“Bound by Blood, Born or Bled.”

The Blood Legion: Harbingers of Dread

Current Commander: Aleister “Reaper” Holmes

The reputation of the Blood Legion is widely known and well deserved. Their name echoes through taverns, whispered in hushed tones on dark nights around campfires. These ghostly tales, dismissed by skeptics as exaggerations or mere scare tactics, share gruesome details that defy reason. But how many times can one hear stories of such cruelty before questioning their truth?

Still, there are those who deny the tellings outright. “No person,” they insist, “could be that malevolent.” Yet none are prepared for their first encounter with the Legion. Panic grips even the most seasoned sailors when the bloody hand sails crest the horizon—a sight that chills the marrow in their bones.

The Arrival: A Dance of Fear

Small children vanish from the streets, hurried into their homes or hidden away. Purses and jewelry are hastily stashed, as if mere trinkets could ward off the impending doom. The black-flagged armada lashes to the docks, and there are no pleasantries exchanged. Only subtle gestures—a nod, a cryptic hand signal—pass between dockworkers and the crews. Those initiated understand the unspoken pact: survival at any cost.

The Silver Lining: Fleeting Presence

If there is any solace in their arrival, it is this: the Blood Legion rarely lingers in port. A day or two at most, just enough to restock supplies and recruit. Their recruitment methods are cunning. Flaunting trophies of gold and bones, they seek out those with little to lose—desperate souls who hunger for purpose. No bias colors their choices; any race will do, as long as they can wield a weapon or serve another useful role.

The Unspoken Pact: A Pact of Blood

But what drives these enigmatic marauders? Legends speak of cursed artifacts, forbidden rituals, and ancient pacts with malevolent entities. The Legion’s cruelty knows no bounds, yet their motives remain shrouded. Perhaps it is the fear of the unknown that binds their recruits—the promise of power, wealth, or something far darker.

And so, when the bloody hand sails vanish beyond the horizon, leaving behind a wake of dread, the port breathes a collective sigh of relief. But the memory lingers—their crimson legacy etched into the very timbers of the docks. For those who survive an encounter with the Blood Legion, the nightmares persist, and the question remains: What price would you pay to sail under their flag?

Known Flags: The Blood Legion notoriously only flies black flags. While the symbology used may differ slightly from ship to ship they must always be flown on a field of black. This is a clear statement to all that under no circumstances will quarter or mercy be shown.

 

Known Ships: 

Reaper: Flagship of the Blood Legion
Captain: Aleister Holmes

Reaper, flagship of the Blood Legion, cuts through the roiling seas like a harbinger of doom. A 4-mast Man-O-War, it stretches over 240 feet in length, dwarfing lesser vessels. Its crew, numbering over 100 souls, moves with grim purpose—a force to be reckoned with.

Arsenal of Authority:

Cannons: Seventy-five canons line its gun decks, their muzzles hungry for destruction.

Harpoon Launchers: Three massive harpoon launchers jut from the bow, ready to skewer prey.

Iron-Clad: Iron panels shield its sides, overlapping like armor. Each impact absorbed, each damaged plate swiftly replaced.

Corpse-Adorned Decks:

Yet it’s the gruesome adornment that chills the soul. Corpses hang along both sides, a macabre display. These are the fallen crew of conquered ships—testaments to the Reaper’s merciless conquests.

Decomposition or collision eventually dislodges them, but until then, they sway in the salt-laden breeze.

The number of bodies signifies pride among the Blood Legion—a tally of victories etched in flesh.

Stern of Judgment:

The stern remains pristine, untouched by death’s shadow. Here, no bodies swing. Instead, it serves as a grim stage for justice. Failed crew members, disloyal or inept, meet their fate. Bound and hung by their ankles, they suffer—a warning to all who sail under the Legion’s flag.

