Vergil Bluebood - Origins

Vergil Blueblood - Origins

Vergil Blueblood is a red-scaled dragonborn, a humanoid covered in reptillian scales. 

Son of emperor Vermillion and empress Viktoria Blueblood, rulers of Adar Ashik - a decently sized empire located far off in the mid-western region of the world. Surrounded by large plains, deep forests and strong rivers, there are plenty of grounds for hunting or foraging. Bordering the Zimran dwarven mountains, Vordurol wild taiga, and the Namgrun desert, Adar Ashik is located in the middle of three wildly different landscapes. This creates a large source of resources and luxuries, which the empire uses for trade.

Well-mannered and academically trained, Vergil quickly found an interest in politics, often getting into debates and arguments with other people in his circle. As he grew older, Vergil would look up to his father more and more: a single man in control of thousands upon thousands of people, able to move armies and crush villages at will. 

Ordering the house servants around never felt like enough, so with his father's permission, he received his own piece of land with a village to rule, and a sizable keep too. The first year in Nyvemel went alright, and the second year too. The villagers had great harvests, and the village wasnt attacked by bandits or neighboring powers. Vergil would rule with a fair view and a just fist, keeping law in order and the inhabitants happy.

When the first group of bandits came and attacked, Vergil didn't know what to do. He had never experienced a situation like this, which led to many civilians dying due to poor planning and guard patrol routes.

This infuriated Vergil to his core. His own mistakes led to his village suffering losses, but he didn't feel too guilty about that. Rather, he felt more anger towards the invaders. After weeks of torture, he left a few of the bandits to retreat back to their homes, although heavily scarred, as a means of deterring future assaults.

However, that did not completely stop them.

Years later, Vergil's town of Nyvemel had become prosperous and strong, and his iron fist against crime and outsider attacks had gotten more brutal. While the inhabitants found his rule kind and just, urchins and other criminals lived their lives in fear. Legend has it, that Vergil once forgot a golden chalice by a fountain in Nyvemel, and multiple weeks went by without it being touched. Petty thievery could lead to the loss of hands, and something like this could lead to the loss of heads. Eventually, Vergil remembered it, and picked it up again. 

Vergil's rule was sadly not long, as a man named Victor Wolf, best friend and greatest advisor of Vergil, had planned a coup. He worked with the mercenary band Ring of Vengeance, and thanks to their help, managed to overthrow the throne. He ran his knife through Vergil's back, and Vergil collapsed quickly to the ground, his vision fading. Vergil saw his murderer's face staring into his eyes with a wicked smile.

"Heavy weighs the crown, Vergil."

These were the last words he had heard before death answered the door.

Years went by, and Nyvemel had eventually become something different. Some inhabitants might still remember the old village, but most were either slaughtered or forced into slavery under Victor's rule. The Nyvemel that once was, slowly faded over 20 years, and new management transformed it into a crime-ridden hamlet.

Unbeknownst to Victor, some of Vergil's most loyal followers remained living. They treated him like a god while he was alive, and would do anything to return him to life. They had located his grave, amid an old battlefield, and dug him up. His decomposed skeleton was exposed, a former image of who he was.

Having gathered together two shiny garnets, ashes of a phoenix and willing sacrifices, they had what they needed. Using forbidden knowledge they gained in the deepest corner of the abandoned Ebonrest Library, they performed a blood rite beneath the full moon. Sacrificing the five present members, they slowly turned the moon red in an attempt to bind his soul back to his body, and reconstruct it.

As the rite began, the ground beneath them shook. The blood they had spilled would become Vergil's own, reattaching his old scales. Missing their old gleam, his once shining and valiant red scales had lost their luster and turned a sinister shade of crimson, like blood-soaked linen.  The garnets, beautiful red gems symbolizing love and warmth, would become Vergil's eyes, strong and omnipresent. Lastly, the ashes represent rebirth, and would become Vergil's burning spirit, brighter than ever before. And if he may die, may he rise again, like the mythical Phoenix.

And it was so. Beneath the pale red light of the moon, Vergil felt the ground beneath his scales, smelled the sanguine air with his nose, and tasted dirt with his tongue.

The emperor returned.

 Along with the ritual, a dark and ominous presence remained within Vergil, darkening his blood and making it flow like honey. Now Vergil finds himself stranded, an alien in an unknown world, with nothing to his name or any clothes on his back. Perhaps some of the old Nyvemel's living residents might recognize their old ruler?