Burgundian
Legacy Name: Burgundian

Burgundian- an extinct East Germanic language, spoken by the Burgundians in southeastern Gaul as late as the 5th century AD. -Wikipedia.

There are legends deep in the mountains, tales that have been told for as long as the moon has risen. Of dark grasping things that will catch you unawares in the forest. Do not scoff at the superstitions of the elderly, do not take these stories lightly, and do not go out after dark.

There is a tale told in the mountain villages, beyond the stories of werewolves and Baba Yagas, beyond even stories of vampires and the Unseelie Court. It is the story of Burgundian.

Burgundian, they say, was the youngest son of a good and just count. The count's kind ways passed onto his eldest son who was to be his heir. Burgundian however, did not listen to his father's teachings and grew up to be cold and cruel. He would strike down all who stood before him, using violence and vengeance to gain what he wanted. And what he wanted most was his father's holdings. His father and elder brother opposed him, for they where strong and had the backing of the people. And so Burgundian turned to even darker tactics. Deep within the bowels of his dark and cold castle, Burgundian made a pact with the very darkest of evil. The terms were that he would gain what he wished and would rule forever, in return the demon would get his soul. Victory appeared to be assured.

But the count and his heir fought back with the powers of light and the very demon Burgundian was sworn to was vanquished in the battle. Forced to retreat, Burgundian hid in his castle and was never seen by his family again.

But Burgundian was not not truly defeated. With the death of the demon Burgundian no longer had any soul debt to settle, but neither did his promised powers cease. And so he waited, for his father to die and his brother to rule and die after him. Finally, after several generation when Burgundian was certain that no one knew the old holy ways anymore, he struck. And he struck hard. The current count and his family fell swiftly and Burgundian took over. He had gotten what he wanted.

But times had already changed. The loose collection of counts and nobles were now ruled by a king. Burgundian's pact had only ensured his father's land, not beyond, his ambition for conquest would dry up once outside his borders, the driving burn in his heart turned to ash and he would always turn back out of boredom. But his current holdings are indeed vast with long stretches of wilderness generously dotted with civilization, the only place he could not enter is sanctified ground. And so Burgundian found himself will little actual ruling power and he faded into local superstition. But that was fine with him, worldly concerns were no longer his. He was immortal now, something dark and twisted.

And so they say that even to this day Burgundian rules from the dark castle high in the cold mountains. He spends his nights tormenting the people, galloping through the trees like a night-ghast and dragging the unfortunate victim back to his castle. For what purpose no one knows, for he owe nothing to nobody, least of all hell itself. Some say they are tortured for his amusement, for he has grown bored with his long life, others say he drinks their blood to sustain himself.

This last rumor has attracted vampire hunters like moths to a flame. They gather their supplies and march up to the castle, hoping to vanquish him once and for all. But they discover to their horror, once crosses, holy water, and sunlight fail, that Burgundian is most assuredly not a vampire.

But what he truly is no one knows. Not a vampire, not a demon, not a legend. He is just Burgundian.

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Burgundian appears as an anthro bloodred legeica. His red scales shine like garnets, the same with his hooves and fingertips. His pitch black hair is limp and clingy as if wet. His eyes are the color of topazes. He only appears to wear a black furred robe that hangs off his shoulder. He appears listless and lethargic while in his dark castle. He is waited on by many different spirits, for his powers have allowed him to control evil creatures. The other form he likes to take is the form of a quad bloodred legeica. In this form he gallops off to torment and terrorize the countryside. His call is like the screech of a dying animals mixed with nails on a chalk board. He swifter than the wind and uncatchable. He can appear out of no where and no arrow or bullet can harm him. In this form he will snatch a victim and drag them off to their doom.