Blood on the Sand
Volume 1: The Broken Crown
Chapter 3: The Dragon in Exile
Exile. The very word rankled him because it reminded him that there had been a time when he was second best. It reminded him that he had never truly been loved nor his efforts appreciated. Any chance at glory had long since departed. Or so it seemed.
Mordrath Luisenbarn stood on top of the cliff overlooking the last bastion of those who dared not bend the knee to him. A tattered crimson banner showing a whirlwind pattern of gold and black, the emblem of The Alliance, fluttered on top of the ramparts carved into the mountain. Electrical pulses from one of the Wastes larger storms filled the dark heavens. Rain fell on all. And the Dragons roared.
"The Dragons have certainly improved since the last time they were used," Mordrath mused as he stroked his thin red-gold chin beard. The wind swept through his golden hair and his long white coat trimmed with black fur at the collar and wrists fluttered slightly. His mask fragment resembled a circlet with two fangs framing his temples before curving inward just under his green eyes.
"Yes sire," Tarran Granz said. He was a tall lanky man with pinkish eyes and shortly-cropped green hair streaked with black at around the temples. His mask fragment resembled a pince-nez. The green cords indicating his rank as Commander of the Engineer Corps were kept in place on his crisp white uniform by twin golden pins made to resemble roaring dragons. "It took some time to advance the technology enough to where the strength of a cero could be magnified another five times. The Usurper's Hogyoku was a great acquisition for us."
"Yes. I wonder how many other Arrancars tried to defy the Usurper only to fail," Mordrath mused. His green eyes narrowed, never leaving the besieged fortified mountain. "And yet they think they can defy me." He turned his attention to the signalmen, waiting to signal the various divisions or other signalmen. "Signal the Wyrm Corps Third Division."
One of the signalmen nodded and fired a bright red cero into the heavens before raising a banner depicting a pale serpent with spikes of flame on its body on a black field.
"Signal the Armored Falcon Divisions to prepare to rush in. Don't give them any time to regroup."
Another signalmen fired a dull greenish-grey cero into the night and rose a banner showing an iron-grey falcon with a sword clutched in its right talon and a shield in the left. As he did so there was a massive explosion that came from the opposite side of the mountain from where the Dragons were concentrating their fire.
Mordrath raised his spear. A flaming silvery blade protruded from the mouth of a golden dragon twisting around a shaft of black wood. His green eyes seemed to blaze and his voice thundered across the valley, "THE GLORIOUS DRAGON ASCENDS TO THE FIERY HEAVENS TO REIGN WITH FIRE AND STEEL AND BLOOD!"
The Dragons' roars increased in ferocity, but now the war cries of the Exiled rose as well. Mordrath smiled.
Exile. He still loathed the word, but he was coming to accept it and even find ways to utilize it. What better way to defy the very memory of those who defied him and sent him to the Wastes? What better way to defy the father and brother who loathed him and would have rather see him die than see him emerge from their shadows? Exile would not be the end of him, but only a new beginning.
Maullarn Aivirrne
Maullarn Aivirrne rushed down the stone hall. Torches burned against the stone wall and he could hear the other defenders rushing to prepare for a final assault at the gates. He was tall and broad, clad in a long green coat with golden knots embroidered up the lapels and silver scorpions amidst golden leaves around the collar. He clutched his war hammer, preparing himself.
Those damn things never stop, he thought as he saw another flash of a strengthened cero strike one of the guard towers.
"We need more masks at the towers," one of the commanders said.
"How many have those damn dragons destroyed?" Maullarn asked.
"We lost count at around five hundred, sir. They destroyed the outer defenses faster than we can make repairs. Whatever those things are… We can't win at this rate."
"If you think of surrendering then I will bash your skull in and use your corpse as a shield," Maullarn said, glaring at the commander with blood red eyes. "Do you understand?"
"Y-yes sir," the commander said.
"Good, now go get some men and get some Hollows. You can kill the Hollows to use to shield the inner wall or you can open the gate and send them to attack our foes."
