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[Talon Skyfire]

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The Code Fails

“There comes a time, thief, when the jewels cease to sparkle, when the gold loses its luster, when the throne room becomes a prison, and all that is left is a father's love for his child.”

--King Osric, Conan the Barbarian, 1982


Sanctus had taken a beating in the ongoing war. Castle Blackguard had been razed after a battle with the forces of evil. Craftsmen from around the world had flocked to Sanctus, and the reconstruction was proceeding far ahead of schedule.

One evening as training winded down for the evening, the King and Lord James M’real stood upon the ramparts watching the soldiers prepare. Both men felt a strong attachment and respect for the Sanctus soldiers; no matter how many times they fell, they always picked themselves up and refused to give in to the overwhelming power of the enemy.

Suddenly, a dark figure appeared and begged an audience with the King.

“I bring word of your wife and daughter,” the dark figure spoke, revealing himself to be Radovan Ne’Sveti, the half daemon servant of the Lich Lord Darrien Church.

“What of them, fiend? Last I saw they were safely in their quarters,” said the King, a hint of worry creeping into his voice.

“I can show you your daughter,” said Radovan, a sly smirk coming across his features as he placed a box at Talon’s feet.

A pit formed in the King’s stomach as he stared at the box, dreading to see what atrocity lay inside. Reluctantly, he kicked open the lid.

What his eyes saw struck a blow more damaging than any physical weapon or spell ever could. Inside the box rested the severed head of his only daughter, Princess Deserae.

Time slowed to a crawl for the next few moments. A sensation of grief, guilt, hatred, pain, and vengeance stronger than anything he had ever felt in his life gripped the King.

His men had already seized the half daemon, who was now pleading for his life with falsehoods about the Queen’s condition, claiming that she was still alive.

Talon was no longer himself in this moment. The cool and calm demeanor that usually marked him was nowhere to be found. With a mailed hand he ripped the fiend from the grip of his men and forced him to the ground. With another he ripped Ice from its scabbard across his back. The emotion its wielder felt was channeled into the blade, making it do things which it had never done before. The dull white glow the blade usually emitted in the prescence of evil was transformed into an inferno of searing white flames.

Placing a foot on the fiends back, he pushed him to the ground. Despite the protests of those around him, the blade came screaming through the air, bringing with it the sickening sound of snapping tendons and cracking bones. The fiend’s head rolled across the clearing.

“Burn the rest of it…return its head to the Lich Lord,” Talon mumbled as he sulked into the castle in a trance. His men tied the remains of the fiend to the stake and incinerated them.


The King had secluded himself in his tower atop the castle for days, refusing food, drink, or rest. The Princes, Chancellor, and Commander had taken control of the situation while he was in mourning.

The only visitor he allowed during this time was his long time companion and friend, Lord James M’real.

As the Lord Paladin entered, he found the King in a disheveled state upon the floor of his balcony.

His best efforts to console Talon did little good.

The King was wracked with guilt. He felt he was a failure as a husband and a father. His children were cursed to die as sacrifices on the altars of the unclean. The man who managed to protect the realms of light could do nothing to protect his own family.

Talon scorned himself for always putting his duties before the needs and well-being of his family. He showed Said’he little affection, always being too busy with his duties to dote upon his wife. His children were neglected with a Father who never had time for them, only time for Sanctus and the light.

And now…they were gone. All but his two sons Kainen and Cyrus. The pain that gripped Talon was beyond measure and control. He spent his days weeping on the floors of his quarters, unable to get up. The King tore at his skin and hair, lashing himself severely for his failures. His little girl had been murdered, and his wife’s whereabouts were unknown.

The Shadow Conclave had struck down the Dragon in a single blow without need of swords or spells.

The Code of the Paladin had failed him. No longer were “Honor & Valor” his watchwords, but now… “Grief Eternal.”
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~Lord Talon Skyfire
King of Sanctus
Lord Protector of Malas

[Bailos]

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Late at night, as two men patrol the borders of the fort which was being constructed, a man steps out through the thickets and woods...

Bailos crosses his arms and looks at the rampart, and beyond them the City of Sanctus, the White Gate.

In the depths of this world lie things more foul than light and darkness. Things which feed and control the very primal essence of man...lust, anger, greed, depression and hubris. A being of such nature stirs again and longs to wrap its infinite tendrils around the once again vulnerable citizens of Sanctus and their King