Octavius Brekaeil

Special Equipment: Freudenclaw (Ancestrial Blade) - A short bladed sword attached to his left forearm. The gauntlet that attached the weapon is in the form of an eagles claw clasping his arm. It’s blue silvered blade shone even on the darkest days when he lead his soldiers into battle, acting like a beacon for all to see their warlord leading the fray. Gold scrollwork can be seen running the length of the gauntlet and the blade, it’s runic script telling of the warriors past who have held the sword.

Appearance: 6’ tall weighting approximately 210 lbs. His hair is redish blonde and braided in the back of his head. This warriors knot symbolizes him as an undefeated warrior of his people. A golden feather entwinded into his braid symbolizes him as the warlord or leader.

He wears basic clothing, choosing confort and quality over expensive and unpractical. His boots are always well kept as are his weapons and armor. A golden eagle adorns the breast of his scaled armor, showing his heritage proud for his enemies to see.

Background:

The Story of Octavius Brekaeil Warlord of Pretenia
Octavius was born to a long line of rulers and warriors. His father was proud of the man he would become knowing, he was to be a good leader and strong warrior.

His childhood was filled with friendship and love from his people. He learned early on that to respect the people they would respect you and go to war and die for him. His trials with his peers forcing him to learn the value of friendship.

When his father died he took leadership over his people and had a vision of expanding his borders out so his people could prosper. His ventures lead him far and wide leading his people into a prosperity never before established.

In the year of 1593A the young warlord began a campaign of expansion in his small country. He took his armies best soldiers and swept out into the unknown wilderness and began claiming the unclaimed as his own, giving the land to his people to farm and raise stock. His expansion went far and for three years his people rejoiced at the popular young warlord. His gifts being plentiful and loving. His army was grand and unstoppable, the neighboring kingdoms quickly signing treaties with the young lord lest he get anxious and wish land that belonged to someone else.

He fulfilled his agreements and opened trade willingly with others, bringing a popularity to himself and his people of a giving and fair culture. He rarely needed to show force to anyone as he greeted them with peace and respect unless treated unfairly, which he then he would sweep down with little care and make his point with piles of their dead. He felt regret often at this choice and would help rebuild those who he pained, gaining their respect as a warrior and a leader. His rise of power and wealth seemed limitless, until his greatest find would foresee the downfall of it all.

His travels brought him to the Spine, a long jagged series of mountains that were near impassible. He called to his men and his people and made a claim that the backbone of their culture would begin and end here. That the strength of their people would forever be carried on the shoulders of the Spine and the world below. How true would his claim be.

In the search for a desired location for the capital city to be constructed they found a series of detailed and sculpted hallways leading into the mountainside. A short series of rooms were found and an open chamber within with a sight no one had ever seen in their travels. A black wall smoothed to the look of a mirror held a perfect circular gate. On the gate there were creatures of unimaginable horror and doing the most nightmarish acts upon the mortals who were swept in their wake as they poured from a doorway. On first seeing this, Octavius immediately wanted his chambers to be built in the very room as the gate, much to his councilors disapproval. He had a gleam in his eyes they had never seen before.

After the beginning of the construction of his castle, the gate made up the entire northern wall. He viewed it as a testament of his faith and his purpose as he guided his people here to their new home. It took many years to finish the surrounding castle, having to carve it from the very mountainside took many lives as it was a difficult task. Many of the workers having complained of nightmares while working on the warlords castle. One night, near the completion of the complex, the ground shook and heaved as if a mighty hand had took the ground beneath the very mountains and shook them like a sheet. The resulting damage was very minimal, as the workmanship that went into the castle was the best. One noticeable mark was in the warlords chambers.

The stone around the gate is buckled, torn, and cracked now. In some places, the cracks and wrinkles in the stone knot together and form mocking faces which stare demonically from the walls, laughing silently at mortals who come to look. Only Octavius feels no worry regarding this scene. He did notice a voice that spoke to him in his head after that though. A deep, dark voice that bent his mind and twisted his desires. It answered him, this voice did. Telling him the path to power was over the bodies of the weak.