"We tried that tactic already," the commander said. "It didn't work. Those…those weapons slaughtered the Hollows before they could even reach our enemy's vanguard."
I know that, you damn fool, Maullarn thought as he gritted his teeth. Still, it would make me feel better to go on the offense instead of just sitting here.
"Just do something, instead of sitting on your ass," Maullarn said.
The commander saluted and rushed off leaving Maullarn alone in the hall. Maullarn struck at the wall with his fist causing the stone to crack. The Alliance had been the most powerful force in the Wastes, many of the Exiled had submitted themselves to their laws and trade had begun to flourish. Then Mordrath came. They all underestimated him, viewing him as little more than a nuisance with some flashy toys. But Mordrath proved them wrong.
Much of The Alliance had already gone to the Dragon and many of the wealthy traders were dealing exclusively with Mordrath. The temptation of the new technology that he possessed proved to be too much for many to resist. Three of the most powerful warlords who once sat on The Alliance's council had gone over to him when they saw just how potent the new technology was.
Did I make a mistake not joining them?
"Father, are you alright?"
He turned and smiled as he saw the young girl coming towards him. Her shimmering black hair was shortly cropped except for a long length at the back that was tied back with a leather cord with bits of crystal tied in the ends. She wore a dress made from the silvery furs of a large mountain bear and was lined with fine silk. A pair of twin daggers hung on either side from gold chains that were wrapped around her waist and held in place with a silver buckle studded with emeralds.
"Kaoly, I thought I told you to help protect the weak and yearlings."
"I want to fight, father," Kaoly said. "I can't just stand aside and do nothing."
"You wouldn't be doing nothing. You would be protecting those who can't protect themselves."
"There's no glory in that, father. If I'm to die then I want to die in the vanguard, fighting."
"And who would remember you? Many have died in the vanguard and can you name any of them? Can you name the butcher's daughter who died two turns of the sand-globe ago? Or how about the nobleman's son who died just an hour ago? What makes you think that you dying here would make anyone remember your name?"
"Father," Kaoly said. She glared at her father with brilliant pink eyes that peered from the twin rings of bone that were her mask fragment. "I want to fight."
"Then know what you're fighting for. If you know what you're fighting for then you can fight with all you have. But if you don't know what you're fighting for then you're only hindering yourself and your fellow warriors. You may be my daughter, but I will not hesitate to whip you if you get in the way.
"If you want to fight then you better be prepared to die."
"I'm ready."
Maullarn looked at his daughter and his eyes narrowed. "We'll see," he said.
Saracc Chelute
The tunnel stretched from the old mines to beneath the mountain's western fortifications. Saracc Chelute commander of the Wyrm Corps watched as the sappers of the third division finished laying the explosives. The Dragons had covered their work by having the enemy's focus turn to the eastern fortifications.
Saracc was medium height and slight build, a good physique for the tight and low tunnels that had become the domain of the Wyrm Corps Third Division of sappers during the course of the siege. His black hair shone like a raven's wing and his crimson-iris eye glittered. The band of dark crimson silk covered where his other eye would have been. His left hand was completely covered in bone plates with small horns protruding from his knuckles. His right hand however resembled a normal human's hand except for the long bone-like claws that grew out of the three middle fingers.
"The ground's still stable," he said as he looked at the dirt wall ahead and above. "Once the signal is given the explosives will go off and will collapse the tunnel just below the walls. The foundations will weaken enough to create a breach. At least that's how it's supposed to go."
"Last explosives are in place, sir," one of the sappers said.
"Then run back to the relay point. Let me know when you see the signal."
"Yes sir," the sapper said and began to run.
"The rest of you get back, I'll bring up the rear."
They obeyed his order without question. The Wyrm Corps understood the risks of being sappers, digging tunnels beneath enemy lines and building siege engines had their risks. They looked at death and saw it as a risk necessary to take to achieve victory. They would pause for a moment to remember the fallen, but then they would go to the next tunnel, the next tower, the next bridge. They would accept the risks because it was their duty.
