Chenga

Deneb

The snows lay thick around the Pass of Korim, closing the road through the Northern Mountains and the way to Deneb.  Yet, for the capital of K'Vath, this was the normal winter routine.  Even with the mountain road cut-off, Deneb could be supplied by sea and trade with the Islands of Sard Hargan, which lay a thousand miles to the west.  Deneb's store-houses were full of grain, dried meats, gold, silk... and spice.  With its deep natural harbour, protected by a spit of land, that stretched, like a protective arm, to ward off the waves of the Great Ocean, the city had once been the Jewel of the Isle of K'Vath.  The lure of food and gold and spice drew travellers, and chancers, and dreamers, from far and wide.  Now, Deneb's streets were teeming...with urchins, with thieves and low-lives, but Deneb's store-houses and markets were still a prize.

Only once in its history had Deneb come close to being plundered.  In retaliation for K'Vathin slaving raids on lands far to the North, a fleet of ships had come sailing to K'Vath.  The ships carried Eldar archers: the huntsmen of the Northern Forests and Eyorhim horsemen: the riders of the Northern Steppes.  Thousands of ships had landed, with even more thousands of Eldar and Eyorhim.  Against this foe stood only the Shardahn Legion of Deneb: a motley crew of criminals and conscripts raised to police the streets of Deneb and protect what lay within the store-houses.  The name Shardahn was from the Old Tongue proverb:  'Ta grand largah ari atar shar dahn'... the greatest light comes after the darkest dawn.  And the thousand men of The Legion of the Darkest Dawn were all that stood between the rich store-houses of Deneb and the hordes of Eldar and Eyorhim.  In charge of the Shardahn Legion was a short, stout, bearded man, nicknamed 'The Eel', or Karrack, and with the last name Korim.

The pass that led through the mountains was then known just as the Mountain Pass.  But, after the Shardahn Legion held the pass for a month, against impossible odds, all those in Deneb began to call it the Pass of Korim.  As snows began to fall, and a force of Peytahns, humans and K'Vathin attacked the Eldar and Eyorhim from the South, the invaders had been defeated and Deneb had not fallen.  Of the thousand strong Shardahn Legion only twenty remained... and one of those was Karrack Korim: slippery as an eel, in battle, he had survived.

But, that had been over twenty years ago.  Now, Karrack Korim was a simple trader, who lived in a hut at the pass that held his name.  Or at least, he had been a simple trader, until Gamesh and his Peytahn clan had come calling.  Now, Karrack Korim wasn't sure what he was.  But, with the snow deep all about him, and the road virtually impassable, he was back on a mission... the mission, to save Deneb once more... and this time to save the Shardahn Legionnaires, who protected the city.

Korim's double-headed axe was strapped to his back, and he rode astride the back of his giant dog, Wolf.  With wind howling down The Pass from behind, and snow falling, Wolf ploughed his way through the snowdrifts, making headway and descending the narrow, twisting trail towards Deneb.

In the distance, Korim could see the twinkling lights, the white towers and walls of the city.  From this far off, it looked like a magical place... but looks can be deceptive.  Korim, himself, had grown up on the streets of K'Vath's capital.  Lying, cheating and thieving were the valuable lessons in life he had learnt there, until The Legion had caught him trying to steal a horse from their stables.  Korim had always wanted a horse and that day he had caught sight of the finest looking stallion he'd ever seen, tied up to a rail at the entrance to the stables.  The animal had looked so fierce, sleek and fast and he knew that if he could climb on top of that horse, no other rider would be able to catch him.  Korim had an apple in his pocket that that had 'fallen' from a merchant's sack into his hands.  He had walked up to the horse, cut a piece of the apple with his knife and held the fruit out to the magnificent creature.  The horse was soon eating out of his hand.   Korim had then just unhitched the reins from the post and leapt onto the horse's back.  Like the wind, the horse had taken off, with Korim smiling in the saddle.  But his first ride on the midnight steed was short-lived.  The gates of the stable compound had swung shut and he was trapped inside.  The Legion Commander had then whistled to the horse, who just walked back, at a steady pace to where Korim had found it.  The rest was history.  His choice was to be shipped off to Chenga, or sign up for The Legion.  An eternity of beatings, barrack room brawls and endless suffering over twenty-five years made him wonder whether he had made the right choice.