THE ZYRAN KING

Scratching his beard furiously, His Magnificence marched into the dark abyss flanked by his royal guards. He did not heed the countless refusal and advice from the members of his council. He was determined to unleash the monstrosity that was held captive in the dungeon that was located 13 floors below the main castle, Kezyranpalas. The first king of the Zyran bloodline who ordered for the castle to be built had all the men involved in its making from stone mason to blacksmiths and engineers killed. Only members of the royal family were to know they nooks and crooks around the castle.



The new king, Darius Zyran was still uncomfortable with his crown which sat awkwardly upon his helm, chaffing his temples. "Blasted crown", the king mumbled under his breath as he adjusted the golden ornament for the sixth time that morning. "Only a king may indulge in the pleasures that comes with a crown, hence it's his duty to shoulder the burden Your Grace" chastised his advisor, Wegaf Cuelar. "PLEASURES?!" the king barked back, silencing Wegaf. 

Wegaf Cuelar, a man in is late sixties who has served three Zyran kings in his lifetime. Despite his age, the man was still in good health (manage to outlive two kings) and possessed vast knowledge from the subject of politics to potions. As the travelled deeper into the maze that led to the heart of the dungeon, the air grew humid and the floors were wet from some murky liquid. Suddenly the party came to a halt. The king unclasped his cape that had the sigil of his house, a golden lion reaching for a golden sun in a crimson sky. One of his guards scurried towards him just in time to catch the fabric before it fell completely onto the filthy ground. But the king didn't stop there; he took off his gauntlets, armor, the mail beneath it and even his leather tunic. Wegaf was perplexed, "Sire, what.." he began before King Darius shot him a menacing stare. For a moment the king stood there contemplating, his upper body bare, bearing countless scars and bruises from a hundred if not a thousand battles and brawls. After some time, the king nodded to himself and announced, " Titus, you alone shall follow me from this point forth". His advisor was now aghast, "Sire you can't.." "I CAN'T?! I'm a Zyran and a king Wegaf. Not some halfwit or has that slipped your evasive mind?". Defeated by his king's rage, Wegaf bid for forgiveness.

As the king and his personal shield traveled deeper into the abyss, the stench of feces and urine tingled their olfactory nerves. They kept walking until they reached a giant of a man who stood sentinel to a pair of iron doors behind him. The doors had a plethora of symbols, signs and wordings on it. Spells and enchantments the lot to contain the abomination that lies within. The man was surrounded by a pack of wolves, seven wolves to be exact. Although he was aware of the king's arrival he was utterly uninterested. Upon his helm rested a bronze crown which was evidently too small for his prominent head. He was clad in nothing but a pair of worn leather breaches. Despite his feral appearance, he wore elaborately designed anklets and armbands of bronze. The ornaments seemed like they were about to crack, unable to contain his muscular features.
"What is your purpose here?" he bellowed to the king. Furious by the brawny man's lack of respect for his king, Titus unsheathed his longsword and countered with a question of his own, " Who do you think you are speaking to fool?!" to which the young king snickered. The large man snarled and as though his wolves could sense his anger and dicomfort shifted uncomfortably, growling and barking at the king and his shield. In the darkness, the eyes of the beast glowed like molten gold, green and red gems. "Easy mine old friend, my shield here is always eager to show off his magnificent beauty, Dawn. How fare you Prince Stolz Held?", cajoled the king. The prince spat back, " Do not presume to smother me with sweet words ZYRANIAN! Words spent cannot be taken back. Does your dog not know of it?! He will suffer my wrath!"