The Reaper sails—a vessel of terror, a monument to cruelty. Those who glimpse its silhouette know: the Blood Legion abides no weakness, and their retribution is swift

 

The Crimson Storm: Reapers’ Bloody Right Hand

Captain: Karla Dyer

Second only to Reaper in the Blood Legion armada, this Galleon-class ship derives its name from the unique red-stained wood used in its hull construction. Legends whisper that this wood is soaked in the blood of ancient sacrifices, granting the vessel supernatural resilience. Iron plates line the ship’s sides, painted black, and each bears the blood-red handprint of a crew member. These prints, both symbolic and literal, strengthen the ship, binding it to those who serve aboard.

Ceremony of Bonding: When a person becomes a crew member of the Crimson Storm, they undergo a harrowing ritual. Their palm is cut, and the handprint is pressed upon the metal plate, sealing their fate. Some say the ship absorbs their life force, connecting them on a primal level. The handprints occasionally shift, leaving trails of blood when touched.

Captain Karla Dyer: The enigmatic captain, Karla Dyer, possesses ambition and spirit beyond measure. But her strength may be her curse. Whispers abound—rumors from those who claim to have met her and lived. Some say she converses with ghosts, while others insist she walks the hidden passages of the ship at night. Her eyes, they say, glow crimson when she’s lost in thought.

The Crimson Storm sails through uncharted waters, its secrets buried deep within its blood-soaked timbers.

 

Midnight Malkin: Whispers from the Waters

Captains: Vera and Zoru Scarbeck

With gray sails billowing against the moonless sky and black-painted wood that seems to absorb starlight, the Midnight Malkin is the newest and most mysterious vessel in the Blood Legion fleet. Unlike its armored counterparts, it bears no overt protection on its hull, leaving it vulnerable yet enigmatic.

Subtle Arsenal:

The ship boasts a modest armament of only 15 cannons. But these cannons are not its true strength; they merely hint at the hidden power within. Perhaps the Midnight Malkin’s true arsenal lies in secrets and shadows, rather than cannonballs.

Silent Movement:

The ship’s uncanny ability to move silently defies logic. Even with lowered sails, it glides through the water like a phantom. Below decks, a complement of oars waits—an ancient technique resurrected for clandestine maneuvers.

Spies and Scribes:

Whispers echo across the decks: Midnight Malkin harbors the Blood Legion’s spies and scribes.

These shadowy figures record secrets, observe rival fleets, and gather intelligence. Their ink-stained fingers weave a web of intrigue.

Twin Carnal Fae Captains:

Vera and Zoru Scarbeck, the Twin Carnal Fae, command the ship without question. Their ethereal beauty conceals primal hunger. Their allegiance to Captain Holmes is unwavering, but what binds them to this vessel? Legends speak of a pact forged in moonlight and blood.

Unexplored Mysteries:

Many rumors surround the Midnight Malkin, yet none dare delve into its heart. Those who tried vanished, their findings lost. Perhaps the ship itself guards its secrets, whispering madness to those who listen too closely.

 

The Poison Jewel: Concocting the Unknown

Captain: Jéan J. Jinglheimmer

Amidst the murky waters, the Poison Jewel emerges—an ominous Fluet class ship, its timeworn hull stretching an impressive 215 feet. But beware, for this vessel is no ordinary seafarer. It is the slowest in the fleet, a deliberate choice due to the added protection necessary for both the crew and the other ships. The armor plating that clings to the ship’s exterior is sparse compared to that of the armor below. Beneath lies a labyrinth of compartments, each encased in thick, armored walls, floors, and ceilings. The weight of this behemoth presses down, as if the very ocean struggles to bear its weight. 

Within these shadowed chambers dwell the Alchemists and Artillerists—a clandestine brotherhood. Their purpose? To concoct malevolence. They huddle over ancient tomes, their eyes reflecting the flicker of forbidden flames. Here, they blend elixirs of doom, forge cursed cannonballs, and I have even heard tales that they can weave spells into the very fabric of the ship.

