Palace of Shadow

The Palace of Shadow was the Emperor's primary stronghold, and quite possibly the most malevolent place in the entirety of the Whispy Woods. It is an evil place, steeped in death and agony, nearly impossible to find; to its right sits the Howling Forest, and to its right and rear are the Mountains of Mourning, which forms a protective barrier. Only the slaves, servants and flunkies of the Emperor know the way to their master's home.

Its outer bastions form an imposing wall of black stone, in no place less than a hundred feet tall. About the ramparts are set a hundred towers, each rising as high above the battlements as the walls rise above the bare rock, rising like sinister pinnacles into the dark storm clouds. Severed heads and raven-worried limbs rot upon spikes about the walls, grisly reminders of the price of denying the Emperor's iron will.

Behind its impenetrable walls, the palace rises high into the foothills of the Mountains of Mourning. The general architecture features curves, spikes, turrets, and many windows of varying shapes and sizes, all swathed in a perpetual pall of smoke. Its lightless dungeons are crammed with captives whose wailings fill the air and whose moans seep through the thick walls of the high towers, saturating the soul with pain and misery. From the tips of the highest towers, above the filth and smog of sacrificial fires, the Emperor casts his malign magic over the known world.

The Forbidden Tower
At the center of the palace stands the Forbidden Tower. No mere fortress is this, but a palace within a palace. A maze of bastions, ramparts and towers huddle within its walls and jut haphazardly from its sheer sides. Here dwell those held highest in the Emperor's regard -- an honor that brings high esteem and patronage, but also danger. The Emperor has ever been a volatile monarch, generous when fortune smiles, but unflinchingly merciless when all does not go his way. His court is therefore a place of rapid rises and meteoric descents -- few can play this game of politics for long, and none who take part die a natural death.

The upper chambers of this tower belongs to the Emperor alone, and none save his closest allies are granted entrance without his permission. Neither torches nor lanterns are permitted within; though he would never admit it, the Emperor has long been discomforted by wholesome flame. The lower chambers are desolate and spattered in cobwebs, full of faded tapestries and haunting silence. Here, in rooms bedecked with bones and dust, the Emperor holds court and makes his plans against his enemies.

The council chamber is a particularly gruesome spectacle. Its vaulted roof is lost in mist and shadow, and its walls are draped in tapestries woven from stolen material. The jagged likenesses of gargoyles stare down from intricately-carved buttresses, their stony eyes shining in the darkness. At the center of the room sits a vast circular table struck from a single slab of obsidian. The Emperor's iron throne sits at the head of this table, but he much prefers to prowl about the perimeter so that no one can ever be certain where his cruel gaze lies. One hundred chairs of blackened bone and flayed skin sit alongside. Some are occupied only when the council meets, while others are permanently engaged; long have they been dead, having displeased the Emperor in ages past, with exposed bones held together by sinews and shreds of muscle.