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The giant Gorva lay dying, slain by his commanders, the Death Lords. Slowly bleeding to death, Gorva dragged his wounded body across the battlefield where his generals left him for dead, tearing apart the slain warriors of his enemies. He knew his time had come; abandoned, blood-covered and injured beyond belief, the mighty giant finally lay down in pain, with barely enough strength to move.
"Aradtra, do you hear me?" he said. "You and your followers are cursed! Only one of you will live to become king of MY lands! The rest will die! This land will be run with blood for the next five hundred years! Only then will I have enough of you, and one of your descendants shall rule. It could be yours, Aradtra, or yours, Ithkil, or Yistae's, Daerion's, or Urbin's! One of your kin shall rule, but before that, this land will be RED!!!"
And then the giant died, alone, forgotten and bloody, with his sword at his side. But he spoke the truth. For the next half-century, the Death Lords' descendants fought and died on Gorva's land. But then things changed.
Five Hundred Years Later:
Lord Raedon, one of Aradtra's kin, stood on the battlements of his castle.
"Today is the day," he said. "The curse is over! It is time for me to be crowned king."
And Lord Raedon summoned his commanders.
Okay, this is my eighth map. There is a dead giant in the center of the map, with his sword beside him, and your color is blue. Read the story, and play the map. Have fun!