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Klingon Legends: The Clans of the Damned
- Klingon Legends: The Clans of the Damned -
(Inspired by stories found in the book “Let's Trek: The Budget Traveller's Guide to Klingon Worlds”.)
This is a rather dark story, which was hidden deep within a historical knowledge database of a highly respected university on the Klingon home world of Kronos. The author's name was stricken off records.
Upon one of the more remote planets of the Klingon Empire, there was a clan known for their strange and mysterious behavior. No one can be said to be truly familiar with their origins, but it is known that those origins date back far into the history of the Klingon peoples, perhaps predating all that is recorded by most reputable historians. Some claim that the tales of this clan date back to ancient NgoKnuur... but that is a belief considered to be on the fringes of accepted history and even accepted myth and legend. It is like a whisper conferred in the shadows, heard only in the dark of night, and many attribute such dark and peculiar things to the very clan of whom these tales speak. Perhaps they themselves were actually the authors of those stories! We shall never know the truth of that, for even those who are of that clan in this current era do not remember with certainty. What is certain, is that the clan itself were the last of a long forgotten bloodline, a sub-race of the peoples of Nguus who are recorded to have been named the Halbskaal. In appearance, they are not like most others of the Klingon race, nor are they like most of the known sub-races of our noble kind. I have actually met with a member of this clan, and I can attest to their appearance being... unique. The crest of their ridges are as follows... small bump-like ridges from the base and back of the neck to the topmost summit of their skulls, with the ridges becoming a great deal more pronounced at they near that peak... but that is where they end, leaving the forehead just as smooth as if they were plagued by the Augment Virus that makes we of the Klingon race appear similar to humans. Yet, it is a fact that this clan was never affected by that virus, and so it is unknown how or why they came to look the way that they do. They are a minority in the Empire, perhaps even the very greatest minority since their numbers are tiny compared to others, even those deemed obscure. The odd thing is, that the member of this clan that I spoke with told me that both she and the others of her blood prefer to keep their heads shaven, eyebrows and all, as if they were preparing for a declaration of war. That is not strange, in and of itself, for many others do the same and it is a matter of personal choice for any Klingon to either do so or not. So long as they are aware that others will view them as being of a far more aggressive nature due to the association of a shaved head in Klingon society with customs of war. So this is how I came to know the nature of their ridges, and I realized that if they actually did choose to grow out their hear and wear it long as most prefer to during times of peace... they would look exactly as if they suffered from the Augment Virus, and would likely be assumed to be of those unhappy ones. And so, the woman of this clan did tell me that her people actually prefer to company of those who do happen to have the virus that makes them appear more human. She told me that in their company they find a kinship of a kind, and are always treated as equals. Back during the days of the wars with humans it was perhaps not uncommon for members of this clan to walk among the unhappy ones when they did go forth to battle the United Federation of Planets and the Federation's Starfleet puppets. Although we in the Klingon Empire do not adhere to prejudices against others of our race, nor any of the sub-races thereof, we find it difficult to trust humans even when they claim to come to us in peace. Perhaps it all goes back to the days of those now long past wars? And so, ans you can expect... members of that clan I tell you of herein, they too have the same distrust when it comes to humans. I suspect that is why they choose to shave their heads... in order to look as Klingon as possible. Just as how most who once did suffer from the Augment Virus have over time decided to accept the cure that was developed with full gladness in their hearts. A cure that gave ultimately gives on back the ridges that the virus robs one of, restoring their appearance to that of a true Klingon. Not that they were not truly Klingon always, even those so afflicted! But you understand my meaning. And so, this unusual clan is a very honorable one.
This clan I speak of accepts any and all who would join it, without much difficulty and little question. A blood oath and a test of loyalty is all that they impose on a potential member, and one that is through them they are made members of the clan's noble house. I was not told what the oath of their house does actually entail... such blood oaths are sometimes unique to specific houses, nor was I made aware of a single detail regarding the tests that they conduct. I was made to assume that they were brutal even by Klingon standards, and few who undergo the test of loyalty imposed by this particular house survive to tell of it. Those who do, end up with their appearance changed so that they look like all the others of the house, and bear the smooth forehead that is the clan's most recognizable trait. They take to shaving both head and eyebrows after that, and never again are they the same as once they were. They see this as a kind of rebirth, and the only aspect of it that I know for a fact is that they drink the preserved blood of the first founder of their clan and house. How they keep that blood preserved, I did not ask she who did tell me these things, but I believe some form of medical science would have to be involved. Although it almost sounded, the way this woman told the tale of it to me, as if she herself had drank the blood from the mouth of the ancestor of her clan and house himself. Something that clearly is impossible due to her clan's tremendous age and vast history. But she was a strange woman by any stretch of the imagination, and I was and am of the opinion that she spoke metaphorically or symbolically of certain things, at least on occasion. Any sane, rational Klingon would hesitate to join that house if they knew what was wise... if only because it is rumored that the eldest members of it are actually deathless creatures who are said to be mockeries of their once-living selves. No one can honestly say that they have met with the leaders of that house, save only for the members of the clan that runs it. And so, no outsider like myself is made privy to the truth behind these dark and twisted legends. When I asked the woman I interviewed about this, she laughed, chuckled, and slapped me on the back as if I was joking and she found it humorous to hear me say such a thing. But then, her eyes narrowed and she said unto me: “Of course, you would not be allowed to meet with our house's leaders whilst still breathing!” and then she laughed long and loud, and I cannot be sure if she was joking with me or not. I found it most uncomfortable, and I did not bring up the subject again after that. She arranged to meet with me so I could learn the truth of her clan, but I learned nothing at all about those who govern it, and was left feeling as if that were some sort of secret only those they deemed worthy could possibly learn. This made me feel anxious to prove myself worthy in this woman's eyes, not worthy to join her house but worthy of being told the truth I yearned to know. She tasked me with various things to prove myself, and I shall not speak of what she told me to do. In no way were such tasks reasonable or sane, and so I refused to do them and told her the cost was far too high for me to pay, even for such knowledge. She then smiled, and said: “But all knowledge is costly. If there was no cost to it, then how would you know its' worth!” And I nodded my head in agreement, for indeed some things are perhaps worth any cost to some. I, however, could not pay the price she asked of me, and we went back to our discussions after that. But I have gotten far ahead of myself here! The clan of which I speak is known as the Q'Kadrak, and if that name sounds familiar to you then you are surely a reader of obscure texts because you will not find records of them in the usual places. As I said, they in all ways are a dark, mysterious, obscure clan... and their house keeps their secrets with obsessive zeal. I have known clerics of Kahless who are less tight lipped about things, and they too are known for their secrets! In those obscure texts, it is recorded that the Q'Kadrak came to prominence long before we did even have the technology for space travel. I mentioned this to the woman I spoke with, and she told me something I already knew... that due to the great age of her clan and house, it was simply impossible to separate historical fact from ancient myth and legend. I told her again, that the elusiveness of the clan's leaders did little to make that any easier for those interested in learning about such things. The woman then said to me: “Perhaps some things are better kept secret.” And she was dead serious when she said that to me, implying that if I learned more then it would be far worse for me than if I remained ignorant.
She told me then that her most ancient of ancestors were called by others “The Destroyers who Come from the Darkness”, and that in the earliest days of antiquity they communed with the mysterious race of hellish demons known as the Wraiths of NgoKnuur, who so haunted the shadowy regions of the great home planet of the Klingon race during times unfathomable to us today. They held sway of a small but powerful kingdom, although the woman before me said it was more like a tiny empire in and of itself... and from it they committed deeds that have become stories intended to frighten children into behaving. The kind of tales that are designed to chill one's blood and cause one to fear the coming of the night. At length, I was told much of this and it made me feel a sapping of my warrior's courage. For though I am a scholar by trade, I am still a proud warrior by nature... but courage has its' limits! And I was tested by this woman in far too many ways to not feel at least a slight hint of fear. Her clan dwelt in the marshes that exist upon one of the small southern islands that even today people go to only hesitantly, and what things they did, along with the demons they communed with, were the stuff of weird tales indeed. One thing she mentioned was: “Once, upon the ending of the darkest season of the year, we came along with the Wraiths of NgoKnuur to the place appointed for sacrifices, and there we brought the children of the enemies of our clan, there to have their throats cut, there to have their flesh flayed, there to have their hearts eaten by us, their blood drank by us, granting us boons of a sort too terrible to speak of freely. It is a matter personal to our clan, and we do not easily discuss such things with outsiders.” She then did ask me if I still wished to learn more, and I found courage enough to agree that I did. Before proceeding she did a sudden and bizarre thing, however. She took a finger ring from the pocket of her pants, and slipped it over the pointing finger of her left hand. The ring fit over her entire finger like a sort of metal sheathe, and from the tip of it was a sharp claw. I say ring, but this was more like a claw that one could slip over their finger than anything else. With that done, she asked me to extend my right palm and at once... and without warning, although I guessed her intent easily enough... she slashed my palm and did proceed to pull my hand to her mouth in order to drink what blood flowed from that cut. After that, I did bandage the cut and she wiped her mouth off before agreeing to tell me more. “Did my blood taste good to you, woman?” I asked, and she told me: “It suffices, but I could not live off of it.” She chuckled and laughed once again, and I took this for a spot of dark humor and nothing more. A small price to pay for knowledge, the humoring of this grim woman in such a way as I have described. A warrior suffers a great deal more, in battle! So this, to me, may as well have been love play. And I must confess, I did in truth find this woman most attractive despite that her skin was the same pale white as an albino's would be. I suppose some might consider such a woman to be exotic, but I longed to hear all she had to tell me and any other thoughts I may have had regarding her were secondary to the task at hand, which I was in truth being paid a substantial amount of credit for by the university that I work for. When I have, after I am through with the interview, submitted everything to the heads of the university for review, I do not doubt that this will surely increase my standing in society tremendously! I am unearthing things of the sort that other scholars would be too frightened to delve into. Is that not befitting of a Klingon warrior?
