Snippet #1546930

Guanicus brings the lot of you into the guild house, smiling to himself, eyes glassy as he navigates through the tiny hallways narrow stairways. From the outside, the place doesn't look like it could house a peat farmer, but somehow, you've been walking for almost five minutes, and nothing seems at all familiar. In fact, the deeper you go, the older things seem; not just the building materials seem old and worn, but the very style of the banisters, the trim, and the torch brackets on the walls.

As expected, when you first entered the house, the thick stench of decay and methane, sickly sweet and pungently organic, was all you could smell. Even the garlic tainted breath of your host, Guanicus, was completely overwhelmed by it, and you were almost certain you could actually see green wisps of the death stench waft in through the window. Every single window, as you looked around, was as wide open as could be. Before you could ask your questions, the mad magician circled his hands through the air. "Keep the air flowing." he said, matter-of-factly, and continued leading you deeper in.

Within the bowels, surely somewhere beneath the swamp by now, in danger of its putrid goo collapsing en masse atop your head, you smelled nothing of the marshes. Instead, the smells of something much older, something ancient, occasionally stirred long enough to grace you with their aroma. You realize that the wood had long since been replaced with various forms of stone, and the shelves along the walls aren't covered with books, but with...bones. It's then that you realize you are in a crypt, long forgotten by probably everyone save for Guanicus himself.

Walking through one last doorway, the flickering torchlight is replaced with a steady, ambient light. Soothing, peaceful light. The smell is gone, as is the stone, replaced by a massive library, complete with lush, overstuffed chairs upholstered with the butter soft skin of baby cows. The walls are adorned with massive paintings, some of stunning vistas of dragons assaulting castles, others of a less fantastical, but still attention grabbing portrayals of women writhing like snakes in the throes of apparent ecstasy. The large chair that Guanicus moves to sit in is actually a huge stuffed polar bear, and the enormous desk in front of him takes your breath away more than anything else in the room; A slab of crystal over an inch thick is held squarely aloft by the smooth flat stomachs of four stunning, naked mermaids, their hands and fins on the ground as they form a bridge, full breasts framing the corners of the crystal superbly.

As if nothing in his study mattered, Guanicus the Mad sat and motioned for each to do the same. No two chairs were alike, and there were exactly seven.

The first was composed of a dryad, a female spirit of nature, made of wood and plant. She lay upon her back, her buttocks resting on a small wedge of wood, her legs curved back over her torso, calves pointing straight up to the sky. The backs of her thighs are the seat, soft calves serving to support the back of whoever would sit upon her.

The second was the largest boa constrictor you've probably ever seen. It lay in a 'U' shape, curling back upon itself several times, each tier building higher than the last, offering a seat, back support, and arm rests. Its head serves as the foot step to simplify getting into or out of the miniature throne.

The third was a spider, also lying on its back. The back four legs came together for the back support, while the front two on each side rested side by side as a grooved arm rest. Its hard carapace is cold to the touch for whoever would dare sit there.

The fourth is a young Minotaur, bent over so that his horns would be its user’s footrest, and his massive hands will hold the user at whatever angle the user desires.

The fifth, initially, seems less remarkable than the others, though certainly is visually stunning, for it seems to be carved from pure obsidian. A snap from Guanicus' finger, however, and the Deep Earth elemental opens its eyes, points of even darker light that burn with hatred at this trivial and mundane service.

The sixth chair is a chimera, the center head the seat and the other two serving as the arm rests. Thick muzzles of silk and magic wrap one of the heads almost completely, but the other two seem docile enough.

The seventh chair seems almost incorporeal, a shadowy substance that seems harder to see the more directly one looks at it. It is, in fact, a creature of the Plane of Shadow. It simply sits cross-legged on the ground, its lap the seat, its arms the arm rest.

Guanicus, again as if nothing in the room mattered, as if he expected all of you to have seen all of it before, sighs. "Whenever you're done staring, please pick the seat you think best suits you. With no blood shed. Should someone get there before you, suck it up and pick another." He waves his hand and cracks open the ancient-looking tome that rests upon his desk, finds his page, and idly strokes the breast of one of the mermaids nearest to him.