They would serve The Dragon. They would be the wind beneath The Dragon's wings, carrying him to victory.
"Sir, the signal's been fired," a voice echoed from the dark tunnel behind him.
Saracc focused his energy to form a small orb of dark green light. It was a weak bala, but it was enough to detonate the explosives.
Petros Leones
Petros Leones watched the walls on the mountain's western side. The token defense force stationed there tried to fire ceros at the assembled force, but they were still out of range. He was tall and muscular, and his Hollow mask remnant was in the form of two gauntlets that covered the back of his hands and wrapped around his wrists, but not the fingers. His hair was black on the sides, but deep red along the crest of his head and was cut into a Mohawk that was tied into a tail with a leather cord. His Zanpakuto hung from a series of leather cords at his side.
Behind him the banner of the Armored Falcon Divisions, displaying an iron-grey falcon with a sword clutched in its right talon and a shield in the left on a dark blue field, fluttered. He looked over his shoulder at the twin rows of the newly formed Dragon Talons. Their faces were covered by silver masks resembling snarling dragon faces and their white and crimson coats fluttered in the growing wind. The dim glow of their moon-wood rifles shone in the night and seemed to radiate the same energy as the storm overhead.
Behind the Dragon Talons were lines of pike-men and cavalry mounted on low-level Hollows with the grey falcon painted on their masks.
"I need to kill something," he muttered as he faced forward. "Come on, where's the fucking signal? I'm getting bored out here watching that wall."
He looked up at the sky, bolts of dark purple and blue flashed amidst an oncoming swirling sea of dark green and black. He grinned, hoping that the storm was a portent of the fight to come. Siege had only made him restless and he itched to fight, but he knew better than to rush into the fray. He had done so before and had suffered a defeat, the only defeat he knew while in service with Mordrath Luisenbarn. As a result, Mordrath had punished him for his bloodlust. His back still felt the blows from time-to-time to where he could not forget the lesson Mordrath gave him.
"Remember, Petros," Mordrath had told him after the scourging. "You're in service to someone other than yourself. Your defeats become my defeats and my victories become your victories. In battle, discipline is far more important than blind rage and arrogance. If you give in to your fury without my permission then I will be forced to treat you no better than a dog."
Petros continued to look up at the sky. A flare of red burst amidst the stormy sea above. Petros smiled and fixed his attention back to the wall ahead.
"GET READY!" he roared before the ground at the wall's base spewed upward, taking a length of the wall with it. "FORWARD!"
The dust had not settled and Petros could make out figures struggling in the dirt. The Dragon Talons halted and shouldered their rifles. The forces of the Armored Falcon halted in order to keep out of the line of fire.
"TALONS, BALA!" Petros commanded.
The moon-wood rifles' glow brightened and changed hue as the spiritual energy of the Arrancars merged with wood's energy. The energy flowed along the rifles' lengths until it reached the small, thin shard of crystal that focused the energy's flow into a concentrated beam of raw energy, further intensifying its destructive force. Thus a bala would have the same destructive power as a cero.
The destructive beams cut through the dust, cutting through hierro and stone. Screams were silenced as fresh screams filled the dust-covered ground. High above the storm broke.
"CHARGE!" Petros roared.
The Armored Falcon rushed forward. Battle cries rose from their throats and the Talons fired again as they rushed forward.
Kaoly Aivirrne
The explosion took Kaoly and her father by surprise.
"What was that?" Maullarn muttered. His eyes were wide with terror. "What devilry are they using now?"
"Father," Kaoly said.
"Kaoly, stay here. They must have breached the western wall."
Kaoly watched as her father rushed to the western side of the mountain. She turned and focused her gaze on the banners fluttering just beyond the eastern wall. She could see banners that once belonged to great lords who sat in council for The Alliance: the four roses of Lord Dussai, the twin yoked golden oxen of Lord Yorras, and the white fox with five tails of Lady Nassan.