The woman, when she began speaking to me again, did tell me that the original name of her clan was in fact Q'ka-Dakula, and I mentioned to her that Dakula was a word used in some places to refer in fact to vampires. She then replied: “Q'Kadrak is a clan as old as memory! You have heard the stories about the elders of our clan, but what if I told you that there is truth of those stories. What would you say to that? Perhaps they were vampires, perhaps sorcerers, perhaps something else, something older and far more terrible. Perhaps they were gods who survived the slaying of the gods that took place in the most ancient legends that tell of such things. But what was the nature of the old Klingon gods? Today, none are allowed to know... but I shall say unto you, that our elders experimented of old with the most awful mysteries of the known universe. They looked upon things that would drive lesser beings to madness.”
She went on to tell me that there are places still in existence today on Kronos that are scarred by the powers that her ancestors tapped into and unleashed upon the world. She said: “There are regions once filled with cool lakes and streams that were made to boil and burn when fire and lava replaces the water that once flowed in the lakes and stream beds. Or, do you believe that the demons alone did such? No... even demons need physical agents to work their will, and my ancestors, the eldest of all of the elders of my clan, were such agents of chaos. If I were to take you to my ancestral home, you would feel just how different the very air has become in that place, the vibrations left by the incantations chanted of old still can be felt upon the skin, and deeper than the skin. But knowing this, would you come if so invited? I doubt it! Our house gets few visitors, our clan has few whom we feel able to fully confide in. Witches, warlocks, and worse we have been called throughout our history, but only by our enemies. Were we in truth merely demonized, or did we earn every such black title bestowed upon us?” I told her that history is impartial on the matter, and does not judge one way or the other about it. Rather, all known points of view are always considered and presented for people to understand. Then, she laughed and said: “Yes! Ah yes, yes... all 'known' points of view, of course. But what do you truly know about us? Nothing! It is all rumors, superstitions, stories and nothing more than stories. All of it mixed with history, as if the act of wedding such ill fitting partners was even possible! My ancestors fought demons as much as they did commune with them... and they slew dragons in the days when still dragons flew in the skies above our home world. Those dragons they did not slay, they domesticated and rode upon the backs thereof, thus striking terror into any who opposed them. Who was there to witness these deeds? Many! But they have chosen to remember things through a twisted lens, and I will freely admit we have done little to actually discourage people from thinking of us in a dark light.” She told told me much of her clan's history, as much as she felt freely able to relate, and she listed their countless contributions to the Klingon Empire over the centuries upon centuries since its' first founding. She mentioned the ancient name of the Nguu civilization, and told me of how her people aided in its' growth and expansion. She told me: “Strange to be sure, are the gifts of my house, but we have always used those gifts on behalf of the people, never in any way against them. Only our enemies did we punish, slay, and sacrifice! And back when this was by us done, it was common to be brutal in the extreme to one's foes. We did little different from other clans and other houses... only our methods differed, but we all have blood on our hands just the same. Blood spilled for honor! Is that not in harmony with the ancient Klingon warrior codes of those times... and, in many ways, with the codes of honor that are upheld to this very day?” She referred to archaic names for things, her voice was thick with an accent unheard of in countless centuries, and she spoke of things so long past as to be the stuff of mythology as if she had witnessed them firsthand. If I were not rational, I would have thought her to be one of the immortal elders of her house that feature so prominently in old tales that likely hold little no actual truth within them. But a part of me could not help but wonder if I was in the presence of something more than simply a woman from an obscure but powerful house. This played about in my mind as I asked her further questions and awaited what answers she could give me. She insisted on repeatedly referring to Kronos by it's now long antiquated name, NgoKnuur... a name I doubt I have ever heard any scholar or historian in all my years of life use. These days, that name is but used for one of the first and most ancient civilizations to come into prominence upon our home planet... and it is most commonly associated in my mind with old historical texts in which the lines between the facts and the fancy is blurry indeed. To be sure, there are some who occasionally use that name for our world, but it is rare in the extreme compared to how it once was in times past. Mostly, it cropped up in the bygone days when the Augment Virus was at its' height and it was a term used by some of those so afflicted with it instead of using the proper name Kronos. They did this to differentiate themselves from other Klingons of the same era, and to hark back to the ancient days before the virus existed. It was one of the ways in which they connected with being Klingon, and was a coping mechanism that was useful.
Our home planet has many names, and many of the sub-races of our species use a variety of them for various reasons. But this woman was clearly not one of those who typically used the term NgoKnuur... and I found that to be quite the peculiar quirk of her personality. I asked her if that was common in her clan, or if it was a result of her having close dealings in the past with those afflicted with the Augment Virus. She told me, that it was indeed very common in her clan, if not the rule rather than the exception. She further elaborated: “Given that we trace our ancestry all the way back to the civilization that bore that very same name as once did our world... you will agree that it is a goodly way of honoring where it is we came from. We are the last living heirs to that lost civilization, and so we keep the old traditions firmly upheld, as is dictated to us by our elders.” I reminded her that once our species developed the use of space travel, one of the earliest worlds colonized by Klingon space explorers was a planet that today is known by that very name, NgoKnuur. Once our home world started being called Kronos in all of the official records, that other older name for it was bestowed upon that other planet. It was believed that it would thus help to alleviate any confusion in the minds of the average Klingon, and most understood our history well enough to realize that this new planet, now called NgoKnuur, was not the same as was written of in the historical records that refer to Kronos as NgoKnuur. I asked her if she had any family or relatives on that world, and she admitted: “That planet has upon its' surface an island that is one of the major strongholds of our clan and house. The island is surrounded by a tempestuous sea and many seagoing ships often have been wrecked upon its' shores to the point where people mostly travel to it only by way of a shuttle craft or an air car shielded from the winds. No one journeys there by boat any longer! Upon that island is a military academy attended almost exclusively by members of our clan. It is a particularly demanding school, and we train some of the best sword masters and sword mistresses in the entire empire. Are you familiar with the name Kveld Q'Kadrak Azhin? He is the son of Kvass, also known as Kvass the One-Eyed.” I told her that although I was well acquainted with the great Kvass, a war hero whose tactics are studied from time to time by young warriors in training... I was not familiar in the least with his son, nor was I even aware he had ever had a male heir to his legacy. She then told me: “Oh, he does, I can assure you! Kveld is actually a good friend of mine, and he is an instructor at the academy on the island I was telling you about. Kveld has a complicated history with our clan, since as you know his father is most definitely not one of us. Rather, Kveld was adopted into clan Azhin not long by any means after he was born. His mother died bringing him into this world, and she was merely one of many concubines bound in the service of the great Kvass. Old One-Eye did not want the child, and his second bound concubine was forced by him to give the boy up rather than raise him herself. She contacted clan Azhin, the clan she herself came from, and that was how Kveld came to bear that clan's name as his own. Now, a secret kept by Kvass that he does not ever let be freely known, is that he was actually born into clan Q'Kadrak but was unable to keep to our traditions, despite being of our blood... and so it was that we fully exiled him from our house, after which he founded his own house with the support of a clan he soon formed following his exile, mostly from members of the warrior sect that he had most personally trained and bound to his service through the means of a blood oath. Since he was never branded either a traitor to us or a liability, we left him alone. However, once he was adopted into clan Azhin, Kveld was told of his father's true heritage and made aware that the blood of clan Q'Kadrak flowed in his veins. In that moment, Kveld son of Kvass, took the dual family name of Q'Kadrak Azhin for his own, and that is how he became known as Kveld Q'Kadrak Azhin. Due to ties of close alliance between clan Azhin and clan Q'Kadrak, Kveld grew up honoring both and pledging many blood oaths to both clans equally. He was far more willing and able to honor our traditions than his father had ever been, and we eventually bestowed upon him the deep honor of becoming an instructor at our academy on NgoKnuur. The only thing he is not allowed to do, is to speak of the innermost mysteries of either clan to which he is pledged, as that would be dishonorable according to our laws and noble traditions.”
As time has gone on, people have most commonly referred to that other planet simply as Nguu, and I suspect it is done to further differentiate it from that old name for Kronos that is no longer officially or commonly in use. I told this to the woman I was meeting with at present, and she found that to be a bit amusing to hear, and I was surprised she had not been aware of this change since practically everyone in modern Klingon society today is well aware of it and well if not personally acquainted with the new name. “Are you that isolated, that you have no experience with such current terms for things?” I asked her, and she replied honestly: “I am precisely that isolated, I fear. I rarely leave the company of the inner circle of my house, and the newest developments in Klingon society mean little to someone who is as old fashioned as I am, despite how young I may appear to be physically. Mentally, I am as ancient as is my clan and my house! There are reasons for this, but I cannot tell you what they are. I doubt you would believe me if I did, in any case. But suffice it to say, I am many decades behind on a great many things.” I asked her how she felt about the current state of peace between the Klingon Empire and the United Federation of Planets. I personally never trusted the Federation, since my family retained vivid, awful memories of having lost loved ones to human aggression during the old wars. My house supported the idea of remaining Klingon and not allowing the Federation to dictate terms to us... we have accepted, if reluctantly, the peace that was forged thanks to the Khitomer Accords, but never is our recollection of the warlike times far from our memories. The woman before me, stated in reply to my explaining all of that to her: “We took part in those wars of old, and we would take part in new ones if the Federation did ever betray the peace accords. We would do so without a second thought! Our loyalty is to the Empire, now as it ever was in times past. Sometimes, I wonder if there are some living in the Empire today who have forgotten where their true loyalties lie... they walk and talk with Federation dogs, and I suspect a great many of them are being held on Federation leashes like dogs. The light of Kahless does not burn as brightly in them as it does in those of us whose loyalty is only to the Empire. That, is what I think of the whole matter. In our clan, and our house at least, we remain truly Klingon and do not ever allow the Federation to lessen our glory.” I found then, during that exchange, that this woman and I were in fact kindred spirits. Both of us were true warriors living in a time when many have forgotten what it means to bear that title. For though I am now a scholar, I never forget my roots, nor should any true Klingon. The woman then took me by surprise by asking me: “Now that I have told you much that you did not know of my clan and my house... enough to surely sate your scholarly appetite for knowledge... will it be too much to ask that you tell me something of yours in turn?” I was loathe to do so, and it was not for no reason. My family was an old family, but not an ancient one by any means. Even so, we had a great many secrets we did not want to become public knowledge. We had come up from disgrace at one point in our history, and there was a time when we were regarded as evil by many. I always saw it as a kind of penance for the misdeeds of my ancestors, that I now served to try and bring knowledge to the minds of my fellow citizens of the Empire. However, we had bonded over our conversation, this pale woman and I, and I wanted to honor that bonding with further trust. Thus, I told her things that it is my hope do not further disgrace my clan and my house. Though I am not confident this will not come back to somehow bite me in the end! I said to her as follows: “You know of House Draclon, I am sure. Most people know of it, as it is one of the oldest bloodlines on Kronos. It is also one of the most evil, cruel, and murderous of all the minor houses. The clan that serves it is excluded from most military service on behalf of the Empire, and it's supreme ruler... Dar Draclon... is known to practice forbidden black arts of a sort that have surely earned him and all his kin a place in the lowest hell of Gre'thor. There is even talk that the members of that house worship the dead gods, whose spirits they commune with through some form of necromancy aided by illegal sciences. Well, the fact of the matter is that my family is very closely related to them... we came into Draclon's history rather late, but very intimately. As such, I have a great deal of Draclon blood in my veins despite not being a member of that house in the full capacity.”
