The Dark Dream of Bane

"General, the sixth division has moved into position in the Badlands as you ordered. Your first division awaits your command here. The fourth and second divisions are still constructing the trebuchets, and battering rams to the north, I suspect they will not finish for another night, sir," the human said as he wiped the sweat the from his brow, "Shall I inform the sixth to hold position until the siege engines are constructed?"

"No, the attack will go as planned. In ten minutes, fire the signal arrow."

"Aye sir, as you command!" the man barked as he crossed an arm across his chest in salute.

Coronado readied himself for the signal. He could only imagine the drows' thoughts, lulled into a sense that they had another night before the coming fury of his storm. He smiled to himself as he thought of warming himself upon the smoldering ashes of a once great city.

Coronado calmly waited as he saw the arrow blaze into the pitch black sky like a shooting star bringing with it the omen of change. He held his hand into the air to signal his division to wait. In his mind he could see the northern forces leaving their unfinished trebuchets and attacking only with the battering rams. He could see the surprised drow archers firing their arrows into the sky to easily meet the coming threat. Coronado smiled as he imagined the drow captain of the guards moving half of his infantry to the east gate to meet the "surprise attack" coming from the forces "hidden" for the captain to easily find in the Badlands. His smile was quickly wiped off his face in a wave of non-emotion that washed over him. The General looked over his shoulder to see the dark portal forming behind him, through it he could see the thousands of automatons awaiting his command. The magi had completed their task, now it was time for him to complete his. Coronado looked back to the grand city of Traensyr, he gripped his bastard sword, and lowered his hand, "AATTACK!"

The automatons poured out of the portal like a swarming cloud of bees leaving their hive, following the General to the lightly protected tunnels of Traensyr. The city was doomed.

... Coronado opened his eyes and awoke from his slumber, it was the same dream again. The city on fire, him the General, the army of animatrons. One day he would lead the armies for the Spellguard and for Bane. One day...soon.

Few things are eternal in this world. Those who would follow Bane realize that the things we build, both in ourselves, and around us, are all that matter. A structured, orderly society will outlast any individual. But an individual's legacy can remain, if they aid in creating something greater than themselves. Those who worship Bane have dedicated themselves to building a great society, one of order, and progress, to leave as their legacy in Faerun. Those that stand in the way of their goal are to be destroyed, until all conform to his dream. His followers believe that only perfect followers can create the perfect society, so they aspire to create perfection within themselves. Creating an orderly society that outlives us will be our form of immortality.

I have never been much of a religious man until after I arrived here in Sanctuary, half-dead and delirious. Bane, in one of his more benevolent moods, imparted upon me the aforementioned lessons and more, the part we have yet to play in shaping the world into his Utopia.

I was part of an expedition into a tomb that belonged to the mummy named Arga. After we destroyed his corporeal form, I pried an odd black great-axe from his dead fingers, and took an old book labelled "Arga's Memoirs, part two" from his body. It detailed how a heavenly creature bestowed on him the axe and whispered a sweet vision of things to come, how the gnomes of Dunwarren turned against him, and how he led a failed crusade of undead against Dunwarren. Ultimately they sealed him in the tomb. He was a megalomaniacal man who could not see the flaws of his plans, devout to and yet decieved by a goddess, and by the looks of the axe, wicked. I could not help but see the resemblance between us. I could not help but wonder, what if this will be me in some similar fate?

The axe itself cuts through the constructs where my sword could not. Together, we traverse the bowels of Dunwarren, trying to understand the intricate locking mechanisms in place, salvaging what we can from the piles of mangled automatons. The animatrons, formidable foes. One of them equipped with one of those strange svirfneblin devices could easily wipe out a party of seasoned adventurers. Three of them, possibly a small drow patrol. Actually, that magic resistance of theirs. Probably not. In any case it is dangerous work, but bringing others would invariably result in one of them tampering with the devices behind my back and messing up my system; it would be counterproductive and cumbersome and downright foolish considering I have already anticipated this. No, I cannot have that. Perhaps, though, there is one that can help me.

Turning Evil: A Flashback

As Coronado settles into a deep sleep he tosses and turns as images begin to flood his mind.

He sees his much younger self standing before an old man who clutches something in his hand. "Give that to me, I want it," he says.

The old man pulls the object closer to his chest protectively. "Please sir, it is all I have, do not take it from me, I have done you no wrong," the old man says.

"If you do not hand it over, then take it I shall!" he shouts.

With his gleaming sword he strikes the old man, sending him to ground in a shower of blood. Stooping down to pick up the dropped item, he finds it is a simple mirror. Looking into the shining surface of the mirror he sees a face staring back at him.

A face without compassion, only desire.

A face of lost innocence.

His own face.