Lobraxius was once a cheery, fruitful land, but is now dim and troubled. Chill mists dampen its orchards and its onetime singing brooks are now gloomy and menacing. It's capital (and only large settlement of note) Lacunae is no longer bustling but instead inflicted with lassitude, mild despair and occasional fits of madness.
The Silver Palace dimly looms over Lacunae through the cold mists and upon it's throne of howlite sits The Weeping King. Despite his appellation the Weeping King is stoic, albeit confused and vaguely troubled, being called by such a title for the weeping wound upon the side of his head.
This wound was inflicted by the cursed blade Bolvangangen, wielded by The Weeping King's bastard half-brother The Masked Prince at the urgings of their witch-mother Ulmoas. This accursed blade sorely wounded both the king and via it's sorcery the land, draining both of their vitality and vigour.
Now hissing shades stalk the dales and moors of Lobraxius and infants quietly die of neglect in their cribs.
That's a pretty freaky little post man! Very evocative Blair. A bit Ravenloft for my taste but what the hell.
ReplyDeleteDelicious! This piece has beautiful rhythm and that last sentence is so gorgeously evocative.
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