The woman went even paler, if that was possibly, and seemed ill at ease to hear me admit to this. She then stated nervously: “I regret that I made you feel it needful to admit this to me! That is not something you should have told another living soul. The evils perpetrated by House Draclon go back hundreds of years... many hundreds of years... and the infamy of it is something that even makes my people react in horror to hear tales of what transpired.” I then explained to her: “I am not surprised! I know how it all started, too. When the eldest brother of the house's first founder, did something unspeakable. The man's name was Zarton Draclon, and it is said that he left to fight in a great war against an enemy that was by all accounts considered unbeatable. He left his younger brother, Darrag, behind him, and also he left his own wife, La'Tor. Needless to say, they were not happy about the whole situation in the least. But it was made worse by the fact that if truth were put to it Darrag lacked any semblance of honor in his wretched heart. If the tales are to be believed, he actually made a blood sacrifice after abducting a small child and consuming the little girl's flesh after offering her blood to the chief of all devils, Fek'lhr. Once the blood was offered and the child's remains were burned upon a ritual altar, the demon appeared to Darrag and did offer him the power to bend another to his will. Darrag used that dark boon in order to seduce the previously virtuous La'Tor, whom he bent to his will so completely that she became as twisted as he in every imaginable way. The two of them procured more sacrificial victims, and their crimes were so vile that the murders they committed to appease their demonic master were like none ever seen before in all of Klingon history. Within the walls of their castle, high in the mountains of the Bor'kol range, they did enslave and torture hundreds of kidnapped victims within the span of six years. They impaled, flayed, disemboweled and mutilated primarily women and children during that span of time, and their screams echoed throughout the halls of the castle, carried forth from it at times upon the howling winds that do so oft batter those rugged peaks even today. But no one ever heard their cries, and so their fates were at length sealed by the two fiends who were the architects of their suffering. Worst of all, some of the girls and boys were defiled before they were killed, and all because Darrag was consumed by madness and a lust for the wholesale destruction of innocence. These deaths and the manner in which they were thus wrought caused a dark, infernal, uncontrollable power to be unleashed within the castle. Ever night that passed, the power grew and at last darkness consumed the place and made it a domain of Gre'thor. That was the beginning of the infamy of House Draclon, but it was not the end of it by far. When a decade so passed, Zarton returned home in the happy throes of victory over his fearsome enemy. He was innocent in his expectations of what lay within his ancestral home, and when he entered the castle he was in no way prepared for the sights that met his gaze within its' now bloodstained walls. His younger brother... the monstrous Darrag... was nowhere to be seen, and his wife La'Tor greeted him as if nothing at all did seem to be the matter. However, when his wife leaned forward to kiss him, Zarton noticed that her eyes were dead looking, and that her body was as cold as a grave. Her skin was pale, and she appeared to be not quite living but not quite dead either. She also seemed not to be breathing. And yet, she lived still! He noticed all of this, and trembled inside, but he chose not to mention it to her. Instead, he let her lead him into the warm hearth of the great hall. There, she laughed at him and ran to the waiting Darrag, and in front of her husband she kissed her unholy lover, who smiled in a way that was sinister to behold. At that moment, the eight year old son and daughter... both of them twins... that had been born to Darrag and La'Tor did walk out from a side room. They were just as cold and dead appearing as their mother. The twins laughed at Zarton, called him vile insults and they swore and cursed in ways no child should. Zarton saw the way that La'Tor admired Darrag, and the way he clearly lusted after her, and he saw the hellish spawn that were the pair's children. 'What are their names?' he asked, and La'Tor told him: 'I so named the boy Felar and the girl Felir. Fitting names, are they not?' the names of demons from the lore that speaks of the demons and devils that dwell in Gre'thor. Zarton was disgusted at this blasphemy, and he remained strong in the face of it, not allowing his horror to show. Inside, he was consumed by rage.”
I paused to clear my throat, and then continued telling the story that I needed to tell, that I had kept in me for a great many years and told no one the details of. And this is what I revealed: “Zarton finally let his rage full empower him, and he unsheathed his ceremonial sword, preparing to use the blade of it to slaughter all those before him, yes even the two children... for he perceived the lot of them as demons to be fought and slain with neither mercy nor consideration being given to the deed. However, as soon as he lunged forward, the sword fell from his hands and he himself fell to his knees in agony as the fast acting poison that his wife had adorned her lips with coursed through his veins. Her kiss had doomed him! As he neared his end, he too sold his soul to Fek'lhr for the chance to avenge himself. It was a bit of a silent prayer, prayed only in his mind, but it was terrible and potent, and powerful nonetheless. It did not seem to slow the poison, or lessen his dying, however. Those before him laughed at him as he suffered, but the great devil of Gre'thor accepted Zarton's offer at the very last moment. Before expiring into death, the betrayed lord of the house picked up his sword at last and used it to slaw his younger brother, plunging the blade deep into Darrag's chest. Darrag, as his final act, drew forth his dagger and plunged it into Zarton's right eye, and in this way the two brothers met their end and entered Gre'thor. Seeing all of this, the twins drew near the corpses and smiled. They smiled at the two fallen brothers... and they smiled at their mother, who felt only horror and dread consume her deathless form. So lost in darkness was she, that she had become a demon as had her children, who were born demons. They did not age, nor did they die. When sick, they got better. When injured or wounded, they healed rapidly. It was a curse enacted upon them by Fek'lhr, and from that day forth the house of Draclon was accursed. However, the boy twin, Felar, repented eventually of the evils of his blood and he prayed to Kahless to have his curse lifted from him. And in a vision, Kahless appeared to him and said: 'Because you have yet to do any evil yourself... unlike your mother and sister who have both done wicked deeds over the long centuries since they embraced their darkness... I shall lift from you the curse of immortality that is currently upon them. I will breathe mortal life into your body, and you will breathe for the first time. As soon as that is done, you will begin to slowly age as mortals do and you will eventually one day die as mortals do. But whether you enter Gre'thor or earn a place at my table in Sto'vo'kor, the choice shall be yours. I can lead you to salvation, but I cannot force you to partake of it.' And once Kahless had done as he promised, he departed from the presence of Felar and returned to the glory of Sto'vo'kor. Following that, Felar left his ancestral home to make his way in the world and try to redeem himself for the better. He eventually came to a tribe of the ancient spiritual beings known in our ancient lore as the Gin. And he dwelt among them and grew to maturity considering himself a member of their kindred. He took for himself a young woman of their kind as his wife, and together they founded a dynasty that for a time became so powerful that it shifted the balance of power in the Empire such as it was in those days. It was a new dynasty under a new house name, for Felar had cast aside his family and house and the evil of their name. This influence upon the Empire remained strong until Felar's death in a glorious battle prior to his fiftieth year of mortal life. Unknown to him in the decades leading up to his end, his Gin wife... whose name was Tor'rad... was at one point with child. She herself had learned the actual history of her husband's bloodline, and she was tempted by Fek'lhr into darkness. She vowed to restore the long passed power and glory of the house of Draclon, and in secret she thus gave birth to her husband's two children. For twins ran in his family line! The boy twin was given the name Zahn, and the girl twin was given the name Sthenno. Tor'rad took the twins and did depart from her home and family to go and live in Castle Draclon with the immortal La'Tor and her daughter Felir. She waited until her husband was in the throes of dying to do this, and by then the twins were well of mature age. She had kept them apart from her husband and kept them a secret from all the Gin during the years leading up to her departure, and it is said that she never took another mate again following Felar's passing. Luckily, the particular curse that was enacted upon La'Tor and Felir... was not visited upon either Tor'rad or her two children.”
