You unevolved clod. You short-sighted, puerile, simpleton.
Domnik boiled as he looked down at the featureless monolith. What did you think would happen?
The slab resembled a thick legless table made of unmarred black marble. It hovered in place nearly a foot off the ground. Domnik’s hands crushed one another behind his back as he resisted the urge to scowl at the sarcophagus. Somewhere, someone in the room that nobody cared about droned on of the life and deeds of Maela’gast. What their eulogy didn’t mention was that he was destined to die. His ideology ran against the culture of the high caste--against the empire. Fighting against the values of Cizra Su-Lahn was dangerous, even for a Cizran.
The battle between sermon and empathic lamentation raged, but the only sounds Domnik heard was his own angry cursing, the clicking of his hooves on the steel hanger floor, and the dull buzzing of tinnitus. He returned to his seat and viewed the podium: a white menhir contrasting the darkness of space behind. The backdrop, peppered with dead stars, gave the six armed priest a sense of mysticism. His lower two arms carried censers that frothed over with an aromatic mist, and his upper four raised to the heavens as he proclaimed Maela’gast’s ascension to the great Cloud of Ghot.
Domnik wanted to release the humming energy locks and cast the priest into space. Nobody respected Dalanar, nobody respected the Cloud of Ghot, and nobody respected this asinine priest. Maela’gast embraced many religions, but he was no stranger to derision.
“And we commit mighty Maela’gast’s essence to the Great Cloud of Ghot, so he may feed Dalanar’s Forever Nebula...A beacon for your journey.”
“To saunter straggling mists,” everyone but Domnik replied.
An almost inaudible click signified the shifting of the maglocks, and the stone jettisoned through the force field into space. One day, many years from now, that stone sarcophagus would reach the Ghot Cloud, and join thousands of other idiots who worshiped Dalanar.
Domnik rose from his seat with an internal sigh. He had heard a saying, though he could not recall from where it had originated. It was time to “make nice”.
The Veldt quaked.
Normally he would be out of breath, but today he was tireless. Filled with fear and overtaken by pure instinct, the golem effortlessly tore through underbrush. A tree screeched as he sundered its trunk with his powerful spaded hands. The xylem splintered like an exploding hand grenade as the excavator stampeded forth. Bounding forward, not even the precipitous hundred meter drop off a sudden cliff stopped the stone creature. The golem performed a suicide dive, falling could be its doom. As the golem landed head-first it somersaulted forwards, becoming a disincorporate avalanche that razed the verdure. Consolidating was second nature, and as the rocks came together the golem continued its dash.
Though the golem was a veritable force of nature, panic spurred its charge. Mind-numbing, sight-blinding terror was what pushed him forward like a horde of a thousand horrified aurochs trampling through a market. The golem was a fleeing contradiction; golems were simply objects. Tools to be used, much like one would enter a code in a computer, light a fire for warmth, or pull a trigger to kill. Muddy urges born from instinct pooled together and from this muddled mass of desires a dialogue formed. The primordial stages of consciousness occurred as these thoughts flooded into the stone golem’s head, faster than it was capable or ever meant to process. From this coalescence of desire a reason as to why was developed.
Danger.
“Anual’budai.”
“What?”
A membrane flickered over the troglodytic reptile’s slitted eye, “It means stone swallower…” he hissed pointing a sharp claw towards the distant hulking golem.
The gigantic stone golem paid the susurring quidnuncs no mind. It wasn’t capable of doing so. With deliberate movement the stoneswallower reached for a delectable vein of lustrous green shalam. The afterglow illuminated the golem's face as if it were a candle held beneath the jaw. Using its powerful three fingered hands the anual’budai fractured the minerals effortlessly and shoveled the glowing gems into its gullet. The feast continued for most of the day, as the golem gorged itself on the sheet of shalam. Only when its crapulous stony stomach was swollen from its gluttony did the stone swallower begin its trek.
The anual’budai patiently trundled through rolling hills and the thick forests of the Veldt for nearly a week before it reached its destination--the emerald city of Zöldnach. A marvel which the golem took zero interest in as it trudged on stump-like feet and dragging knuckles.
As the creature carried out its mindless function it waded through busy streets, oblivious to the peculiar scents of the open market, the hawking of low-caste hagglers, and the claustrophobia that went with thousands of people crammed into a singular space. The stone swallower just walked until it reached the Artisan’s district.
