At the end of last month, I was in the middle of my duties as a Tribune journalist when I was whisked from my desk in a most unceremonious fashion. It seems I’d become the target of a contract placed upon me with the infamous Red Gloves. I spent the better part of a week with them, simply observing as I awaited my imminently grisly fate from the confines of a place that can only be described as the very essence of death, even before it claims a person.
The Den
The underground lair of the Red Gloves, known best as “the Den,” though morbid and filled with the sorts of things nightmares are made of, feels a castle in the presence of the Den Mother. The leader of the Red Glove Society, fittingly known as the Duchess or the Den Mother, and all of the luxury surrounding the Red Gloves create an air of elegance. It is as if they possess a talent for making the macabre something to be envied, and I even began to feel a death at their hands would somehow be a magnificent honor, gilded and grand.
From what I witnessed, newcomers are given an initiation challenge. They are handed a pair of white gloves and told to return when they are red. The process is not explained further or discussed; it is simply understood, as anyone fit to be a Red Glove will know exactly what to do. Upon completing this task, a Glove hopeful is knighted by the Duchess. They are, from then on, referred to by their new title of Esquire, a form of minor knighthood. To progress further, Red Gloves are required to perform significant feats, solidifying a structure within the society that resounds with a great sense of earned pride for the deserving.
Whispered rumors have labeled the Red Gloves as savages, but are and organized and disciplined bunch who do not behave at all uncivilly. Though they are often to be found skinning animals or fashioning trinkets from bone, they always behave as if they are part of a royal court; they possess the manners, respect, and loftiness of spirit befitting nobility. One might even venture to say that they are a missing part of the Court of Stromness for all of their work for the village.
The Den Mother
More than just a group of regal formality, they seem quite the family unit. They are as diverse and varied in race and skill as they are caring of each other; the actions of one earns the pride and compliment of all. Their duty is not all for the coin, but out of some form of familial motivation as well. Though their tasks fulfilled are worth much to their leader, many will deny payment citing only a desire to do what they do best and serve the Duchess.
In light of recent actions in aid of Stromness and the Red Gloves way of duty over profit, it now makes sense as to why I was released. Upon realizing my position with the Tribune and intent to seek ownership, the Duchess ordered my return to my post as a gesture of good will to the village the Red Gloves seem to have begun protecting. I reclaim my desk and pen this firsthand account of my time with the Red Glove Society to shed light on an enigmatic organization, hoping to repay the hospitality and honor of the Gloves and their Duchess, and calling to those with the discipline to don their own gloves.
-Gwenaderin Lilidae
((OOC info: words and images by violetile Resident. For more information about the Red Gloves or to join, contact The Den Mother (ValerieVixxen Resident).))
The Mystara Tribune 