Legends of Rega: Skaudas
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In the time before Rega expanded out into Northern Skaria, the mighty king Skaudas ruled what was, at the time, quite a large territory. From the mountains in the East, to the mountains in the west, from the River Barsava, north to the edge of the lands of the Sciri, the trackless steppes. The whole of the modern margravate of Sciritaut was his kingdom.
In his early reign he was noble and just, kind and supportive to the common folk. But as time went by, he became detached and sorrowful, then bitter and angry. He was plagued by ill luck, it seemed, outliving three wives and having no living heirs. At the end of his life, he had himself buried, it was said, alive in his tomb. And fell stories have been told of the place since. But nothing ever ventured out, and no one went in, so for 3500 years it sat undisturbed, moldering, in darkness and sadness. Until now.
Much of his story is lost in the darkness of the past, swept away by the passage of time and the coming of the Regan Empire, but there are a few things we know.
Skaudas was born a chieftain’s son, of a semi-nomadic tribe related to the modern Sciri of the northern steppes. His people traded with the folk of northern Skaria, a region known as Wesyadava, land of rivers. As he grew to manhood, he became aware that the people of Wesyadava languished under the rule of a foreign conqueror, an ancient being called Bhel-Baidas, the White Terror. He led a coalition of northern nomads and the folk of Wesyadava in a rebellion against the conqueror, and drove their force from the region. For this, the people of Wesyadava made him King.
He ruled for many years justly, with compassion, with kindness. With wisdom. He married the princess of the original noble line of Wesyadava. They were happy. Then, she died, along with their child, of a horrific plague. He mourned for many years before he remarried, to the daughter of a Sciri chieftain. Eventually, he was happy again. He ruled well, still. He was considerate, careful. He defended his lands, but started no foreign wars. And then, after a mere 4 years, his new wife died as well, along with both their children, killed in a raid by ferocious glutts, the always rabid wolverine monsters of the northern wastes.
He was devastated. He mourned for longer, and wore black for the rest of his life. But still, he ruled well enough, if less kindly. He still felt a sense of duty to his people, but his heart was hardened, his laws more draconian. 10 years passed before a beautiful young lady, daughter of a southern noble, pried him back out of his shell, and returned him to life. He smiled again, cared again. The kingdom thrived. Until, less than a year later, an unknown villain poisoned her, killing her and their unborn child.
This broke him. He turned entirely uncaring, cold, tyrannical . . . not by design, not for a purpose, but because he just didn’t care enough about *anything* to restrain his darker whims. After all, if he could be so punished by the gods while being a good man, and a good ruler, why should he bother? Nothing mattered. He began to strike out at the world, out of despair. An advisor, one for whom no name has been passed down, brought him a new crown, ostensibly sent as tribute from a neighboring kingdom that wished to stave off invasion (for he had, indeed, turned to expansion and conquest). He accepted this crown, wore it. And everything became very much worse.
Within 5 more years, he had conquered the full extent of what is now the Margravate of Sciritaut. Each royal family he had killed in various horrific ways, just in an attempt to feel something again. Within ten years, he had given up entirely, and had himself and his royal guard buried alive in what would be known, from then on, as the Tomb of Sorrow.
There are many parts of this tale that we do not know the details of, or the truth. But this truth remains: Acedia, Despair, is one of the Seven Deadly sins, for the damage it does to oneself, for the damage it does to others. And Hell smiles to see it.
Now Skaudas is a unique greater wraith, bound to unlife by the Crown of Acedia, served by the skeletons and specters of his former guards, his crypt guarded by a tomb terror .
