Here's my story:
On the eve of a red night, let me tell you a story.
Once upon a time, there lived a mighty king, the Mighty King of the East. He was an Emperor of sorts, called as the "Emperor of all maladies" by some. He was one who was cursed and spluttered at everytime he drew his sword. He was one of the most loved and most hated kings of all times. A demon in its true form. A ruler whose presence commanded the attention of everyone. Who knew how to taunt and harass. Who knew how to claim. Who knew how to protect. One day, he took the liberty of falling asleep in his castle and as fate's ploy unfolded, he fell asleep for a long long time. During this time, many rulers came and left. Some stayed still. But the memory of his power gradually diluted. And during this period, a grave error was made. All the kings held a council and forgot to invite the Demon king of the East. The King woke up and decided it was time he bottled terror again. A slow blade plunged into the Queen of loreroot and gutted her out. That was his first play and the most benevolent play because he knew she was a young queen. And she could be revived during the Contest of Torches. Moving on to the next land, he tore the mighty Guerrilla Alliance and rendered it's members badge less. The king of the Guerrillas played his card to shackle the emperor, but tightened the noose around his own neck instead. While the Demon King barely faced any consequences of his act, the scale of blunder grew heavier for the Greedy King. The King of the East sealed his fates with his statement and sharpened his sword quietly. The quiet before a calamity. Here ends my story about an Emperor, an emperor who'd be remembered for an Eon. Or does it? Remember the cold blade. Imagining it twisting through your gut. Remember the horror. Remember the fear. Because what is in store for the rest, is not a mere nightmare, But another experience of Blood and terror, a tale saved for another red occasion.