Dominance of The Dark Lord Morgakosh
A short story based in a middle earth ruling.
Morgakosh was once a decently prosperous land, with nice little homes and fertile soils. The sky was always blue, filling the people in the villages with positivity and hope for their futures. Morgakosh is still large in size, only now with not so happy a nucleus. The blue sky was turned to gray, and the soils were leeched of their nutrients. The land is now barren from end to end, save the leafless trees that cast haunting shadows over the decaying homes of villagers.
The entity that plunged Morgakosh into darkness is known as the dark lord Veldrok. The fearless, ruthless, intimidating, and seemingly undefeatable picture of power. From his velvet throne he sits and rules Morgakosh. The tallest spire of the kingdom’s citadel is from where he controls the destruction and torment of the land. Veldrok takes great pride in depriving the villagers of necessities such as food and shelter. The satisfaction he gets comes from the villagers who come to him groveling for the things that were taken by he.
No one had ever dared to stand up to the daunting task of killing Lord Veldrok. It just seemed to be too unreachable for the village-folk. The villagers would soon get a glimmer of hope in the form of a wandering warrior named Zithor. His long silver hair shined in the sun as his figure emitted an aura of pure valiance sitting atop his white steed. His armor was of ornate steel, and his eyes glowed with the bright blue passion of victory. The villagers told him of Lord Veldrok and the predicament of their land. Zithor vowed to destroy Veldrok and return Morgakosh back to its former state of peace.
Zithor primed his sword and made his way to Veldrok’s spire. Upon arrival, he unsheathed his glorious weapon, prime and ready for the duel. After stumbling about, he finally came upon Lord Veldrok sitting on a crimson throne, facing in his direction. “DRAW YOUR WEAPON! PREPARE TO DIE!” Zithor shouted at the entity. Veldrok stood up in all of his dark glory, accepting the battle engagement.
A few short minutes after the battle had begun, Zithor lay cold and lifeless on the stone floor of the citadel. Lord Veldrok had proven to be too powerful for a pitiful fool trying to be heroic. Using his dark power, Veldrok drained the blood from Zithor’s body, multiplied it, and made it pour down upon Morgakosh. What a terror he is! Magnificent and dark, evil beyond any comparison.
With the death of Morgakosh’s only hero, eternal doom enshrouds the land with no hope of eviction. When the knowledge of Zithor’s death reached the villagers in the form of blood rain, the people of Morgakosh hoped for a new hero. However, the final string of hope was evaporated from the minds of the villagers after Lord Veldrok obtained an immortality stone, liquified it, and drank it. Now he is completely invincible, and Morgakosh will rot forever under the evil rule of Veldrok!