Far away and long ago, a pact was sworn among some villains of the old realm. Under pain of death, this motley band pledged to propagate a lineage that would one day yield a tribe of miscreants so vile, so inhuman that Lucifer himself would tremble in their view. Cadre of terror, they would be called. Kings of vengeance, some would whisper. Yesterdays spun into todays; autumns tobogganed into winters. Old promises must needs be kept. Upon the setting of the next sun, heed the warnings of the evening birds and flee: The Opera is risen.