((Quiet fell upon the realm of Faela with little warning. Over the last several months, the five houses have quieted their constant bickering. Perhaps they were beginning to fall in line with you. Or perhaps something worse was on the horizon. You wake up with a start, only to find yourself wearing the usual regalia for when you're holding court. You slowly realize that you must have been teleported here, wherever "here" is. Looking about you, you see the architecture that is not Faelan... and perhaps not even human. The floor is made of metal, and the walls are covered in flickering screens, green tubes of liquid, and flesh. At the center of the room is a throne made of gears, bones, sinew, and bioluminescent lights.))

The throne in the center of the room turns around on a sophisticated gear system built into the floor. A woman slowly rises from the chair. She has eight arms, all of which protrude with an array of black spikes. Her hair is the color of ebony and resembles that of a sea urchin. Her backside has an uncountable number of tentacles that lazily sway to an alien wind, unfelt by your human skin. She speaks, and the sounds of nine different voices interweave together in brain-blasting harmony. — Welcome to the real House Fourton, ruler of Faela. My name is Xiah. You continue to elude my assassins and foil the plans I have delicately woven for you to be destroyed by. You are always helped by your friends. Your dear council. Why do they fight so dearly for you? Why do you cling so vehemently to life? I only wish to give you a peaceful death, better than what comes for you across the stars.