nce upon a time there was a lively Guild, filled
with enagmatic people and strange goings-on. The Guild
flourished for years to the delight of its members; its verdant
gardens replete with shining posts, threads and the flow of both
gold and art. Magnificent it was in life with an excellent name.
In time, however, things began to slow from the luminous hum
of golden glory to a copper-hued twilight and, finally, to dark.
The people trickled out without much sound or fuss, the
activity faded to quiet reflection; in time there was no one left.
The Guild itself fell from Gaia, sinking into the Underworld
below. Its cathedrals stood empty, its many gardens wilted,
ponds became dark pools of stagnancy like liquid onyx. In time
its halls were visited upon by ghosts and their dead gods.
That once shining metropolis had become a necropolis for the
dead; to endure until after all other guilds have fallen into the
void, then it shall hang above oblivion before falling in itself.
Welcome to the Dead Guild.