King Blue Storm suffered from what had been known among those of royal blood as the curse of the crown, it wasn’t an actual curse or affliction rather an obsession. The so called “old kings” or first fifty rulers of the Kingdom of Harmony reportedly had blood as black as night and lived hundreds of years, this blood was diluted over time as it became intermingled with none royalty over the years, each ruler living closer and closer to that of the general population, the new kings each found themselves longing to rekindle that former glory. Every man and lady of royal blood longed to be eternal. Poems and legends of the prolonged king would be stylized and sung by bards across the land. Blue Storm from an early age had this hunger in spades, in fact when he was a prince he had started running secret archanic rituals in an attempt to increase the amount of royal blood even going so far as to separate the aspect of royalty from the blood of his own brother who died of “natural causes” To his disappointment this only formed a single drop of royal blood. By the time he became King he had an entire vial of the black blood and was prepared to use it within an experiment of strange design calling one of the most secretive warlocks of the time, Crow Storm a distant cousin of his. On the night of a Red moon Using half the container of blood to infuse Blue Storm with ancient powers of the pure kings of old Crow Storm began his most important ritual to date, the ultimate feat in magic, the kind that would make his name last through the ages as he desired. But something went wrong strange dark smoke emerged from the king as the magics danced about forming lights of all colours imitating the stained glass windows refraction across the rainbow valley, place where this experiment took place was a distant mountain known at the time as mount Silver, and by the time the experiment was done, a hole appeared at its peak. Deep within this hole stood Blue Storm, his hair Dyed black by the strange forces, his blood darker but no where near enough for his ambitions and his mind altered. He looked down and saw his cousin laying there with scars across his form and hair also tinged dark. “You may have been influenced by my spell, if I find you’ve stolen my forever I’ll make sure you never see the light of day, I’m taking you back to the castle with me, you’ll recover in luxury and then I’ll decide your fate.” Crow didn’t respond, he was too busy being unconscious.
Crow Storm awoke, but kept his eyes shut pretending to sleep wishing he was dead, a madness yelling in his head something about the end of days if he couldn’t bring back the sacred light. He opted to ignore the voices in his head and focus on the voices talking over his bed, it seemed to be the king and a royal doctor. “He should live and all the scars should heal nicely” The doctor said. “Unacceptable, if he is eternal now I want him to never forget who did this to him, I’ll make sure that he’s always marked by Me, DARK STORM!” The king said while turning to the fallen man pointing and focusing a strange new form of magic into the scar burning it from the inside out forcing it to remain and deepen to the point where even the skull showed a scar, a scar that would out live the man wearing it. Crow screamed out in agony begging for mercy begging for death, but the king would show him neither. “This is the price you pay for failing me, I hope you know if you ever fail me again I’ll make it worse, but I won’t ever let you die.” From that day on something new grew within the two men, one gave up on magic entirely the other began worshiping it and using it for everything, but Crow had a secret of his own, he snuck back to the mountain as soon as he healed and hid the vial of black blood, hoping his cousin never became the immortal tyrant he sought to become.
Years later as the black liquid had been all but used up in a strange experiment to create a safe gaurd against his ultimate warriror Crow Storm felt his work was done and he left for the desert to find out if he really was unable to die. The king soon found out about these successful creatures and their secret ingredient through a strange process explained in another story Project Echoshadow presents the king with the very last of the blood. The king had secretly been “Collecting more over the years and finaly had enough for another attempt, this didn’t feed his power, many wonder if it lengthened his life, but it certaintly didn’t lengthen his rule. He became undeniably mad searching franticaly for more and more radical experiments answering to the voices in hsi head begging for the sacred light to be returned, his wife who had been increasingly in charge of the day to day affairs, the glorious Queen Water Arrow, banished him. But not after being cursed with a fate she found worse than death, she would never again be able to open her mouth or a strange wind would utter forth petrifying some and setting others aflame, she had once been renowned for her singing but that too is a story for another day. The great King Blue storm, had been tainted by so much magic that nothing but the terrible tyrant Dark Storm remained, a shallow immitation of the kings of old, in a kingdom that was a shallow imitation of its former glory. But that would soon change. With Dark Storm gone for the first time there were no more of royal blood to take the crown when Water Arrow left and she was less than fit to rule with her inability to speak orders. Rumours of who would take charge once she stepped down spread and in that kingdom rumours always lead, to chaos.