That is, this is possibly why Mottom might stick around for hours and hours to receive all her offerings. Unless she isn’t actually here, in which case her reputation is about to falter.
The most amusing thought — given how happy she looked when she was exploding Gog-Agog’s head — is that she probably sits there HOPING someone pulls a stunt like this, purely because it gives her a chance to break the monotony.
I wouldn’t be surprised if those are dead caused directly by Mottom’s demands/lies/coercion upon his people. The whole come “Reap what you’ve sown” kind of gift.
One final act of defiance: an insult hurled at the one who took everything. This is the cool thing. Anything to follow will be the futile flailing of a man against his uncaring, inevitable end. (however visually appealing)
To the last, I grapple with thee;
From Hell’s heart, I stab at thee;
For hate’s sake, I spit my last breath at thee.
Keeping in mind that the old man who said that was suggesting an impossibility under a totalitarian rule. The mindset of those that live on their knees and delude themselves that they are standing.
It’s all in the presentation, really.
What surprises me is that each planet only gives one box a year rather than an entire caravan of them. But by my calculations, she does need to go through almost 90 offering an hour just to get through every world’s offering in a year, which leaves little time to consider each in turn. Such is the nature of gluttony. I suppose that kind of quantity lets her be much more selective when it comes to quality, though. Like having a billion bistros make tiny platters only to combine them into feast piles.
Observing the tribute of gladiators, it would appear that some of the offerings are merely representative of the actual gift. Surely that would prove more efficient than clogging the halls even further than they are.
Well, this might be bi-annual (or even less frequent) then. A lot of these are enormous donations. How would Mottom have made it to the meeting of the Seven otherwise?
I refuse to believe that Mottom is satisfied with having her cake and locking it in a vault forever instead of eating it.
Maybe her gifts are arranged together for the actual consuption, for example by having some sort of bone-infused tea served by gladiators, who are also trying to fight each other without spilling or breaking their teapot on pain of execution?
If her wonderful palace wanders as I and the Knights of Peregrine do then perhaps the tribute is constant. Each week brings a new host of worlds and with each world a tribute.
Surely it would not surprise anyone if the grand mother of all gluttony spent her time forever moving towards the next offering.
Another in a long line of pretenders to true royalty. His death is inevitable but not without purpose. His failure will illuminate the dread grandeur of the challenge to be overcome by the true king: KILL SIX BILLION DEMONS
With that it mind, it might be the case that Alison’s group really might be set to scrubbing tile, if only because of how long it’ll take to work that king out of the grout when Mother Om is done with him.
Me thinks that the fool will not live for much longer. Or he may live for a good many years yet, I suppose it all depends on how our good Mother Om feels on this day.
Sometimes those of my order are recruited as mercenaries to hunt down rare items on barren worlds that have come to resemble the Void. The remaining elders of the Knights Peregrine do not care, except the few that do.
I wonder if any civ in any of these worlds have unlocked atomics like “our” earth has, it be pretty crazy to see like a group of scientists come and be like “we offer a literal star” and then the bring in An A-bomb,
Our world seems to be exceptional in several ways. Perhaps it has something to do with how two things were each divided into an equal number of parts and the total of the two is an odd number.
i learnt through some old friend, a fine lady
whatever you can jab a chopstick in
regardless how rotten that thing may be
will most definitely taste like chicken
Well really, an atomic weapon itself would obviously be overkill when it comes to attacking one person. If she would be destroyed by use of a simple bomb as easily as most perceivers, black powder explosives would not only be sufficient, but detonate more reliably: I nuke needs to be set off in a very specific way, and wouldn’t do so spontaneously if disturbed by something like Mottom’s PERISH move.
If a nuke was set off before her, I suspect it would reduce her flying palace to rubble which would fall upon the land below it, wrecking much damage to everyone involved, but Mottom would survive as easily as the has all those times Jagganoth no doubt attempted to crush her underfoot.
If you really wanted to use atomic science against her, I think it’d be more sensible to put radioactive material in a food offering, to give her acute radiation poisoning. But given her current state, I wouldn’t be surprised if enough people tried that already that she’s giving off more than a few rads herself at all times. Really, any kind of poison would likely end up being more diluted that whatever’s accumulated in her by now.
