Long ago, long, long ago. The acients told stories of a powerful being, capable of anything imaginable. His name? Ha.. hahaha. Oh, yes. I bet you would like to know, hmm?

Orgunamil.
The beast had a 1000 heads and a 1000 arms and a 1000 legs and a 1000 teeth. The ancients fought bravely against Orgunamil, but to no avail. Temples and towns turned to ruins in seconds. Legends tell the ancient god of madness and death changed shape and form and size and mass. Its forms made no sense, it did things only because it could do things.

The ancients only had one proper possible way to seal Orgunamil away. But; it would require... a sacrifice. The kings of the south, north, west and east lands, had to feed the beast their firstborn child. All kings gave in; except for the king of the south.

The king of the south gave himself up as an offering instead of his daughter. The beast did not accept the offering. The king of the south sent all of his men to attack the beast. The only order he gave the army was to come back with naught but the largest head of the beast.

This was just the beginning of the thousand year war. Orgunamil wiped out his armies without moving a muscle. Crushing soldiers like ants. The king of the south would not give in to the demands. So the other kings had no choice but to force the leader of the south to do it.

They tied the king up, and stole his firstborn child; his daughter, Charlotte. As she was dragged and hit and smacked and beaten, her right, slipper, had fallen off. She was torn away from the king of the south, screaming and kicking and bleeding. Orgunamil sat in the lost valley, still crushing armies like anthills.

A horn blew in the distance.
This was an offering, to Orgunamil.

Three of the four kings, sat, distraught by the actions they took to bring peace upon the kingdoms. Orgunamil, snapped the spine of Charlotte. One final breath was let out, a cry that echoed through planets for eons. In that instance. The beast, came to a fall. Beneath the earth, the god layed. At that same instance, the king of the south had died. The kingdom was quiet. The population, only a 100th of what it had once been. Tired, starving, sick, distraught, the men and women and children of the kingdom, retreated back to their respective towns. A new age was brought upon from that moment. The kingdom only spoke, in soft whispers.

The other three kings, you say? All of them, dead. Suicide.

The citizens and armies and workers and children... all lost, without a ruler.
The only thing left... the right slipper that Charlotte wore.

It was locked away as a reminder of the horrible events that took place.

Dug up, only recently.
Only those who understand the pain they had to go through.
May wear, the shoe.