Zweitermon 24, Saturday Morning | The Red Masque Atelier | Lower Midtown, Altenheim
Weather: Heavy Fog
Soundtrack: Lapis Occultus (Lamia Vox)
A choir of bells rings out, starting gradually from the north and following the river before spilling out across the city, towards the west. With the announcement of the bells, a thick white fog rolls over the city. The tall stone spires of the city stuck out like the ribs of some great corpse mired in a bog. In the city streets below, the people simply turned up their coats to ward off the worse of the wet and they turned on safety lanterns before continuing with their work.
From inside the Atelier, the city streets appeared so thick with fog that a body might walk through the door, into it and simply disappear, never to be seen again.
Ithilien stood at the door and coughed loudly to get the group's attention. Her eyes, which before had been distant and preoccupied, now fell on the group with the sharpness of a blade.
"The Ringmaster is ready to see you now." The Elf announced, as she gestured the group to head outside, into the fog. "I will warn you to be careful of what you see and hear while inside."
Inside the Fog
As you walk through the thick fog, the colorful city streets fades into white and grey. It is so thick, that you can barely see the buildings or the person in front of you. You're uncertain how much time has passed, but the fog obscures your vision completely, grey shapes swirling like tendrils. And somehow in this moment, you could almost hear it whisper of secrets lost to time.
Suddenly, a shape loomed through the fog, stark and unexpected. It was a table, its surface worn smooth by the passage of countless, forgotten hours. The wood was a sickly shade of grey, the varnish cracked and peeling, like aged skin clinging desperately to bone. Upon it, a solitary candelabrum stood, its tarnished silver catching the faint light emanating from a single, flickering candle. The candle's flame cast grotesque shadows that danced across the fog, twisting and contorting into monstrous shapes as if yearning to break free.
With that thought, the shadows stilled and from it emerged a masked man: the Ringmaster.
"Welcome, Ladies, and Gentlemen." The voice sounded out, low and measured. "Thank you for responding to my invitation, and I wish you welcome to the Society of the Occult. I am the Ringmaster, and your liaison to our organization. Before I explain further, would you introduce yourself to each other?"