The Profane Prince,
The death of a ruler, the mantle passed to son, a generation long religion, distasteful to the son, now abolished. Without the old ways, the region began to curl up and die, the ancient gods clearly displeased with this heresy. 'Tis a tale old as time, however it's said that the Profane Prince still wanders the world, cursed with an immortality if only to forever taste grief. His noble attire crumbling, his armor battered and broken, held together with the wrappings of the once sacred texts, only his once holy sword, now cursed with corruption still remains a symbol of his now dust, heritage.
I worked really, REALLY hard on this, going back to a much more realistic style that I used to do before my current.