A yes I remember Jesus of Nazareth an excellent healer but a terrible candidate for royalty. He knew of the terrible truth but was abysmal at violence and couldn’t wrap his head around the idea of paradoxes. Though he was a master carpenter made me house that still lasts 2000+ years.
I dunno, I like him for what he used his Art for. Making wine out of water is a surest way to a Black Flame’s heart.
No that your kind would care for wine.
Slander! Have you not heard how he preached that he was God, and God was three people? YTTR AM! And against your accusation of his pacifism, you should know he was an excellent swordsman. After all, he absolutely hated the sword. The violence of his life was so terrible that he destroyed death himself!
He also brought forth an unending stream of violence, murder, crusading and
inquisition of the heretics and sinners. He brought forth holy destruction upon dozens of other priests and faiths, and anihilation of whole societies or their enslavement in his name. He was the spark for many wars, and more blood has been shed in his name than a whole sea could hold.
The two similar men in powdered wigs and blue military garb are Lord-Admirals of the airship forces of a world known for its deep and eternal cloud cover. They both keep heir eyes covered due to a sensitivity to even this much light. The one far left wears a gilded breathing mask, relic of his service in the toxic storms, for which he is well regarded.
The Magistrate, a capricious wench of peculiar tastes, hardly regards his service in the toxic maelstroms of Venenubes as an achievement of high valor – rather an action of duty. One might say she will have finished her duty as an Estate Magistrate of One Thousand and One Worlds once she lies in a pond of her red essence.
Why, I do believe I know her – the large miss in blue, above the similar miss in orange, to our right. I do believe that that is Mistress Royesse de Calvarent. Now, as you all know, traditionally the Mistress Royesse is generally a minor role – while a member of a regency council, it is often the least of these notables, whose main duty is to educate their charge in matters of romance and debauchery (a lady for a Lady, of course). However, the Lady de Calvarent is a rather notable exception, and an exceptional lady indeed! Rather than using some drab or bon vivant for an example, de Calvarent taught the Princess Marcela how to seduce, dominate, and extract every once of pleasure from a partner by targeting the other members of the Regency Council. Man or woman, the pair had their fill of every Noble between the Princess and the throne, and rather than inheriting a throne weakened by years of infighting, she mounted one like she mounted all her Lords, mighty and unwavering. de Calvarent remained the doting and salacious servant to the new Queen, refusing the title of High Chancellor in favor of her Regency title in a show of humility. However, the facts place her as the highest confidant and adviser, title none-withstanding, and the only person to go match the Queen’s insatiable carnal appetites. Mottom, of course, appreciates a good insatiable appetite for flesh, having one of her own, or so rumor says. I’m not surprised to see her in this ballroom, one who seems lowly, but is the secret heart of power.
The man with the wig, golden glasses and medals on his suit? Yes, I do indeed know him.
Anyone who has visited the Land of Aria will undoubtedly recognise the face of it’s foremost Crown Prince; Ayrvun Vys Garveid.
The Ayrvun Clan has ruled Aria ever since Mottom taught Queen Ayrvun Vys Mayim how to compose her Song of Chained Will and bind the land to her will.
It’s been generations since then and the current queen is growing ill, however Garveid seems too distracted by parties and hedonism to compose his own Song; which means it is likely he will be usurped.
Perhaps though, he’s attending this ball for a more important reason? I suspect he hopes Mottom will teach him what she taught his ancestor so many years ago, allowing him to keep cruising through life without effort or care.
Royal gossip is the least regal thing in the multiverse.
Now that the philosophical whatnot is out of the way, I do say that one of the princey boys there has already been usurped. He’s not visible in this picture, and good riddance, he’s an ugly mudder, but I think you can see his hat in the back. He was in good standing with Mottom, and good for him, he earned it. Tried to balance out his duties and delegate responsibly, yadda yadda. He forgot that Mottom doesn’t impose too often on guild action, so he got reckless. He borrowed from something like eight dozen guilds in the past fifty years and personally told off a few dozen more. A poor choice.