However: Even though technology does not directly threaten the demiurges, they regulate it fiercely, despite how much more productive it might make their worlds. I suspect the reason is that allowing the worlds to stay too healthy would make them restless. Thus, the Seven would be better opposed not by bringing to bear the technology of war, but by spreading machines that help to create prosperity.
Good point. Nukes don’t solve problems, they add just more. For what would the rest of Throne think of the people of a world who both elected their rulers, and then succumbed willingly to letting these thoughtless bastards nuke something anywhere, and by that kill thousands of innocents, leaving radioactive waste? … Not the best impression, huh.
Surely, the empress of 111,111 universes rules with a strong hand, punishment is required for such an affront. I’ d expect something similar to what she did to Gog-Agog. I imagine PERISH to be her signature move.
The brave King expects to die, he has seen the power of Mother Om first hand. I fear a worse fate may await him, though I lack the cruel imagination to guess what that may be.
It matters little. Any action taken against King Pryan Sor will by an attempt to mitigate what he has done. His statement is made, and there is no length nor manner of torture or gruesome death that will unmake it.
It is tragic though. I think I would have quite liked to meet King Sor. I suspect we share some common ground.
Hehehe! Yes, it always a joy to see fellow fools make such hideous and humorous mistakes, It does me good knowing their soul will be permentally marred like mine is so.
You may, it was during the time when the number of Demiurges were quite numerous and when first throne underwent its corruption. I mocked what I believed to be a simple vetra cloaked in green to be nothing more than a hideous pile of maggots who thought they were people. This was a mistake as it was a young Gog-Agog who decided to carve a harlequin like mask from the dark flames into my very being for being so funny. Let us just say it was a very painful experience and I have had a very hard time permanently changing my body structure outside of combat.
Calling it right now, the goods demon just says “One box of skulls and bones of the beloved of Alman-Shan. Noted and accepted.” Just totally brush off the whole point of what he was trying to do.
Doesn’t look like it’s meant to be. Look at the title text.
“Pryan Sor is probably the coolest character design I’ve made that will only last two pages”
In my wandering days, I visited a breeder of halicon cats meant for the back alley arenas. This day they happened to be testing the temperament of a new brood and had placed a cat into the ring with a man bedecked in padded armor; a baiter, whose duty was to rouse the cats to combat.
The cat in the ring was calm-eyed and slunk about as the baiter poked with his spiny bramble stick and shouted foul curses. No matter how loud and aggressive the baiter’s harassment, the cat merely paced.
Then the breeder began to shout, and leaned over the rail of the ring to shake his fist at the cat. The very instant his breast crossed the rail, the cat was upon him, clawing and spitting. The baiter came quietly forward and pierced the cat’s side with a dagger, and it fell dead to the floor. The breeder was taken to his practor, bleeding and swearing grim oaths to no one and everyone.
A man, one of the many gathered to witness the spectacle, made comment that the cat was damn foolish for giving up its life to attack the wrong person. I caught the baiter’s eye and he nodded to me. We had a fine talk as he buried the cat’s corpse in the yard. He told me it was a spectacular specimen, the perfect fighting cat. I could not help but admire it’s form, it’s luxurious fur. Even in death, the cat was a beautiful thing.
I returned to that breeder’s home some months later, after the war of ascendence had concluded and the new sovereign had raided him of his fortune in the name of decency, and saw the baiter again. He was leading volunteers to transport the cats to a menagerie. As the cats passed, I saw their lives in combat carved into their bodies: scarred skin, missing eyes and ears, haunted and wary faces. The baiter smiled at me and pointed to the yard where the defiant cat had been buried. Upon its grave grew a beautiful burst of fragrant flowers.
I nodded to the baiter, and picked a flower to keep.
Is no one else surprised that the emissaries are allowed to stand in the presence of Mother Om? I certainly am astonished by Her Majesty’s magnanimity.
Also, glad that Pryan Sor is only going to last two pages. I hope the same is true for his companion. That means we, as readers, will be largely spared the sight of their punishment, which is bound to be an extremely unpleasant and drawn-out affair.
But surrounded. Literally warehoused with wealth. So much opulence that it has to be stacked up and forgotten to gather dust. In all likeliness this will be the first and last time she bothers to even acknowledge the existence of many of these treasures that people have sweat and bled and killed to obtain.
