"Will you walk into my parlor?" said a spider to a fly;
" 'Tis the prettiest little parlor that ever you did spy.
The way into my parlor is up a winding stair,
And I have many pretty things to show when you are there."
"Oh no, no!" said the little fly, "to ask me is in vain,
For who goes up your winding stair can ne'er come down again."
The Palace of Velvet was not always a bastion of sin, where one with enough depravity and coin could pay for any morally bankrupt fantasy to be fulfilled. There had been a time when worship had happened within those walls, calls to a higher power by men and women of faith and unyielding belief. Then wealth and lust had gripped the hearts and souls of those devout few with its all-encompassing snare, and the once holy place was baked in a constant soak of evils and vices until it had risen like yeast into a palace of the immoral, a fortress of the carnal.
It didn't help that the surrounding town had fallen into trying times. The settlement of Yuhl to the north of Vel Anir, on the fringes of the Savannah. At one point, Yuhl had been a vital trading mid-point between Anir and Elbion. As time passed, however, Maraan emerged as the most popular trading hub in Arethil, and most people completely forgot about the once-popular space.
The town still stood, but its most popular export now was sin. With no in-demand material goods to their name, the people of Yuhl turned to the black market to sustain their economy; Sex, drugs, and crime now ruled their streets. The black heart of it all was the old church that stood in the center of town, gutted and turned into a brothel. For the right price, you could rut, drink, and indulge to your heart's content.
Oh, but their latest patron... He had a different vice he wanted to fulfill.
“I’m sure you must be weary, dear, with soaring up so high;
Will you rest upon my little bed?” said the spider to the fly.
“There are pretty curtains drawn around, the sheets are fine and thin,
And if you like to rest awhile, I’ll snugly tuck you in.”
“O no, no,” said the little fly, “for I’ve often heard it said,
They never, never wake again, who sleep upon your bed.”
The tall, slim figure clad in a coat as black as obsidian glided across the ground in soft, undetectable steps. The brightly painted doors of the palace seemed to slide open to greet the masked man like a lover's arms, otherworldly smoke flowing from the opening like water, curling into beckoning fingers as Love vanished within. In a single step through the doorway, the Palace of Velvet became a living breathing spider's web, and all within were ensnared in an instant.
What did they think of the man in the smiling mask, those unholy and unwashed, engaged in the pleasurable and exhilerating? A figure clad in all black with skin as pale as death stood out among the dimly colored lights that hung above beds both hidden and exposed, tables covered in spirits and poisons. Would they turn their heads back to their flesh and fuel? Would they dare to tempt the stranger? To beckon him into their temptation? Or would they see him for what he truly was? As a reaper, come to collect?
" 'Tis the prettiest little parlor that ever you did spy.
The way into my parlor is up a winding stair,
And I have many pretty things to show when you are there."
"Oh no, no!" said the little fly, "to ask me is in vain,
For who goes up your winding stair can ne'er come down again."
The Palace of Velvet was not always a bastion of sin, where one with enough depravity and coin could pay for any morally bankrupt fantasy to be fulfilled. There had been a time when worship had happened within those walls, calls to a higher power by men and women of faith and unyielding belief. Then wealth and lust had gripped the hearts and souls of those devout few with its all-encompassing snare, and the once holy place was baked in a constant soak of evils and vices until it had risen like yeast into a palace of the immoral, a fortress of the carnal.
It didn't help that the surrounding town had fallen into trying times. The settlement of Yuhl to the north of Vel Anir, on the fringes of the Savannah. At one point, Yuhl had been a vital trading mid-point between Anir and Elbion. As time passed, however, Maraan emerged as the most popular trading hub in Arethil, and most people completely forgot about the once-popular space.
The town still stood, but its most popular export now was sin. With no in-demand material goods to their name, the people of Yuhl turned to the black market to sustain their economy; Sex, drugs, and crime now ruled their streets. The black heart of it all was the old church that stood in the center of town, gutted and turned into a brothel. For the right price, you could rut, drink, and indulge to your heart's content.
Oh, but their latest patron... He had a different vice he wanted to fulfill.
“I’m sure you must be weary, dear, with soaring up so high;
Will you rest upon my little bed?” said the spider to the fly.
“There are pretty curtains drawn around, the sheets are fine and thin,
And if you like to rest awhile, I’ll snugly tuck you in.”
“O no, no,” said the little fly, “for I’ve often heard it said,
They never, never wake again, who sleep upon your bed.”
The tall, slim figure clad in a coat as black as obsidian glided across the ground in soft, undetectable steps. The brightly painted doors of the palace seemed to slide open to greet the masked man like a lover's arms, otherworldly smoke flowing from the opening like water, curling into beckoning fingers as Love vanished within. In a single step through the doorway, the Palace of Velvet became a living breathing spider's web, and all within were ensnared in an instant.
What did they think of the man in the smiling mask, those unholy and unwashed, engaged in the pleasurable and exhilerating? A figure clad in all black with skin as pale as death stood out among the dimly colored lights that hung above beds both hidden and exposed, tables covered in spirits and poisons. Would they turn their heads back to their flesh and fuel? Would they dare to tempt the stranger? To beckon him into their temptation? Or would they see him for what he truly was? As a reaper, come to collect?