For the past few years, Warlord Octavius has had vivid nightmares about riding a cresting wave of Demons, surging out from his tower. He considers this only to be inspired by his unique decorative wall of his personal chambers. However, unbeknownst to him, most of the other inhabitants have also been having these same nightmares for the past few months. Those who reside near the warlord or wait on him at night.

Though he was a capable and charismatic leader, not all of the new additions to Warlord Octavius’s army have be the result of his leadership and fame. His military numbers swelled, with ever more vile and depraved rogues. His councilors questioned their Lord and his reasoning behind allowing such degenerates to serve in his once noble army. He quickly cast aside their questions and had them thrown form his castle never to return to his lands.

Months went by with his anxiety increasing. He began sending his new soldiers out on expeditions to check on his peoples productivity. Rumors of the treatment that some received at the hands of his soldiers spread through his lands and had many people leaving their homes and traveling elsewhere. His new councilors questioned his motives about the harsh treatment of his people, they were systematically hung from the battlements of his castle as traitors. He took on a single councilor, a member of his closest guard. His demented voice echoed that of the gates and only made his lust for the nightmares filling his dreams only stronger.

A year passes and Octavius has sealed his borders to any and all traffic, keeping his people in and locking trade out. Hiring more and more soldiers daily to increase his ranks, plans of war and conquest escaped his parched lips often. He sent his first assault over his borders in 1601A and murdered everyone within ten miles of his land, claiming they were having thoughts to conquer his loving people. He had them murdered and placed on pikes lining the roadways to his lands, to ward off any would be enemies.

A month went by and Warlord Octavius noticed a scaly rash on the backs of his shoulders. This he associated to the increasingly crowded tower, and increasingly dirty new troops, bringing in new diseases and vermin. He also considered the pain in his shoulders to be either an early sign of age, or difficulty sleeping properly because of the rash. He became agitated at the slightest of issues and had workers and servants murdered for mundane mistakes. His rash began to spread from his shoulders to cover his entire back, then small protrusions began pushing through his skin, causing him relentless pain and agony.

Then the inevitable happened. His chief counselor came into his chambers one evening to speak with Octavius about a problem with one of his borders when he noticed small wing like extensions from his back. Words were exchanged and weapons drawn. Little is known about what transpired between the two but the battle that they fought was memorable. The length of the castle halls the battled up and down the ramparts trading blow for blow, each filled with anger and hatred. Seeing this, the soldiers took up arms, their lust for blood having increased with their time spent in the army of Octavius.

Once blood was drawn, all sign of sanity crumbled. The war that Octavius wanted to bring to his enemies fell at his very door step. His fight with his councilor brought them back to his chambers where they spilled the last blood of each other in the shadow of the very thing that corrupted them.

The army was slain to the last, with those few who had not been in the castle long saw them running for the borders. Leaving the hellish display of murder. Most never picking a weapon up in anger again.

The journal of a servant boy was found centuries later in some book shop in Volmara, detailing the events from which he saw. The location of the castle has never been found, thought to have been the ranting of a crazy man or some fanciful tale of the mind.

It is assumed that the flight of the dragons brought the castle to the very ground it was carved from, but without prior knowledge of it’s location this is still speculation.

Tales have filtered to some of the scholarly about similar gates being talked about in history tomes and the journals of the dead, long since turned to dust. Most always ending in an undecipherable scrawl a four year old could better. One comment does stand out at the end of every one of these known books however.

The tide will come, and Caedmon will lead it.

Roleplaying Notes:

Reading the story of Octavius Brekaeil Warlord of Pretenia will reveal his ultimate death but he can be used as an NPC in his early years.

Before the incident with the Demon Gate, he was a very loving leader and ruler. Passionate about his people and their well being and protection.

To be further detailed soon.