Member
datadogie
Silent Showers
Noctis
LightningLynx89
ClocktowerEchos
Metadude
ButtsnBalls
The morning haze had yet to burn off in the capital of Taxipelermico, leaving the city wreathed in an intimidating cloak of mist. In the delta areas, emaciated, long-legged figures stalked, twisted legs plucking through the silt and mud to make their way towards the freshwater gardens, and further out, where the river could not overcome and the water was brackish and unpalatable, the bloated forms of living, floating cultivators tended to the bounties of edible plantlife there. As the sun rose higher and higher into the sky, its rays would grace the tips of the great temples and the rivulets of blood running down their sides, each river another offering. The last of the broken, mutilated bodies would finally topple down the steps of the smallest of the pyramids until finally it had ended its descent, not a drop left in its veins.
This, however, was all normal for those in the city. What was not was the topic of discussion going on in the tallest and widest of the temples, its multiple tiers uniquely designed to host government as well as ritual. Standing outside its pillars, the last of the blood finishing its route down past them, masked and armed freemen stood, still and silent sentinels stopping any who would interfere with the great works being carried out behind them.
Inside, several intricately-adorned figures spoke.
"We know that they are not the only newcomers." The first figure that spoke was the only one sitting. Noticably older than the rest, his damp skin was crinkled like well-used paper and far more gold hung onto his frail form than on any of the others. He croaked out a feeble breath, fingers gripping his staff with surprising force for his seeming invalidity. "This changes what we thought. They may well be more powerful than us, when all united. As allies, they could amplify Telczan's power greatly."
"Or, we could simply be letting them know of our power and prime them to destroy us. You have seen their great sea-crafts, can you imagine what the weaponry on that might do when brought to bear against us?" In constrast, this figure was broad-shouldered and could almost avoid being considered as 'frail.' His crown bore an intricately marked series of deep red symbols that had been cut into his flesh, the designs totally circling his elongated skull.
"Your youth makes you suspicious." The third figure analysed the youngest among them with suspicion. "There is nothing to be lost with talk, and much to be gained. I know you have come from weaving battlefields, but blood and spoilt flesh is not the only thing we must work with when we rule our people."
"Exactly." The oldest figure's mouth contorted into a thin smile. "All in favour of a proper envoy." He held his hand up as he spoke, and the veins would begin to emanate a soft blue glow. Around him, other figures raised up their own hands, arms lit up in hues of blues and oranges to show their approval or dissaproval. Looking about, the older figure would nod, slowly, before levering himself to his feet. In one corner, a short, many legged figure squatted, and the fleshcrafter's hand would come down onto his forehead, the blue light flowing out and into this lesser being's cranium. With a bestial chatter it acknowledged its orders, before scurrying out and down the steps of the temple, single-minded in carrying out the will of its masters.