Taking advantage of the party, a last-minute guild union was formed and his big, fancy marble-steel castle just got hit with a low-orbit Gift of Mercy. He’ll hear about it soon and he’ll throw his hissy fit, but a banker’s family was just put in a temporary position of power. As soon as word reaches Mottom’s cabinet (another hour, probably), he’ll get thrown out of the party quietly. Then a few guild transporters will escort him to his final resting place.
Say what you will about guilds, but you can’t deny that dealing with loan sharks is always a bad choice. I never liked him, anyway. Owed me a couple seasons of drywheat and yeast.
Admiral G.W. Shark(foreground, don’t act like you didn’t notice him) was the leader of a revolution from an oppressive regime known as the Meglodom. His people were an exploited race, smaller than the mainstream Meglodom elites, and forced to give up the product of their labor to fund an ever-expanding empire. As shark-people, the Meglodom empire depended on a fish-based diet rich in omega 3’s, but over-consumption was killing the fish population. Without precious omega 3’s, heart disease was the biggest problem facing the Meglodom. The solution? Send the smaller race to a colony to perform the brutal manual labor of farming flax seeds as a substitute of omega 3’s.
G.W. Shark became the leader and icon he is when he coined the phrase “no flaxation without representation.” The former colony became a great independent nation and a wonderful era of innovation and affluence began.
Look, there goes the Marchessa of the world of Zan-zed – laugh not, good sir, for that on her head is not mere decoration, but an actual ship, shrunk down through an artifact, with her crew and treasures along in it. What magnificent posture, balance and confidence – to be expected of, from a pirate-queen.
I have heard that he is indeed a master of the art of ‘Rap’, though he spits his rhymes sparingly and only rarely do those fortunate few who bare witness to his music survive to tell the tale.
My sister claims to have witnessed him lyrically annihilating the Circle of the Great Wave in Akansa, but I somehow doubt she would have managed to survive such an encounter.
Baron Von Stunnershades in front, Overseer of the Htraxian Abyss, Keeper of the True Banner, Conqueror (or Liberator depending on who you ask) of the Republic of Jinraet, is actually long dead and has been undergoing Weekend At Bernie’s style hijinks ever since. His keepers, however have gone missing at the ball, but no one seems to notice that the Baron has been standing in the same spot for the past few hours.
Challenge Accepted!
The 3 beak faced gentlemens are regents of the Avian lands. Going counterclockwise they are:
Mermont the eldest of the three. Mermont the most agressive of the commanders enjoys red tinctures and relishes the lies of dying beings.
Trupit the middle of the three. Trupit is the commander of the dreaded Avian land Navy, the Armada squad. Trupit enjoys pillaging cheeses from the various peninsulas she visits.
Byrd the youngest of the three is the most dry of the regents, its is rumored that Byrd carries a big DUCK. What that truly means or entails is certainly unknown.
The Big Blue Mustached looking fellow, middle right side of the scene arguing with the talking Venus fly trap is, overall, a pretty alright. Unlike some Royalty he had the wisdom to see where resistance would lead and surrendered his world gracefully.
Sadly this has doomed his people to a slow death by a million cuts as membership in Motom’s empire takes its toll. Every night this once kind now hard hearted king weeps that he will be remembered as a treacherous tyrant his only solice found in the great libraries of Motom’s palace amongst the age dusted words of the dead.
That big guy to the right and just below the raised platform Mottom and Allison are on? With the glasses and mustache? The guy the Servant with the beak is talking to? He’s no Servant. He’s a human who spent all his life trying to hide his defects, but in the midst of trying to cure himself of it, he only caused it to metastasize, growing blue fur all over his body and increasing his body mass. Now he is known as the Beast.
The harp with a mask on it was a golden demon that got a bit too uppity about being forced to play for Mottom, so she swore it would never be forced to play again, and indeed it lives for little else.
Wigged man with blinds shades:
Percuihanik, Six Hundred and First Admiral of Dark Ytterli
Percuihanik was born the seventh son of the great Admiral Asiida, but quickly outstripped his siblings in martial fortitude and navigational ability. Before his age grouping ceremony, he defeated Algreddas the behemoth of the islands and Vos the scourge of the air. When a creature from the Sightless Depths wrecked his mother’s flagship, he searched Ytterli’s seas until he harpooned its gelatinous body and fed its heart to his ship. When his siblings declared war on the Flame Empire, he fought against them, and in the end each sibling’s corpse was chopped in bits and thrown to the sea-maids.
