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A Very Long Week (Part 4)

Lalla Chaima smiles, slightly, as I present her with the sketched map. The Feaster’s miasma is unbearably thick, and it has spent so long beneath the city that it is difficult to locate the source. Several possible dens are marked, but the possibilities are narrowed enough that checking these will be the work of a single night, rather than weeks or months.

As we enter our third manhole of the evening, I feel an uncanny quiver in my flesh. The stench is no stronger than before, but I am certain the beast is close. I do not say a word, and I especially do not say the first words that come to mind. My companion reads my body language, and draws her blade. A horrible guttering sound echoes nearby.

The Merry Feaster has more limbs than an ordinary beast of such size. It wears a shape like a cat, if viewed carelessly. What appears to be fur is both lively and sharp. I know, unwillingly, that this deceptive facade is intentional; that what seems to be an animal is more like a livened snare. Intended to destroy those who look at it too orderly, it catches the unwary instead. I close my eyes, accepting small injuries in place of deadly ones.

A monster is meant to be slain. A formula of power primitive enough to stick in my mind, for all that I try to keep it clean of idle dreams. In this moment, a corollary arrives, a second brick in a dangerous edifice. It is easiest to break one’s own weapon. I cannot afford to be sentimental, and I am not foolish enough to be vulnerable. But efficiency is power. I take the easy route; I am not fighting an unseemly creature from outside. Instead, I retire an old, tired watchdog. He whimpers at my betrayal, but it’s for the best.

I do not dwell on the unspoken promise the beast makes, that in undoing it I offer my fealty to its first maker. Now it comes apart as easily as a clockwork toy, as though each puncture wound and bleeding cut were intentionally placed to allow disassembly. A conveniently unsettling chunk of limb will last long enough for proof; no durable trophies will be had from this thing.

Splatters of corrosive blood and ruined clothes aside, Lalla and I share a wonderful night together.

#bilbebabbles #cultist simulator #getting somewhere?#The Lionsmith #verylongweek

the colonel and the lionsmith

#the colonel #the lionsmith #cultist simulator #sketch #art #occult #cw heavy scarring #tw heavy scarring

Let us make Lions, Weather Factory!

#And let us meet a Hooded Prince!#cultist simulator #The Lionsmith #Weather Factory #Screenshots

The Lionsmith, also called the Golden General. The Lionsmith is young by the standards of the Hours, yet ancient by the standards of men. He makes monsters, that he may grow stronger and stronger. He fights with the Colonel, he shattered his sword in defiance, and since Issus have they striven so. (The original artwork for him was a Herculean gladiator figure. It's a typo on the card's numerals.)

#Cultist simulator #The Hours #The Lionsmith