A Gathering of Shadows
Many years ago, Borren was defended by a group of men known as The Blades. The Blades were a fighting force like no other, with swordsmanship surpassing even the great Elven Bladesinger masters. Borren won countless wars with them alone. But the Empire got cocky, and started making unreasonable demands of allies knowing that any trouble would be quickly quelled by their awesome Blades. Unfortunately, this sprang a war that raged all the way into the Borren Capitol itself. At this point, the Blades had seen enough. Having been used as a mere weapon of war in itself, the group had only one thing to do...and they disbanded.
They hid their origins, keeping them secret even from their own families. This way no one would track down their ancestors, trying to form another such group. This was used to its full advantage by a man known as Patch. This lovable jack-of-all-trades acquired a portrait of the leader of The Blades. He was surprised by the resemblance (eye-patch and all), and immediately formulated a plan. He started The Blades once more, only this time as a Democratic organization.
Using the legendary popularity of The Blades name, and claiming he was the distant grandson of the former leader, he soon had a strong foothold in the public's political views. A democracy wasn't his true goal though; The Blades democratic organization was a front. Patch's eyes were on complete control of the criminal activities of the Borren Empire. He broke free of the thieves' and assassins' guilds and set up his own black market. Even The Guild did not stand a chance against the growing popularity of The Blades.
Once complete control was gained, rumors began flying about how a new guild had come. Such efforts to gain criminal dominance over a country must mean they are after something more than monopolizing the black market. They want the throne of the Emperor. And that's exactly what Patch wanted them to believe. As rumors often do, the tale became more exaggerated until finally this criminal organization was after the Unholy Prayer Beads of Estoc. Beads formed from the horns of the former Lord of Hell that drive the wearer to evil, and rob them of their will.
Patch ran three major operations now; keeping the rumors coming and growing, running his secret underground organization, and running the Democratic political movement known as The Blades as a front. The Blades' popularity with the people grew to such a point where riots erupted to protest the tyranny of the Empire. To the point where citizens would disallow trade to nobles, and even in some cases rebel against them. These were all perfect distractions to continue the criminal reign.
The Emperor had to do something, but he was growing weak. His wife had recently died under mysterious (and gruesome) circumstances. The loss of his beloved wife made the Emperor a shadow of his former self. None-the-less, he had the head of a ruler. He assembled a group of nobles to stop the criminal organization from gaining the Beads of Estoc. For with their power over evil clerical forces, no one could stop them, not even The Blades of old.
Finding this amusing, Patch went ahead and assembled an elite team to also go searching. Thusly, he increased the whispered rumour to a booming secret on the tongues of everyman in the inns. So the Borren Imperialists and The Blades were competing against one another of sorts. The both sought the same prize, and their search took them to every corner of Borren. Eventually, each time found the location of the Beads. A shipping manifest included an item fitting its description, and the journal nearby gave stories of the crew going mad. The scariest part though, was that the Beads were shipped into the Borren capitol...to the Emperor's personal vault.
That's why he was aging so. And perhaps his wife's death was not so mysterious after all. Both teams raced back to Borren City just in time for the greatest celebration of the year...The Emperor's Ball. This grand jubilee took place in the Emperor's Palace. There was no time to inform the Emperor of the discovery, or anyone really. The Blades infiltrated the ball, taking positions as kitchen staff, security, fake nobles, etc. The Imperialists took their own places at the ball, but remained ever vigilant as the spy game played out. Playing one of their own, they marked who they thought were infiltrators. The time came, The Blades attempted their strike, The Imperialists attempted their interception and...
The strange, powerful imagery abruptly blurred and faded as Patch awoke with a start. He found himself staring into the cold eyes of an imp squatting on his chest. His eyes darted around his bedchamber, and he shuddered at the crowd of hideous, misshapen apparitions that surrounded him, looming menacingly from the shadows. The rogue wondered for a moment if he could still be dreaming, but the creature's claws curved around his throat, talons lightly pressing his jugular veins, its not-so-subtle threat implicit, and its lips stretched back, revealing vicious fangs in a rictus that parodied a smile. To Patch's great regret, this was no dream.
"You've made my Master very angry, foolish mortal," the demon hissed. "He doesn't like you. He doesn't like you at all. You're trying to steal his Beads. He made them, you know. They sing to him. They want to be joined with him once again. They were waiting for him, right where he'd hidden them. Until you started your sniffing! Until you started your scrying! Until you discovered the place where they rested. Until you stirred up the Others to seek them as well. It's time to end your meddling. It's time for you to die." The fiend's hands tightened, painfully choking the hapless man.
"Wait!" Patch rasped desperately, struggling for air and frantically trying to break the demon's grip. "Please! Please! Don't kill me! I'll make it up to him! I'll help him! I'll serve him!"
The imp chuckled, a chilling sound, and squeezed tighter, but his head cocked as if he were listening to a distant voice. "Talk fast, foolish man. You have thirty seconds." The steel fingers didn't relax, but neither did they tighten further.
"I can convince everyone that the Beads aren't there--aren't where we know they are. I stirred the interest...I can redirect it! I can make those fools in Borren believe anything. They'll be chasing their tails while you get the Beads for your Master. Trust me! I can make it work."
The pressure on his throat eased. "Oh, that's funny!" the monster approved. "Trust you! Trust you!" The grim chorus besieging him cackled hideously. "Trust you our Master does not. You may begin, but we will all be with you day and night to...remind you."
Heretofore Patch had believed that living with one's personal demons was essentially a philosophical dilemma. He was beginning to realize how tangible and how horrid such a fate truly was. "Yes, sir," he replied. "I'll get on it right away..."