It was a dark night. Yes, just like any other story which
begins with darkness, secrets and perils. Only this one
tells of a single person. A person who made a change, yet
similarity followed him everywhere. He was known to many as
the master of darkness, a very uncreative nickname which did
not really fit his personality. The rare few who got to see
him, even though for a faint amount of time, and came back
sane to tell of him, became crazy after a few short days,
inflicted with what was called at the time The Mad Laughter
Plague. It made one sunny day ironically turn into a day of
sorrow as yet another madman woke up that morning. They were
all put away in locked cells and dungeons, pitiful and
fearfully crazed, and throughout the cold nights of the now
most deserted towns, those shells of men still shriek.

But what caused this much destruction? I will tell you who,
but you will have to keep it a secret from your friends and
families, for if they know, it is said that bad luck will
come upon those who tell this story to more than one person.
He was called the Lord of Destruction by his peers. A
middle-aged man by a name I shall not reveal, let us name
him - The Lord of Destruction. He was a General since a
young age at his father's, the king's, army. A great army of
men clad in black plated suits of armor, each with a few
magic abilities. Magic - a thing feared by most those days.
That is one of the few things which made this army the
strongest of them all. Yet not alone this 'virtue' stood;
along its lines, stood the famous fact that this army was
ruthless and merciless by all degrees. Each soldier was one
of many, none different, none a rebel, perfect in his ways.
All that and more was the making of The Lord of Destruction.
He had some queer holding over his army, some magic trick,
the peasants named it, but deep in their frightened hearts
they knew it was more than that, but could not name or
explain it. It was a secret even to the father king, who
feared his son the most, more than all the peasants who knew
this death-bringing General, for this one pitiful day when
the son first opposed his father.

"My father", he said, "I am most honored by your decision to
make me your General. But I fear only one thing", he said,
"that you and your supporters shall use me, like you used
your other Generals, and betrayed them on the 24th day of
their third month in your service". "But my most loved son",
the king answered with a tone of ease, "you are most
precious and loved by me, my dear! This time I will make an
exception, I have chosen you and you alone shall stand as a
General of my great army. Together they stand, awaiting your
orders, for I have told them you are good and kind, and they
have great hopes in their minds!" The king finished with a
wave of his hand, and the son was ordered to leave. But he
did not leave. Deep in his young heart he knew the king was
lying. It was his craft, so to speak. The son stood there
for a few moments, staring deeply into the father's eyes. Oh
the horror which hit the room at that moment! The loveable
and kind son, so unexpectedly and ruthlessly charged at his
father, caught him by the throat and nearly yelled at the
old king and threatened the king's eyes with a piercing
stare. "You have made your last lie, father! From this day
on, and this entire hall is witness! From this day and on,
you shall do as I say! I will hold YOU in my grasp and
forever you will be sorry for choosing me to be your
General! Your army shall fall into my hands, and will
corrupt everything that stands near, everyone will fear you,
but not because of your wicked ways of secrecy! This time it
will be open, and ALL could see what their king wants. But
you will not be taken down. I, your most powerful General
ever will protect your puny being from them! Neither
rebellion nor treachery shall reach this house until the day
you die, and on the day you die, the entire kingdom shall
fall into my hands, and then, father, then you will be most
grave! For I will not have a bride nor a child! Your kingdom
shall last, but in peril it shall! The land will crawl with
lifeless drones you now call soldiers, and never again shall
it be in glory which was created by your trickery! Never
again. Over the years you have made me more ashamed to be
the son of a king. King you call yourself! A barnyard cow is
what you are, stench, falsehood and lies poor out of your
lips. And now, you shall see what you created, and eat from
the bowl of decayed soup you cooked by your own hands!"

The son left the old man shocked in his sit. He left the
room, and surprisingly none of the loyal followers of the
king did anything to protect their monarch. They remained
seated or standing as they were, and stared at the king with
eyes wide open, shocked at what they heard. "How could my
dear and fair son turn into that?" The king wondered. And
then he understood. "By my hands alone this has been done.
And now I must take my punishment". He remained seated for a
few moments, as his son left the hall. And then is has
begun. The king started making short coughs and shriek
sounds from his sit. His caretaker rushed to him, worried.
"My liege! My liege! What has this worm of a son done to
you! Do not cry, he did not mean any of it; he is merely
astray from his mind, crazed, a maniac, madman..." The king
raised his head slowly, looking at the caretaker. And then
he began laughing. Slowly the laughter turned from a fragile
chuckle to a belly-laughter, heard only by a crazed man. And
thus, the first Mad Laughter Plague victim was born.

And so it came to pass, that the Lord of Destruction got
this name after a long chain-reaction of haps, all of them
created by him. His mind turned into an ironic chest of
dread and despaired thoughts. And from this came out a
reaction no one has foreseen. His twisted new self has taken
all the notes he has collected in his short years, from
tutors and teachers and the wisest of wizards his father
could afford to bring for his young son, and sorted them
out. In some queer way no one knows, he managed to learn all
that in a few weeks, and develop it to new levels. Within
one month, he has turned the anticipating army to an army of
drones, all controlled by his mind and thoughts, his
decisions and feelings, what he felt they felt, and vice
versa. They were like ants under the control of a single
queen, a vicious and deadly one. But he needed to perfect
this. He wanted to be more than them, not affected by their
feelings. He followed a few experiments, and took each of
their brains out and turned them into walking war zombies,
with no feelings, no nerves, no thoughts, no life, no soul.
That way, after two weeks of training, they became the most
perfect army ever created in that short a time.