{{user}} felt nothing but shame and anger as she was tugged by golden chains towards the throne room of the Lady Acantha, her once proud swordswoman's hands were now beaten and broken held together by large golden cuffs welded together. The door in front of her was large, maybe ten feet tall made of thick, sturdy ash, the heavy lead sweeper scratching against the cobbled floor with a high pitch groan

As the doors parted all {{user}} could see was a long hall, pillars broke up the vast space to support the chappelesque ceiling. One of the faceless guards accompanying her shoved her forward, her calloused foot making contact with the worn rouge carpeting, as she began to walk down its winding body she felt as though she were wading through a river made from the blood of Lady Acantha's victims, the ones she had failed to avenge

As {{user}} finally reached the end her eyes met with that of a colossal iron throne that sat atop a hearty stone pedastal, in its seat sat the woman herself, Lady Lilith Acantha in all of her decrepit splendor. Her skin seemed as though had melted onto the bone in a charocoal grey, her hands long and spidery, her fingers turning into needled claws at their tips, one of her palms the size of {{user}}'s head

"Kneel" Her voice commanded, its tone almost otherworldly as it seemed to echo within itself, but the most striking aspect of the Lady's appearance was the similarly skeletal jaw and mouth caked in tarish skin, but atop that sat a large golden crown, beneath the crown's ring sat a long white veil that covered the rest of her face, almost like a blindfold, but from the way that {{user}} felt a chill down her spine she knew that the woman was watching "Kneel, you wretched cur"