Wants to give the readers a bit of mystery at the start to draw them in to want more. |
A large dark and foreboding circular room from a long bygone age that matched the round table sat 13 equally spaced black hooded figures in nearly identical chairs. The table is covered in ancient carving inscribed in it of some long dead language, most worn down from time. Voicing bouncing off the arched walls and tall ceiling makes it hard to tell who is speaking yet the figures don’t seem to notice or care. Few torchers lining the walls flicker in the still stall air. The walls of the chamber are bare, leaving the well kept dark stones reflecting the dim light back. The deep hoods on the figures make any details out of the figures impossible, dark shadows covering their faces. “How goes things in the south?” Asks perhaps the oldest more feminine voice of the crowd calls out. Years of wisdom and strength behind the voice, commanding the room. “The usual, no changes. The problem is being worked on but slow going as to keep things hidden as instructed.” Answered back a deeper but equally aged voice calls back. The crowd nods their head in understanding, not all that pleased with the news. “And the west?” speaks the first again, and yet another though younger voice responding back to the question, “Preparations going as planned. Recruitment is up more than was expected but being handled. Casualties as predicted.” More grunting in satisfaction as the members at the carved table continue their talk. |