In a perverse way this is the ultimate expression of excess. Mottom takes in such a endless windfall from draining her Empire that it looses its meaning even as a treasure.
Mottom’s gluttony lies not in consuming her treasures, but merely possessing them as to deny them to others. It is true gluttony, for it advantages no one.
I remain of the opinion that they are not truly in the presence of Mottom, but perhaps a thrall or automaton meant to provide the illusion of her presence.
Wow, you are insane. Good on you. I suppose this is why Mottom might stay.
That is, this is possibly why Mottom might stick around for hours and hours to receive all her offerings. Unless she isn’t actually here, in which case her reputation is about to falter.
The most amusing thought — given how happy she looked when she was exploding Gog-Agog’s head — is that she probably sits there HOPING someone pulls a stunt like this, purely because it gives her a chance to break the monotony.
Now here’s the question, are those the skulls of soldiers, emissaries, or just people affiliated with Mother Om?
I wouldn’t be surprised if those are dead caused directly by Mottom’s demands/lies/coercion upon his people. The whole come “Reap what you’ve sown” kind of gift.
Clowns. Like, actual circus clowns. They’re like rats on his world.
Suffer not a clown to live.
I hope he lives long enough to do something cool.
One final act of defiance: an insult hurled at the one who took everything. This is the cool thing. Anything to follow will be the futile flailing of a man against his uncaring, inevitable end. (however visually appealing)
To the last, I grapple with thee;
From Hell’s heart, I stab at thee;
For hate’s sake, I spit my last breath at thee.
–Herman Melville
“It is better to die on your feet than to live on your knees.”
I think you have that backwards. It’s better to live on your feet, than to die on your knees.
he doesn’t 😛
Keeping in mind that the old man who said that was suggesting an impossibility under a totalitarian rule. The mindset of those that live on their knees and delude themselves that they are standing.
Live well.
Die better.
I second this motion! He knows he’s dead, but I hope he goes out with a bang!
Agreed Preem Voncent.
Death is inevitable, so let that death be glorious and defiant!
I reckon he already did.
I personally hope he lives long enough for Mottom to do something cool.
Always room for more skulls in the treasure heap. Noted, and accepted.
It’s all in the presentation, really.
What surprises me is that each planet only gives one box a year rather than an entire caravan of them. But by my calculations, she does need to go through almost 90 offering an hour just to get through every world’s offering in a year, which leaves little time to consider each in turn. Such is the nature of gluttony. I suppose that kind of quantity lets her be much more selective when it comes to quality, though. Like having a billion bistros make tiny platters only to combine them into feast piles.
Observing the tribute of gladiators, it would appear that some of the offerings are merely representative of the actual gift. Surely that would prove more efficient than clogging the halls even further than they are.
Well, this might be bi-annual (or even less frequent) then. A lot of these are enormous donations. How would Mottom have made it to the meeting of the Seven otherwise?
I refuse to believe that Mottom is satisfied with having her cake and locking it in a vault forever instead of eating it.
Maybe her gifts are arranged together for the actual consuption, for example by having some sort of bone-infused tea served by gladiators, who are also trying to fight each other without spilling or breaking their teapot on pain of execution?
If her wonderful palace wanders as I and the Knights of Peregrine do then perhaps the tribute is constant. Each week brings a new host of worlds and with each world a tribute.
Surely it would not surprise anyone if the grand mother of all gluttony spent her time forever moving towards the next offering.
Now back to the winding path I go.
In love and in glory, we worship her story.
Biblepunk af
holyyyy shiiitttt
Those are the bones of the other kings that defied Her rule, right? …Right?
I’m pretty sure those are the bones of people who were killed by her invasion.
He’s dead.
Yep. Very brave. But very dead.
Well then. I’m entirely sure that we won’t be seeing more of him soon… or perhaps the same amount, with a greater surface area…
Very well put.
Another in a long line of pretenders to true royalty. His death is inevitable but not without purpose. His failure will illuminate the dread grandeur of the challenge to be overcome by the true king: KILL SIX BILLION DEMONS
With that it mind, it might be the case that Alison’s group really might be set to scrubbing tile, if only because of how long it’ll take to work that king out of the grout when Mother Om is done with him.
Me thinks that the fool will not live for much longer. Or he may live for a good many years yet, I suppose it all depends on how our good Mother Om feels on this day.