I could see that the woman I was telling all this to was becoming uncomfortable, and so I hurried my tale along as fast as I could manage it, without leaving out any details. I said, at length: “Zahn went on to become a great military leader, but his penchant for cruelty towards prisoners of war led to the curse falling upon him in a different way. It manifested in a curse of death, for at the height of his glory and honor... such as it was... he perished rather horrifically and gruesomely during a mining accident on the moon of Praxis. His remains were said to have been eaten whole by a monstrous lizard-like creature as commonly dwelt in the caverns close to the mines wherein he was sent to oversee an inspection. For her part, his twin sister Sthenno became Felir's apprentice in the dark mystical arts that the eternal child did practice. Sthenno never took a mate for herself, but she had many lovers and from a tryst with one of them she gave birth to a son whom she named Karius. The boy's features were more Gin than Klingon, and his eyes were said to have been dark and emotionless even during his childhood... but more so as he matured and grew to adulthood. He enrolled in the Imperial Star Academy, such as it was in those times... with space travel likewise being as it was in those days... and he developed a talent for shadowy dealings and things such as espionage and assassination. These things he excelled in after graduating... and as had his forbears he took a Gin wife and they had twins. This time it was twin sons that were so born, and their names were recorded as Tor and Dar. Tor Draclon, for his part, wanted only to serve the Empire and prove his worth in battle as an honorable warrior. He enrolled in the Imperial Star Academy as was the way, and he did so at the age of twelve. His brother Dar, however, felt that his destiny lay in a different direction. With his grandmother's assistance, he became the fourth Draclon to be granted the fearsome title of Mortum Hesta, one of many titles given to those who rise high in the ranks of the dark cult that La'Tor and her daughter Felir were still the supreme heads of. For though the pair led from the shadows, their hand was upon all the doings of their house and most especially all that Dar did. Tor was likewise brought into the fold, and was eventually bestowed the same title but even so his influence in the cult was lesser than that of his more infamous and feared brother. By the time that Dar decided to enroll in the Imperial Star Academy, he had learned enough to rise up in the ranks quite rapidly. No task was too difficult for him to accomplish, and no training mission too complicated for him to see through. He proved to be a great warrior, and upon graduating he joined an elite organization with ties to both the Klingon High Council and the High Command of the Imperial military, which at that time were two separate organizations prior to their eventual unification. Within this power structure, Dar Draclon did discover a complex plot that would culminate in the assassination of a high ranking council member by a terrorist sect of renegades who harbored an ancient grudge against the person in question. For the act of bringing the plot to light, Dar was given the rank of lieutenant, and the coveted Honorific of Surtai, for saving someone who was a member of both the High Council and the High Command. But what no one realized was that it was Dar himself who orchestrated the entire plot, only to at the last moment see a greater opportunity for himself by foiling it and personally executing those involved in the lot before any of them who name him as its' perpetrator. For it was he, he held the grudge I mentioned, a grudge that went back far into the history of the house of Draclon. Even fewer knew that it had been the eternal La'Tor who was the one who insisted that the old grudge be finally acted upon. Yet, she had to at last be content with letting it go, when she saw that Dar was rising ever higher in glory and honor. Which did mean greater glory and honor for her house! Despite that Dar did something dishonorable to obtain it. So evil was he, that the curse of immortality was visited upon him and to this day he is still the head of the house of Draclon. Or rather, the figurehead of it, with La'Tor and Felir being the true power behind him and his every decision. Dar often returns home to his ancestral castle to meet with Felir and to be by her tutored personally in the unholiest of arts. Sthenno had tutored him previously, but she did die eventually from extreme old age, whilst Felir... like her mother... remained undying. The same curse as was visited upon Dar also fell upon his brother Tor, and neither of them have aged even one day since.”
I then elaborated upon recent developments with Tor, explaining: “Breaking with what seemed like a family tradition, Tor most recently took for himself a Klingon woman for his bride rather than one of the Gin. Cursed though he is, Tor is seen in the family as weaker than his brother Dar, and it is no real secret that Dar covets a seat upon the High Council of our present era. He hopes to one day see the old power of his house return, and to have the name of Draclon be feared throughout the Empire and even beyond its' borders. But Tor has, to his credit, kept his brother's ambitions in check and whatever La'Tor and Felir think of the situation they do not say. I only know of all this because of my blood relation to the house of Draclon, and so as you can see... I shall not say how, but I am privy to knowledge that in all truth I probably should not know. Knowledge that I have chosen to share with you, and with those who shall read what I am chronicling in distant years to come. Now, what is my reward for sharing this with you?” And as soon as I asked that question, the woman before me smiled cunningly and said in a flat monotone: “Oh, I knew you would ask me that question. What indeed! What indeed.” She then did lunge forward and sink her teeth into my neck. I swooned and fell into unconsciousness swiftly, and as soon as I awoke I noticed that three days and nights had passed. I was pale, as if all the color drained in full from from skin... and I was no longer breathing, yet I lived. My ridges had changed, my forehead was smooth, and I was now fully of the house of Q'Kadrak. There could be no returning home for me, not after this! So it was true then, they are vampires. Or something equivalent. And now, I was as well. I felt a thirst for Klingon blood, and knew that once it became unbearable I would need to sate that thirst by any means necessary. Perhaps I might go out and pick a fight, get into a duel, and claim the right to eat the heart of my defeated foe. That would serve to slake my thirst for the time being, and no one truly would think twice about it. Wherever the woman went, I know not, but she left instructions on where I could meet with her again. Along with the message: “This is my gift to you, the gift of immortality. We have become the new gods of this world, and we shall one day be gods over other worlds. We rule from behind the scenes, we influence things from the shadows. What is honor, compared to this? My house is not as infamous as Draclon, my clan not as cruel perhaps... but we have our ways, we have our means of getting what we want. There is a feud coming someday between the houses of Q'Kadrak and Draclon and it will be a glorious battle between dark gods, with the hearts and minds and souls of countless who know not what is at stake being on the line. In the centuries to come, you will remain as you are right now, and you will remain Klingon in ways that will redefine what that means for you. Come, seek me out as soon as you are ready to join me! I await you in the academy I spoke to you about, the one on the other planet, the one people now call simply Nguu. Join me there, and leave your old life behind you... a greater destiny awaits us both. I would be your mate... if you will have me.” Her instructions did so include directions to the star port that most swiftly runs space going vessels to Nguu, in case I did not know where that star port was. She wanted to leave nothing to chance, and so I have decided to join her and allow her to become my mate. I will write all of this down, record it for posterity and give what I have recorded into the keeping of a trusted person at the university. I will instruct them to strike from all records my name, and I shall not give my name in these writings of mine that I am finishing up even now. I am now more Klingon, than Klingon. I am something ancient, something from before recorded history. I shall not say that I am a god, but whatever it is that I am... it is something powerful, strange, and unexpected. A vampire, yes! But so much more besides. I will not tell my family I am leaving, I shall let them believe I have simply gone missing. I no longer look the same, they would hardly be able to recognize me now that I look the way that I do. Indeed... what is honor, compared to this? I cannot say, but I hope to learn. All my life, I have believed in honor, in the warrior codes that all who are truly Klingon live by... but I never once questioned what lies beyond that. This is my chance to learn, and to grow beyond all that I have been previously. If you read this, in some future that I cannot conceive of... you will know in full the infamy and darkness of two noble houses of the Empire. I am not proud of it!
But I have accepted my part in their doings, which I now hasten to participate further in. Darkness is not alone, in and of itself, enough to disgrace a noble house, and I doubt that anything revealed within my writings here shall serve as cause for such disgrace. So long as these two houses remain loyal to the Empire and continue to at least feign service to it, they shall remain in good standing thereby. One plot, does not warrant disgrace. Pacts with devils, do not warrant disgrace. In the Klingon Empire, honor is all, or at least the facade of honor. Let people see us however they wish! What is within, is not for eyes to see which are not initiated into that seeing. I have been initiated today, and I see with new eyes rather than those I had before. I welcome this change! I relish it. Consider what I have written merely a story, if it gives you comfort to do so. None of what I reveal in it can be proven, and those involved would if questioned surely deny all of it. If it serves the best interests of the Empire, bury this text deep within the most obscure section of the historical knowledge database of the university that up until now I did work for and serve the interests of loyally. Let access to it be restricted, if need be! But do not destroy it. That is my only request. Knowledge can be hidden, but it must never be lost to time. That is naturally the scholar in me talking, rather than the warrior. I am more than a mere warrior, and have always been more. Now, I shall have the chance to truly prove my worth! And bring glory to my new house. In a way I have died this day, and it was truly a great day to die. Tomorrow shall be even greater! And every day that I eternally live. You have not killed all your gods, oh people of Kronos... and through blood, some of them continue to exist in new forms that you never expected. For blood carries life, and sustenance for those of us who shall live forever. The clerics would call this heresy, and yet it is wonderful this odd little heresy that is secretly truth! I do not know if I can die by violence... being unable to die by other means, if the legends surrounding vampires are to be believed... but should I meet my end one day, may that day be far off and my long existence in the meantime filled with great glory, I cannot say if I will be welcomed by Kahless into Sto'vo'kor or forced to dwell among the damned of Gre'thor. All I know, is I will welcome whatever comes with courage all the ferocity of a true Klingon! I am perhaps of the clan of the damned now, and also the house thereof. So be it! If this is what it feels like to be damned, then it is wonderful. For though thirst and hunger fill me, power fills me as well... a power undreamed of. It is needful for me to ask she who is my benefactor and initiator for details as to how to best harness this power. She will aid me, and she will love me even as I shall love her. For eternal love, it is worth a trip to Gre'thor one day, and if that is where we must abide in the end of all things, we shall at least abide there together... she and I. Farewell to the light of the past, I shall be a scholar no more after today. The warrior in me shall be given full reign, and if it be not honor I fight for then I shall fight for love of she who awakened me to this new state of being in which I now walk. Love too, is a cause worth fighting for, and dying for if need be! If I have learned but one thing from my study of Klingon history, it is that.
(Sometime after submitting what he had written for posterity to the university he had worked for, the nameless Klingon warrior who had formerly been a scholar met with the mysterious woman who had transformed him into something akin to a vampire. After that, they seemed to drop off the face of any knowing regarding their places in Klingon history. Their doings became the stuff of horror stories told around campfires, or rumors cast about in taverns by warriors seeking to one up each other with tales that can make one's blood run cold... in order to test one another in terms of their courage. The peculiar writings submitted to the university were placed in a sealed and encrypted sub-section of the historical knowledge database in order to protect the reputations of the houses mentioned in them. And so, those houses themselves never had their reputations more tarnished than they already had been previously. When open conflict finally came between the notorious houses of Q'Kadrak and Draclon, it was little different that any other such feud. Dar's ambitions were halted when his brother finally beheaded him and sent his head to the Q'Kadrak elders as a peace offering. That... was how their feud finally ended.)
