Assortments of the Uncanny.

The Wastes.

Once upon a time, at the start of a new world, full of growing kingdoms and royals, there were The Wastes. Of course, at the dawn of this new world, that was not the name for the kingdom. The original name was lost in the sands of time.

This kingdom was founded by a small group of people out in the middle of a massive forest. The people collectively chose a man, handsome as he was kind to govern the population. His name was Crocell.

This man, unlike rulers of foreign kingdoms, lived among the citizens and treated everyone as an equal to himself. This lead the people to marvel at him. Crocell was indeed a talented man, he could easily relieve disputes,spread his knowledge and wealth, heal and never slay a living thing, not even a creature that preyed upon him.

The people were so enthralled by his giving nature, they wanted to repay him. The citizens built up a small castle befitting him. When Crocell found out, he could not refuse his people's gift. He often invited people in, even complete strangers of the kingdom, to stay,eat and chat with him. He never let his possesion cloud his judgement; if anything it made him a better king than ever.

After a few years, Crocell fell ill. Unsure of the nature of the disease, he locked himself away in his castle, governing from afar.

Many quiet years came and went. Eventually he came out. When Crocell reappeared to the public eye, he was almost unrecognizable. His normally tidy and kept hair was a mess of tangles. His eyes were dimmer and unfamiliar. He grew out long striped horns that went far past the top of his hair. He didn't hold casual talk with citizens like usual. In fact, it was like he forgot how to speak. The people were worried; but they still retained hope. His heath was declining. As time went on, his eyes developed into black and white swirls ad he feasted upon animals.

The people were horrified and uncertain of what their once aweful king had become. The kept hope in mind, unsure of how else to approach the situation. They felt wrong electing a new leader. His animalistic ways terrified the citizens, the land once their Eden was now a distant dream.

Over time, Crocel became friendlier with the people again. He attemped to converse in broken phrases. People were uneasy speaking to him. His warm voice and laughter was now cold, confusing squaks and roars. His hands turned into black claws that injured the citizens it touched. Inside his mouth became gooey and black, which made the people resend his invites to feast with him. His teeth slowly became sharp needles, which he rarely even used, because he cut his mouth ear to ear to digest food whole.

Some people left, others contemplated leaving. Crocell recognized it when less than 50 people resided in the kingdom. He attempted to fix himself. He sewed up his mouth and accidently broke a horn. His efforts proved to be in vain. He gave in to his madness and new found instinct. One night, he went around and mutiliated the remaining few citizens, stiching up their mouths and eyes. In less than 6 months time, the "kingdom" was different. The mutilated citizens wandered aimlessly. The forest animals had now met the same fate, turned into horrific playthings and meals for the "king". The once lush and perfect forrest was now a place of disturbing things. Even the climate changed, it went from a florishing beautiful state to always foggy and damp. No one dared to go near to this place. People would never even wish a visit to there on their worst enemies. The surviors of the kingdom, the ones who left before everthing fell apart, hid their identities, never spreading the name of the old land. Instead, people began calling it "The Wastes".