His shades are designed to protect his light sensors from the painful brightness of Mottom’s palace, while retaining a semblance of fashion.
yeah man, I remember that guy…was a kid when I met him, though. 2 years from ending his apprenticeship with his…step-dad? Kid always dodged that line of questioning. Whatever. Gonna be a carpenter, he was. And he was good at it! one time, one time, the stool I was sitting on broke, and he caught it with one hand, and pulled out a hammer with the other, and repaired the seat while I sat there. damn fine bit of work. Bought him his first tavern beer for that save. Only seemed right, don’t you think.
Heard he got involved with some hippies or something, took up beat poetry or some such. Was pretty good, from what I hear, but it was a sorry waste of a carpenter, that I can tell you.
Here is the backstory for our man in the shades and wig in the foreground, mostly from the song “George Washington” by Brad Neely. He is 6 foot 8 and weighs a literal ton. He replaced his heart with a second brain, for better reaction time and more processing power on the field of battle. He rides a horse made of crystal, kickboxes men in half when they displease him. He achieved his rank after killing his superior officer and mentor, though his motive was unclear. He intimidates rivals by making them watch while he burns off their lovers extremities in acid at his annual royal ball. This tactic is so effective that the children of his rivals wish that he was their father. He wears the shades because his eyes are deadly laser weapons. (reports that he has like 30 goddamn dicks are exaggerated).
He only has 23. He was born with 24, but when you make sweet love to the molten core of your planet, even one such as he does not leave unchanged. However, the virile gifts he left in that furnace belly of the mother world has extended the potency of the planet for another 1,000 years, resulting in bumper crops that make Om’s reign merely difficult, instead of the back breaking work found in other realms.
We have observed a few among the number of attendees to this ball.
The corpulent amphibian in the foreground to the left is the Grand General Ozydius Hearkod, 34th of 97. Born to a rarely small clutch of eggs, the good General rose to greatness through his ferocity in battle and his insistence on fighting at the head of his troops. A conqueror and a king and of high quality in both fields, he held many stars under his banner when Mother Mottom came for his world. It was expected that the resulting war of resistance would last centuries.
It lasted less than a week. Some claim this was a result of mercy, to spare his worlds the worst that such a war would bring. But the General was a warrior, and expected the same of his followers, and so this possibility is believed to be unlikely. It is also said that it may have been an act of cowardice, that the power of Mottom was simply too great for even the powerful General. Others still say that the General joined her willingly, joyfully even.
The linking factor in all of these rumors is that those from whom they originated have since been repurposed into tasteful living room decor.
The blue devil who carries the drinks is noone other than Morax Valiant Against All Edges Twinklestar, PhD. She was formerly equal in stature to me, but her names decayed after centuries of indolence the verdant devils can so easily fall into.
The Imperatrix of Glory saw her from the lofty heights of her palace, as Morax was providing drinks to others of my kind waiting in the Void. The Queen then decided she’d like a new servant, and sent her sorcerer-slaves to bind her.
A tale a lot of devils in Nadia’s service share, but there’s more to that – Morax wants, in her heart of hearts, to form a pact with a bearer of the Key of Kings, thinking it will elevate her station. She aims high, as all of us do, but even a Black Flame can burn in the horrible radiance of Glory.
Not all kings are as foolish as King Pryan Sor when they first approach the Mottom’s seat, a truly a Siege Perilous. Yet all who first approach are foolish, because no woman, man, or other can understand the demands of Royalty. So it was with Heraclitus, son of Herakon and Blason, the Dual Tyrants. He may now be recognized as the scarred man in the upper left.
When Mottom first unveiled the gate to his world, his nation immediately surrendered, for acknowledging superiority is no sin. Heraclitus’ fathers committed suicide, as defeated Tyrants are ought. The sole inheritor (all others were too cowardly) Helenclitus approached Mottom with immense offerings from his world: rare wines, imported silk, and rarified oils. Yet as he approached the throne he noted servitors offering impossible mechanical wonders, worlds worth of flowers, and impossibly large choirs. It was in his shame of the paucity of his offering, the fear of Mottom’s wrath, and the foolishness of uninstructed youth that he made his mistake.
