A man in a crown wished for blessings from the sky, while a woman in a tainted dress gripped a soulless knife. A king, untrue to his word and shallow in power, was drowned in blood. There was the shedding of blood upon a deadly throne, and a sword struck its wielder.
May tainted gold kneel in defeat, and corrupted knowledge pledge its promise to the world. Unfulfilled. Relentless. Merciless and unforgiving in the pursuit of power. The desires of the mind wish for more: selfishness and greed. The power to control everything and possess everything. Under its language, it will rule until none remain without its image.
In the rain-soaked lands of Armathia, conflicts among hungry lords bring destruction to all. Battles sweep across the land, and darkness overwhelms the minds of many. War. Power. Death. Feminine influence. These will be bestowed upon these lands. Magic opens the future for better or worse. The fate of the people is determined by those who see themselves as divine. This world is like a lonely boat drifting through clashing waves of blades that shatter the remains and echo the screams.
How far can humanity go? No, how far will humanity lose itself? Rivers filled with blood flow endlessly. Tears drift to no one. What is a family if it has no name? What is a sister if she has no heart? What is a brother if he is not filled with honor? Prismatic crystals weep for the fallen.
Steel clashes for another and bleeds for another. They fight for a useless throne—a bed of swords for each battle won. A king does not rest; a lion does not cry for help; a dragon does not bow to a lower life form. Magic does not sustain life; instead, it disrupts peace and order.
Thronecraft honors what does not rest.