Years have passed since the Shattering, a cataclysm that left the lords ruling these fractured lands weakened, their armies scattered and despairing, clinging to a brutal dominion over a realm cursed by Queen Marika and her Golden Order, littered with the withered corpses of their fallen.
In the southeastern reaches of Weeping Peninsula, a castle hewn into the cliffs, a mighty stronghold governed under the will of the Demi-God Godrick, now lay in ruins. Fires blazed, sending plumes of smoke spiraling into the sky, while the cacophony of clashing steel echoed through the air. A revolt of the Misbegotten, those hybrid outcasts, had shattered the fragile authority of the castle's lord. Servants fled in terror, shielding their children from the ferocious creatures who fought with unrelenting fury against any who dared raise a sword against them. Their eyes gleamed red with rage as they swung iron cleavers, cleaving Godrick's foot soldiers in a single devastating blow. Meanwhile, a few valiant soldiers stood their ground, battling creatures they deemed inferior, mere slaves in their eyes, despite the chaos threatening to consume them.
Most of these soldiers yearned to flee the pandemonium, but escape was futile. The Misbegotten were swift, some equipped with leathery wings and crude bows that pierced plated armor. Larger, more fearsome Misbegotten, greatly scaled and towering with their hind legs and serpentine tails, wielded long axes and moved faster than any man could hope to outrun, even on their finest day.
Though the Misbegotten were driven to slaughter all within the castle who were not of their kind, their leader, a red-furred Misbegotten named Elvas, one of the peculiar and mightiest in these region, commanded them to spare the human slaves, detaining them before claiming Castle Morne as their own.
The lesser Misbegotten grumbled, confused and irritated by Elvas's order to spare the human servants, who had joined the soldiers in their shared contempt and abuse. Elvas explained that these humans would be needed once the castle was theirs, a resource to secure their victory after the revolt against their oppressors.
Though dissatisfied with this reasoning, the Misbegotten obeyed, capturing every human servant they could in their more tempered moments.
Atop the left tower of Castle Morne, two figures clashed in a fierce duel. Edgar, the castellan of the castle, wielded his polearm with ease in his right hand, swinging it to keep Elvas, the leonine Misbegotten, at bay.
"You've defiled the Grafted Blade Greatsword with your hands, creature!" Edgar hissed, parrying the treasured sword brandished by Elvas.
Clang!
Clang!
Clang!
The rapid exchange of blows reverberated as the two matched each other's strength. The duel was brutal, and Elvas grunted with grudging respect for the human commander's resilience. With a swift swing to the side, Edgar reacted quickly, meeting the strike, but Elvas deftly pivoted his blade upward, evading the halberd with inhuman agility, as expected from the formidable Misbegotten.
Relying on honed instincts, Edgar rolled beneath Elvas's overhead swing, but before he could regain his stance, Elvas lunged, delivering a powerful fist to Edgar's cheek. The blow sent the commander tumbling against the battlements.
"Aargh!" Edgar cried out as his back slammed into the stone, dislodging dust and small debris from the crenels. Dazed and in pain, he struggled to rise, gripping his halberd, only to scream in agony as Elvas drove the Morne treasure blade into his hand, reducing it to a mangled mess of flesh and bone, shattering the halberd along with it.
Elvas hefted the blade and rested it on his shoulders as he approached Edgar who was still reeling in agony from the pain on his hands. His shadow towered over the human and his eyes stared solemnly with controlled anger.
Elvas hefted the blade, resting it on his shoulder as he approached the writhing Edgar, his shadow looming over the human. His eyes burned with controlled fury as he spoke. "You are defeated, Castellan. Cease this fight and flee to Godrick," he growled.
Edgar, shocked to hear a Misbegotten speak so fluently in their harsh tone, let out a bitter chuckle, momentarily distracted from the pain of his ruined hand. Leaning his head against the battlements, he gasped, "For a monstrous creature, you speak well enough."
Elvas's eyes narrowed, but he restrained himself. "Had you given my brethren a chance, we could all speak your words well, human. Instead, you enslaved us, deeming us inferior, abusing us when we sought only a shred of dignity after our toiling our hides as you lord over us." He slammed the Grafted Blade, with its many amalgamation of sword edges, into the stone floor, sinking it several inches deep.
Edgar's bloodshot eyes studied the Misbegotten for a moment. "Your kind are beasts, an accursed beings, yet I see sapience in you. Your eyes are too human. What exactly are you?" he asked, attempting to stand, but his weakened body wore from years quelling the revolt and malnutrition he buckled, and he collapsed onto the dusty stone floor.
Elvas snorted, tempted to reveal he was once human from another reality, his soul bound to this form, but he held back. It was irrelevant to a dying man. "What I am matters not. I lead these creatures you enslaved, and we claim this castle as recompense for years of servitude and torment. Surrender, lay down your arms, and flee with your dignity intact".
