In some parts the name of the the Black Company has become something of a hallmark of brutal vigilantes and soldiers of circumstances. As I know of it, the Company began as a sort of high risk/high reward commando group in the service of the Conn. Depending upon the works studied, they were everything from a shiningshining [why does my qetheric servant insist upon this useless doubling of my words? I must rectify this at conveinience] beacon of hope for those put upon by the works of evil to a highly skilled strike force who massacred those who would dare stand against Himself.
Prefect Vazrathz spoke of stories from his youth as an Ice Giant raider. Stories of a demigod who ground the southern lands beneath his heel. And oh how those young orcs pounded their chests and crowed that even such a man avoided their territory. (Even as their shaman burnt offerings and prayed for his mortal favor) That the utter desolace of their homeland provided no beneficial resource was of no matter. This man, this god to some, never in all his campaigns stepped one foot into the mountains south of Golden Brook evidenced enough that their god feared them and saw them as equals.
To this day there are some willfully primitive factions of the clan I happen to be a half member of due to my mother’s marriage to Minister Boland (most of the clan consider me an illegitimate of a concubine, some consider me a stain upon the Minister’s honor) that would gleefully regale you in their own way of the obviously incorrect notion the Boland is a direct son of Conn. (It should be noted that my stepfather is of orcish and elven decent withnot a drop of human blood within him, as well that Himself is not known to appear in any reliable record for some hundred years predate the birth of the good minister)
Alas, from those halcyon days when great heroes suckled upon the very teat of the High King the Company has fallen. To most civilized sovereigns the name of the Company denotes at best a stout and worthwhle force of person providing an invaluable service at great risk to themselves, but for the benefit of all. And, at worst, (and sadly worlds more common) a destitute smattering of useless thugs who are cheaper to bribe and buy off than to muster an army and expell from one’s territory.
If A is to succeed in his dhak’ro he must not only make his company a true force for good. He must revive the spirit of the elder Blacks. He must form these simple, frightened men into a bulwark against evil and hatred. And most of all Fear.