Thorns, one of the great cities of the Threshold and a strong independant ally of the Realm. You knew in your heart that you and your fellow citizens were that way and that is what you grew up believing. The culture and the architecture was peerless and its military might was close to par with the Realm and Lookshy, if not in numbers, than in training. Son of a nobleman you were given the best schooling and there was great hopes that you would exalt like many of your other kin, including three of your six siblings; you didn’t, but that was not a reflection on yourself only an accident of luck, so you told yourself. You trained hard to prove to the Dragons that they were wrong. Family connections got you into the House of Swords, the best school out side of the Realm, but it was your determinism and gal that got you top honours among the unexalted and even honours above some of the Dragon Blooded too, including your brother.
When the call went out that Thorns was seeking to expand its territory to match its strength and glory, you were the first to sign up, and you were given a commission immediately. You were hoping for a Scale Lord commission, highest that a mortal was allowed, but you were instead passed up for this and given a commission as an adjunct to a Winglord. You were disappointed and you angrily questioned your parents if they had pulled strings to keep you out of the fight, but soon it became clear that it was your old Headmaster that had made the arrangement. He told you that he had a sixth sense about these things and he told you the field was not where you were meant to die. What ever his intentions were, you saw a lot of combat. Your wing was in the thick of battle for most of the war.
The towns of the Marukan fell before you. Your wing sacked and destroyed the walled town of Mardur and its slaughter. You were in the first ranks when you marched into Celeren unopposed. And you fought in the battle outside Deren’s Ford and claimed booty for your household. It was not all glory though, you also learned the truth of this war, that the Realm was using Thorns as a proxy to fight against the might of the River Provinces and Lookshy. The supplies were from the Realm and the planning sessions were run by old Dragon Blooded who cared nothing for the City-State of Thorns. It was them that pressed the whole forces into battle the combined forces of the Confederacy of the River Provinces. You were outnumbered two to one, but the Realm was supplying Essence Cannons and an Auxiliary unit of Warstriders.
You lost.
You were severely wounded and taken captive. The Warstriders, abandoned your forces and the Realm Soldiers were elsewhere. The defeat of THorns was complete. Less than one in ten of its soldiers survived the war. The Libraries, Academies and Royal houses were looted and burned. The great doors of Thorns were torn asunder and as part of the treaty they were not allowed to rehang them for five years. Thorns was not allowed to raise any army for that time and its fleets were torched, the harbour destroyed. The Realm was safely away and unhurt. True, they did flood the city with humanitarian aid, but nothing else. You returned to your city, a shell of your former self and scarred horribly, just like your city.
Your recovery was slow, just like the city’s. You are the only surviving child of your father’s household, but you did not take your place there, in the place that was offered. You took your place in the Immaculate Order as an itinerant monk and you prayed for atonement for yourself and for your city. As you devoted yourself to the to the betterment of your soul the city regained its feet. Late last year, your years of prayer and contemplation were rewarded by a voice, but not from the Immaculate Dragons, but from the God above even them, The Unconquered Sun. “Son of Thorns”, the voice spoke, “Son of Creation, look around you and open your eyes. The failure of Thorns is a reflection of Creation. Rise up, my Son, and act. See the suffering around you and end it. Fight for Creation against my enemies and those that would see it end. Act!” Your quiet solitude and prayer in the darkness was broken by a light so pure that you could see for the first time how the Realm had broken Thorns and how it had caused a crack to form in Creation. You saw that good men and women sat by and let it happen for fear, but mostly for their own profit. You saw the injuries of the world and felt them. You saw how it had been in the First Age, when even the poorest beggar had a life style better than most nobles.
You acted.
When you acted, they attacked you. When you acted they called you Anathema. When they attacked you you killed them, you cleansed the rotting meat from the wound of Thorns and Creation, and you felt better. Then you ran, not out of fear, but out of duty, dying in Thorns at the hands of the Immaculate Order would not help the World at large and it would not help the people in the long term. The Nameless Wolf picked you up and brought you to Nowhere, and the Cult of the Illuminated, the upstart reflection of the Immaculate Order. You saw this as what it was, a place to grow strong and learn to fight the problems that plague Creation.
And it is a place to start and to act.
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