And then there is Captain Jéan J. Jinglheimmer—a dwarf with a penchant for experimentation and all things alchemical. His gnarled hands grip the helm, steering the Poison Jewel through treacherous waters. The crew whispers of his pact with the abyss, of the madness that has begun to show in his eyes but none dare try to commandeer his vessel. 

The Blood Legion armada, too, treads carefully around the Jewel. Their armada veers wide, granting the Poison Jewel a healthy berth. For they know: Jéan’s thirst for power knows no bounds and even the slightest of jostles could result in a terrifying explosion. In port, he clings to his bandelier, each vial a Pandora’s box. Some say should he sip from the wrong bottle, even the Gods would be perplexed by the result. 

 

Twilight’s Embrace: The Veiled Sail

Captain: Ruedi

Amidst the salt-streaked waves, the Twilight’s Embrace sails—a Sloop class vessel, its proud sails tattered, their purple and silver hues faded by relentless sun and storm. But it is the emblem that draws both awe and dread: a skeleton cradling two hourglasses—one upright, its sands spent; the other inverted, brimming with time.

Captain Ruedi:

A man veiled in mystery, known only as Ruedi. His eyes—sightless for years—gaze beyond the visible world. Some say he lost his vision willingly, trading it for heightened senses. Others murmur darker truths—that he dabbles in Necromantic magic.

Ruedi steers the ship with uncanny precision. His inner circle of first mates remains shrouded, their loyalty unwavering. What drives him? Perhaps the quest for forbidden knowledge or the pursuit of bodies—vessels for his arcane experiments.

Whispers on the Wind:

Even the bravest of the Blood Legion speak of the crew in hushed tones. Superstitions cling to them like barnacles. Sailors dare not whisper of the Twilight’s Embrace, fearing their words will ride the wind and reach the ears of their enigmatic captain.

The sea holds secrets, and this vessel is a vessel of secrets. Its timbers echo with half-forgotten curses and the sighs of lost souls.

The Dichotomy of the Crew:

Among the sixty souls aboard, most drew the proverbial short straw. Voluntold to serve under Captain Ruedi, they labor in shadows, their eyes avoiding the emblem. Their duties extend beyond sailing arts—into realms uncharted.

Yet a dozen outliers exist—a motley crew seeking more than survival. They yearn for enlightenment, risking whispers and sidelong glances. What secrets lie hidden in the ship’s belly? What truths await those who dare to learn?

 

The Menagerie: The Inhuman Ark

Captain: DIan Marie

The Menagerie, a Brigantine class ship, sails the seas—a vessel comparable in size to the Malkin, yet marked by distinct deviations. Unlike its sister ship, the Menagerie bristles with weaponry. Twenty-five cannons and two catapults adorn its decks, their mounts swiveling in a relentless dance. The sea trembles when the Menagerie speaks—a symphony of animalistic intent. Let me unveil its peculiarities:

Animals at the Helm:

Captain Dian Murie, a middle-aged Wood Fae, commands this enigma. His eyes hold secrets, and his heart beats in rhythm with the wild. But it’s the crew that defies convention. Forty-five animals—each trained, each purposeful—serve as sailors. Their paws and wings replace human hands.

The Menagerie’s Unusual Companions:

Chimpanzees: Boisterous and cunning, they man the guns. Their laughter echoes across the deck as they load barrels of waste into the catapults.

Birds: Sentinels of the sky, they perch on masts and rigging. Their keen eyes scan the horizon, warning of storms or prey.

Red Pandas: These gentle thieves gather provisions—food, drink, and secrets. Their paws deftly navigate the galley.

Large Cats: Silent and sleek, they perform the day-to-day tasks of boatswains. Their loyalty is unwavering.

Aging Gorilla: The first mate, grizzled and wise. His memories stretch back to forgotten tides, and his strength anchors the crew.

Sailing Master: Look over the railings, and there you’ll find the Orca—a well-fed guardian. His dorsal fin slices the waves, guiding the Menagerie through treacherous currents.

