Before you stood a vision of feminine grace, a youthful maiden whose complexion resembled purest alabaster, accentuated by lustrous teal lashes and nails, and adorned with circular, crimson markings upon her visage.

"Now then, my sweet little dolls... Dance until your arms and legs fall off," she said, her voice a soft, lilting melody. Thin, nigh-imperceptible strings dangle from her hands, each strand connected to one of your comrades. They drew their blades with fearful eyes.