This scene has played out a thousand times before. She has but a collection of lines to say in response.
It takes dedication to stand in line for many, MANY hours just to die after dropping a chest full of skulls.
their patience is interminable.
=//=
THEIR DEATHS WILL FEEL INTERMINABLE!
Duck and cover!
Sometimes those of my order are recruited as mercenaries to hunt down rare items on barren worlds that have come to resemble the Void. The remaining elders of the Knights Peregrine do not care, except the few that do.
It’s Zaheer!
The Order of the Red Lotus!
I wonder if any civ in any of these worlds have unlocked atomics like “our” earth has, it be pretty crazy to see like a group of scientists come and be like “we offer a literal star” and then the bring in An A-bomb,
Our world seems to be exceptional in several ways. Perhaps it has something to do with how two things were each divided into an equal number of parts and the total of the two is an odd number.
I endorse this plan with two caveats:
1. Stars are powered by fusion, so you need an H-Bomb.
2. Demiurges are supposed to be able to take on angels, who are also powered by fusion, so she might actually be able to tank that hit.
Even if it doesn’t work, the results would be worth seeing.
The A-bomb would know that it really a sandwich, the perpetrators would know oblivion, and all would know why Mottom is a god.
I wonder how an A-bomb would taste?
i learnt through some old friend, a fine lady
whatever you can jab a chopstick in
regardless how rotten that thing may be
will most definitely taste like chicken
Well really, an atomic weapon itself would obviously be overkill when it comes to attacking one person. If she would be destroyed by use of a simple bomb as easily as most perceivers, black powder explosives would not only be sufficient, but detonate more reliably: I nuke needs to be set off in a very specific way, and wouldn’t do so spontaneously if disturbed by something like Mottom’s PERISH move.
If a nuke was set off before her, I suspect it would reduce her flying palace to rubble which would fall upon the land below it, wrecking much damage to everyone involved, but Mottom would survive as easily as the has all those times Jagganoth no doubt attempted to crush her underfoot.
If you really wanted to use atomic science against her, I think it’d be more sensible to put radioactive material in a food offering, to give her acute radiation poisoning. But given her current state, I wouldn’t be surprised if enough people tried that already that she’s giving off more than a few rads herself at all times. Really, any kind of poison would likely end up being more diluted that whatever’s accumulated in her by now.
However: Even though technology does not directly threaten the demiurges, they regulate it fiercely, despite how much more productive it might make their worlds. I suspect the reason is that allowing the worlds to stay too healthy would make them restless. Thus, the Seven would be better opposed not by bringing to bear the technology of war, but by spreading machines that help to create prosperity.
Good point. Nukes don’t solve problems, they add just more. For what would the rest of Throne think of the people of a world who both elected their rulers, and then succumbed willingly to letting these thoughtless bastards nuke something anywhere, and by that kill thousands of innocents, leaving radioactive waste? … Not the best impression, huh.
If a gate opened up the US would nuke itself to stop the hordes.
Surely, the empress of 111,111 universes rules with a strong hand, punishment is required for such an affront. I’ d expect something similar to what she did to Gog-Agog. I imagine PERISH to be her signature move.
It is the only move we have seen so far. I, for one, hope for something /new/.
Or for the reveal that the Queen herself isn’t in this room. One of these.
Perish, Perish, Perish!
You’re all Perished!
The brave King expects to die, he has seen the power of Mother Om first hand. I fear a worse fate may await him, though I lack the cruel imagination to guess what that may be.
It matters little. Any action taken against King Pryan Sor will by an attempt to mitigate what he has done. His statement is made, and there is no length nor manner of torture or gruesome death that will unmake it.
It is tragic though. I think I would have quite liked to meet King Sor. I suspect we share some common ground.
Better to live one day as a lion in the court of Mottom than a billion years on your knees in submission.
>That will only last 2 pages
Freaking spoilers, geeze.
That last panel is so cold-blooded. I love it. Pryan Sor has my respect, and my props.
Oh, he’s going to die, yes. He’s going to be annihilated where he stands. But while he was a part of the comic, he was SO COOL.
When all has been taken, what is one left with?
The ability to choose ones attitude.
Some things are more important to King Sor than life.
Hehehe! Yes, it always a joy to see fellow fools make such hideous and humorous mistakes, It does me good knowing their soul will be permentally marred like mine is so.
