Charming, handsome and debonair. That is how many view Sauren Nightflame, leader of the elite Rogues Guild The Crimson Blade. But, beneath the polished exterior, a dark side lurks.
Victimised from an early age by some of the bigoted denizens in Cap...
Dedicated to @JeremyNChristina, for looking forward to this story. I hope it does not disappoint
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Music: AGE OF WONDERS composed by Brunuhville
The dining hall was actually two elongated stores knocked into one dilatant and impressive room which could accommodate around one hundred and seventy diners.
The otherwise cold stone walls were adorned with huge, finely detailed tapestries and various coats of arms representing the transection of races which would form the guild. Many of these exquisite, and in some cases slightly gruesome, works of art, had been gifted to Sa'themar by some very influential clients who had been more than delighted when he announced he was going to inaugurate his own guild.
The floor, made of the same solid stone as the walls had been vigorously buffed and polished to a high-quality sheen, the embedded mithril deposits giving an almost iridescent look to it.
Tables, long and sturdy were basic in design but made from the best timber available - Ashenvale Oak. The grain, having been stained many times over to produce a deep, rich mahogany colour, was a trend favoured by the consequential establishments of the day. Benches were lined under the tables which normally would be simple hard seating for students, but on this evening, they were draped in soft furs to provide comfort for the guests attending the grand opening.
At the top of the room on a broad platform was the head table. It was not as basic as its counterparts on the hall floor. Its edging and legs were embellished with detailed mouldings depicting the ornate emblem of the high elves and the sigil for Lordaeron and its Capital City. This would be where the Guild Master and his senior staff, or guests of a venerate disposition would be seated. No benches here, instead, elaborate high-backed chairs, with identical mouldings to that of the table, provided padded, comfortable seating for elite posteriors.
Above their heads, five large dark iron chandeliers hung from the ceilings between the wooden beams. These tiered lights had been made by Don's father. The bases were constructed from cartwheels, their rims whittled out to provide bedding for candles. Trimmed in iron bands, six solid chains supported their weight and provided a frame where the 'smith's creativity was well displayed. He had woven ornate iron candelabras between the chains, each offering a setting for more candles, numbers tapering to the thick loop on which the chains interlocked. One heavy duty chain then held the entire creation suspended above the diners. More free standing candelabras were lined along the walls and so the enormous hall had more than adequate lighting.
To the rear of the hall, a double door led through and down to the kitchens. Wafting up from the extensive scullery, the aroma of roasted meats, spiced stuffing, game pies, fresh breads, sweet potatoes and honeyed pumpkins permeated the large room. Judging by the looks of anticipation on the faces of the diners, the pending fare had already been awarded their veritable approval.
