Post by Doctor Atomic on Jan 7, 2022 11:26:28 GMT -8
Lightning crashes and briefly rips away the curtain of darkness to reveal a blood drenched battlefield and the hundreds of lawyers and accountants moving among the bodies, bayonetting the survivors. On a hill overlooking this there is a staff topped with a silver tiger’s head, thrust into the ground to stand on its own. Next to this stands a muscular man gripping a spear in one hand as his other hand grips the collar of a huge standard poodle, caparisoned for war. The man wears a woven kilt, a golden crown with 7 spikes, and a stylish layer of clotted blood. Your eyes are drawn to the spear, the shaft is dark wood and the head is polished jade carved with designs that you cannot see clearly.
Suddenly a messenger runs up, clad in the traditional taffeta and lace of her tribe, and hands the man with the spear a scroll; he reads it quickly and hands it back before speaking.
“Tell the caterers that I want the guests to have a choice between steak and chicken and that I need 4 candle displays for each table.”
The man with the spear does not notice a woman among his enemies across the field, possibly due to her being disguised as an itinerant chimney-sweep, as she escaped the field and carried off a gold signet ring engraved with a serpent.
As the recreational pre-mortem autopsies begin on the battlefield a conga line of undead snakes it way through the carnage, tossing skulls in a festive manner. The line is led by two shadowy forms with red eyes that have a hint of the feminine to their shape.
A pale face wearing a silver crown looks down from above like a moon in the sky, a smile on his carmine lips.
Suddenly a messenger runs up, clad in the traditional taffeta and lace of her tribe, and hands the man with the spear a scroll; he reads it quickly and hands it back before speaking.
“Tell the caterers that I want the guests to have a choice between steak and chicken and that I need 4 candle displays for each table.”
The man with the spear does not notice a woman among his enemies across the field, possibly due to her being disguised as an itinerant chimney-sweep, as she escaped the field and carried off a gold signet ring engraved with a serpent.
As the recreational pre-mortem autopsies begin on the battlefield a conga line of undead snakes it way through the carnage, tossing skulls in a festive manner. The line is led by two shadowy forms with red eyes that have a hint of the feminine to their shape.
A pale face wearing a silver crown looks down from above like a moon in the sky, a smile on his carmine lips.