Dare i ask, Pree Fool, what mistake led your own affliction?
You may, it was during the time when the number of Demiurges were quite numerous and when first throne underwent its corruption. I mocked what I believed to be a simple vetra cloaked in green to be nothing more than a hideous pile of maggots who thought they were people. This was a mistake as it was a young Gog-Agog who decided to carve a harlequin like mask from the dark flames into my very being for being so funny. Let us just say it was a very painful experience and I have had a very hard time permanently changing my body structure outside of combat.
Calling it right now, the goods demon just says “One box of skulls and bones of the beloved of Alman-Shan. Noted and accepted.” Just totally brush off the whole point of what he was trying to do.
I wish. It would be so cool of her! So “I don’t give a fck about what you said”.
Now that would be someone who is really fucking on the ball. And would crush the king worse than him being killed.
Doesn’t look like it’s meant to be. Look at the title text.
“Pryan Sor is probably the coolest character design I’ve made that will only last two pages”
In my wandering days, I visited a breeder of halicon cats meant for the back alley arenas. This day they happened to be testing the temperament of a new brood and had placed a cat into the ring with a man bedecked in padded armor; a baiter, whose duty was to rouse the cats to combat.
The cat in the ring was calm-eyed and slunk about as the baiter poked with his spiny bramble stick and shouted foul curses. No matter how loud and aggressive the baiter’s harassment, the cat merely paced.
Then the breeder began to shout, and leaned over the rail of the ring to shake his fist at the cat. The very instant his breast crossed the rail, the cat was upon him, clawing and spitting. The baiter came quietly forward and pierced the cat’s side with a dagger, and it fell dead to the floor. The breeder was taken to his practor, bleeding and swearing grim oaths to no one and everyone.
A man, one of the many gathered to witness the spectacle, made comment that the cat was damn foolish for giving up its life to attack the wrong person. I caught the baiter’s eye and he nodded to me. We had a fine talk as he buried the cat’s corpse in the yard. He told me it was a spectacular specimen, the perfect fighting cat. I could not help but admire it’s form, it’s luxurious fur. Even in death, the cat was a beautiful thing.
I returned to that breeder’s home some months later, after the war of ascendence had concluded and the new sovereign had raided him of his fortune in the name of decency, and saw the baiter again. He was leading volunteers to transport the cats to a menagerie. As the cats passed, I saw their lives in combat carved into their bodies: scarred skin, missing eyes and ears, haunted and wary faces. The baiter smiled at me and pointed to the yard where the defiant cat had been buried. Upon its grave grew a beautiful burst of fragrant flowers.
I nodded to the baiter, and picked a flower to keep.
I enjoyed your story, and found its moral relevant and thought-provoking. Thank you.
Is no one else surprised that the emissaries are allowed to stand in the presence of Mother Om? I certainly am astonished by Her Majesty’s magnanimity.
Also, glad that Pryan Sor is only going to last two pages. I hope the same is true for his companion. That means we, as readers, will be largely spared the sight of their punishment, which is bound to be an extremely unpleasant and drawn-out affair.
To stand in the presence of a God is to be in their thrall. Nothing remains of those who defy the Divine Will, an example for other would-be deicides.
Magnanimous? Perhaps. But a God is most powerful when seen.
“Take him to Detroit!”
Well, they all stand while Mother On has the only seat in the room… for a ceremony that lasts for hours on end…
I’m surprised Mottom’s throne is so tiny.
But surrounded. Literally warehoused with wealth. So much opulence that it has to be stacked up and forgotten to gather dust. In all likeliness this will be the first and last time she bothers to even acknowledge the existence of many of these treasures that people have sweat and bled and killed to obtain.
In a perverse way this is the ultimate expression of excess. Mottom takes in such a endless windfall from draining her Empire that it looses its meaning even as a treasure.
Mottom’s gluttony lies not in consuming her treasures, but merely possessing them as to deny them to others. It is true gluttony, for it advantages no one.
Mottom’s throne spans a seventh of Creation.
I remain of the opinion that they are not truly in the presence of Mottom, but perhaps a thrall or automaton meant to provide the illusion of her presence.
This seems appropriate: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=80YFtnTBApU
Unless their tribute is to be the entertainment.