En Gloria Cruor Sacramentum

[Brutalskars]

:Bloodline:

Craven's dark armored figure laid back lazily in his dark stone throne. The manor was quiet with the echo of the movement of a ghoul or two in the dark. Maybe an imp dancing across the rafters chasing after a shadow beast, even the sweet lullaby of the banshee occupying the nearby woods; upon the dark hill, in the stone edifice of some mountain region north of Hillsbrad. His eyes gave way from frosty blue under the crowned helm, to the visor surging it into a burning unholy green. The large runic great sword beside the throne surged unholy sparks as each nostalgic breath left the death knight's body.

The innards of the manor were ornate and clean, the bright colors of red and gold abound. Gilded paintings and noble suits of plate against the walls, the ghoul moved about shining the suits. Then quickly retreating into secret stone passages within the place, muttering quickly, "Shine it. Yes, Yes, Shine the pretties. Fix the rugs. Make it all perfect for master.”

The hidden manor of Craven Bloodvalor was the heart of the operations of the House of Cruor Sacramentum. Every inch of the innards of the manor was gleaming, noble and fair. While the outer appearance of the manor was slightly mundane, the garden outside sporting the growth of volatile plants and mushrooms. The quiet training ring sat, clean and ready for use. In the path to the manor a rat attempted to scurry, only to be met by the clawed hand of the ghoul posing as a scarecrow at the garden. It happily ate the rat then resumed standing still.

The day was in the twilight before coming night. Craven stood slowly from his throne, then his right hand took the hilt of his blade. He slung it onto his back and then marched through the manner, simmering unholy green fluttering under his long cloak as he walked the halls. He entered a large study, walking first to a large libram of the holy light on a pedestal. He opened it slowly and gave a deep echoing sigh.

“My son...”

Craven moved to a wardrobe that he opened slowly, inside was a ruined set of scarlet plate armor. Craven put a hand on the torn scarlet tabard.

“My… Dear son… Why did it have to come to that?”

Craven stopped as he heard the sound of the door behind him open, it was a fair young girl, raven black hair. Her voice full of almost fearful respect.

“Am I disturbing you father?”

Craven closed the wardrobe and still stood silent. The girl that referred to him as father walked to the large book of the light on the pedestal. Her emerald eyes scanning its cover, and as her hand laid on the cover, Craven's hand was already on top of hers. Craven's voice keeping its solemn echo. He lifted her hand up and put it between both his hands, looking to her face.

“My dear daughter. I trust your studies have been going well…”

She smiled and nodded to him, putting her other hand on his hands.

“Yes father. I have been studying diligently, although commerce study has been a real trouble of late for me.”

Craven gave a short, almost loving sigh.

“My dear. You will have trouble at times, but I can assure you that it will all be worth it in the end. The House must have the most elite minds trained to guide its actions. I know you will do well my loving daughter.”

He let her hand drop and he placed a hand on her shoulder, he nodded once and moved away to the larger tables of the study. His gaze reaching over the organized tables of pens, books and other materials. The girl merely smiled and then backed up slowly. Craven's voice interrupted her however.

“Has the Anoited-Prince Alexandran Ithos still been pestering you my dear? I know he seeks your hand that way he may increase his status in the House. Do you like him? Or like I, I fear that I must lop off his head if he lay a finger upon you in a way I detest…”

She bit her lip and nodded quickly.

“I do not know what to think but, his occasional flattery and eyeing of me is all I have noticed. The young man seeks power, and glory. His mind also of a young man, far too focused on me than the study of the political requirements of the House-“

Craven only gave a near lifeless chuckle before cutting her off.

“My daughter. He will learn in due time, but do not give him anything to work off of. If he wishes for your hand, he will prove he can study what it means to be of noble order. And he will learn that I will only let the best man take my daughter's hand.”

She bowed slightly and backed out of the room.

“Of course father. I will return to my studies.”

Craven nodded once as she closed the door. A deep sigh overcoming him as he then clenched his right fist, unholy green energy burning across the room, filling the chamber in a ghastly light.

“Many tests will be placed on this boy… But… For now… I will remain with my duties as Imperator. The nation will begin its rise soon. For I know the path before me.”




:Crown Cruor:

Craven sat before his great helm, his pale skin and silver hair a sign of hi torturing immortality. He looked into the empty eyes of the dark steel helm, the unholy gem on the top of the crowning spikes sparked slightly. The air around the helm chilled, was wet with the taste and scent of blood; most of all though, kept the unholy wafting feeling of dread. It was some other feature however that gave it a feeling of nobility, carved from blood and war, forged by temperance and the will to stand for the kingdom. The great helm however was only a visage of a warrior the face of the Imperator.

It was in fact across the room sat the item in question. Craven looked up to it slowly, a crimson hued mithril crown in which faceted several black diamonds accented by a trimming of gold around them. The center most point holding the deep blood stone mark of House Cruor Sacramentum. Craven slowly placed his helm upon his head and made sure it was secured and tight. He then approached the crown on its pedestal in the center of the dark room, the main light from the ceiling fell upon the crown.

“Ah… This kingdom, this nation of prosperity. A haven against petty crime and war, should be forged by the hands willing to take such risks to forge it. Blood the ultimate coin for the cause…”

Craven's eyes left the crown and he turned on it, looking down to his hands. Then suddenly with a whipping of his hands, his great sword out, the crackling unholy energies surged the room for only a mere moment. The darkness light sickly green only to reveal skeletons and suits of armor, set lifeless and adorning the chamber's darkness, eternally watching that very crown. Craven's eyes looked over the blade, his voice holding a slight simmer of anger.

“It is the will of this House that shall forge the new dawn. En Gloria Cruor Sacramentum… Victory is assured by the blood of all willing to devote themselves to this.”

He slung the blade back onto his back and slowly left the room.

“One day… My daughter or even her child may wear that crown. In a just time, when our haven comes to exist as a full dominion…”

As he left the chamber he placed his hand on the door. Surging energies reacted with his hand the door sealed into the wall, stone sliding over stone. The vault secure, then he walked out from under the throne that split its self in half for him to enter the lower chamber. Then it sealed and he sat back down upon it, resting his blade at the side of the seat.

“All in good time however… All in good time.”

Before him in the dark room the ghoul stumbled over the floor with a large brush, making sure to fight off webs and all that would befoul the throne room. His ghoulish voice quietly muttering.


“Kill webs for the Master!”