Lore
In the grand, candlelit halls of the fae King’s castle, laughter echoed, but never from the king himself. The king, a stern and joyless monarch, presided over his court with an iron fist. His scowl was ever-present, his moods as dark as the thunderclouds that often loomed over his kingdom. In this grim court, there was one who tirelessly sought to bring a spark of joy to the dour monarch: Zevnog, the court jester.The jester was a master of their craft, their performances a dazzling blend of acrobatics, sharp wit, and somewhat… macabre comedy? Their brightly colored costume and jangling bells were a stark contrast to the muted tones of the court. But no matter how many somersaults they turned or jokes they told, The king’s expression remained unmoved. For years, the jester’s efforts were met with disdain and, often, cruelty. The king would mock them, belittle them, and, on particularly bad days, have them beaten for failing to amuse.Despite the humiliation and abuse, the jester persisted. Their heart, though battered, clung to a desperate hope that one day, they might break through the king's hardened exterior. But with each passing year, that hope dwindled, replaced by a simmering resentment.One night, after a particularly harsh rebuke from the king, something inside the jester snapped. The years of ridicule, the bruises, the endless humiliation had piled up until they crushed the last vestiges of their patience. As they lay in their quarters, staring at the ceiling, a dark resolve began to form.The following day, the court gathered for another performance. The jester took to the center of the hall, their face a painted mask of joy that hid the storm brewing within. They started with their usual routine, but there was a subtle difference. Their movements were sharper, their eyes glittering with a dangerous light.As they juggled, danced, and joked, the court was enraptured, not noticing the tension in their limbs, the fury in their eyes. The king watched with his usual disinterest, unaware that this performance would be unlike any other.The Jester concluded their act with a flourish, a deep bow that brought them close to the king's throne. As they rose, a chained flail dropped from within their colorful tunic, its spikes glinting in the torchlight. Before anyone could react, they swung at the king, the flail finding its mark in the king’s cold heart.Gasps and screams filled the hall as the courtiers scrambled away from the chaos. The king's guards rushed forward, but the jester was quicker, their movements honed by years of acrobatics. They dispatched the guards with a ferocity born of years of suppressed rage. The courtiers, who had once laughed at their antics, now trembled in fear, witnessing the jester's vengeance unfold.With the king and his guards dead, the jester stood in the center of the hall, breathing heavily, their costume spattered with blood. They looked around at the terrified faces of the courtiers, the very people who had laughed at their suffering. For a moment, they considered sparing them, but the memories of their jeers and indifference steeled his resolve.One by one, the jester hunted them down, the hallways of the castle echoing with their pleas and screams. By dawn, the court was silent, the once grand hall now a grim tableau of the jester’s retribution.As the sun rose, the jester stood alone in the throne room, the bodies of their tormentors scattered around them. They removed their jester's hat, the bells chiming softly in the silence. Their face, once a mask of painted cheer, was now a reflection of the darkness they had harbored for so long.They ascended the steps to the throne and sat next to the king, their eyes staring into the distance. Then all of a sudden, the jester heard laughter…The jester turned quickly, thinking they were hearing things. The king was now dead.. But no.. Smiling..The king was smiling.. And laughing? The king’s laughter almost music to the jester’s ears after the years of nothing. As the horror upon the jesters face quickly transitioned to sorrow. The king said something inaudible. Reaching a hand up to the jester's face, drawing the banishment symbol on their forehead. The symbol of the void.Everything for the jester went dark.. The great halls of the kingdom they know, the laughter of the king they served. The final sound they will ever hear.
Or so they thought..A creature, beetle-like in nature approached the jester, in the blackness of the void. And spoke“Howdy partner!” - enter Mortis