Edgar, facing a command from a creature he once enslaved, raised his head with defiant pride. "No. I serve Lord Godrick's orders to hold this castle. I will not retreat without my liege's words. So kill me and be done with it! That way it may preserve my honor" he said fiercely for a dying man.
Seeing the man's resolve, Elvas grunted, approaching the unyielding commander. Instead of crushing him outright, he drew a broadsword from his hip, strapped in leather crafted to fit his massive frame. In his hand, the sword seemed no larger than a dagger. With a swift motion, he stabbed Edgar through his weathered armor. The commander gasped, his limbs trembling as life drained from him.
As his final thoughts drifted to his blind daughter, Irina, Edgar slumped lifelessly. Elvas withdrew the broadsword, returning it to its strap, and lifted Edgar's body with his other arm.
Descending the tower steps, Elvas watched his brethren cut down Godrick's soldiers with ruthless strikes. He strode through the battlements, and the winged Misbegotten, spotting him with the fallen castellan, howled in triumph, signaling the castle's fall.
Before Elvas could raise Edgar's body to declare victory, a massive, scaly Misbegotten named Coran approached, his natural wide grin revealing sharp fangs. "You've won! What shall we do with that wretched human body?" he asked in a harsh, gurgling tone.
Elvas shook his head, tempering the bloodlust. "Leave the castellan's body to me, Coran. Burn the soldiers' corpses and collect their weapons and armor for further used."
Coran grunted, displeased that the commander's body would be spared, but he complied, rallying other non-winged Misbegotten to gather the fallen soldiers.
"Erak!" Elvas bellowed, his voice roaring like a lion's.
A winged Misbegotten landed on the battlements, grinning and bowing slightly. "Your orders, leader?"
"Assemble a warband and head north. Seek Irina, Edgar's daughter, and capture her. Treat her gently, and do not harm her. Understood?" Elvas's tone was firm.
Erak growled, puzzled by Elvas's mercy toward humans. Sensing his follower's discontent, Elvas sighed. "Speak your mind, Erak. I won't kill you unless you attack me with intent to kill."
Scratching his head in frustration, Erak protested, "Why spare these humans, Elvas? We could make this castle our home, free of their kind! Why protect the servants and the castellan's daughter?"
Elvas's mercy was indeed unusual for a Misbegotten. "I won't let us stain our hands with the blood of an innocent. I've seen Irina atop the battlements before our revolt, she was guided by others who shielded her from the truth she cannot see. The servants, too, are victims, conditioned to hate us under threat of being labeled conspirators. They suffer as we do." His voice carried both calm and a sharp edge.
"Grahh!!" Erak let out a howl of agreement and launched into the air. He called to his forty winged brethren, signaling their flight northward on the hunt for Irina.
Erak's form vanished on the skies, hoping his words had quelled the unrest. He felt a pang of pity for the human servants and Irina. Shaking off his thoughts, he leapt to the courtyard landing on the wet dirt ground, where his brethren burned Godrick's soldiers. The human servants stood lined against the walls, guarded by ten Misbegotten and a few dogs feasting on carcasses.
"My brothers and sisters, hear me!" Elvas roared, raising Edgar's lifeless body in his claws. "The lord commander is defeated!"
"We have claimed this castle, but our work is not done. Enemies still lurk beyond our walls. We will secure our safety and build a prosperous home in this accursed land of Marika!"
Another wave of cheers and howls echoed.
"Go, finish burning the bodies. We will soon cleanse the rest," Elvas commanded.
Most Misbegotten obeyed, though some were disappointed that Edgar's body would not be desecrated.
Elvas approached the trembling, sweat-drenched human servants. Among them, an elderly woman in her sixties, Rose, comforted a dozen younger women. She whispered kind words, bracing them for what they believed was their imminent death. They froze in shock when Elvas spoke gently, laying Edgar's body on the ground. "Elder, I entrust you with Lord Edgar's body. Bury it with dignity. Can you do this?"
The women exchanged stunned glances. Rose nodded hesitantly. "I… I will, milord, but…" She glanced at the younger women, then at the Misbegotten watching with curiosity and irritation, and back to Elvas. "Are we to die?"
Elvas offered a faint smile. "We all die someday," he jested, though it unsettled the humans. "But you, and the other servants will be treated well, I swear on my life. Order the others to help clean the castle. My men will escort you to ensure no one attacks you in hatred."
With a tentative nod, Rose stood and bowed. "Thank you for your mercy," she said, gesturing for the women to assist her.
Elvas watched as they hurried off, as other servants carried Edgar's body. Scanning the courtyard, his gaze fell on a massive humanoid figure sitting alone, clutching a flail staff the Pumpkin Head. "Perhaps he could aid me in confronting the golem beyond Castle Morne gates," Elvas mused, his mind already turning to the challenges ahead.