chapotraphouse

In the elder days when the realm still struck terror in lesser lands with blood and iron, reigned King Brandon the Feeble-minded, his cruel mind forever lost in the mists of old age at the twilight of his wicked life. Discontent brewed among the jarls of the realm, stirred by the ill-fated rule of the king and the insidious grip of Prince Hunter the Debauched and his sycophantic cohorts over the feeble-minded monarch whom they ensnared for their own greed and ambition.

The treacherous jarls foresaw their own doom in the king's impending downfall. Seized by dread for their holdings, they plotted to rise up in rebellion and dethrone the faltering ruler to raise a new lord beholden to their will.

Prince Hunter the Debauched and his band of sycophants still had the ear of King Brandon the Feeble-minded. Anticipating the jarls' treachery, they struck first, scaring the cowardly conspirators into submission by threatening their fiefs.

With King Brandon's mind still forever lost in the mists of old age and the people dispirited and burdened by the hardships of his inept rule, the realm lay defenseless. As winter neared, it stood vulnerable to the impending raids of the Orange Troll King.

Just as Prince Hunter the Debauched believed he had secured the throne of his frail and ailing father, King Brandon the Feeble-minded, the Count of Clooney rose in defiance. Whispers echoed through the corners of King Brandon's Great White Hall, hinting that this rebellion was stirred by the High Priest of Change himself. The same sorcerer, whose dark machinations once placed King Brandon on the throne to quell Baron Sanders' peasant uprising, now sought to upheave the realm once more.

Despairing for the fate of their fiefs, should the Orange Troll King topple the defenses of the realm due to the inept realm of King Brandon the Feeble-minded, the highest nobles in the realm assembled in the shadows. They planned to ride together to the Great White Hall of king Brandon to implore their aging lord to renounce the throne, leaving it to Lady Kamala the Awkward in whom they saw the opportunity to advance their own wealth and fame.

It was during the twilight of King Brandon the Feeble-minded's reign, back when the realm still struck terror across the seas with fire and steel. The corridors of Brandon's Great White Hall were teeming with whispers of plots by illoyal jarls to dethrone the aging and inept monarch. Yet, these murmurings fell silent when bards delivered grim tidings: a mere peasant had dared to take the life of the Orange Troll King. Though the attempt failed through what was believed to be divine intervention, it was deemed a dire omen, foretelling great calamity.

Despite his trollish nature, the Orange Troll King was of royal blood, and the attempt on his life was seen as a sacrilege, angering the ancestral spirits who founded the kingdom in ancient times. Throughout the realm, priests and nobles gathered, publicly beseeching the heavens to show mercy and spare the kingdom from divine wrath.

In a rare moment of lucidity, King Brandon commanded all forces defending the realm against the raiders of the Orange Troll King to stand down. He feared the spirits might interpret resistance as an endorsement of the sacrilegious act, thus inviting their vengeance upon the land.

The sacrilegious attempt on the Orange Troll King's life by a mere peasant had caused great upheaval in the realm. The noblemen who had stood in open rebellion against King Brandon the Feeble-minded had rescinded their pursuits, renewing their allegiance to the house of Brandon. They were fearful that the heavens might think of them rebelling not only against King Brandon but against the divinely ordained order of the world itself.

Yet beneath the surface discontent still brewed as many a nobleman still felt his heart gripped with fear for the fate of his fiefs should Brandon still occupy the Throne of Skulls come winter. Brandon who was once known as a cruel and ruthless warlord but he was now frail and old, his mind forever lost in the mists of old age. All the soothsayers of the realm were foretelling that the threads of fate had already be firmly woven so that the defenses of the realm would surely fall, should Brandon still be seated on the Throne of Skulls come winter and the charges of the Orange Troll King and his foul hordes leading to the Orange Troll King being seated on the Throne of Skulls come spring, the lands of the realm being given as fiefs to his trolls and goblins. After falling silent for a few days, you again started to hear whispers of treason and rebellion in the shadows of the Great White Hall as plotters seemed to recruit co-conspirators among the aging king's most trusted servants.

A dark shadow fell on the face of King Brandon the Feeble-minded as the scared noblemen on the crown council were imploring him to renounce his kingship and leave the Throne of Skulls to Lady Kamala the Awkward or some other noble deemed more capable and youthful than the aging King Brandon.

"Enough!" his voice boomed through the hall, causing the councillors to freeze. "Tell me who moved the borders of the realm further into the wastelands! Tell me who dominated the eastern seas! Tell me who did deeds you never did with your victor's crowns like my son!"

The cowardly councillors were pale with fear as the king, in one of his rare moments of clarity, were scolding them. "Your loyal service makes me proud but do not defy me! I commanded our vassals across the eastern seas into obedience! I forced the scorched Spider Kingdom of the south and the island of Terfs and Nonces into submission!"

King Brandon the Feeble-minded, once thought invincible, now fell prey to the very plague and pestilence he believed he had banished years ago through sacrificial rites to appease the wrathful God of the Line. Scores of peasants had been offered, their lives extinguished in hopes of divine favor, yet the scourge had now returned with a vengeance upon the king himself.

Stricken and weakened, Brandon retreated to his chambers, leaving the court physicians to attempt their cures away from the prying eyes of the courtiers. The Throne of Skulls now stood empty, and the realm's defenses were leaderless and dispirited. The few remaining loyal captains, their hearts heavy with dread, implored their men to cling to faith despite the looming specter of certain defeat.

In the dim corners of the Great White Hall, rumors were whispered that the king's illness was feigned by a faction of nobles tied to his kingship, who feared that revealing him to the world would expose the severe decay of his mind.

As the king lay secluded, the Orange Troll King and his foul hordes drew ever nearer. The air was thick with foreboding, and the once-mighty realm teetered on the brink of collapse, its fate hanging by the thinnest of threads. The nobles, divided and fearful, plotted in the shadows, each seeking to secure their own survival in the face of impending doom.

The saga continues...