"The gray falcon's not there," she muttered. "And I don't see…"
There came another explosion. One tower crumbled, taking with it the trebuchet that had helped to keep the enemy at bay. Another explosion burst from the top of the other tower. Kaoly looked up and saw four winged beasts with long, thin beaks and brilliant purple wings flying overhead.
Flyers, she thought in horror. How did they get flyers?
She watched in horror as the riders on the beasts' backs, clad in thin leather jerkins, drop explosives on the defenses from above. The defenders ran, some tried to shoot the beasts from the sky, but their ceros and balas were too weak to reach them. Some defenders released and were more successful, but more flyers were filling the sky now.
"OH SHIT!" one of the defenders shouted from on top of the wall before it was reduced to rubble.
Kaoly returned her attention to the gate and she fell to her knees when she saw a new weapon from The Dragon's arsenal.
She could now see a rank of metal machines that were modeled after the Mark V tank approaching. Lengths of moon-wood from the crystalline groves gleamed from their turrets. Behind them rows of the enemy forces advanced, the banner of the black dragon fluttered in the storm. The Dragons continued to roar, this time aiming for the defenses higher up the mountain. The rank of metal machines swept away the majority of the remaining defenses well before they were within range of the defenders' weapons or ceros.
We lost, she thought. Tears fell down her face. The Alliance is finished.
The Breach
Battle is chaos. Even when the ranks are lined in orderly fashion chaos lies underneath. Organized fighting is reduced to brawls. Earth is shattered and blood stains the stones in streaks and blotches, with no true design. Bodies sprawled over rubble where they fell, creating a tableau worthy of Pieter Bruegel the Elder.
Carrion eaters gather at the breach even as the fighting continues to gorge on the feast laid out before them. The stones tremble as more explosions go off from within the mountain.
The storm above breaks. Lightning strikes the earth and thunder adds its sounds to the tumult of battle. The metal rods placed at intervals among The Dragon's ranks lure the bolts to them so that they would not interfere the army's advance. But the defenders have no such preparations for them.
One small group of defenders, still standing in the initial breach scatters when bolts of lightning strike in their midst. Their forces buckle from the forces of nature and the Armored Falcon. They give one last gasp of effort to try to seal the breach, but then scatter. The Armored Falcon's pike-men surge forward as the Dragon Talons continue to fire their enhanced ceros and balas at the defenders. Their commander tries to rally his troops, eager to give one last charge worthy of the insanity of the Light Brigade only to have his vain-glorious brains paint the stones.
From among the ranks a voice starts to sing and more voices join in.
We'll drink the ale 'til cup is dry
And kiss our gals so they'll not cry
For we ride away in the storm
To dance with the God of Carrion
We'll dandle our gals so they may sigh
We'll laugh and fight though we die
For we ride away in the storm
To dance with the God of Carrion
We'll toss the dice though it may be ill
We'll laugh at our fate as we kill
For we ride away in the storm
To spit in the eyes of the God of Carrion
The storm continues and the soldiers overwhelm the defenders who surrender in ever-increasing numbers. Flags of surrender rise as trumpets of victory sound.
Chaos gives way to order once more. The Dragon claims another victory.
Maullarn Aivirrne
Maullarn stood with the ten other surviving commanders and lords in the assembly hall. Fire burned in the great basins that were carved into the walls. High-Lord Augustus Greeves sat in an ornate chair made of carved stone on the dais with the banners of The Alliance, depicting three golden hammers on a blue field, hanging behind him.
Augustus was clad in his best robes, golden chains of his office hung about his neck and gleamed in the fire light. His black hair was slicked back and gleamed with oil. His golden eyes seemed to burn and his hand tightened on the grip of his sword. Maullarn noticed that Augustus's other hand was clenched into a fist on the armrest.
Maullarn, like the others assembled, was surprised that none of Mordrath's Arrancars were present in the chamber. As far as he could tell the only Arrancars under Mordrath's command in the main keep were the Arrancars stationed at the door to the hall. A sense of unease filled him since a conqueror
"Do you know what he wants?" Shaddam Erasmus asked.
