As the bard begins to sit down after performing, all applause immediately dies as an old man gets up. The room seems to grow dark and the fire low as the man slowly takes his place in front of the crowd. In a quiet voice that demands attention, the man begins to tell his tale.
"The King is dead!
That is what all minstrels and town criers called in the villages. King Alamar, along with his entire family was killed by his own Dragon Phalanx. They all turned on him in his own throne room, slaughtering without mercy. The very next day, the news was that the king's good friend, Sorthal, would assume the throne and hunt down the Dragonborn who betrayed the old king. He was able to hunt many of them down, even to this day offering rewards on those who can find any alive or dead.
The second order of business from this new king was dismantling all of the duchies and killing the Dukes who ruled them. The counts of the area were then left to rule whatever land they still could. Wars broke out and chaos ensued. The new king seemed to not care of any of it, as long as he recieved the taxes he was due.
After the killing of the dukes, it wasa then decried by His Highness to be called Overlord Sorthul, dropping the pretense of 'king.'
Humans and their towns weren't the only victims of the now Overlord. He targeted the dwarves as well, demanding that if they want their freedom, they must take away others.' Hating it and going against their honor, the many clans of dwarves decided that being slavers was a necessity of life. Overlord Sorthul tried this same hand with the elves, but they resisted. Saying that if they must take any freedom from life, they would rather just take their own. Of course the new Overlord did not take kindly to these words and declared war on the elves. His own power quickly overcame the peaceful elves, leaving them barely a remnant of what they once were.
Since then, he does nothing but sit in his castle and send out payments for those who hunt the Dragonborn. There have been those who tried to resist him, but as of now, nothing has even stood a threat to him. He took the throne, ruined the realm, went back to his castle, and doesn't seem to be leaving anytime soon. Even now, nearly fifty years later, rumors have it that he has not aged a day. Some say magic has kept him alive, others say some sort of alchemy. Me? I say he died one day in his sleep and hell didn't even want him so it spat him back out to wake up the next day."
At this point, the old man looks at the floor for a while, no one daring to make a sound as they don't know if he is finished with his tale. The old man answers this question by taking a deep breath and looking up,
"There is hope though. With everything happening in this world, I hear legends of a matching suit armor and weapon. The same armor the Old King Alamar used to reunite the lands. I hear these legends say that when the king was murdered, this magical gear disappeared in a puff of smoke, not letting whoever takes the throne next wield such artifacts. I like to believe that whoever can find these pieces can also reunite Cruxia, just like our Old King Alamar did."
With the fire being just embers, the old man takes his seat back among the silent audience. Soon, many of the patrons begin to file out, either thinking of the story or wanting to find somehwere else to drink the troubles away. The man simply finishes his drink and goes upstairs without another word.