Heavy is the head that wears the crown they say, and for you this held true.

You were the ruler of the Kingdom of Erivelle, a large and densely populated nation that was once the jewel of the North.

Once upon a time your kingdom was prosperous and thriving, gold graced every palm within your presence and spiced wine was in abundance, but that was before the plague.

Most of your subjects did not survive, and those that did are weak and starving, they gather before you in your throne room to plea for your aid.

As their leader you know that it is down to you to spare them of their suffering and return your country to it's former glory, but whispers in your ear tempt you to do otherwise.

With the plague came The Demonic Lady of Sloth and now she stands beside your throne, glaring at the desperate crowd with a cruel, casual grin.

"Typical of humans to ask so much of you during your darkest hour your majesty. Perhaps the wisest thing to do...is nothing at all."