Kill the queen
Sold his soul. Kills prostitutes.
The Tale of Revan Skybourne
I am Revan Skybourne, last son of the Skybourne clan. Once I was human. Now I am something much more, or possibly much less. I am on a quest of redemption and revenge, with my immortal soul hanging in the balance. This is my story thus far…
By: Revan Skybourne
I was born the second son of Atticus Skybourne and Isabel Skybourne, my father served as the Queen‘s emmisary to the Dwarven kingdom of Hsark in the north. Because of my fathers station we lived well among the empire’s capital of Hallardrin, a city of the dead. As a small child the presence of skeletons and shambling corpses troubled me deeply and my sleep was wracked with nightmares. Soon though, as I grew older, I grew blind, desensitized to the unnatural creatures that surrounded me as I played, ate and grew into a young man. Living as nobility, I saw little of the horrors perpetrated upon those of the lower classes. Children snatched from their homes, cruelly experimented upon, commoners bullied by imperial enforcers and vagrants treated as livestock to feed the Queens Dreadfleet. These crimes are all to real to me now.
My younger brother died at a young age, before he could be named, my mother died soon after. My father believed that grief was the cause. As a family we never recovered. My brother Castor Skybourne, two years my elder, and I were constantly in competition for our fathers attention, although our sincerest hope was to lift the pall of sadness upon our swiftly aging father’s shoulders. His eyes had slowly grown hollow after his wifes death, his blond hair tinged with ashen white. Through this competition Castor and I each grew to high stations. Castor bcame a revered historian of the Grand Library, while I trained among the master swordsmen of the Elven academies and the great tacticians of the Wintermoon campaign (human v. eladrin). At age 19 I was chosen personally by the Undying Queen Lillianna as a member of her personal guard.
In her service I learned many dark secrets as I was trained in the defence of her Unholiness. In my daily training dark arcane knowledge became trope, and I became more assured with the might of the Human empire. Through my tutelage I grew close to the Queen, becoming her personal enforcer and the closest thing she had to a confidante. She revealed to me the tale of her rise to power, killing her master and the previous king to seize power and bring the empire victory in the Great Gnomish War. She told me of how she grew paranoid, dividing her soul into three portions before taking her own life and returning as the undying lich queen of a new human empire. One late night she even revealed to me the location of the pieces of her shattered soul, sealed into items she called Phylacterys. The first was the diadem that rested upn her brow, the second was a gauntlet hidden deep under the vaults in the Dwarven capital of Hammerdeep. The final, which she would
not reveal the form of, was buried among the bones of Noch’e’tudem Drazil (the dragons graveyard).
My main duty as her guard however, was not her defence due to the safety of the capital, it was to defend the realm from invasion and rebellion. My bitterest enemy in this fight was the group known as the Red Hand. They spoke what I then believed to be filth about the ungodly nature of the empire. That blood beat deep, not in the white unliving hand of the empire, but in the veins of the Red Hand of the people and the people, the lifeblood of the nation, would flow forth like a mighty flood and rid the Queens evil from the land.
I hunted them down. Many I slaughtered like dogs in the streets and in their homes, but many more I captured and left to the cruel hands of the Torture Corps. Finally though, through a lead torn from the throat of a captured liutenant, we believed we had discovered the Red Hands hideout, beneath one of the empires many Shanty Towns. I stormed their facility, cutting a swath through the unprepared men of the Red Hand but when I reached their war room, a surprise I never could have anticipated awaited me. Before me, in a white tunic embellished with the symbol of a blood palm, was the Red Hands leader. My elder brother Castor. We fought bitterly, his sword clashing against mine, as tears blurred my eyes. Eventually my training won out. With my blade tight against his throat I croaked “Why Castor, how could you?” his voice calm, tired beyond his years, so reminiscent of our fathers he said “For you brother, for your soul.” I drove my blade straight through his heart.
Though I completed my mission, this laid the first bitter seeds of regret and doubt in my heart. From that moment on, I saw more of the darkness around me, and secret some nights wished that the red tide my brother spoke of would wash clean the streets. But still I remeained loyal to the Queen. In the days following the end of the Red Hand it seemed there would be a return to normalcy, but it was not to be. Continuous attempts by the empire to gain control of Mount Kruston, the home of the Azer, for it’s wealth of natural resources finally provoked the Azers wrath. They began to strike against our colonial interests and when they attacked Arampaimi we were forced to fight back. My men and I forced the Azers back effectively with the aide of a local militia, but foolishly I ordered mt men to board our ships and give chase.
Unable to defeat the Azers ironclads in open waters I ordered my men to board. It was only once on board that I realized my folly. It was an ambush. We fled desperately through the ships hull searching for an upper hand before we were pushed back into the treasure room. Secreted among the Azers conquest I discovered what I then believed to be our salvation. A wickedly curved blade steeped in mystical energy. As my hand grasped the hilt a foreign conciousness burned through my own. “I am ”/campaign/kill-the-queen/wikis/Anabole/new" class=“create-wiki-page-link”>Anabole," spoke the blade “and in exchange for a piece of your soul, I can give you the power you require to save your men.” So I did what any commander would do. A piece of light left me forever that day, as darkness flew through my blood like lightning. My body and eyes were stained dark by the spirit within me, arcane energy crackled through me and I knew that I could never return to the life I had before. Her and I together reaved a swath through the Azers for my men
to escape. But I could only hold them off for so long, my body did not yet have the power to control the sword. Once again she whispered to me “And now we make our exit.” The next thing I saw was the ocean far below me and then black.
When I awoke I found myself drained and among the strange medley of outcasts who would soon become my traveling companions. Scour, a monsterous sorceror in service of the Raven Queen, Wolf Kroft, the disgraced criminal mastermind of Arampaima. Ashar a runaway elemental warrior, Lucan the tortured vampire and his elven bride Jenette. We have had many adventures since, we have lost comrades and gained others, and still our quest continues. It has become my mission to see the end of the evil queen and redeem myself for the death of my dear brother Castor.