Alaric Darkwarden Backstory

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Catrìona Darkwarden

Ciaran Darkwarden

Mòrag Darkwarden

Alaric was the second born child of Ciaran and Catrìona Darkwarden, younger brother to Mòrag. When he got older, both his parents would regale him with the stories of his clans, the Darkwardens and the Mithrilwrights. The Mithrilwrights being known for their skill at crafting mithril, most notably the blackened mithril armor worn by the Black Shield. M'ma didn't even know what forged mithril looked like until her brother joined the Black Shield. The Darkwardens are one of the founding clans of the Black Shield, though none of da's branch of the clan have joined in nearly a thousand years. When they fought, both my parents liked to drag out those facts against each other, but they never stayed angry for long. With the tales of how great our clan was I wondered why we were only miners and eventually I found out when I was running a crate of ore up to the foundries where one of my m'ma's cousins, an actual smith, was working. Both my parents are such distant and lowly cousins in their respective clans that using either of them in an arranged marriage would be a political slap in the face, and as such were allowed to marry who they chose.
Mòrag and my m'ma are much alike. Very proud and driven, and both slow to budge once they've made up their mind. This often caused many, many fights between the two, especially as Mòrag approached adulthood. She hated the thought of working in the mines, she felt she was destined for greater things and m'ma was just holding her back. They pulled her, and later me, from school once we had learned our letters, numbers, and history. There was no need for either of us to do any of that advanced learning and vocational testing, we were miners. Not quite ready for work in the mine yet though, they had her mostly keeping house or working with the kitchens, helping to feed the miners on their meal breaks. The night they told me I wasn't going back to school Mòrag knew they were going to try and make her go into the mines with them and wield a pick. She lost it. Never had I seen her so angry, she screamed and threw curses I had only heard out of back alleys. My m'ma, no slouch in the anger department herself met her head on. The cacophony of their shouting and screaming reached a level that the entire neighborhood could hear it and some began peering in our windows, and the vile language spilling from their mouths was such that I feared they would soon be spitting acid at each other.
Then it happened.
Mòrag's eyes suddenly began to light up, fire flickering in her irises. Her hair took on the hues of embers and began waving about like errand flames. Her clothing started smoldering and catching fire. She pointed an indignant finger at m'ma and her voice had echoes of the forge fires, "YOU WILL NEVER TAKE ME INTO THOSE MINES!", and a bolt of fire leapt from her finger and raced towards m'ma. Da pulled m'ma aside right bore the bolt would have hit her, and it smashed against the far wall. The house fell silent, the neighbors at the windows disappeared. Everyone was stunned, staring at Mòrag as the fire within her continued to grow. Her eyes now full of shock and wonder, quickly turning to panic as she couldn't control the flames. Suddenly with a soft implosion of air, the fires around her snuffed out, and a pair of Runethanes appeared in our home. One of them muttering something while holding a runestone out towards Mòrag, the other said in a gentle, but firm voice, "If you would please come with us child, we have things to discuss with you." And they escorted her out of our home and to the lifts. She never did come back home, although she writes on occasion. Apparently she was right, she was destined for something greater than being a simple miner.
Life returned to normal after that, except now I was working in the mine. Running messages, bringing water buckets around, steering carts from the depths, running crates to the smiths. No one mentioned Mòrag, the blast mark on the wall had disappeared overnight, although you would still see where the rock had melted. One day I was working with a group in one of the deeper shafts, they had found traces of mithril earlier in the week and were wanting to find the vein. They had three of us youngsters with them, for fetching food and water and running messages. I was coming back with a small cask of water, a few joints of meat, and a couple loaves of bread, about ten minutes away from the worksite still, when I passed the young girl who was the message runner, "They broke into a cavern! I'm off to get the overseer and the Black Shield!". No one really knew why we were to fetch the Black Shield if we broke into caverns or tunnels, but it was a tradition no one ignored. I was excited, and started running back. As I drew closer I heard shouts of terror and other sounds I could not place. I ran faster, my heart racing, they were in danger! By the time I got to the worksite it was almost empty, I could see none of the miners, and only the large black break in the wall where they had broken through. Suddenly the other youngster popped out from his hiding place in an ore crate. "It was awful! They suddenly burst through the breach and grabbed up the miners. I hid before they could see me, but their stench almost made to gag. I don't know how many there were but they grabbed up everyone!" He was babbling by this point, so I gave him one of the meat joints I was carrying and told him to stay here, and tell the Black Shield what had happen. And to get himself together. I knew from Uncle Thakal's stories that the miners had most likely been taken by troglodytes, but I didn't really know much about them, only that they ate everything they could. Not knowing if it would help or not, I washed the smell of meat off of me, grabbed a flint and steel, one of the loaves of bread, and a pickaxe. I soaked the bread in lamp oil, then steeling myself against the darkness, I entered the breach.