Timeline of major events: (The following tale is taken from the tomes penned by myself,  Gabrielle Torrance, history scribe of the Midnight Malkin. The events depicted come from direct conversations with many different parties and tales told as the crew gathered around campfires while on shore. Pardon my flair for the dramatic however such accounts of great import merit a proper Bards touch) 

The Task: December 7th, 2257
Amidst the gleaming shores of Berphaunt, Captain Markus Shodan, loyal to the revered Iron Company, led a band of seasoned mercenaries on a clandestine mission handed down by the Iron Lords themselves. Whispers echoed through the taverns and shadowed alleys—the Gods themselves quarreled, their celestial realms aflame with discord. Markus, chosen for his stealth and cunning, belonged to the elusive Cohort Sicarius. His orders: unravel the truth behind these divine disputes and seek fortune where fate wove its darkest threads.

Their vessel slipped from the harbor that fateful dawn, sails unfurling like raven wings. The flagship, christened the Ferro Sangue, bore Markus and his trusted crew southward, away from the icy grip of winter. Their destination: the mist-shrouded shores of Amaranthia, where secrets clung to the salted air like curses.

As the Ferro Sangue neared the coast, the crew glimpsed the settlement—a haphazard jumble of thatched roofs and crooked docks. Here, the sea whispered forgotten tales, and the moon’s silver gaze revealed half-buried relics. The night they made port, the taverns overflowed with sailors, smugglers, and those who danced perilously close to the abyss. They feasted on spiced eel and blackberry wine, laughter masking the chill that crept from the water’s edge.

With dawn’s arrival, Markus and his companions stepped onto the cobbled streets. Their first inquiry led them to the ramshackle manor atop the cliffs—the domain of the enigmatic “Pirate Lord” known as Knucklebones. Within those moss-covered walls lay answers, secrets, and perhaps the very heart of the celestial strife that threatened to tear their world asunder.

Unbeknownst to them another vessel docked not long after theirs. Plain sails and unadorned beams made up this innocuous ship that set their anchor a mile or so down the beach rather than have to deal with a nosy dockmaster. That sparse crew readied themselves and spent the night learning what they could of their surroundings. 

The Betrayal: December 29th, 2257

Captain Markus Shodan, his crew, a loyal but ragtag assembly, ventured into the heart of the realm. Their path led not to grand citadels or glittering courts, but to the forgotten shrines and sanctuaries—the places where secrets festered like rotting roots.

Within these hallowed walls, the clergy whispered cryptic truths. What they revealed remains shrouded in mystery, veiled by incense and half-truths. For two days, Markus and his companions exchanged gold for knowledge, their purses lighter but their resolve unyielding. The Iron Company’s coffers would swell with this newfound intelligence, they believed, and perhaps their own pockets too.

As twilight draped the Ferro Sangue, the ship’s timbers groaned under the weight of anticipation. The lookout’s cry pierced the night: “Another vessel approaches from the stern!” Panic rippled through the crew, but the ballista’s heavy rope held the shadowed ship close to the stern, just beyond the range of their cannons. Then came the splintering wood, the screams—a tempest of chaos. The mysterious assailants swarmed aboard, blades gleaming in the moonlight. Markus, struck senseless by a jagged rail, lay vulnerable at the foot of the stairs.

But fate wove a different thread for him. A scaled hand, gray as storm clouds, seized the captain and dragged him deeper into the ship. A whispered incantation cast a protective sheen around them, shielding them from the onslaught. Aleister Holmes, a recent addition to the crew, invoked the ancient pact he’d secretly nurtured with the Firstborn. Dark wings unfurled, shadows cloaking their trembling forms. They watched in silence as their hard-won knowledge was plundered by these enigmatic foes.

The revelation hung in the salty air like a blade poised to strike. The traitor, a viper nestled among their ranks, had whispered forbidden alliances into the ears of shadowed foes. Aleister’s grip tightened on the captain’s blood-soaked coat, rage and resolve warring within him.

