Amethyst
You gather your breath to shriek, but the air catches in your lungs and you nearly vomit. Shaking, you press yourself against the cold grey stone and wait, taking in your surroundings with wide, fearful eyes.
The room is large, and looks old, gothic even, built of sturdy oak and graceful stone arches, carved in the likeness of a forest. Everything is covered with dust, and the only light comes from a low, narrow window at the other end of the stone niche you are lying in, some three feet above the ground. Ornate metal candleholders are all around the room, but the candles are long burnt out. Shelves, all around the perimeter of most of the wall, are filled with huge, leather books bound with gems and gold and even something that looks like lizard-skin, and on tables and chests all around are standing weird mixtures and experiments of some kind. The only sound comes from a cage full of birds at the other end of the room, a few of them chirping forlornly, the rest perched silently. You gasp quietly as you see another cage, containing a lion with large, liquid brown eyes, which looks at you as if to plead for freedom. You try to get up again, but wobble precariously and have to lie down.
Just then, the heavy, iron-bound door at the side of the room, left from your niche, creaks open, admitting a tall, stern-looking man with a blue-grey, neatly trimmed, short beard, and inscrutable grey eyes. He is dressed in simple black robes, with another shade of grey underneath, but you get a sense of immense power from the way he carries himself, his whole bearing emanating control. He looks at you, and you shrink away from his steely glance. "Good afternoon," he says, a strange smile curling his thin lips as he looks you over.
The room is large, and looks old, gothic even, built of sturdy oak and graceful stone arches, carved in the likeness of a forest. Everything is covered with dust, and the only light comes from a low, narrow window at the other end of the stone niche you are lying in, some three feet above the ground. Ornate metal candleholders are all around the room, but the candles are long burnt out. Shelves, all around the perimeter of most of the wall, are filled with huge, leather books bound with gems and gold and even something that looks like lizard-skin, and on tables and chests all around are standing weird mixtures and experiments of some kind. The only sound comes from a cage full of birds at the other end of the room, a few of them chirping forlornly, the rest perched silently. You gasp quietly as you see another cage, containing a lion with large, liquid brown eyes, which looks at you as if to plead for freedom. You try to get up again, but wobble precariously and have to lie down.
Just then, the heavy, iron-bound door at the side of the room, left from your niche, creaks open, admitting a tall, stern-looking man with a blue-grey, neatly trimmed, short beard, and inscrutable grey eyes. He is dressed in simple black robes, with another shade of grey underneath, but you get a sense of immense power from the way he carries himself, his whole bearing emanating control. He looks at you, and you shrink away from his steely glance. "Good afternoon," he says, a strange smile curling his thin lips as he looks you over.