(Inspired by stories found in the book “Let's Trek: The Budget Traveller's Guide to Klingon Worlds”.)
This is a rather dark story, which was hidden deep within a historical knowledge database of a highly respected university on the Klingon home world of Kronos. The author's name was stricken off records.
Upon one of the more remote planets of the Klingon Empire, there was a clan known for their strange and mysterious behavior. No one can be said to be truly familiar with their origins, but it is known that those origins date back far into the history of the Klingon peoples, perhaps predating all that is recorded by most reputable historians. Some claim that the tales of this clan date back to ancient NgoKnuur... but that is a belief considered to be on the fringes of accepted history and even accepted myth and legend. It is like a whisper conferred in the shadows, heard only in the dark of night, and many attribute such dark and peculiar things to the very clan of whom these tales speak. Perhaps they themselves were actually the authors of those stories! We shall never know the truth of that, for even those who are of that clan in this current era do not remember with certainty. What is certain, is that the clan itself were the last of a long forgotten bloodline, a sub-race of the peoples of Nguus who are recorded to have been named the Halbskaal. In appearance, they are not like most others of the Klingon race, nor are they like most of the known sub-races of our noble kind. I have actually met with a member of this clan, and I can attest to their appearance being... unique. The crest of their ridges are as follows... small bump-like ridges from the base and back of the neck to the topmost summit of their skulls, with the ridges becoming a great deal more pronounced at they near that peak... but that is where they end, leaving the forehead just as smooth as if they were plagued by the Augment Virus that makes we of the Klingon race appear similar to humans. Yet, it is a fact that this clan was never affected by that virus, and so it is unknown how or why they came to look the way that they do. They are a minority in the Empire, perhaps even the very greatest minority since their numbers are tiny compared to others, even those deemed obscure. The odd thing is, that the member of this clan that I spoke with told me that both she and the others of her blood prefer to keep their heads shaven, eyebrows and all, as if they were preparing for a declaration of war. That is not strange, in and of itself, for many others do the same and it is a matter of personal choice for any Klingon to either do so or not. So long as they are aware that others will view them as being of a far more aggressive nature due to the association of a shaved head in Klingon society with customs of war. So this is how I came to know the nature of their ridges, and I realized that if they actually did choose to grow out their hear and wear it long as most prefer to during times of peace... they would look exactly as if they suffered from the Augment Virus, and would likely be assumed to be of those unhappy ones. And so, the woman of this clan did tell me that her people actually prefer to company of those who do happen to have the virus that makes them appear more human. She told me that in their company they find a kinship of a kind, and are always treated as equals. Back during the days of the wars with humans it was perhaps not uncommon for members of this clan to walk among the unhappy ones when they did go forth to battle the United Federation of Planets and the Federation's Starfleet puppets. Although we in the Klingon Empire do not adhere to prejudices against others of our race, nor any of the sub-races thereof, we find it difficult to trust humans even when they claim to come to us in peace. Perhaps it all goes back to the days of those now long past wars? And so, ans you can expect... members of that clan I tell you of herein, they too have the same distrust when it comes to humans. I suspect that is why they choose to shave their heads... in order to look as Klingon as possible. Just as how most who once did suffer from the Augment Virus have over time decided to accept the cure that was developed with full gladness in their hearts. A cure that gave ultimately gives on back the ridges that the virus robs one of, restoring their appearance to that of a true Klingon. Not that they were not truly Klingon always, even those so afflicted! But you understand my meaning. And so, this unusual clan is a very honorable one.
This clan I speak of accepts any and all who would join it, without much difficulty and little question. A blood oath and a test of loyalty is all that they impose on a potential member, and one that is through them they are made members of the clan's noble house. I was not told what the oath of their house does actually entail... such blood oaths are sometimes unique to specific houses, nor was I made aware of a single detail regarding the tests that they conduct. I was made to assume that they were brutal even by Klingon standards, and few who undergo the test of loyalty imposed by this particular house survive to tell of it. Those who do, end up with their appearance changed so that they look like all the others of the house, and bear the smooth forehead that is the clan's most recognizable trait. They take to shaving both head and eyebrows after that, and never again are they the same as once they were. They see this as a kind of rebirth, and the only aspect of it that I know for a fact is that they drink the preserved blood of the first founder of their clan and house. How they keep that blood preserved, I did not ask she who did tell me these things, but I believe some form of medical science would have to be involved. Although it almost sounded, the way this woman told the tale of it to me, as if she herself had drank the blood from the mouth of the ancestor of her clan and house himself. Something that clearly is impossible due to her clan's tremendous age and vast history. But she was a strange woman by any stretch of the imagination, and I was and am of the opinion that she spoke metaphorically or symbolically of certain things, at least on occasion. Any sane, rational Klingon would hesitate to join that house if they knew what was wise... if only because it is rumored that the eldest members of it are actually deathless creatures who are said to be mockeries of their once-living selves. No one can honestly say that they have met with the leaders of that house, save only for the members of the clan that runs it. And so, no outsider like myself is made privy to the truth behind these dark and twisted legends. When I asked the woman I interviewed about this, she laughed, chuckled, and slapped me on the back as if I was joking and she found it humorous to hear me say such a thing. But then, her eyes narrowed and she said unto me: “Of course, you would not be allowed to meet with our house's leaders whilst still breathing!” and then she laughed long and loud, and I cannot be sure if she was joking with me or not. I found it most uncomfortable, and I did not bring up the subject again after that. She arranged to meet with me so I could learn the truth of her clan, but I learned nothing at all about those who govern it, and was left feeling as if that were some sort of secret only those they deemed worthy could possibly learn. This made me feel anxious to prove myself worthy in this woman's eyes, not worthy to join her house but worthy of being told the truth I yearned to know. She tasked me with various things to prove myself, and I shall not speak of what she told me to do. In no way were such tasks reasonable or sane, and so I refused to do them and told her the cost was far too high for me to pay, even for such knowledge. She then smiled, and said: “But all knowledge is costly. If there was no cost to it, then how would you know its' worth!” And I nodded my head in agreement, for indeed some things are perhaps worth any cost to some. I, however, could not pay the price she asked of me, and we went back to our discussions after that. But I have gotten far ahead of myself here! The clan of which I speak is known as the Q'Kadrak, and if that name sounds familiar to you then you are surely a reader of obscure texts because you will not find records of them in the usual places. As I said, they in all ways are a dark, mysterious, obscure clan... and their house keeps their secrets with obsessive zeal. I have known clerics of Kahless who are less tight lipped about things, and they too are known for their secrets! In those obscure texts, it is recorded that the Q'Kadrak came to prominence long before we did even have the technology for space travel. I mentioned this to the woman I spoke with, and she told me something I already knew... that due to the great age of her clan and house, it was simply impossible to separate historical fact from ancient myth and legend. I told her again, that the elusiveness of the clan's leaders did little to make that any easier for those interested in learning about such things. The woman then said to me: “Perhaps some things are better kept secret.” And she was dead serious when she said that to me, implying that if I learned more then it would be far worse for me than if I remained ignorant.
She told me then that her most ancient of ancestors were called by others “The Destroyers who Come from the Darkness”, and that in the earliest days of antiquity they communed with the mysterious race of hellish demons known as the Wraiths of NgoKnuur, who so haunted the shadowy regions of the great home planet of the Klingon race during times unfathomable to us today. They held sway of a small but powerful kingdom, although the woman before me said it was more like a tiny empire in and of itself... and from it they committed deeds that have become stories intended to frighten children into behaving. The kind of tales that are designed to chill one's blood and cause one to fear the coming of the night. At length, I was told much of this and it made me feel a sapping of my warrior's courage. For though I am a scholar by trade, I am still a proud warrior by nature... but courage has its' limits! And I was tested by this woman in far too many ways to not feel at least a slight hint of fear. Her clan dwelt in the marshes that exist upon one of the small southern islands that even today people go to only hesitantly, and what things they did, along with the demons they communed with, were the stuff of weird tales indeed. One thing she mentioned was: “Once, upon the ending of the darkest season of the year, we came along with the Wraiths of NgoKnuur to the place appointed for sacrifices, and there we brought the children of the enemies of our clan, there to have their throats cut, there to have their flesh flayed, there to have their hearts eaten by us, their blood drank by us, granting us boons of a sort too terrible to speak of freely. It is a matter personal to our clan, and we do not easily discuss such things with outsiders.” She then did ask me if I still wished to learn more, and I found courage enough to agree that I did. Before proceeding she did a sudden and bizarre thing, however. She took a finger ring from the pocket of her pants, and slipped it over the pointing finger of her left hand. The ring fit over her entire finger like a sort of metal sheathe, and from the tip of it was a sharp claw. I say ring, but this was more like a claw that one could slip over their finger than anything else. With that done, she asked me to extend my right palm and at once... and without warning, although I guessed her intent easily enough... she slashed my palm and did proceed to pull my hand to her mouth in order to drink what blood flowed from that cut. After that, I did bandage the cut and she wiped her mouth off before agreeing to tell me more. “Did my blood taste good to you, woman?” I asked, and she told me: “It suffices, but I could not live off of it.” She chuckled and laughed once again, and I took this for a spot of dark humor and nothing more. A small price to pay for knowledge, the humoring of this grim woman in such a way as I have described. A warrior suffers a great deal more, in battle! So this, to me, may as well have been love play. And I must confess, I did in truth find this woman most attractive despite that her skin was the same pale white as an albino's would be. I suppose some might consider such a woman to be exotic, but I longed to hear all she had to tell me and any other thoughts I may have had regarding her were secondary to the task at hand, which I was in truth being paid a substantial amount of credit for by the university that I work for. When I have, after I am through with the interview, submitted everything to the heads of the university for review, I do not doubt that this will surely increase my standing in society tremendously! I am unearthing things of the sort that other scholars would be too frightened to delve into. Is that not befitting of a Klingon warrior?
