Post by Evil Queen on Feb 12, 2020 19:30:39 GMT
(January 17th, Midnight, dungeons. Open to one Cursed Thorn brave enough to interact with and maybe get something out of the sorceress!)
The Forbidden Fortress was renowned as the home of the Mistress of All Evil. Maleficent’s keep couldn’t get much more forboding as a reflection of her harsh, sharp, and unforgiving personality. The courtyards were crumbling, but never fully decrepit, sculptures reminiscent of waning life and light in architecture. The halls were long and echoed and no amount of lighting could make the whole space visible. Greens and blacks swallowed every other color. Everything the eye could actually see of the Cursed Thorns capital was horrific at worst, vaguely unsettling at best.
The dankest, deepest part of the dungeons was far worse.
They weren’t being used, currently. Well, not for what they were actually meant for.
The lime walls were lit by several tiny flames, boiling potions in glass vials that were oddly unsmeared, despite their mucky surroundings. In fact, everything on the various tables against stone walls, from books to frames to phials to bottles to bejeweled containers...all were as perfectly clean and ordered as their owner.
Golden crown and velvet robes glowed with brightness in the black. Regina moved purposefully from tome to bubbling brew. Her frightfully sharp eyebrows were stretched up, eyes wide as ravenous mouths devouring the knowledge therein. Calculating, proud, fierce, even with no eyes to see her.
She was the second-in-command of all the forces of evil. She could do as she pleased. But the Evil Queen still restricted her black magic laboratory to the most secret corner of the host’s home. She hated to be disturbed.
”I really must get a new familiar.” The red lips rolled their r’s in quiet menace. To experiment on, of course. Her raven, Corpsin, would disappear every time she descended into her workplace.
”Now,” murmured the regal woman, one pristinely sculpted fingernail trailing a page, ”Hair of clean gold...purest sunbeam...gilt cotton...” She had all these. There were but a few more things needed to transform herself and ensnare their latest recruit. She was looking forward to shifting her skin again.
”But one thing remains,” intoned the Queen. ”Where is that insufferable...”
With a wrathful rippling of robes, she turned like a beautiful cyclone toward the dungeon steps expectantly. The sound of footfalls echoed in the hopeless space.
Ah, here was her errand-running guest. She briefly wondered which Cursed Thorn had been assigned to the task. Whomever it was, they would be rewarded with the sight of a rare, terrible smile for bringing their liege her final artifact. It was altogether necessary for this brew. She’d had it removed from neutral territory just on the border with the utmost of discretion...if those bungling oafs had smashed it...or even removed it from the wrappings she had instructed it to be carried in...
Well, no matter, here came her subordinate, carrying the long cloth package.
”Ah, for all your faults, you are at least timely. Well done, faithful. You have served the Cursed Thorns well.”
The Forbidden Fortress was renowned as the home of the Mistress of All Evil. Maleficent’s keep couldn’t get much more forboding as a reflection of her harsh, sharp, and unforgiving personality. The courtyards were crumbling, but never fully decrepit, sculptures reminiscent of waning life and light in architecture. The halls were long and echoed and no amount of lighting could make the whole space visible. Greens and blacks swallowed every other color. Everything the eye could actually see of the Cursed Thorns capital was horrific at worst, vaguely unsettling at best.
The dankest, deepest part of the dungeons was far worse.
They weren’t being used, currently. Well, not for what they were actually meant for.
The lime walls were lit by several tiny flames, boiling potions in glass vials that were oddly unsmeared, despite their mucky surroundings. In fact, everything on the various tables against stone walls, from books to frames to phials to bottles to bejeweled containers...all were as perfectly clean and ordered as their owner.
Golden crown and velvet robes glowed with brightness in the black. Regina moved purposefully from tome to bubbling brew. Her frightfully sharp eyebrows were stretched up, eyes wide as ravenous mouths devouring the knowledge therein. Calculating, proud, fierce, even with no eyes to see her.
She was the second-in-command of all the forces of evil. She could do as she pleased. But the Evil Queen still restricted her black magic laboratory to the most secret corner of the host’s home. She hated to be disturbed.
”I really must get a new familiar.” The red lips rolled their r’s in quiet menace. To experiment on, of course. Her raven, Corpsin, would disappear every time she descended into her workplace.
”Now,” murmured the regal woman, one pristinely sculpted fingernail trailing a page, ”Hair of clean gold...purest sunbeam...gilt cotton...” She had all these. There were but a few more things needed to transform herself and ensnare their latest recruit. She was looking forward to shifting her skin again.
”But one thing remains,” intoned the Queen. ”Where is that insufferable...”
With a wrathful rippling of robes, she turned like a beautiful cyclone toward the dungeon steps expectantly. The sound of footfalls echoed in the hopeless space.
Ah, here was her errand-running guest. She briefly wondered which Cursed Thorn had been assigned to the task. Whomever it was, they would be rewarded with the sight of a rare, terrible smile for bringing their liege her final artifact. It was altogether necessary for this brew. She’d had it removed from neutral territory just on the border with the utmost of discretion...if those bungling oafs had smashed it...or even removed it from the wrappings she had instructed it to be carried in...
Well, no matter, here came her subordinate, carrying the long cloth package.
”Ah, for all your faults, you are at least timely. Well done, faithful. You have served the Cursed Thorns well.”