Prologue: The Uncharted Land

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The Darklands were self-explanatory. The mountains were all black and the sand was black and the water was black. Everything was black. The black clouds didn't let the sun through and even on the sunniest days, the lands were still black and cold. Those who lived in the Darklands relied on candles and lanterns to light up the houses and streets. Although the lands were dark, the people were not. They wore the brightest of colors and had festivals to celebrate the few rare and sunny days. Their hearts however, were the brightest of all. You couldn't take one step out of your house without people rushing up to compliment your hair, your boots and your aura.

The people weren't the only bright things in the Darklands. The houses and buildings were typically built to contrast the dark sky and land, and so, they were built with white marble. The cities were most definitely a magnificent sight to see. There was even a temple in the middle of the capital city built entirely out of gold. The story goes that the previous king built the temple for his second wife, to spite his first wife, who could not bear him any sons.

The economy was great all across the Darklands. It was amazing, in fact. Everybody seemed to have coins in their pockets, whether they be gold or silver.

This was all thanks to their king. King Andrian Dall'aglio wasn't just any king. He was a warlord. Not just any warlord. He was THE warlord.

The only way to become king of the Darklands was to become a warlord, and defeat all the other ruling warlords. The last requirement to become a king, was to defeat the previous king. This was surely the hardest challenge of all, as the king was always, without a doubt, the strongest and smartest of all. He had to be, else he wouldn't have won all those battles against the warlords. After the throne is ascended by a worthy warrior, the throne is then able to be inherited by the king's first born son.

The kings that ascend the throne, whether they inherit it or win it, are always the best of the best. They are the best warriors, the best riders, the best strategists. They simply are the best. They are a master every weapon and every bit of magic. There is nothing that they cannot do.

The righthand man of the king is somewhat similar. He is a jack of all trades, but a master of none. He is the perfect fit for the kings man.

It has been several centuries since there was a king who forcefully took the throne. The greatest eras in history come from the kings who won the throne.

The fact is, ascending the throne after winning it seems to teach the young warlords something. It teaches them compassion, respect, and mercy. These are the qualities in which the greatest of kings are born.

However, the kings who inherit the throne prove that they are the most arrogant and faulty of all those who ruled before them. The economies crash and the people suffer. They can no longer afford their bright clothes and houses of marble. It has been like this for centuries. There are only a select few, the kings friends of course, that can afford these marvelous mansions while the people suffer in hovels made of black twigs and black mud.

This has all changed however. There is a new warlord that has taken up the mantle of king. This is someone who knows what it is like to suffer under the lightless sky and in the unforgiving and constant chill of the Darklands. Whether he be common or whether he be noble, he is the greatest king that the Darklands - no, the world - has ever seen.

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Ideas have power. So when an idea is brought forth from the dark recesses of the mind, the idea is placed into the minds of others. Whether they accept or reject the idea is solely up to on them. If enough people accept the idea, something firm, and real and concrete is made of it. Ideas are shatterproof, so these ideas will appear over and over again time and time again. Once an idea is brought into exsistence, it is out there forever. (JUST LIKE J LAW'S NUDES) This is where the basis of empires are born. Religion is born here too, less so from a single person and more so from a collective group of people who all believe in one myth and legend. Religion, gods and goddesses, all powerful beings, these are born from a collective hope of something more, something bigger. They pray to an imaginary being, asking and begging for a sense of morals, ones that have been determined as being bigger and greater than their own twisted sense of morals.

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