Maullarn looked at the thin man clad in a purple silk coat that was beginning to tear at the seams. His once brilliant breastplate looked dented in places and was caked with dirt. His white and indigo hair was disheveled and his orange eyes flicked nervously around them. Maullarn never liked Shaddam who was a braggart and a swindler, but Shaddam had stood his ground during the fighting. Maullarn had to give him credit for doing that much at least.
"He probably wants to offer terms of surrender," Maullarn replied.
"If that's the case then we may have a chance," Shaddam said, smiling. "It may be simply bending the knee and swearing an oath."
"I doubt it will be that easy. We resisted the Dragon too long for him to make it easy on us."
"Perhaps, but…"
The doors into the assembly hall opened. All heads turned to look at the Arrancar standing there. Maullarn's eyes widened when he saw their adversary standing alone clad in a long white coat with black fur trim. His spear was not anywhere to be seen.
"He's as good as naked," Shaddam muttered. Maullarn frowned. It was unheard of for any Arrancar to go amongst enemies without their sealed Resurrecciόn or an entourage of Arrancars to help ward off an attack. But Mordrath Luisenbarn walked among them with head held high and confident that he had no need of any outside aid or his true power. An Arrancar who did such a thing might as well be saying that their foe wasn't even worthy of their attention. Augustus stood, fury etched on his face.
"What is the meaning of this insult?" he demanded.
Mordrath stopped in front of the dais and never took his eyes off the High-Lord. Augustus glared at Mordrath as he drew his sword. Mordrath didn't say anything but only looked at Augustus as though studying him with his brilliant green eyes.
"Well, answer me. Why do you come before me naked?"
"Would you have preferred me to bring Siegfried?" Mordrath asked, his voice was calm and hypnotic. "Why should I bring something that I have no need for? Is this not merely a negotiation of your surrender?"
"How dare you?" Maullarn growled. Mordrath turned his head slightly to gaze at him from the corner of an eye as green as poison. "You dare insult his lordship in such a manner." Mordrath's only response was to return his gaze at Augustus.
"Why do you continue to resist? You know that it's pointless to continue struggling. Surrender to me before my fury descends fully upon your head," Mordrath said.
"You came to deceive us," Augustus said. "You may have fooled many of the other lords of The Alliance, but not me. I can see through your hollow words. You did not come here to negotiate, but to assassinate us. Well, I won't let you succeed. ENRAPTURE, CRÓTALO!"
Twin beams of poison-green spiritual energy seemed to entwine around Augustus like two serpents climbing up a tree. Augustus smiled, but Mordrath did not respond.
"I bet he's regretting not bringing his spear with him," Shaddam muttered. Maullarn smiled. He had seen Augustus release before and none of the Arrancars who defied him had survived it.
The twin poison-green serpents of spiritual energy brightened, shrouding Augustus in light. Many of the Arrancars assembled had to shield their eyes. Mordrath only stared forward, a small smile crept on his face. The hall was silent for a moment before there came the sound of rattling bones. The light dimmed to reveal a figure transformed into a giant serpent. Its twin tails ended in segments of interlocking masks that resembled the fangs of a snake. The creature wore armor of tan and black scales and the hands and arms were replaced with two long fangs that dripped venom. Augustus's face was ringed with scales and his eyes were golden with black slits.
"Do you dare defy me now?" Augustus hissed before opening his mouth and gushing a stream of venom.
The venom hissed when it hit the floor, causing smoke to rise as it ate through the stone. Those closest to the dais backed away, but Mordrath did not react.
"What is he thinking?" Shaddam asked. "Is he not afraid?"
Maullarn did not respond immediately, but a shiver ran up his spine. Whenever Augustus released his opponents would shake in terror or attack immediately.
