"My liege please spare us! Hundreds of us have already perished! The land is dying and nothing will grow. The wheat that does grow laughs and drags our men down below."
A commoner slammed his head on the stone floor again and again. Then he looks up at a man sitting on the throne.
His brow is wrinkled deep in thought. "Has anyone consulted the prophet?" The man said.
King Jascot scratches his face with his sapphire ring puzzled on how to handle the situation. The Blood War ended over 20 years ago leading to the downfall of many countries and empires and yet none of its effects ever made plants sentient or caused famine.
"No my liege, they have been sleeping for many moons and will not awake. No matter what we have tried." The court jester nervously stated. The jester's hat was in disarray and his eyebags were deep within his face.
"Are we sure the prophet is not dead?" the king rolled his eyes at them. The others in the room shook their heads.
"WAKE THEM NOW! King Jascot bellowed.
In an instant, someone wrapped in a silver cloak appeared in the room.
The last of the ancestors born from blood, the sacred snow will cure a pox, two women rise up from the mud, silver thread from starlight's locks, famine thrives upon their feud, feed the land what is dued.
The prescence then vanished.
"What the hell does that mean?!" The king yelled.
His voice echoed throughout the room.
"Stupid. vague. weirdo." He grumbled to himself.
"Find Miella Beauxregard and Vita Baker!" He announced to the group.
An apocalyptic event destroys much of the world of Andowa. A manipulative man from the Bloodlands, Toman Jascot, takes over the Bloodlands as to "improve it" Led by a prophecy that would make him the wealthiest man in all the land, Jascot takes the two most notable women in the area under his wing. Two women vie for his approval as famine destroys the land from the inside out. Both of whom are hiding their true identities. The goal: to bring prosperity back to Andowa at any cost.
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