The Creation of the Mantle of Blood

[Skald of Storms]

(This story may take awhile, but I am happy to accept any comments are criticisms you may have with it, message me with them, always looking to improve )

EDIT: (I forgot to mention that a story is never finished, and I being who I am, is never very happy with anything I write, thusly each part is due to changes. This intro especially, it makes little sense to most I think. Or is harder to make sense of. But I will endevour to adjust my writing so it is at least presentable in the future. My thanks to those of you who bother to read this tripe of a story.)

EDIT2: (I have rewritten the start completely in a new style, the basis is still the same. But I have found this to be the easiest way to write this particular history, as if it was a history. For those who have already read it before I hope you appreciate the differences, for those that did not, this is a better version in my own sight.)

You are presented with a scroll of parchment by a strange hooded youth who whispers to you, "This is the truth of an item beyond imagining, and the follies of man, read it...discover a lost history friend, I did not give this to you." he turns from you and disappears into the night.

'You who read this most ancient of historical texts, remember that this is an account of something that passed from the memories of mortal men eons ago. But you as students of history will do well to pay attention to the folly of men far greater than yourselves..."

The year is 642 of the reign of King Noctis the Magnificant. I am the court historian, Herdan. I chronicle is the final book the last truths of that war that should never be forgotten. I live in exile, having managed to acquire passage to another world.

The King is dead. Everyone is dead. The enemy and us. Our folly, we fell into the web of those who travel through the worlds. Who they are, I cannot say, I dare not say, even writing their name is forbidden. However I will tell you how this came to be, how the last chronicle of the Kingdom of Graken came to be.

Our king Noctis the Magnificant was a noble and benevolent ruler, or at least we thought so. But the truth was far from it, he was a demon wearing human skin, he was considered the greatest man our world had ever seen, a peerless warrior, a strategic genius. We thought he was perfect and worshipped him as a god. But he was evil to the core, he sought death and destruction on a grand scale, even at the cost of his own people.

And it just so happens that the only rival kingdom was the Kingdom of Raveria, it lay to the east of our own kingdom, it was full of bloody savages, barely able to be called a kingdom, we had kept it's raiders at bay with our own blood and deaths. But they were ruled by a man who was not evil, no he was just naive. He was easily led by those who travel the worlds, and he thought our kingdom was evil and oppressive, he was easily decieved by all, even his own people.

This man was called King Henrat. As a person he was ideal, he was pure of mind and soul, but blind to all around him, however he was not weak, when his mind was set on something it was impossible to change it, and his sword arm was feared throughout his barbaric people. A man after my own heart, but he rallied together the true might of his kingdom, those savages were beyond numbers. Had our king not had the farseer's we would have been crushed in an instant, but Noctis rallied our mighty armies, their gleaming armour and ordered ranks, a sight to inspire even the blind. The marching of our feet and the trampling hooves shook the ground.

Our armies first met on the plains of Arret, between the Forest of Hedon and the River that dissected our great kingdom. There was nothing to be done, we marvelled at his strategic genius as he led our people out against the hordes of barbarians. Our warriors fought like giants, but these savages were beyond number as I said and soon we were pushed back. Our entire army was decimated practically, apart from the King's own guards. A silent bunch, had we but known at the time, perhaps the bloodshed could have been avoided.

It was then that those of us closest to the king realised his intent, and learned from a rebbellious farseer of the other sides belief. We were horrified when the plot was laid out before us. We could hardly stomach it, we marched to the king. The Duke of Hedon confronted the king, a finer man there wasn't in the kingdom, and a childhood friend of the king, we felt true fear when the king cleanly removed the Duke's head. He then dismissed the rest of us for our services rendered. We fled.

What came next was horrible. To horrible to describe. I can't put it into words. Forgive me. This chronicle must end, I can't write it any more, so much I had forced from my mind has come back...

'This is not the end of the text my student, it is but the start, we have given you a small part, he later continued to write it out of some form of guilt. The truth of this history is horrific, and the item that resulted from it is truly unique...and truly terrifying. Should it be found it is best to be destroyed.'