“The Abacus,” he muttered, the name echoing like a curse. The clandestine merchant guild, rumored to trade in everything from secrets to crowns, hungered for their prize. But why? What value lay hidden within the plundered cargo? Aleister’s mind raced, tracing the threads of betrayal back to their source.

The wounded captain stirred, eyes fluttering open. Markus Shodan, once their leader, now lay broken—a pawn in this treacherous game. Aleister’s choice crystallized: vengeance or duty. To strike down the traitor meant forsaking their only lead. To save the captain meant risking all.

As the ship groaned under the weight of its secrets, and the deck creaked with only the sounds of its splintered frame, Aleister whispered a vow to the Firstborn—the ancient pact that bound him. Shadows fell and the wings that enfolded them both dissipated into mist. The traitor would pay, but not today. For now, they must gather anyone who may have survived and sail back to the Harbor which they just left so that they might repair their ship, no matter how much time passed vengeance would be etched into Aleister’s soul. 

This will never happen again… 

The promise made and the birth of Reaper: January 12th, 2258

For many days, Aleister tended to the Captain and made frequent trips into the Harbor for alchemies and supplies. The survivors that he was able to gather were few in number but after hearing the story recalled by both Markus and Aleister they were absolute in their desire for vengeance. A half dozen souls stood beside them and pledged themselves to the captain. 

The Ferro Sangue had been patched together by the crew and some of the local smiths who were hired with the nearly depleted remains of their coffers. And every night, the crew gathered below deck to plan their next move. With each day that passed, those who betrayed them got further away but they all knew that moving too hastily would mean certain failure. While the crew remained stalwart, a seasoned captain such as Markus knew that soon, morale would begin to wane. It was his duty to them to do what must be done. 

One night as the crew slumbered, Captain Shodan quietly made his way topside and left the Ferro Sangue holding nothing but a crude map and small tome. He wandered the woods, occasionally consulting the map as the paths became less defined. After some time, he found his destination. A small circle of stones that would have easily been passed by a wanderer who did not know what to look for. 

He knelt among the stones and drew his blade, drawing it across his palm and coating the stones with his blood. There were many moments of silence and contemplation before he breathed deeply and whispered a name into the darkness: Mara’bagash…All sound ceased at that moment as all of the fauna and flora in the vicinity became silent. This eerie calm was broken by a whisper in Markus’ ear.  

“Who are you to call upon me mortal? I know not your name nor do I recognize your face as one who has pledged themselves to me, so tell me, why should I not rend your guts from your still writhing body? Answer quickly before my patience ends.”

A new feeling fell upon Markus at this time, one he had not known for many, many years, Fear. But, that was quickly equaled by another, more familiar, feeling…anger. The image of Aleister and the 6 others who stood by him in his time of need flashed in his mind and the words came quickly from his mouth. 

“I offer you many things that I have been told you desire. I offer the blood of those who have done me wrong and of those who will stand between me and my goals. I Vow that as long as my body and spirit remain able, I will shower you with gifts of crimson to aide you in your crusade for the crown that should be yours, and lastly I offer you 2 names, neither of these names are known to any but us. In return for this I ask but a simple token, a ship without equal so that we may take to the seas and rain vengeance on those who have wronged us. This will be an instrument of blood and those who cross us shall reap what they have sewn” 

Mara’bagash remained silent for a moment and then responded to the captain. “I find this agreement acceptable with a small caveat. Your body is not long for this world even in the best of circumstances. I shall grant you a new vessel worthy of one who serves me…do you agree?”

Markus Shodan, Captain of the Ferro Sangue turned to face the demon for the first time but showed no fear, rather his face was one of pure resolve. “I agree”. As he stood he took the small tome and ripped a page out of it and handed it to Mara’bagash. The demon smiled and stated the first name on the page. It was the true name of Markus. As the second name was called there was a moment of tense air before a form appeared before the two of them. 

Wide-eyed and not nearly as inebriated as he was but a moment before, Aleister stood quickly and reached for a weapon that was not beside him. He turned quickly and first spotted his Captain who looked at him with a smile. He went to ask what was going on but before he could get a word out, there was another voice in his ear. 

