The Decaying Crown

Before

Before

"Try your best to be a saint and see how far you fall"

-

Many years ago in a time which feels almost a lifetime away, the proud King Nichols sat on the throne. But the fraudulent whispers of treachery, lies weaved by chaos itself, slowly drove the once honorable man into a frantic manic who jumped at the sight of his own shadow behind him and mistook the asking hands of his people for the gasping hands of a thief who sought his throne. Eyes that were once bright with ambition were clouded by the malevolent God, leaving nothing but fear and paranoia behind. Reflected within those blinded eyes, were the many atrocities the king permitted, the burning of villages, the executions of innocents and the once bountiful lands to be raped and left barren. From his twisted mouth, the king himself gave these orders, yet the words were always in Discords own tune.

Under his wrath the kingdom grew impoverished and the people mutinous. In the aftermath of his own actions, two young men rose from the ashes like phoenixes. On wings that burnt brightly with their desire for vengeance and fangs bared in defiance, they amassed an opposing force against their own ruler. Their fire burnt so hot it ravaged the country, leaving nothing but death in their wake and their fangs were as sharp as the swords they wielded, it seemed no force could prevent their armies from marching the capital and quenching their thirst for the king's blood. In his desperation the Coward King implored the Whispering God to grant him a boon, so that he may prevent the traitors from stealing his sole purpose; the throne. However, the Whispering God was the true traitor in the Coward King's court, and they left the once-king to burn alone.

Once the flames died down, the Wolf and the Raven ascended the throne as both Kings and Gods.

-

Today was an important day, perhaps the most important day in the history of the Kingdom. King Nicholas, the coward king, has been dethroned- in a rather gruesome and abrupt ordeal, but an end none the less.

Crowds packed together tightly as they gathered in the throne room, commoners and nobility brushing shoulders like equals for the first time in years as they strived to catch a glimpse of their heroes. Only a few weeks ago all they had known was the greys of oppression, but now they had faith and hope. They had faith in their to-be-kings, something they never had in Nicholas. After all, these two were the ones who fanned the spark of rebellion into a raging inferno that consumed the nation, they lead the charge of every battle and showed mercy to those that surrendered arms; gifts the Coward King had never extended to his people.

And if their ability to control the violent flames that scorched the kingdom wasn't enough to put faith into the people, rumor had is that the two kings were chosen by the throne itself. When a chosen one sat in the throne, not only did they become ruler of the realm, but also they would gain godhood. Immortality and a niche to rule over, Gods were the most powerful beings alive, although not much was known about their full capabilities, or how the throne itself worked.

The throne room had been decorated to the best of the people's abilities; tapestries and bunting decorated the walls hiding the scars from the battle that raged through the halls. While the king's had been swift in repairing the city, rebuilding their armies and forming connections with the nobility, they had all but neglected repairing the castle.

However, thanks to the people's efforts you could barely tell. The room was a swirling mass of colors, various shades of green for the Raven, Reds and whites for the Wolf and Gold for the flames they had created and for the riches the future held.

At one end of the throne room was a pair of heavy oak doors, which had been left ajar so that that a steady stream of civilians could enter the large stone room. Through the doorway glimpses of a bustling city could be seen. A red carpet had been thrown along the length of the chamber creating a divide in the sea of bodies for the to-be-kings to pass through, ending abruptly at the stairs to the throne.