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You were a bloodthirsty warmonger. Conflict was your bread, and carnage was your wine. You carved a path laden with corpses and entrails, all to feed your insatiable hunger for conquest. Your followers thousands strong, all fierce and loyal. Kings tremble when they hear your name, and peasants dare not utter it. A curse, a plague, a scourge upon the world. That was what you are.

But that wasn't just it. No living or dead were spared from your atrocities. Your victory banquets were filled with wails of your enemies as you slay their loved ones right before their eyes, before desecrating the bodies. You demand tribute in form of human sacrifices, whose corpses you then ravished in your private chamber.

Fortunately to the realm, your dominion did not last for an eternity. Your armies began losing, and bit by bit the coalition against your tyranny grew. One fateful day, a hero break through your rank, challenged you in single combat, and came out triumphant. Your reign of terror finally over, but the realm will not forget the scourge that was

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