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The country of Roaldag seems to be a fine country to live in... but deep within it's castle, turmoil was about to begin...

The throne room of the King was adorned with gold ornaments and maroon tapestry. King Dalmorg sat in a depressed way on his throne. The age in his eyes showed his stress. He rubbed his gray beard in a questioning way. He truly meant no harm to his country. He made the signal to let the next petition to have an audience with him. It seems the farmers are wanting less taxes on them. After the farmers left, Dalmorg wondered, "What is to become of my country if I do not have a heir?"

"Perhaps I can make you see what will happen."

Dalmorg jumped out of his throne and tried called his guards, but he was paralyzed. He was now unable to move or talk. The voice had disabled him,and within a moment crushed his mind. In a flash of darkness, a cloaked figure materialized standing over the fallen king. The cloak disguised any of his features. He touched the back of his neck with a bony claw for a hand and mimicked the King's appearance, then, absorbed Dalmorg's old body. "Now" he said in a dark way, "is just the beginning..."

"Servants!" he shouted.

Within a minute, the "King's" servants ran to his side.

"Yes my liege?" asked the servant loyally.

"Get me some parchments... I have some decrees to make..." said the impostor king.

"What? Why would you have to make decrees?" One Servant asked.

"Quiet!" Demanded the impostor. "Lest you wish to be executed!"

"Yes my lord." The servants said with great fear in their voices.

As the servants left, The impostor grinned evilly...