< Those We Defeated | Legends | Departure Of Shan? >
Roughly three and a half years ago, just as the subtle machinations for the Imperial Throne were beginning to get seriously underway, the bulk of the legions maintained by House Tepet found themselves in the Northeast putting down an uprising among one of their Client States. The crippling amount of Tribute demanded by the house had roused considerable unrest among the people of Tiral, a poor and humble Kingdom near the Linowan lands, especially after the Dragon-Blooded had failed to deal with widespread raiding by local Barbarian tribes. The Tepet sent in their greatest general, "the Wind Dancer", to quell the rebellion and expected a quick resolution.
The first few battles went well, with the Legions scattering the rebel forces and stringing up leaders as well as a fair share of obvious sympathizers. Roughly a week after their arrival, while the Wind Dancers forces were engaged in mopping up the last threads of resistance, the warning came. One of the rebels entered the camp under white flag, making his way before the Wind Dancer himself and offering a simple message.
"The Realm and her Legions must leave the lands of Tiral, at once, or face the wrath of the Daggers of Heaven."
The Wind Dancer ordered the messanger crucified, and sent his men into the village he had ridden out of with orders to make the town pay for its temerity in challenging the Princes of the Earth. The village was razed entirely, most of its population either strung up or taken as slaves, its outlying farms pillaged and burned. Slowly, the day played out and the sun set, the legion setting up camp for the night. An air of silence descended upon them, everyone gathered around fires and enjoying fine food, joking about the rebels futile "Warning" until watches were set and the men drifted off to sleep.
The next morning, the camp awoke in chaos. The Wind Dancer's general staff was found murdered in their sleep, along with half of the Legion's Dragonlords. The command tent bore the words "You were warned" in bright red blood, and all the slaves that had been captured the day before were no where to be seen. None of the watchers had noticed a thing or heard even the slightest noise.
The next night, the other half of the Legions' Dragonlords were slaughtered as well as most of the guards who had been placed on watch. No one saw a thing, and panic began to rise throughout the camp.
Only the Wind Dancer's raw command and charisma held the Legion together at all, as he ordered a withdrawl to the coastal city where the Legion had deployed, sending a runner ahead with a sealed missive to be taken to the Blessed Isle to announce that one of the Wretched was loose. The Dragon-Blooded stayed awake the entire night, huddled together, yet still the next night over half of those remaining were dead along with half the Legionnaires on watch. A number of Soldiers also noticed that the Runner's horse had found its way back into camp sometime during the night.
Even the Wind Dancer's command proved barely able to keep the Legions under his control, it requiring both vicious brutality and every ounce of magic to keep the Legion from falling apart. Another runner was sent, and that night no one slept at all. Most of the men drank and remained in the center of the camp, while the Dragon-Blooded all gathered together in the command tent.
When the General was found missing the next morning, that was the last straw. The Legions broke apart into a number of smaller indepenent units, each led by a Dragon-Blood desperate to make it back to the Isle or a mortal desperate to get away from the slaughter. Most fell apart, scattering into the wilderness and dissolving, the men casting off anything to mark them as Legionnaires and blending in with the local populace.
Only a single Dragon-Blooded made it back to the port of Illini. Tepet Joruni had a crazed look in his eye, and has not been seen by many since his return to the Blessed Isle.
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