We emerged into a great hall of crimson ornamentations.
Its appearance summons to mind the shape of a banquet hall.
A man wreathed in red fabric rested atop the throne of the crimson hall. He raised his hands in an endeavor of effort and gingerly gestured toward a gathering of masks manifestly made for a masquerade.
A spectrum of emotions were carved unto a spectrum of masks laid about.
There was a mask of sorrow, a mask of wrath, yet I found myself most partial to the mask of joy.
I know not the reason for which this mask embodies such expression of euphoria; yet, shan’t it be enough that it shall share the selfsame joy with others?
Two birds with one stone; solace shared, sorrow shrouded, the twain under a blanket of elation.
I wear the mask and feel my thoughts grow clear as an autumn sky.
Upon my approach, the king tensed his shoulders for a moment so brief that it was nigh unnoticed.
Perhaps it was a gesture borne not out of thought but of instinct, shaped by the cloth-suppressed will to express.
We had but a moment to regard it before those akin in appearance to us appeared.
Though their forms were opaque and their shapes half-shrouded in shadow, they held certain similitudes to our own forms.
The monarch, with certain torpidity, tipped his head to the side in a show of intent to behold our battle.
The long years spent in binds have filled the void left behind by your long-gone interests with tedium, have they not?
A terribly tragic tale. Yet we battle in hopes that our clashes may bring this king in binds the smallest revelry.
Such is all I have to say.
Its appearance summons to mind the shape of a banquet hall.
A man wreathed in red fabric rested atop the throne of the crimson hall. He raised his hands in an endeavor of effort and gingerly gestured toward a gathering of masks manifestly made for a masquerade.
A spectrum of emotions were carved unto a spectrum of masks laid about.
There was a mask of sorrow, a mask of wrath, yet I found myself most partial to the mask of joy.
I know not the reason for which this mask embodies such expression of euphoria; yet, shan’t it be enough that it shall share the selfsame joy with others?
Two birds with one stone; solace shared, sorrow shrouded, the twain under a blanket of elation.
I wear the mask and feel my thoughts grow clear as an autumn sky.
Upon my approach, the king tensed his shoulders for a moment so brief that it was nigh unnoticed.
Perhaps it was a gesture borne not out of thought but of instinct, shaped by the cloth-suppressed will to express.
We had but a moment to regard it before those akin in appearance to us appeared.
Though their forms were opaque and their shapes half-shrouded in shadow, they held certain similitudes to our own forms.
The monarch, with certain torpidity, tipped his head to the side in a show of intent to behold our battle.
The long years spent in binds have filled the void left behind by your long-gone interests with tedium, have they not?
A terribly tragic tale. Yet we battle in hopes that our clashes may bring this king in binds the smallest revelry.
Such is all I have to say.
Pride / 
Wrath Advantage: 
Envy Advantage: 
