What Exactly Is Going On? There is a rumor of an empire, ancient and lost to time. An Empire ruled by three perfect women who could never do wrong, and who would never die. And though they were beautiful, ageless, and merciful, the kingdom that grew around the Triarchy was the most monstrous yet made. A tyranny of torture and pain that could never end while the three immortal sisters lay at its center like pearls in a poisoned shell. Until one day it did. The women disappeared and were never seen again. The Empire slowly faded and fell, leaving only a memory, like a nightmare recalled at dawn. Once, there was an Empire ruled by three perfect women. One time would not touch—she would never age or die. One was loved—everyone who met her eyes would want nobody else. And one stopped harm—no one who kissed her could hurt another being. Perfection drives man mad. Beyond its inner court, the Empire was murderous, evil, and insane, but the sisters at its heart would never age and no one who met them would, or could, ever do them harm. The Empire could not end, only change hands. So the world was fucked. The sisters lived a cosseted, disconnected existence, almost unaware of the horror that occurred outside of their direct presence. Blind, protected, puppet Queens of a nightmare realm. Until, one day, three treasonous ministers—with rather mixed motives—devised a plan. They would take the sisters to the Maze of the Blue Medusa. The Medusa, Psathyrella, was aeons old even so long ago. Immortal, clever, cold-hearted, and almost without fear, she could keep the sisters prisoner without being seduced by their various perfections. The Maze of the Medusa—where she held immortal threats in forms of stone—was lost, broken from reality and time, near impossible to find, and, if found, still harder to survive. The plan succeeded: the three sisters, and their three treasonous ministers, disappeared. The Empire fell and is now little more than legend, a dark mark on the memory of mankind. The Maze of the Blue Medusa? Lost. Until today.
