72 Only the Last Leg Remains

A long and intricately decorated throne room stretched in front of a kneeling woman with a face full of wrinkles. Behind her, kneeled several other women dressed in the same black robes as her. Their heads were bowed and their eyes seldom wandered from a single point on the floor, as if afraid that even a single wrong glance would disrespect the being in front of them. 

"Puppet, what news do you have?" 

As the cherry red lips of the being parted, an uncanny voice filled the hall. It had a strange and otherworldly quality to it, appearing to be neither real nor unreal. It was not unlike a dream, seeming so real while one was still in it but shattering at the slightest touch of reality. 

The old woman shivered uncontrollably before she crawled a few steps forward, lowering her head till her forehead came into contact with the red carpet.