The woman, when she began speaking to me again, did tell me that the original name of her clan was in fact Q'ka-Dakula, and I mentioned to her that Dakula was a word used in some places to refer in fact to vampires. She then replied: “Q'Kadrak is a clan as old as memory! You have heard the stories about the elders of our clan, but what if I told you that there is truth of those stories. What would you say to that? Perhaps they were vampires, perhaps sorcerers, perhaps something else, something older and far more terrible. Perhaps they were gods who survived the slaying of the gods that took place in the most ancient legends that tell of such things. But what was the nature of the old Klingon gods? Today, none are allowed to know... but I shall say unto you, that our elders experimented of old with the most awful mysteries of the known universe. They looked upon things that would drive lesser beings to madness.”
She went on to tell me that there are places still in existence today on Kronos that are scarred by the powers that her ancestors tapped into and unleashed upon the world. She said: “There are regions once filled with cool lakes and streams that were made to boil and burn when fire and lava replaces the water that once flowed in the lakes and stream beds. Or, do you believe that the demons alone did such? No... even demons need physical agents to work their will, and my ancestors, the eldest of all of the elders of my clan, were such agents of chaos. If I were to take you to my ancestral home, you would feel just how different the very air has become in that place, the vibrations left by the incantations chanted of old still can be felt upon the skin, and deeper than the skin. But knowing this, would you come if so invited? I doubt it! Our house gets few visitors, our clan has few whom we feel able to fully confide in. Witches, warlocks, and worse we have been called throughout our history, but only by our enemies. Were we in truth merely demonized, or did we earn every such black title bestowed upon us?” I told her that history is impartial on the matter, and does not judge one way or the other about it. Rather, all known points of view are always considered and presented for people to understand. Then, she laughed and said: “Yes! Ah yes, yes... all 'known' points of view, of course. But what do you truly know about us? Nothing! It is all rumors, superstitions, stories and nothing more than stories. All of it mixed with history, as if the act of wedding such ill fitting partners was even possible! My ancestors fought demons as much as they did commune with them... and they slew dragons in the days when still dragons flew in the skies above our home world. Those dragons they did not slay, they domesticated and rode upon the backs thereof, thus striking terror into any who opposed them. Who was there to witness these deeds? Many! But they have chosen to remember things through a twisted lens, and I will freely admit we have done little to actually discourage people from thinking of us in a dark light.” She told told me much of her clan's history, as much as she felt freely able to relate, and she listed their countless contributions to the Klingon Empire over the centuries upon centuries since its' first founding. She mentioned the ancient name of the Nguu civilization, and told me of how her people aided in its' growth and expansion. She told me: “Strange to be sure, are the gifts of my house, but we have always used those gifts on behalf of the people, never in any way against them. Only our enemies did we punish, slay, and sacrifice! And back when this was by us done, it was common to be brutal in the extreme to one's foes. We did little different from other clans and other houses... only our methods differed, but we all have blood on our hands just the same. Blood spilled for honor! Is that not in harmony with the ancient Klingon warrior codes of those times... and, in many ways, with the codes of honor that are upheld to this very day?” She referred to archaic names for things, her voice was thick with an accent unheard of in countless centuries, and she spoke of things so long past as to be the stuff of mythology as if she had witnessed them firsthand. If I were not rational, I would have thought her to be one of the immortal elders of her house that feature so prominently in old tales that likely hold little no actual truth within them. But a part of me could not help but wonder if I was in the presence of something more than simply a woman from an obscure but powerful house. This played about in my mind as I asked her further questions and awaited what answers she could give me. She insisted on repeatedly referring to Kronos by it's now long antiquated name, NgoKnuur... a name I doubt I have ever heard any scholar or historian in all my years of life use. These days, that name is but used for one of the first and most ancient civilizations to come into prominence upon our home planet... and it is most commonly associated in my mind with old historical texts in which the lines between the facts and the fancy is blurry indeed. To be sure, there are some who occasionally use that name for our world, but it is rare in the extreme compared to how it once was in times past. Mostly, it cropped up in the bygone days when the Augment Virus was at its' height and it was a term used by some of those so afflicted with it instead of using the proper name Kronos. They did this to differentiate themselves from other Klingons of the same era, and to hark back to the ancient days before the virus existed. It was one of the ways in which they connected with being Klingon, and was a coping mechanism that was useful.
Our home planet has many names, and many of the sub-races of our species use a variety of them for various reasons. But this woman was clearly not one of those who typically used the term NgoKnuur... and I found that to be quite the peculiar quirk of her personality. I asked her if that was common in her clan, or if it was a result of her having close dealings in the past with those afflicted with the Augment Virus. She told me, that it was indeed very common in her clan, if not the rule rather than the exception. She further elaborated: “Given that we trace our ancestry all the way back to the civilization that bore that very same name as once did our world... you will agree that it is a goodly way of honoring where it is we came from. We are the last living heirs to that lost civilization, and so we keep the old traditions firmly upheld, as is dictated to us by our elders.” I reminded her that once our species developed the use of space travel, one of the earliest worlds colonized by Klingon space explorers was a planet that today is known by that very name, NgoKnuur. Once our home world started being called Kronos in all of the official records, that other older name for it was bestowed upon that other planet. It was believed that it would thus help to alleviate any confusion in the minds of the average Klingon, and most understood our history well enough to realize that this new planet, now called NgoKnuur, was not the same as was written of in the historical records that refer to Kronos as NgoKnuur. I asked her if she had any family or relatives on that world, and she admitted: “That planet has upon its' surface an island that is one of the major strongholds of our clan and house. The island is surrounded by a tempestuous sea and many seagoing ships often have been wrecked upon its' shores to the point where people mostly travel to it only by way of a shuttle craft or an air car shielded from the winds. No one journeys there by boat any longer! Upon that island is a military academy attended almost exclusively by members of our clan. It is a particularly demanding school, and we train some of the best sword masters and sword mistresses in the entire empire. Are you familiar with the name Kveld Q'Kadrak Azhin? He is the son of Kvass, also known as Kvass the One-Eyed.” I told her that although I was well acquainted with the great Kvass, a war hero whose tactics are studied from time to time by young warriors in training... I was not familiar in the least with his son, nor was I even aware he had ever had a male heir to his legacy. She then told me: “Oh, he does, I can assure you! Kveld is actually a good friend of mine, and he is an instructor at the academy on the island I was telling you about. Kveld has a complicated history with our clan, since as you know his father is most definitely not one of us. Rather, Kveld was adopted into clan Azhin not long by any means after he was born. His mother died bringing him into this world, and she was merely one of many concubines bound in the service of the great Kvass. Old One-Eye did not want the child, and his second bound concubine was forced by him to give the boy up rather than raise him herself. She contacted clan Azhin, the clan she herself came from, and that was how Kveld came to bear that clan's name as his own. Now, a secret kept by Kvass that he does not ever let be freely known, is that he was actually born into clan Q'Kadrak but was unable to keep to our traditions, despite being of our blood... and so it was that we fully exiled him from our house, after which he founded his own house with the support of a clan he soon formed following his exile, mostly from members of the warrior sect that he had most personally trained and bound to his service through the means of a blood oath. Since he was never branded either a traitor to us or a liability, we left him alone. However, once he was adopted into clan Azhin, Kveld was told of his father's true heritage and made aware that the blood of clan Q'Kadrak flowed in his veins. In that moment, Kveld son of Kvass, took the dual family name of Q'Kadrak Azhin for his own, and that is how he became known as Kveld Q'Kadrak Azhin. Due to ties of close alliance between clan Azhin and clan Q'Kadrak, Kveld grew up honoring both and pledging many blood oaths to both clans equally. He was far more willing and able to honor our traditions than his father had ever been, and we eventually bestowed upon him the deep honor of becoming an instructor at our academy on NgoKnuur. The only thing he is not allowed to do, is to speak of the innermost mysteries of either clan to which he is pledged, as that would be dishonorable according to our laws and noble traditions.”
As time has gone on, people have most commonly referred to that other planet simply as Nguu, and I suspect it is done to further differentiate it from that old name for Kronos that is no longer officially or commonly in use. I told this to the woman I was meeting with at present, and she found that to be a bit amusing to hear, and I was surprised she had not been aware of this change since practically everyone in modern Klingon society today is well aware of it and well if not personally acquainted with the new name. “Are you that isolated, that you have no experience with such current terms for things?” I asked her, and she replied honestly: “I am precisely that isolated, I fear. I rarely leave the company of the inner circle of my house, and the newest developments in Klingon society mean little to someone who is as old fashioned as I am, despite how young I may appear to be physically. Mentally, I am as ancient as is my clan and my house! There are reasons for this, but I cannot tell you what they are. I doubt you would believe me if I did, in any case. But suffice it to say, I am many decades behind on a great many things.” I asked her how she felt about the current state of peace between the Klingon Empire and the United Federation of Planets. I personally never trusted the Federation, since my family retained vivid, awful memories of having lost loved ones to human aggression during the old wars. My house supported the idea of remaining Klingon and not allowing the Federation to dictate terms to us... we have accepted, if reluctantly, the peace that was forged thanks to the Khitomer Accords, but never is our recollection of the warlike times far from our memories. The woman before me, stated in reply to my explaining all of that to her: “We took part in those wars of old, and we would take part in new ones if the Federation did ever betray the peace accords. We would do so without a second thought! Our loyalty is to the Empire, now as it ever was in times past. Sometimes, I wonder if there are some living in the Empire today who have forgotten where their true loyalties lie... they walk and talk with Federation dogs, and I suspect a great many of them are being held on Federation leashes like dogs. The light of Kahless does not burn as brightly in them as it does in those of us whose loyalty is only to the Empire. That, is what I think of the whole matter. In our clan, and our house at least, we remain truly Klingon and do not ever allow the Federation to lessen our glory.” I found then, during that exchange, that this woman and I were in fact kindred spirits. Both of us were true warriors living in a time when many have forgotten what it means to bear that title. For though I am now a scholar, I never forget my roots, nor should any true Klingon. The woman then took me by surprise by asking me: “Now that I have told you much that you did not know of my clan and my house... enough to surely sate your scholarly appetite for knowledge... will it be too much to ask that you tell me something of yours in turn?” I was loathe to do so, and it was not for no reason. My family was an old family, but not an ancient one by any means. Even so, we had a great many secrets we did not want to become public knowledge. We had come up from disgrace at one point in our history, and there was a time when we were regarded as evil by many. I always saw it as a kind of penance for the misdeeds of my ancestors, that I now served to try and bring knowledge to the minds of my fellow citizens of the Empire. However, we had bonded over our conversation, this pale woman and I, and I wanted to honor that bonding with further trust. Thus, I told her things that it is my hope do not further disgrace my clan and my house. Though I am not confident this will not come back to somehow bite me in the end! I said to her as follows: “You know of House Draclon, I am sure. Most people know of it, as it is one of the oldest bloodlines on Kronos. It is also one of the most evil, cruel, and murderous of all the minor houses. The clan that serves it is excluded from most military service on behalf of the Empire, and it's supreme ruler... Dar Draclon... is known to practice forbidden black arts of a sort that have surely earned him and all his kin a place in the lowest hell of Gre'thor. There is even talk that the members of that house worship the dead gods, whose spirits they commune with through some form of necromancy aided by illegal sciences. Well, the fact of the matter is that my family is very closely related to them... we came into Draclon's history rather late, but very intimately. As such, I have a great deal of Draclon blood in my veins despite not being a member of that house in the full capacity.”
