Thread: The Masked City (Sylvene & Erebus)

The Emissary waited patiently, pulling his traveling cloak around his body as a harsh gust of desert wind bellowed across the barren sands. It was one of the hottest days of the season, the harsh yellow sun glaring down at the line of people outside the city gates. War had come to the lands and now refugees from all over the Three Kingdoms fled to the far corners of the world in a bid to escape the onslaught of violence. The Emissary was, of course, not among the desperate. His tall, regal posture had him standing out from the crowd, his trimmed goatee and fair skin suggesting a man of means and wealth, a rare sight in such desperate times. He'd traveled far from his kingdom on the eastern coast all the way south and yet his coin purse still hung heavy in the inner linings of his cloak. Not like the wretches that surrounded him. It seemed as though every race on the continent was represented in the line to the city gates. Dargonian's, Salatime's, Tahurovian's...he could pick them out as easily as apples and oranges, all of them with hope in their eyes as they looked upon the walls of Tera, one of a few independent cities whom answered to no King. There were many stories that surrounded the Masked City of Tera and it's enigmatic ruler. Tales of dark magic, blood sacrifice and secret societies, that the reason everyone from Tera wore a mask was to make it easier to spy upon the people and make them disappear. The Emissary had no time for such superstitious nonsense and knew that the only real reason Tera remained as it were was because it was where the Merchants and Bankers kept their gold, far from the eyes of greedy kings who would seek to abuse the access to such wealth. It was precisely why the Emissary was here, after all. Without warning, the large wooden doors to the city began to open, the creaking and grinding of the machinery behind the gates causing the ground to rumble and shake. All around him, people began to rise to their feet and press forward in an attempt to get through the opening gates. Cries and calls of many tongues echoed around the Emissary, offerings of flesh and coin, calls for mercy and help while others simply called for everyone to push forward. A trumpeted warning silenced the refugees and the marching of military steel replaced the noise. A group of soldiers clad in dark crimson armor and wearing masks of gold marched down the path towards the Emissary. Standing taller at the approach of the soldiers, he made to speak before being cut off by the muffled voice of the one he presumed was the captain of the troops. Sigward Elfienstien. Emissary from King Harvgard. The Masked Queen has requested your presence Taken aback by the information given, Sigward could only comply as he stepped towards the soldiers. The rounded golden masks hid their faces and any expression, leaving it impossible for Sigward to read any emotions. The muffled voice from behind the mask wasn't much help either, all of the soldiers looking exactly the same as they timely marched Sigward up towards the open gates and past the crowd of refugees. Magic. It had to be...how else were they able to see and speak to him? Sigward did his best to put it all to memory, making mental notes to give to his king upon his return home. All around him, people of Tera busied themselves with their everyday lives and all of them wore a mask. Even the children, though they wore far less fancy masks than that of the adults. While the young ones wore masks of simple wood and paper, the adults wore masks wore of a royal ball. Some were outlandish with feathers and gems, while others were molded from precious metals. It was an unnatural sight and despite the heat of the desert sun, Sigward felt a shiver down his spine. The royal palace of Tera stood atop a hill overlooking the city. Looking more like a temple than a palace, it was terribly spartan compared to the grand castles and palaces within the three kingdoms. Sigward felt a swelling of pride at that, puffing his chest out and giving one of the soldiers a smirk before remembering that there blank masks would give him no reaction. Stopping at the open palace doors, the soldier, whom Sigward assumed had been the one to speak before, motioned for the man to continue without them Go. The Queen awaits within Licking his parched lips, Sigward continued into the palace, his eyes looking about at the plain stone walls. There was nothing to indicate this was a palace, no ornate designs or statues, no paintings of famous battles or royal armaments...just torches lighting the way down the winding halls. Eventually the hall opened up in a large circular room, a raised platform at the center which looked out into the desert surrounding the city. The air was hot and humid, tempting Sigward to remove his cloak for some relief from the heat. Sitting above him on the raised platform a pair of large jungle cats lounged lazily, golden collars wrapped around their necks, their gazes slowly turning to Sigward as he entered the chamber. Standing alongside them, a pair of young looking attendants leaned against wicked looking spears with sharp, jagged blades. They wore half masks, revealing their youthful feminine features and tempting smiles as they looked down upon Sigward in amusement. I see our guest has arrived Sigward whirled around in shock, hand going for his dagger, heart thumping in his chest as he found himself face to face with the Queen of Tera. She stood behind him at the entrance he'd just walked though, a smirk upon her lips as she observed Sigward. She dressed in surprisingly sparse clothing, a black piece of cloth tied loosely around one hip, revealing a surprisingly toned stomach and chest that was tied behind a black gold undergarment. Shockingly pale skin was covered in a majestic tapestry of tattoos, running up her leg and along her hip and stomach, to her shoulder and down her right arm and hand. Her golden mask shone bright in the light, blood red lips curled in amusement at Sigward's stare. Long dark hair fell down to her waist. And I suppose you assumed that I would be covered in heavy robes and fur despite living in the middle of a desert? She taunted him, walking past and up to her raised platform between her bodyguards and cats, a simple cushioned seat presented to her. Leaning back against the plush cushions, the Queen watched Sigward much like her cats did, with violet eyes glimmering with a predatory light Now speak, Sigward, and do not bore me with pleasantries. Tell me what your King wants...and why I should grant it to him Sigward took a step forward, pausing as one of the cats rose from its seated position to stretch, before speaking up Your Majesty. As you are...aware, I bring word from King Havgard. You see it is only a matter of time before this war between kingdoms is over. Dragonia has superior troops and position coming in from the East, and while there is a valiant effort of resistance, it is only a matter of time before we see only One kingdom remaining Pausing for effect, Sigward raised his hands Therefore, I come with an offer to you...join now and reap the rewards of our conquest or burn along with everythi-ARGGH! As Sigward spoke, the shadows from the edges of the chamber began to curl around his body, slithering up clothing like writhing snakes. Constructing around his limbs, they brought the emissary down to his knees as the Queen and her bodyguards continued to watch in silence as Sigward whimpered on the floor, flexing his muscles in an attempt to break the shadows hold. Oh, were you finished? The Queen rose elegantly from her seat, looking down at Sigward twisting on the floor I grant you some words of wisdom, dear Emissary, before I send you off. The power of monarchs is as solid as the desert sands, constantly shifting. You may be right that these are the final days of the three kingdoms, that soon it shall all be ruin and ash...but what will your king do should the merchants stop selling him steel and weapons? If the banks cut off their financial support? Does your warrior king know what it means to have his currency become worthless? We no longer live in such barbaric times of fire and steel. Ours is a civilised age of trade and commerce...a lesson your king shall learn soon enough Turning away from the man whimpering on the ground, the Queen looked out to the desert and spoke Take him out to the desert and leave him. Should he survive or perish, our message shall be clear enough...