Those Who Would Cut The Strings [Puppetpost]
The obsidian hallways of Shadowlight Keep are aglow with auspicious light. Lining the walls are torches of golden flame: draped between them, cloths of intricate design. The small spirit leads you forward. Though from the outside it seems a Necromancer’s Lair, or a nest of evil, this is, in fact, the dwelling of a heart awakened to compassion. Looking around, you see countless doors leading into the unknown. Though no stranger to fortresses of the arcane, you must wonder: what secrets lie behind each one?
You soon arrive before a pair of doors greater than all the rest. Delicate carvings adorn their surface: symbols of power are inscribed upon them. Your guide steps aside: the guardian spirits standing by bow in your presence, pushing the doors open and inviting you to enter. What do you see? A hall of pitch-black stone, its walls reaching high above as to elevate the ceiling beyond. Tall painted windows are laid in droves: the golden glow of the various lamps radiates warmth. A royal carpet covers the floor: servant spirits stand at attention. On the other side you see a grand stairway leading to an elevated level with yet another pair of doors. The middle of the room, however, is ruled by a long table catered with goods. Its seats are occupied by beings of unimaginable variety, many of them alien to your eyes.
Stranger still than all of this is the music: an ethereal melody flowing through the air, imbuing your heart with courage. As you prepare to take your seat, you look around for its origin. Your eyes soon happen upon a small figure, leisurely seated on the elevated railing. White is her noble suit, lined with radiant colours: her golden hair, cut to shoulder-length. Her fingers dance on the strings of a harp, patient in waiting.
The great doors behind her are pushed open. Walking through is a tall, slender man wearing a fine brown overcoat and a vest with golden seams. As he reaches the stairway, he gracefully offers his hand to the bard, who takes it into her own. Approaching the table, they seem almost a royal pair!
Halting at the end, they take a courteous bow. The man speaks, his voice calm and stable.
”Greetings, Venerable Masters, and welcome. I am Arret, the Penitent Shadow and Master of Shadowlight Keep. This is Lady Acra, the White-Gold Bard: my trusted friend and companion.”
The woman nods, smiling warmly. Her youthful appearance belies a thoughtful spirit: the tone of her voice, a gentle soul!
”I would like to thank you all from the bottom of my heart for answering our summons. The Stringed Maiden has brought pain to each and every one of us, and will continue to do so if left to her devices. Here at this table we must unite: act and think as one, lest our division lead us all to dance helplessly at her fingertips.”
The two take their seats at the end of the table. Arret crosses his fingers and leans forward.
”No more silence. No more inaction. Speak freely, let no one stay quiet. This council has but one mission: to spell the end of the Stringed Maiden.”