The night was dark and grim in the town of Mort. The streets were empty, the rampant violence and crime that littered the city caused the general populous to stay indoors, especially after dark. And even then, they weren’t safe. A curfew with no legal bindings, just a necessity to ensure any form of safety in the slightest, existed in Mort. Eerie silence echoed around the emptied streets of the town, but the danger of exiting the safety of one’s was known. Criminals lurked in the shadows, like a lioness in the grass, stalking its prey, waiting for the perfect time to strike. The term sleeping with one eye open dawned from Mort, if one could calmly get to sleep that is. Mort was not the crime ridden town it is now; there was a better time, of peace and hospitability that existed. The town’s centre was once a vibrant and merry area, the cheers of Mort’s centre could be heard for miles, but those days were far behind the town’s history, and now all that occupies the centre of Mort is a shadow of grim remembrance. The king offered no protection, no guards, and no protection for his people. Instead he sat comfortably on his throne, steadily increasing in girth due to his comfortable abundance. The townsfolk are starting to rebel towards not only their own kin in the town, but word echoes through the street of rebellion to the crown, few are left who are loyal to the crown.

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