"Why don't you answer me, fool?" Augustus released another stream of venom, this time aiming directly at Mordrath. Augustus's aim was true, but Mordrath did not dodge. Instead the poison seemed to flow around him as though it had struck an invisible shield. Lords yelled in surprise and terror and barely managed to avoid the venom. Augustus's eyes widened in terror. "How…how can this be?"
"What happened?" Shaddam asked. "How could that have happened? No force can stop Augustus's venom."
"None in the Wastes at least," Maullarn said. His eyes narrowed as he looked at Mordrath.
Is he really that powerful? Did he deflect Augustus's attack with just the energy radiating from him? The thought filled Maullarn with dread.
"You are trying my patience," Mordrath said. His voice was still calm, but there was an edge in it that sent a shiver down the spines of those assembled. "I came here on good faith, hoping to reason with you so that no more blood need be shed. Instead, you attack me."
"Why don't you die? Why don't you just die?" Augustus demanded as he spewed out more venom. The deadly green liquid did not strike their target, but only flowed around Mordrath. "DIE! DIE! DIE!"
Mordrath's eyes narrowed and his lips curled into a scowl. "The dragon will always kill the serpent," he said.
Mordrath's hand was a flash and Maullarn saw a blade seem to have sprout from Augustus's throat. Augustus clawed at the iron dragon-headed pommel. Venom mixed with blood spewed from his mouth. The assembled Arrancars could not move or speak. They all looked at the blade protruding from Augustus's throat. Mordrath approached, not minding the puddles of smoking venom in his path.
"Please…" Augustus gasped, a bubble of blood was blown from his mouth.
"To think that I would have to sully my hand on the likes of you," Mordrath said as he grabbed hold of the knife. He withdrew the blade and in one smooth motion gave Augustus Greeves a crimson smile.
Augustus's corpse fell to the ground. Mordrath turned to look at the assembled Arrancars.
"This war is over," he said. "The Alliance is done. You have your choice now. You can live or your corpse can join his. So, what do you choose?"
Mordrath Luisenbarn
Mordrath sat at the small wooden table in his tent reading a battered copy of Machiavelli's Discourses by the light of an orb of condensed Reiatsu. The tent itself was only slightly larger than the tents his officers slept in and there was no sign of comfort. He didn't look up when Saracc Chelute entered the tent.
"That was reckless of you, sir," he said. "You could have easily lost your gamble and it would have been your head on a pike instead of Augustus's."
"It had to be done," Mordrath said as he turned the page. "Otherwise they wouldn't respect me nor would they have truly surrendered."
"What makes you think they have?" Saracc asked. "What's to keep some of them from going back to their estates to raise armies of their own to strike against us?"
"The Alliance was only as strong as they were unified. True, some of them may pose a threat down the road, but right now they're in line. We need to keep them that way and the best way to do it is to give them some measure of reassurance. Rewards do more than punishments in keeping a populace in check."
"So are you actually going to trust them?"
"I'm not that naïve. They stood in my way only because Augustus was strong. They thought that he would keep them safe and I removed that safety. If I make them feel safe then they will fall in line. Of course, they will always keep eyes out on anyone who makes them feel any safer, but won't do anything themselves.
"I'm keeping my eyes open and my wits sharp while I open my hand to them. After all, 'It is impossible to remove one inconvenience without another emerging.' In the meantime, I want you and the others to keep your eyes and ears open among them. They shall be our canaries in the coal mine, warning us ahead of time of any potential threat. If something happens to them…" He shrugged his shoulders.
"I understand, sire," Saracc said.
"Speaking of eyes and ears, what news from our own back east?"
"The usurper's been defeated, sire."
"I know that much and I know that my brother is dead," Mordrath said as he placed the book down. He picked up a leather-bound journal and pen he kept by his side and started writing in it. "What news about an Emperor?"
"The Houses will convene to decide that matter. At least that's what our sources say."
"House Leonisra will make a move," Mordrath said, "although not directly. The Mad Emperor's legacy still hangs over them and so I doubt they'll have many supporters even though they have a right. They might use House Marceaux for that.
