octoocto 2

In all the world there exists non more pitiful than the hanged king. The hanged king was serpast in knowledge and power by his so called servants who had reaped the benefits of his sacrifice made so he could become a god capable of stealing back the souls he had sold. The only kindness ever shown two him had been by the black lord who had left many moons before. With his isolation complete any semblance of sanity crumble and it was like this for a long time before his mind became empty. And then the corpse awoke to the screaming of his servants.
Suddenly he became aware of the room it was a dungeon slightly illuminated from an unknown source old brick walls were covered with chains and in the center writhing on the floor was his ambassador the hanged king got up went over kicked the ambassador in the head. His throne had been a metal chair with sharpened metal rods covered with old blood. Why had he sat there for so long? The hanged king saw that his there servants were also writhing. He walked as if in a dream through the old dungeon bringing himself to a throne room once gold but now a damp yellow there stood a crimson son.