Ulu’qol’s six eyed arachnoid face lit up, as much as his beady soulless eyes would allow, upon sight of his shipment of rare and valuable shalam. With sponsorship of Ec-shavar and the rental of this golem, he was able to craft his masterpiece. The seventeen foot tall statue of the governor was sculpted with pure shalam, and the alakast secured the effigy under the strictest of sequestration. It would be his gift to the lord-governor: the cizran’s countenance immortalized.
In the past week Ulu’gol had worked tirelessly; manipulating alakastian laser-chisels with his deft feelers the alakast shaped the likeness of his ruler’s face to the perfect detail his eidetic memory provided him. He simply needed to ballast the base, touch up, and his masterpiece would be finished. Just in time for the feast in Ec-shavar’s honor. He rubbed his mandibles together anxiously and watched the anual’budai with alien curiosity. His four forelimbs crossed behind his back resting on his abdomen in dignified posture.
The streets thundered as the massive excavation golem entered the square, and vomited up the contents of its distended boulder-belly. Glowing green shalam skittered across the floor like gems from a cutpurse’s stolen satchel, and Ulu’gol lusted over the shards. When he shook himself from his trance he glanced at the stone swallower who hadn’t yet left.
To the perturbed alakast’s surprise the golem’s heavy brow was raised, mouth agape, and eyes flaring a lively turquoise, its gaze was transfixed on Ec-Shavar’s countenance. The golem’s expression mimicked what Ulu’qol might believe to be astonishment. His mandibles chattered irritably as he hissed, “...leave.”
A heavy stone fist collided with the statue and a brief but furious fulmination ensued. The only reaction Ulu’gol could offer was a half-second scream of apoplexy combined with terror before the golem’s considerable fist squashed him. The golem flailed furiously and indiscriminately, backfisting a hovering rickshaw. The transport rolled and smashed violently through a storefront as the golem bounded as fast as it could from the artisan district. Throngs of people created a deadly crush as the golem stampeded through cramped passageways, trampling all under digitigrade and knuckle.
By the time anyone could have reacted, the stone swallower escaped the city in a hysterical furor, and left a trail of destruction in its wake.
Domnik boiled as he looked down at the featureless monolith. What did you think would happen?
The slab resembled a thick legless table made of unmarred black marble. It hovered in place nearly a foot off the ground. Domnik’s hands crushed one another behind his back as he resisted the urge to scowl at the sarcophagus. Somewhere, someone in the room that nobody cared about droned on of the life and deeds of Maela’gast. What their eulogy didn’t mention was that he was destined to die. His ideology ran against the culture of the high caste--against the empire. Fighting against the values of Cizra Su-Lahn was dangerous, even for a Cizran.
The battle between sermon and empathic lamentation raged, but the only sounds Domnik heard was his own angry cursing, the clicking of his hooves on the steel hanger floor, and the dull buzzing of tinnitus. He returned to his seat and viewed the podium: a white menhir contrasting the darkness of space behind. The backdrop, peppered with dead stars, gave the six armed priest a sense of mysticism. His lower two arms carried censers that frothed over with an aromatic mist, and his upper four raised to the heavens as he proclaimed Maela’gast’s ascension to the great Cloud of Ghot.
Domnik wanted to release the humming energy locks and cast the priest into space. Nobody respected Dalanar, nobody respected the Cloud of Ghot, and nobody respected this asinine priest. Maela’gast embraced many religions, but he was no stranger to derision.
“And we commit mighty Maela’gast’s essence to the Great Cloud of Ghot, so he may feed Dalanar’s Forever Nebula...A beacon for your journey.”
“To saunter straggling mists,” everyone but Domnik replied.
An almost inaudible click signified the shifting of the maglocks, and the stone jettisoned through the force field into space. One day, many years from now, that stone sarcophagus would reach the Ghot Cloud, and join thousands of other idiots who worshiped Dalanar.
Domnik rose from his seat with an internal sigh. He had heard a saying, though he could not recall from where it had originated. It was time to “make nice”.
***
The Veldt quaked.