"The Guilds and the White Bank will not move either. They will stay in their mountains to determine who proves to be the wisest investment before taking action. The other Chancellors may stir themselves, but I doubt the truly intelligent and wise ones will make a move to the throne in the open."
"They might decide to go with one of the surviving Espada," Saracc said.
"Doubtful. The Espada who survived know nothing of the Empire as a whole and the Houses know it. The Usurper kept them isolated for too long, only sending them out to hunt those who posed a direct threat to him. The very fact that they obeyed a Reaper without question hinders any possibility of leading."
"Our sources have said that some are speaking of reversing your brother's initial sentence so that you may wear the crown and sit on the throne."
Mordrath paused for a moment and then went back to writing.
"Don't trust those words. They all only know the Espada of Envy, not Mordrath Luisenbarn."
"It was a role that deceived the Usurper," Saracc said. "It permitted you to get close to him."
"While giving other Arrancars justification to call me 'villain'. My envy has not dulled my wits, Saracc. My envy has only given me the drive necessary to defy the odds. I know how the world works and my little conquest here has only increased my fire while giving something to fuel the fires of others." Mordrath smiled.
"I don't understand, sire."
"Get some rest, Saracc. Or go celebrate the victory with the others if you like. But our time is near when we will no longer be exiles, but conquerors."
Saracc only looked at Mordrath in silence before bowing.
"As you say, sire," he said.
Mordrath returned to writing in his journal. Outside the sounds of celebration filled the night, but he drowned them out. Instead, he focused his senses on the night air and the sound of the passing storm. When he finished writing his daily thoughts he put his journal and pen down. He allowed his hand to touch a small box made of moon-wood with a dragon's head carved into its surface.
Soon, he thought as he felt the power within it. I will make my own crown as the kings of old did. I will carve my own throne. I will inherit nothing but earn everything. That's how greatness is forged.
Discipline in war counts more than fury.
Exile. He loathed the word, but he knew that it was not eternal. He would see to it that he would not remain an exile forever.
End of Chapter 3
Encyclopedia Imperium:
House Luisenbarn: One of the oldest Major Houses in Hueco Mundo, House Luisenbarn can trace their lineage to the Black-Dragon Emperor, Ancalagon Loiharn, whose empire was said to be the largest Hueco Mundo saw before the coming of the Kings of Day. During the conquest by Artur the Conqueror, the Silver-Crescent Empress Morganna Loiharn led a great host against the invaders from the far west and was the only ruler to defeat the Conqueror in combat. However, her victory proved to be a pyrrhic victory as the Conqueror's forces cut away at her empire slowly, using its very size against it. It would take two subsequent Kings of Day for the once great Loiharn Empire to succumb during the reign of Mordrath, First of his Name, when he took the Silver Empress Selena Loiharn to be his concubine and would mother five of his bastard children. As time progressed the Loiharn name changed to become Luisenbarn, the Major House from whom more military commanders and economic leaders emerged than any other House. But it wasn't until the rise of House Leonisra to the throne that they would be given the title of "Kingmaker" and later with Baraggan Luisenbarn, "King's Bane" and "Emperor". Yet Baraggan Luisenbarn was quickly defeated by the Reaper, Souske Aizen, permitting a non-Arrancar to hold the reins of power in Hueco Mundo. With Baraggan's demise during the Winter War many Houses believe that the Luisenbarns will no longer hold any position of power. Yet in the Wastes to the west a banner that hasn't been seen since the glory of Loiharn Empire during the Age of Lore has been raised by the exiled Mordrath Luisenbarn.
Sigil of House Luisenbarn: a silver skull with a golden crown on a black field bordered with purple
Sigil of Mordrath Luisenbarn: a black dragon with three gold crowns on a white field bordered with crimson (Note: this sigil was also used by the Luiharn Emperors, although their sigil had the black dragon on a silver field bordered by black with four crowns to represent the four cardinal points)
Words: Fear Our Wrath