strong as it’s weakest link?” and slandering of the like, and to the common man it was. Lord Berci had heard of the ongoing problems in Lvennkhal and was more then eager to offer his son to fill up the vacancy of warden of the region.
It was the perfect opportunity for his son to clear the family name of the horrid stains by either dying valiantly while carrying out his tasks -leaving no less then a legendary story of bravery behind-, or to do the very same by bringing this crisis to a successful end, or so Lord Berci thought it would go. Along with an investment from the family’s private coffers the young and heated Lord Berci Junior headed for Lvennkhal, where he would soon arrive, and a blood stained throne awaited him.