The woman went even paler, if that was possibly, and seemed ill at ease to hear me admit to this. She then stated nervously: “I regret that I made you feel it needful to admit this to me! That is not something you should have told another living soul. The evils perpetrated by House Draclon go back hundreds of years... many hundreds of years... and the infamy of it is something that even makes my people react in horror to hear tales of what transpired.” I then explained to her: “I am not surprised! I know how it all started, too. When the eldest brother of the house's first founder, did something unspeakable. The man's name was Zarton Draclon, and it is said that he left to fight in a great war against an enemy that was by all accounts considered unbeatable. He left his younger brother, Darrag, behind him, and also he left his own wife, La'Tor. Needless to say, they were not happy about the whole situation in the least. But it was made worse by the fact that if truth were put to it Darrag lacked any semblance of honor in his wretched heart. If the tales are to be believed, he actually made a blood sacrifice after abducting a small child and consuming the little girl's flesh after offering her blood to the chief of all devils, Fek'lhr. Once the blood was offered and the child's remains were burned upon a ritual altar, the demon appeared to Darrag and did offer him the power to bend another to his will. Darrag used that dark boon in order to seduce the previously virtuous La'Tor, whom he bent to his will so completely that she became as twisted as he in every imaginable way. The two of them procured more sacrificial victims, and their crimes were so vile that the murders they committed to appease their demonic master were like none ever seen before in all of Klingon history. Within the walls of their castle, high in the mountains of the Bor'kol range, they did enslave and torture hundreds of kidnapped victims within the span of six years. They impaled, flayed, disemboweled and mutilated primarily women and children during that span of time, and their screams echoed throughout the halls of the castle, carried forth from it at times upon the howling winds that do so oft batter those rugged peaks even today. But no one ever heard their cries, and so their fates were at length sealed by the two fiends who were the architects of their suffering. Worst of all, some of the girls and boys were defiled before they were killed, and all because Darrag was consumed by madness and a lust for the wholesale destruction of innocence. These deaths and the manner in which they were thus wrought caused a dark, infernal, uncontrollable power to be unleashed within the castle. Ever night that passed, the power grew and at last darkness consumed the place and made it a domain of Gre'thor. That was the beginning of the infamy of House Draclon, but it was not the end of it by far. When a decade so passed, Zarton returned home in the happy throes of victory over his fearsome enemy. He was innocent in his expectations of what lay within his ancestral home, and when he entered the castle he was in no way prepared for the sights that met his gaze within its' now bloodstained walls. His younger brother... the monstrous Darrag... was nowhere to be seen, and his wife La'Tor greeted him as if nothing at all did seem to be the matter. However, when his wife leaned forward to kiss him, Zarton noticed that her eyes were dead looking, and that her body was as cold as a grave. Her skin was pale, and she appeared to be not quite living but not quite dead either. She also seemed not to be breathing. And yet, she lived still! He noticed all of this, and trembled inside, but he chose not to mention it to her. Instead, he let her lead him into the warm hearth of the great hall. There, she laughed at him and ran to the waiting Darrag, and in front of her husband she kissed her unholy lover, who smiled in a way that was sinister to behold. At that moment, the eight year old son and daughter... both of them twins... that had been born to Darrag and La'Tor did walk out from a side room. They were just as cold and dead appearing as their mother. The twins laughed at Zarton, called him vile insults and they swore and cursed in ways no child should. Zarton saw the way that La'Tor admired Darrag, and the way he clearly lusted after her, and he saw the hellish spawn that were the pair's children. 'What are their names?' he asked, and La'Tor told him: 'I so named the boy Felar and the girl Felir. Fitting names, are they not?' the names of demons from the lore that speaks of the demons and devils that dwell in Gre'thor. Zarton was disgusted at this blasphemy, and he remained strong in the face of it, not allowing his horror to show. Inside, he was consumed by rage.”
I paused to clear my throat, and then continued telling the story that I needed to tell, that I had kept in me for a great many years and told no one the details of. And this is what I revealed: “Zarton finally let his rage full empower him, and he unsheathed his ceremonial sword, preparing to use the blade of it to slaughter all those before him, yes even the two children... for he perceived the lot of them as demons to be fought and slain with neither mercy nor consideration being given to the deed. However, as soon as he lunged forward, the sword fell from his hands and he himself fell to his knees in agony as the fast acting poison that his wife had adorned her lips with coursed through his veins. Her kiss had doomed him! As he neared his end, he too sold his soul to Fek'lhr for the chance to avenge himself. It was a bit of a silent prayer, prayed only in his mind, but it was terrible and potent, and powerful nonetheless. It did not seem to slow the poison, or lessen his dying, however. Those before him laughed at him as he suffered, but the great devil of Gre'thor accepted Zarton's offer at the very last moment. Before expiring into death, the betrayed lord of the house picked up his sword at last and used it to slaw his younger brother, plunging the blade deep into Darrag's chest. Darrag, as his final act, drew forth his dagger and plunged it into Zarton's right eye, and in this way the two brothers met their end and entered Gre'thor. Seeing all of this, the twins drew near the corpses and smiled. They smiled at the two fallen brothers... and they smiled at their mother, who felt only horror and dread consume her deathless form. So lost in darkness was she, that she had become a demon as had her children, who were born demons. They did not age, nor did they die. When sick, they got better. When injured or wounded, they healed rapidly. It was a curse enacted upon them by Fek'lhr, and from that day forth the house of Draclon was accursed. However, the boy twin, Felar, repented eventually of the evils of his blood and he prayed to Kahless to have his curse lifted from him. And in a vision, Kahless appeared to him and said: 'Because you have yet to do any evil yourself... unlike your mother and sister who have both done wicked deeds over the long centuries since they embraced their darkness... I shall lift from you the curse of immortality that is currently upon them. I will breathe mortal life into your body, and you will breathe for the first time. As soon as that is done, you will begin to slowly age as mortals do and you will eventually one day die as mortals do. But whether you enter Gre'thor or earn a place at my table in Sto'vo'kor, the choice shall be yours. I can lead you to salvation, but I cannot force you to partake of it.' And once Kahless had done as he promised, he departed from the presence of Felar and returned to the glory of Sto'vo'kor. Following that, Felar left his ancestral home to make his way in the world and try to redeem himself for the better. He eventually came to a tribe of the ancient spiritual beings known in our ancient lore as the Gin. And he dwelt among them and grew to maturity considering himself a member of their kindred. He took for himself a young woman of their kind as his wife, and together they founded a dynasty that for a time became so powerful that it shifted the balance of power in the Empire such as it was in those days. It was a new dynasty under a new house name, for Felar had cast aside his family and house and the evil of their name. This influence upon the Empire remained strong until Felar's death in a glorious battle prior to his fiftieth year of mortal life. Unknown to him in the decades leading up to his end, his Gin wife... whose name was Tor'rad... was at one point with child. She herself had learned the actual history of her husband's bloodline, and she was tempted by Fek'lhr into darkness. She vowed to restore the long passed power and glory of the house of Draclon, and in secret she thus gave birth to her husband's two children. For twins ran in his family line! The boy twin was given the name Zahn, and the girl twin was given the name Sthenno. Tor'rad took the twins and did depart from her home and family to go and live in Castle Draclon with the immortal La'Tor and her daughter Felir. She waited until her husband was in the throes of dying to do this, and by then the twins were well of mature age. She had kept them apart from her husband and kept them a secret from all the Gin during the years leading up to her departure, and it is said that she never took another mate again following Felar's passing. Luckily, the particular curse that was enacted upon La'Tor and Felir... was not visited upon either Tor'rad or her two children.”
