In the age of myth, before the birth of the nation of Hyrkos, there was a vast spread of a certain culture lost to time. Many leaders lead different clans and tribes of these people and one in particular was a kind lady, admired as a queen among her people. She was young but capable and loved her people as her own children, so much so that her innocent kindness caught the attention of a stray hunter one day.

Drawn by her compassion he spared his game and spent the night in her rose gardens in mirth and joy, discussing how they each saw the world. This went on for many weeks, the hunter would abandon his kill, and find solace in her rose gardens and within her voice, but his own tribe grew restless. They accused her of sorcery, claiming she had corrupted the mind of the young hunter. The hunter ignored his family and continued seeing her, although they had formed a secret code of when and where to greet each other to avoid the eyes of those filled with hatred: she would pluck a rose from her gardens and leave it in the meeting spot, usual around one of his hunting routes, to which he would then follow the pedals to his beloved.

The tensions between tribes grew and one day he found the rose laid upon the autumn leaves, it’s flower cut off and only the thorns to remain. His heart pounded and he followed the pedals with haste, only to find his lover kidnapped. He ran to her people and organized a raid. Together with her people he abandoned his own to rescue her, and after a long and bloody fight, he managed to escape with her in his arms, however she was not well. Broken hearted at the loss of her people she was destined to die that night. She shared her last words and final kiss with her lover, leaving with him only the wish that he take her mantle and protect her people for all of time in her place as she was prepared to do. They sealed their pact as she handed him the lost flower to the thorny stem he had kept from the mutilated rose. The thorns pricked his thumb and he watched a droplet of blood form as the life faded from the eyes of his beloved, and their seal was pressed in both of their blood. This is the birth of the Thorned King.

Out of love it is rumored he is granted immortality, as with each death of his, a child is found, and the child is found to be his, motherless yet bearing all of his memories and emotions. For thousands of years this recurred, with each death of the Thorned King, a new one, same as the last appeared as a child, only to grow old and be replaced. Truly he keeps his pact with his beloved, although this is all myth now and who is to say what lies behind the dark robes and metal mask of the Thorned King? What lies under the great crown of thorns, or past the breastplate he so often wears, is it truly the broken heart of the hunter? Or a fable to justify thousands of years of immortal rule? Either way, this is the tale of the Great Thorned King.