Normally he would be out of breath, but today he was tireless. Filled with fear and overtaken by pure instinct, the golem effortlessly tore through underbrush. A tree screeched as he sundered its trunk with his powerful spaded hands. The xylem splintered like an exploding hand grenade as the excavator stampeded forth. Bounding forward, not even the precipitous hundred meter drop off a sudden cliff stopped the stone creature. The golem performed a suicide dive, falling could be its doom. As the golem landed head-first it somersaulted forwards, becoming a disincorporate avalanche that razed the verdure. Consolidating was second nature, and as the rocks came together the golem continued its dash.
Though the golem was a veritable force of nature, panic spurred its charge. Mind-numbing, sight-blinding terror was what pushed him forward like a horde of a thousand horrified aurochs trampling through a market. The golem was a fleeing contradiction; golems were simply objects. Tools to be used, much like one would enter a code in a computer, light a fire for warmth, or pull a trigger to kill. Muddy urges born from instinct pooled together and from this muddled mass of desires a dialogue formed. The primordial stages of consciousness occurred as these thoughts flooded into the stone golem’s head, faster than it was capable or ever meant to process. From this coalescence of desire a reason as to why was developed.
Danger.
One week earlier.
“Anual’budai.”
“What?”
A membrane flickered over the troglodytic reptile’s slitted eye, “It means stone swallower…” he hissed pointing a sharp claw towards the distant hulking golem.
The gigantic stone golem paid the susurring quidnuncs no mind. It wasn’t capable of doing so. With deliberate movement the stoneswallower reached for a delectable vein of lustrous green shalam. The afterglow illuminated the golem's face as if it were a candle held beneath the jaw. Using its powerful three fingered hands the anual’budai fractured the minerals effortlessly and shoveled the glowing gems into its gullet. The feast continued for most of the day, as the golem gorged itself on the sheet of shalam. Only when its crapulous stony stomach was swollen from its gluttony did the stone swallower begin its trek.
The anual’budai patiently trundled through rolling hills and the thick forests of the Veldt for nearly a week before it reached its destination--the emerald city of Zöldnach. A marvel which the golem took zero interest in as it trudged on stump-like feet and dragging knuckles.
As the creature carried out its mindless function it waded through busy streets, oblivious to the peculiar scents of the open market, the hawking of low-caste hagglers, and the claustrophobia that went with thousands of people crammed into a singular space. The stone swallower just walked until it reached the Artisan’s district.
***
Ulu’qol’s six eyed arachnoid face lit up, as much as his beady soulless eyes would allow, upon sight of his shipment of rare and valuable shalam. With sponsorship of Ec-shavar and the rental of this golem, he was able to craft his masterpiece. The seventeen foot tall statue of the governor was sculpted with pure shalam, and the alakast secured the effigy under the strictest of sequestration. It would be his gift to the lord-governor: the cizran’s countenance immortalized.
In the past week Ulu’gol had worked tirelessly; manipulating alakastian laser-chisels with his deft feelers the alakast shaped the likeness of his ruler’s face to the perfect detail his eidetic memory provided him. He simply needed to ballast the base, touch up, and his masterpiece would be finished. Just in time for the feast in Ec-shavar’s honor. He rubbed his mandibles together anxiously and watched the anual’budai with alien curiosity. His four forelimbs crossed behind his back resting on his abdomen in dignified posture.
The streets thundered as the massive excavation golem entered the square, and vomited up the contents of its distended boulder-belly. Glowing green shalam skittered across the floor like gems from a cutpurse’s stolen satchel, and Ulu’gol lusted over the shards. When he shook himself from his trance he glanced at the stone swallower who hadn’t yet left.
To the perturbed alakast’s surprise the golem’s heavy brow was raised, mouth agape, and eyes flaring a lively turquoise, its gaze was transfixed on Ec-Shavar’s countenance. The golem’s expression mimicked what Ulu’qol might believe to be astonishment. His mandibles chattered irritably as he hissed, “...leave.”
A heavy stone fist collided with the statue and a brief but furious fulmination ensued. The only reaction Ulu’gol could offer was a half-second scream of apoplexy combined with terror before the golem’s considerable fist squashed him. The golem flailed furiously and indiscriminately, backfisting a hovering rickshaw. The transport rolled and smashed violently through a storefront as the golem bounded as fast as it could from the artisan district. Throngs of people created a deadly crush as the golem stampeded through cramped passageways, trampling all under digitigrade and knuckle.
By the time anyone could have reacted, the stone swallower escaped the city in a hysterical furor, and left a trail of destruction in its wake.