I could see that the woman I was telling all this to was becoming uncomfortable, and so I hurried my tale along as fast as I could manage it, without leaving out any details. I said, at length: “Zahn went on to become a great military leader, but his penchant for cruelty towards prisoners of war led to the curse falling upon him in a different way. It manifested in a curse of death, for at the height of his glory and honor... such as it was... he perished rather horrifically and gruesomely during a mining accident on the moon of Praxis. His remains were said to have been eaten whole by a monstrous lizard-like creature as commonly dwelt in the caverns close to the mines wherein he was sent to oversee an inspection. For her part, his twin sister Sthenno became Felir's apprentice in the dark mystical arts that the eternal child did practice. Sthenno never took a mate for herself, but she had many lovers and from a tryst with one of them she gave birth to a son whom she named Karius. The boy's features were more Gin than Klingon, and his eyes were said to have been dark and emotionless even during his childhood... but more so as he matured and grew to adulthood. He enrolled in the Imperial Star Academy, such as it was in those times... with space travel likewise being as it was in those days... and he developed a talent for shadowy dealings and things such as espionage and assassination. These things he excelled in after graduating... and as had his forbears he took a Gin wife and they had twins. This time it was twin sons that were so born, and their names were recorded as Tor and Dar. Tor Draclon, for his part, wanted only to serve the Empire and prove his worth in battle as an honorable warrior. He enrolled in the Imperial Star Academy as was the way, and he did so at the age of twelve. His brother Dar, however, felt that his destiny lay in a different direction. With his grandmother's assistance, he became the fourth Draclon to be granted the fearsome title of Mortum Hesta, one of many titles given to those who rise high in the ranks of the dark cult that La'Tor and her daughter Felir were still the supreme heads of. For though the pair led from the shadows, their hand was upon all the doings of their house and most especially all that Dar did. Tor was likewise brought into the fold, and was eventually bestowed the same title but even so his influence in the cult was lesser than that of his more infamous and feared brother. By the time that Dar decided to enroll in the Imperial Star Academy, he had learned enough to rise up in the ranks quite rapidly. No task was too difficult for him to accomplish, and no training mission too complicated for him to see through. He proved to be a great warrior, and upon graduating he joined an elite organization with ties to both the Klingon High Council and the High Command of the Imperial military, which at that time were two separate organizations prior to their eventual unification. Within this power structure, Dar Draclon did discover a complex plot that would culminate in the assassination of a high ranking council member by a terrorist sect of renegades who harbored an ancient grudge against the person in question. For the act of bringing the plot to light, Dar was given the rank of lieutenant, and the coveted Honorific of Surtai, for saving someone who was a member of both the High Council and the High Command. But what no one realized was that it was Dar himself who orchestrated the entire plot, only to at the last moment see a greater opportunity for himself by foiling it and personally executing those involved in the lot before any of them who name him as its' perpetrator. For it was he, he held the grudge I mentioned, a grudge that went back far into the history of the house of Draclon. Even fewer knew that it had been the eternal La'Tor who was the one who insisted that the old grudge be finally acted upon. Yet, she had to at last be content with letting it go, when she saw that Dar was rising ever higher in glory and honor. Which did mean greater glory and honor for her house! Despite that Dar did something dishonorable to obtain it. So evil was he, that the curse of immortality was visited upon him and to this day he is still the head of the house of Draclon. Or rather, the figurehead of it, with La'Tor and Felir being the true power behind him and his every decision. Dar often returns home to his ancestral castle to meet with Felir and to be by her tutored personally in the unholiest of arts. Sthenno had tutored him previously, but she did die eventually from extreme old age, whilst Felir... like her mother... remained undying. The same curse as was visited upon Dar also fell upon his brother Tor, and neither of them have aged even one day since.”
I then elaborated upon recent developments with Tor, explaining: “Breaking with what seemed like a family tradition, Tor most recently took for himself a Klingon woman for his bride rather than one of the Gin. Cursed though he is, Tor is seen in the family as weaker than his brother Dar, and it is no real secret that Dar covets a seat upon the High Council of our present era. He hopes to one day see the old power of his house return, and to have the name of Draclon be feared throughout the Empire and even beyond its' borders. But Tor has, to his credit, kept his brother's ambitions in check and whatever La'Tor and Felir think of the situation they do not say. I only know of all this because of my blood relation to the house of Draclon, and so as you can see... I shall not say how, but I am privy to knowledge that in all truth I probably should not know. Knowledge that I have chosen to share with you, and with those who shall read what I am chronicling in distant years to come. Now, what is my reward for sharing this with you?” And as soon as I asked that question, the woman before me smiled cunningly and said in a flat monotone: “Oh, I knew you would ask me that question. What indeed! What indeed.” She then did lunge forward and sink her teeth into my neck. I swooned and fell into unconsciousness swiftly, and as soon as I awoke I noticed that three days and nights had passed. I was pale, as if all the color drained in full from from skin... and I was no longer breathing, yet I lived. My ridges had changed, my forehead was smooth, and I was now fully of the house of Q'Kadrak. There could be no returning home for me, not after this! So it was true then, they are vampires. Or something equivalent. And now, I was as well. I felt a thirst for Klingon blood, and knew that once it became unbearable I would need to sate that thirst by any means necessary. Perhaps I might go out and pick a fight, get into a duel, and claim the right to eat the heart of my defeated foe. That would serve to slake my thirst for the time being, and no one truly would think twice about it. Wherever the woman went, I know not, but she left instructions on where I could meet with her again. Along with the message: “This is my gift to you, the gift of immortality. We have become the new gods of this world, and we shall one day be gods over other worlds. We rule from behind the scenes, we influence things from the shadows. What is honor, compared to this? My house is not as infamous as Draclon, my clan not as cruel perhaps... but we have our ways, we have our means of getting what we want. There is a feud coming someday between the houses of Q'Kadrak and Draclon and it will be a glorious battle between dark gods, with the hearts and minds and souls of countless who know not what is at stake being on the line. In the centuries to come, you will remain as you are right now, and you will remain Klingon in ways that will redefine what that means for you. Come, seek me out as soon as you are ready to join me! I await you in the academy I spoke to you about, the one on the other planet, the one people now call simply Nguu. Join me there, and leave your old life behind you... a greater destiny awaits us both. I would be your mate... if you will have me.” Her instructions did so include directions to the star port that most swiftly runs space going vessels to Nguu, in case I did not know where that star port was. She wanted to leave nothing to chance, and so I have decided to join her and allow her to become my mate. I will write all of this down, record it for posterity and give what I have recorded into the keeping of a trusted person at the university. I will instruct them to strike from all records my name, and I shall not give my name in these writings of mine that I am finishing up even now. I am now more Klingon, than Klingon. I am something ancient, something from before recorded history. I shall not say that I am a god, but whatever it is that I am... it is something powerful, strange, and unexpected. A vampire, yes! But so much more besides. I will not tell my family I am leaving, I shall let them believe I have simply gone missing. I no longer look the same, they would hardly be able to recognize me now that I look the way that I do. Indeed... what is honor, compared to this? I cannot say, but I hope to learn. All my life, I have believed in honor, in the warrior codes that all who are truly Klingon live by... but I never once questioned what lies beyond that. This is my chance to learn, and to grow beyond all that I have been previously. If you read this, in some future that I cannot conceive of... you will know in full the infamy and darkness of two noble houses of the Empire. I am not proud of it!
But I have accepted my part in their doings, which I now hasten to participate further in. Darkness is not alone, in and of itself, enough to disgrace a noble house, and I doubt that anything revealed within my writings here shall serve as cause for such disgrace. So long as these two houses remain loyal to the Empire and continue to at least feign service to it, they shall remain in good standing thereby. One plot, does not warrant disgrace. Pacts with devils, do not warrant disgrace. In the Klingon Empire, honor is all, or at least the facade of honor. Let people see us however they wish! What is within, is not for eyes to see which are not initiated into that seeing. I have been initiated today, and I see with new eyes rather than those I had before. I welcome this change! I relish it. Consider what I have written merely a story, if it gives you comfort to do so. None of what I reveal in it can be proven, and those involved would if questioned surely deny all of it. If it serves the best interests of the Empire, bury this text deep within the most obscure section of the historical knowledge database of the university that up until now I did work for and serve the interests of loyally. Let access to it be restricted, if need be! But do not destroy it. That is my only request. Knowledge can be hidden, but it must never be lost to time. That is naturally the scholar in me talking, rather than the warrior. I am more than a mere warrior, and have always been more. Now, I shall have the chance to truly prove my worth! And bring glory to my new house. In a way I have died this day, and it was truly a great day to die. Tomorrow shall be even greater! And every day that I eternally live. You have not killed all your gods, oh people of Kronos... and through blood, some of them continue to exist in new forms that you never expected. For blood carries life, and sustenance for those of us who shall live forever. The clerics would call this heresy, and yet it is wonderful this odd little heresy that is secretly truth! I do not know if I can die by violence... being unable to die by other means, if the legends surrounding vampires are to be believed... but should I meet my end one day, may that day be far off and my long existence in the meantime filled with great glory, I cannot say if I will be welcomed by Kahless into Sto'vo'kor or forced to dwell among the damned of Gre'thor. All I know, is I will welcome whatever comes with courage all the ferocity of a true Klingon! I am perhaps of the clan of the damned now, and also the house thereof. So be it! If this is what it feels like to be damned, then it is wonderful. For though thirst and hunger fill me, power fills me as well... a power undreamed of. It is needful for me to ask she who is my benefactor and initiator for details as to how to best harness this power. She will aid me, and she will love me even as I shall love her. For eternal love, it is worth a trip to Gre'thor one day, and if that is where we must abide in the end of all things, we shall at least abide there together... she and I. Farewell to the light of the past, I shall be a scholar no more after today. The warrior in me shall be given full reign, and if it be not honor I fight for then I shall fight for love of she who awakened me to this new state of being in which I now walk. Love too, is a cause worth fighting for, and dying for if need be! If I have learned but one thing from my study of Klingon history, it is that.
(Sometime after submitting what he had written for posterity to the university he had worked for, the nameless Klingon warrior who had formerly been a scholar met with the mysterious woman who had transformed him into something akin to a vampire. After that, they seemed to drop off the face of any knowing regarding their places in Klingon history. Their doings became the stuff of horror stories told around campfires, or rumors cast about in taverns by warriors seeking to one up each other with tales that can make one's blood run cold... in order to test one another in terms of their courage. The peculiar writings submitted to the university were placed in a sealed and encrypted sub-section of the historical knowledge database in order to protect the reputations of the houses mentioned in them. And so, those houses themselves never had their reputations more tarnished than they already had been previously. When open conflict finally came between the notorious houses of Q'Kadrak and Draclon, it was little different that any other such feud. Dar's ambitions were halted when his brother finally beheaded him and sent his head to the Q'Kadrak elders as a peace offering. That... was how their feud finally ended.)
Published 24th Nov 2024
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