After presenting his world’s gift, Heraclitus threw himself upon the floor before Mottom and abased himself. He begged forgiveness for the paucity of his gift, for his provincial ways, and for his ignorance. Mottom would have readily accepted these apologies as she understood poverty, fear, and foolishness (though long gone), but for Heraclitus’ final mistake/nobility. He promised that he would bear any punishment in stead of his subjects, until his world(s) could provide a proper gift to Mottom.
Although Mottom remembered her past, gluttony is never hard to resist, and she accepted (graciously). The first harvest was hard on Heraclitus; it robbed him off his skin for a week. The second, less so (only his eyelids). And soon, the punishments were only perfunctory: a cut here or there, a shattered tibia, indigestion. He had corrected his foolishness and learned to serve Pride through humbleness. But the scars of his foolishness remain until this day.
Somehow he still believes that the path toward gluttony and abasement may still lead him toward satisfaction and rule. A strange philosophy of opposites from ancient philosophers in his land.
The two blue-skinned ladies in the centre-right of the image are princesses Nan’Shul L’Raban and Nan’Vasha L’Shiani, daughters of the battle-kings of the world of L’Lamos. The two ladies will in the future inherit the twin thrones of L’Lamos, and thankfully are good friends, being almost inseparable since hatching. Until their fathers pass away, they works as L’Lamos’ diplomats. Nan’Shul (the one with orange on her face) dislikes crowds and small talk, which is why on parties, she sticks to her friend like a glue – this way, she won’t have to talk. On the other hand, Nan’Vasha is eager to mingle and self-confident, and happily launches herself into crowds of far more experienced aristocrats.
To the right of the Llamos princesses, the two figures with castles on their heads are lady Ginnamonna Valleriana (in the back) and her servant, Ronniana Gellarda. Lady Ginnamonna is a well-known slaver, trading millions of beings every year, with contacts across hundreds of worlds. In three hundred years that she have lived, she had seen several uprisings among her stock. It was during the last of those, fifty years earlier, that one of the slaves managed to irreparably damage her throat, which is why these days, she keeps Ronniana as her mouthpiece, communicating with her by sign language. Miss Ronniana, in turn, comes from a family that’s been conquered by Vallerianas, and as such sees working for lady Ginnamonna as little more than a chore, but one that may prove useful. She’s planning to poison her mistress to render her deaf, so that Ronniana may have complete control over what lady Ginnamonna says and hears to and from others.
Aha, spy the gentlemen with the floating pyramid-head standing by the stage? The legendary painter-king Tess, obsessed with symbolism and hidden meanings, founder of the cryptoparanoiac school of art, whose work is famous even in worlds beyond his own.
But see how he is transfixed? String music is forbidden on his world, on account of how the sensation is utterly addictive to his people. By the end of his ball he shall be nothing more than a degenerate wretch, unable to function without outside assistance. A tragedy sure to amuse our lovely host.
And who is that in the far back, right in the middle of the third pillar? Could it be the secretive Queen of Assassins and Assassin of Queens? Who inherited the title by murdering her sister before her, who inherited the title by murdering her mother before her, who founded her dynasty by murdering the completely unrelated QOAAAOQ before her? Monarchies among shapeshifting species are inherently unstable, but make for good gossip, at least.
And ah, she is talking to Hegle the Clean, construct sorcerously crafted to be the perfect ruler, fair and just, merciful and compassionate when the situation allows for it, swift and efficient when it does not. Mottom, upon hearing of his nature, appointed a minister with the authority to dictate trade terms and intermundal law for the express purpose of corrupting him: He is currently negotiating prices for the discreet murder and replacement of said minister. Painlessly and cleanly, of course.
Mottom’s guards today are king Syanvastransivanyerastandesvinyar of Sevrinimat and queen Hust of the United Colonies of Aeliehur. The former has not seen his erstwhile people in ten years. He is notable for maintaining his rule by personally besting literally every contender to his throne in personal combat. Mottom’s conquest featured trapping him in his own palace and sending individuals to one by one challenge him until he fell under the weight of his own exhaustion.
