Syhr grunts.
"I feel like this is somewhat abrupt, but I suppose I could use some food. Perhaps it'd make a select few of us a bit less irrational to get something in their stomachs."
Although the fog made it impossible to see, everyone in the room could have sworn that Rhyme was glaring daggers at Syhr.
The robed man grins.
"Very well, I will make sure everything is as you need it to be. May your eyes remain open!"
With that he vanishes, the fog in the room thickening to the point where it becomes impossible to see through it.
Soon each of them felt the pressence of someone else beside them. A quiet voice whispers 'follow', and a gentle hand softly pushes everyone from their seat.
One by one the judges are guided from the room, walking blindly across what feels like a roots and grass. Soon the fog begins to fade, and is replaced by a brightly lit wood-walled corridor.
As the judges regain their ability to see they each realize that they are all walking in a large group of robed servants, like the ones which brought them to the warmwind halls earlier. The crowd of servants block their view, making it impossible for the judges to see each other, and any attempts at stopping or looking back are gently but sternly prevented by their guides.
Then, for the very first time, the judges see the entrance to the Cindethyre Lounge.
It is a large door, although not nearly as large as the gate leading into the Warmwind Halls. Unlike the rest of the building it is made of a red woodsort, and it looks oddly... sturdy.
Intricate and delicate carvings adorn its frame, as well as the walls around it. They depict great winged beasts and hooded warriors, locked in a great battle. Upon closer inspection, however, it becomes clear that it is not a simple two-sided battle; everyone is fighting everyone.
The door itself is not as decorative, but no less impressive. Reinforced with iron, steel and runic wards, this door looks like it could withstand the assault of a host of dragons.
As the judges get closer it opens, completely without sound, and the scent of honeyed wine greets them.
One by one they enter the Cindethyre Lounge. The first thing they see is the roots.
The entire room is composed of roots. The walls, the floor, all of it is roots, but they have not grown in the wild and chaotic manner which was nature's way.
The roots form delicate lines, alcoves, staircases, platforms, walkways, bridges...
The second thing the judges see is the ceiling.
As they quickly come to realize, the Cindethyre Lounge is huge.
Upwards and upwards the staircases go, leading from floor to floor, from platform to platform and from alcove to alcove.
From high, high above light shines and water flows, waterfalls and tiny rivers dancing among the roots as they ascend into great ponds below.
The third thing they see is the decor.
Grand, illustrious tapestries adorn the walls, fur-lined carpets of red, gold and orange lie on the floor, huge wooden statues loom overhead wherever the eye turns and round tables surrounded by leather-embellished wooden armchairs are scatted around the place. It puts a nobleman's grand hall to shame both in scope and in beauty.
Robed people sit by the tables and walk the pathways overhead, some few even lying down by the waterfalls and ponds.
Then they hear the music.
From somewhere behind it all, music plays. Quiet, peaceful music with a touch of faint sadness. A harp? A violin? Some sort of flute? Whoever is playing are playing well, and have obviously practiced for many years.
As the judges take in their surroundings they are guided to a table, standing in a quiet corner. A great wooden statue of a fox looms over them as they take their seats. On the table stands all kinds of food and drink; a multitude of roasted meats, boiled vegetables - many of which none of the judges know of - and exotic salads, bowls of thick soup, wine, ale, honeyed wine, honeyed ale, what appeared to be fruit juice, a plethora of sauces oh so much more.
Then they see each other.
Syhr is large, even for a herder. He is well built, and with the addition of the bone plates native to his people he looks like a small giant. His face is round, and seems to be permanently stuck in a stern expression. He is clad in a shirt of blue velvet, adorned by grey fur, and a pair of dark-brown trousers. A heavy-looking iron pendant hangs around his neck, and his eyes are of the same colour as his short - and surprisingly messy - clay-brown hair.
As is no big surprise, Rhyme is a rather beautiful woman. Her body is almost an hourglass figure, her facial features are sharp and defined and her long, dark hair hangs down the sides of her face like strands of silk.
She wears a long grey dress without arms, and underneath it... plate mail?
Both of her shoulders are hidden behind metal pauldrons, and her arms are covered entirely in steel. Below it all she sports a leather hauberk, keeping the pieces of armor together. It seems, however, that none of it weighs her down in the slightest or makes any kind of sound when she moves.
She leans back in her seat and lets her eyes wander across her fellow judges. A half-smile find its way to her lips and she nods approvingly.
"Alright, I'll admit... I've seen uglier."
OOC:
Alright guys, two things:
First off, sorry that post took so long. I wanted to have it done yesterday morning, but family drama happened and... well, it was a bit too long to just write absent-mindedly.
I apologize if I've made some grammatical mistakes here and there, but I don't have time to properly proof-read right now as I've gotta' pack, and I'm sure I'll spend more time on this later today.
Secondly, as of tomorrow I am going to Berlin for five days.
I will be bringing my laptop and I'll try my best to be active, but I have no idea whether I will be able to be active here.
If so, I hope you guys will still be able to talk and discuss amongst yourselves. We've got two new players waiting to get into the game, and although I've got their entrance coming up right around the corner I am going to pull them in right now if there aint enough posts before I leave.
They have waited too long already, I reckon.