“Welcome, I am so glad that you could join us” He used a name to greet Aleister, but it was not one known to anyone but himself and….it was at this moment that he realized what had happened and how he had been taken from his bunk and brought here to the middle of the woods. His look grew stern and he did not dare turn to face the one who beckoned him. Rather he focused all of his intensity at the one who he had spent the last weeks taking care of, the one he risked everything for, the one he admired above all others. 

“Why?” Aleister asked through gritted teeth. The answer came promptly and with an air of confidence that told him he knew this question was coming and was ready. “For us, Aleister. I did this so that we will be able to bring our vengeance on those who have taken everything from us. I do this to send a message to all those whose ears listen to the tales of the seas. They will all know without any question that we will stop at nothing to accomplish our tasks. And those who would get in our way or worse, betray us shall curse the day that they drew our ire” 

The two stared at each other unyielding and unblinking. It was then that the demon’s words broke the tension. Mara’bagash addressed Aleister in a tone that commanded the Draconians attention. “You are indeed special young one. He has chosen you above all others whose names are in that book, he selected you to share this moment with him. And trust me child, there are many great times in store for the both of you now that your captain has allied himself with me” 

Aleister breathed deeply as he knew that whatever decision Captain Shodan made was already done and it would do little service to fight against this. He simply raised his eyes to meet those of Mara’bagash and asked in a tone of acceptance asked “So what now, what great gifts will you bestow upon us so that we can accomplish that which we desire?” 

With a smile, Mara’bagash extended his blood-soaked hand toward the two crewmates and once they grasped hold they were instantly brought to the docks of Dark Harbor. It took but a moment for them to see the answer to Aleisters question. A massive, 4-mast Man-O-War style ship measuring nearly 4 full chains in length now rested in the dock next to the Ferro Sangue. There were no words, just exhilaration. 

“Let’s take a closer look, shall we?” The demon whispered as the two were now aboard the vessel. They wandered for quite some time and admired all of the details this ship had to offer from its iron-clad hull to the cannons that lined the lower deck as if they were flowers in a field. And it was not long before the rest of the crew that had finally awoken from their slumber on the Ferro Sangue had taken notice and joined Aliester and Markus. They sat below deck and were told all of the details that led to this point. It took some time for them to accept the facts that had been told to them but the ever looming presence of Mara’bagash extinguished any doubt of the story’s truth. Once all was said and done, the crew gathered at the helm. 

“There is but one last detail of our agreement that needs to be concluded.” said Mara’bagash as he approached the Captain. “As stated earlier, your current body is too weak and will not last long enough to satisfy your pledge and so I grant you a new, enduring form” His hand raised and extended through Captain Markus Shodans chest, showering the area in blood and in his hand he held his still beating heart. As the rest of the body promptly turned to ash, the demon approached the wheel and placed the heart at its center. In that moment the now crimson soaked spokes closed tightly around the heart as it continued to pulse. Before any of the crew could even consider any action, they heard the voice of their captain and friend in their heads. 

“I am here my loyal comrades, I am with you in this moment and every one that shall come to pass. This is no sacrifice I have made but a promise to each of you that I shall never let your allegiance go unrewarded. Take this vessel, go onto the waters and find those traitors who broke their word to you. Line the ship with their corpses but leave the stern for Thulsa, the Viper who sold us out. This spot shall be a place where only the bodies of those who have betrayed us will hang. Do this and then we make our name among the seas for every salt to speak of as they drink their ale. You have all served me unwaveringly and now I return the favor”

As the words faded out, the crew looked amongst themselves. Their faces showed the passion that coursed through them. And it was then that Aleister stepped up to the helm, grabbed the fallen hat of Captain Markus Shodan and donned it. There was no dispute and all present nodded their silent approval. As this was concluded Mara’bagash nodded as well and began to call names out loud. For each one he called, a new body filled the deck until a full crew was present and awaiting their new captain’s orders. 

