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E1d: The Iron-Throne

Posting-Ending Scene

Synced to "Moonlight Sonata" ... by Mac Turner (feat. Beethoven)

A well-armored soldier bearing a shield and glaive enters a dark, massive throne room. You can hear a piano; a depressing tune plays, echoing throughout the hall. The room is of odd-architecture, a gothic-deco montage with rusted wrought-iron and gold inlay everywhere. In the back of the room is a large hexagonal window, it is framed in iron and stone; through it, you can see gloomy storm clouds, no sunlight, and heavy rain is drizzling against the glass and iron frame.

In front of, and just below the window, is a tall, dark, iron-throne of gothic-deco-cathedral design. Large stone sconces are emanating a sickly-magenta glow of unknown magic on each side of the throne.

However, this chamber's centerpiece is four immense rusted-iron, industrial, gothic sculptures that are both abstract and functional, like single-clawed fingers reaching from the floor facing each other. Incased in each "claw" are massive incense burners, each with a sickly-magenta smoke billowing from within. Between the iron-claws is a depressed floor with stairs leading down to a large magic circle at its center, for dark purposes, no doubt.

Standing at the base of the throne, still well above the ground floor, is a regal figure, courtly-dressed but very mage-like. The figure stands in waiting as if to give an important speech. His face is shrouded in the shadows of his hooded robes.

The soldier continues into the room, stops at the edge of the depressed floor, standing on the stairs as if to enter the magic circle, but then he backs-off slightly.

"My Lord," the soldier says, "I bear news."
"Speak." Says the regal figure in a deep, sickly voice.
"They have escaped." The solder says hesitantly, taking a step back.
In a calm yet irritated voice, "How is this possible?"
"I know not, my lord, the word came from Hastaerix, I think he was gloating. Because of the situation ..." the soldier glances at the magic circle on the floor, "They want to know what WE plan to do about it?"
The regal figure turns slightly towards the throne. "WE? ... We? ... THEY were all too eager before, ready to do my bidding. Now they huddle in the dark places of the planes. Waiting for me to FIX things once again. They disgust me in their putrid-cowardice."
"Yes, my lord. But ... well, what do we plan to do?"
"Do we still have confidence in the queen?" The regal figure asks. "Could she send THE hunter?"
"I believe so, my lord, but it may take some time to get word to her." Responds the soldier.
"Fine. Tell her to send Avin'evryyx. Let HIM deal with the problem. He's done well for us in the past"
"Right away, my lord." The soldier then turns and departs the chamber through a shadowy side exit.

The music fades.

The Iron Throne