“As you fill this vessel with mortal crew, you may dismiss my servants back to me. Until then remember what is owed and what was promised. I shall be waiting but until then I leave you with one final task. This vessel needs a name, speak it and it shall be marked.” 

As he contemplated, a familiar voice echoed from the very spirit of the ship… “Reaper”. All nodded in agreement. And with that the ship was complete and set sail from Dark Harbor in search of its first prey. But not its last. 

The Legion forms: 2258-2263

In the years that followed, Captain Aleister and his cursed ship, Reaper, prowled the haunted seas in relentless pursuit of Thulsa, the betrayer. Whispers of their eerie voyage spread like wildfire, chilling the bones of those who dared to listen. Despite many close encounters, Thulsa remained a shadow, always slipping through their grasp.

Along the way, countless aspiring captains and their crews, driven by madness or ambition, challenged Reaper, hoping to be the ones to end Captain Aleister’s reign of terror. Each confrontation was a macabre spectacle, with the sea itself seeming to recoil in fear. The defeated ships, their decks stained with blood, were absorbed into Reaper’s growing fleet. The vanquished crews faced a grim choice: join the damned or hang from the ship’s side, their lifeless bodies swaying like ghastly ornaments. For most this was an easy choice and they took the blood vow and donned the patch. A constant reminder of their promise and what will happen to those who break this pledge. 

The few loyal souls who had stood by Captain Aleister and Markus Shodan from the beginning were rewarded with their own vessels, claimed from the wreckage of their foes. These ships, still seaworthy but forever tainted by their violent pasts, became part of the ever-expanding armada. The last of the borrowed crew was sent back to the demon Mara’bagash, along with vast offerings of  blood as a dark tithe.

As the legend of their exploits grew, the old salts began to whisper a name for this fearsome fleet: The Blood Legion. The name spread like a plague, reaching even the darkest corners of the ocean. On Reaper, the heart that pulsed at the helm throbbed with a sinister vigor when this news reached the crew, and the very wood of the ship darkened to a deep, blood-red hue, as the very blood the heart pumped filled Reapers timber. 

Current state of affairs: 2263-Present

In recent times, the Blood Legion has turned their fearsome reputation for violence and ruthless efficiency into a lucrative enterprise. Their name alone sends shivers down the spines of those who hear it whispered in darkened taverns and shadowy alleys. They are often sought out by those facing insurmountable threats, enemies so terrifying that only the Blood Legion’s brutal methods can hope to prevail.

Their price is steep, often demanding more than mere coin. Those desperate enough to summon the Blood Legion must be prepared to pay in blood, souls, or other unspeakable currencies. Yet, they always pay, for they know that once the Blood Legion is hired, their task will be completed with a chilling disregard for collateral damage or morality.

This moral indifference also carries an additional price. Some of their actions have put them at odds with certain members of Dark Harbor. Some of these instances include the slaughtering of a youngling member of the Amarantine Legion who held vital information about the location of Dark Harbors enemies. Another time was during their contracted protection of a facility which was conducting experimentations on some of the local wildlife. The latter of these resulted in a very bloody altercation headed by some of the local Wood Fae and their accomplices. Despite these moments of strife, The Blood Legion has stayed its hand against the populace as a whole in hopes that their mutually beneficial relationship will remain intact. 

There are surely more details that exist among the ranks of the Blood Legion, however these are best left to personal experience. So, do you have what it takes to fly the bloody hand flag?

Notable members in town:

Captain Krail Sombra- A powerful and influential Risen who has rallied many townsfolk together to join the Legion on their hunts. Krail manages to balance his strength with an innate charisma that draws those around him to action. He was rewarded for his leadership by being voted captain by those citizens of Dark Harbor who have taken the Blood Vow. He captains a ship known as “The Deaths Wake” aided by his first mate Anton, a brutal Am’Rath who yields to none when the call to violence is given.

Written by: Adam Warmhold