Queen Hust is still revered by her people, though they see her only when she returns with prizes for them. She has always had a prodigious strength- able to force a spear through a horse and rider from beneath. She very much enjoys fighting, and she had her people join with Mottom in the interest of increasing her own land. The United Colonies now refers to the entire world- all united under Mottom’s banner- and Hust fights now only for conquest in HER queen’s name.
The singer is Wöx Pritch, renowned as having a superlative singing voice, enhanced by drinking liquors and brews from many worlds. Since joining Mottom’s rule, her abilities have increased further- she can hold a note for several minutes consecutively, raise her voice high as mice squeaks and as low as lion roars; even adequately mimic any voice or instrument she so chooses. She enjoys the feeling of very low notes and often her songs have a variety of slate-like rumbles or growls in them.
She has been forbidden from imbibing blue devil liquor.
The madam with the boat on her hat is Queen Sume of Las Dryas.
Boats are very important on her world. More-so than a house or a farm, since it essentially is one after some mad wizard or other melted all the ice on it (and it used to be a particularly frigid world, too). That’s what they say at least. Some suspect the unchecked industrialization to be responsible, which happened to keep up with Mottom’s demands, her forces having conquered that universe some decades prior.
I like to think Mottom’s Guild guard is grumbling at all the people at this ball.
“Grmbl darn kings’n’fools, thinkin’ they can trick ma security per’mter. I’d kill ya all for ma Queen if I could. Lucky fo ya, I ain’t allowed to.”
This one wonders if our friends who follow after the Key in Alison’s head (and, perhaps a certain blue devil with golden spectacles) are attending in disguise. It’s the perfect occasion.
This one also finds herself oddly worried about Queen Nadia. As if she cannot defend herself.
the blue devil in the distant right, just behind the orange curtains, is no king or queen. he is not one of the fake walks of life around him, pushed down a path laden with wine and sweet temptations. no, his invitation is a lie and his goal is a false pipe with a hidden knife between ribs at the end of this cluttered cavalcade.
one of these pet royals will leave here alone, presuming safety in the cloud of alcohol that lingers in their veins and in the shadow of the great palace that is all to happy to have them under heel. they are not meant to return to the world they “rule.” they crossed one too many lines and the devil will have this vengeance snatched away by warring angels and the kingqueens of gates.
he will fail to uphold the pact he has made. he will die, screaming and wretched and twisted into a hydra of four-jointed arms like a lion’s mane. and one sobbing face like a child’s. the lie that is his ballroom disguise will give to the lie that is his mask and many names.
his memory will be swallowed by the void and he will return to a primal state, all hot fire and teeth and a furious ache shared by all his heartless kin. he will not remember what he has lost. it is the kindest fate…
he was once named “my love” by a clever little thief.
Ah, the sweet voice of Pree Karisan is certainly a pleasure to experience, for those of her homeworld speak only in tones of consonance, and among them she is the finest princess in their history. Though plain of visage and slight of figure, she is a living instrument, perfectly tuned, and imbued with true empathy. Many have sought her hand, only to be tragically declined due to her dedication to the Queen. But, it has been rumored that she once was betrothed to a Servant of fine stature from the Planet of Briggin in the Argvan Galaxy whose gravelly bass undertones were a perfect compliment to her own sultry contralto. It was only after he mysteriously disappeared that she entered into the Queen’s service. And darker rumors in the depths of the hidden places in the Queen’s palace speculate that from time to time, he has been seen in the outskirts of large gatherings watching her performances with a melancholy longing that belies an even deeper pain. Karisan has not spoken of him since his disappearance… Seeing a direct line of sight from her forward position on the stage to only one lurking in background, methinks that here, there is a pregnant conspiracy close to bearing a stillborn conclusion.
Lady Fayari vom Minnleid, Fourth Baroness Gossip to the Queen of Ayld stands, drink perched twixt her fingers behind the golden-glassed sky admiral. In the court of Ayldea, certain nobles are charged with knowing not just every layer of royal protocol, but also knowing every layer of royal scandal, which they helpfully impart to anyone who will listen.
Although the position of the Baroness Gossip is richly esteemed, the lifespan of that particular noble class is rarely measured in decades.
My word, that gold-masked demon by the stage over there, is that the Marchion Ankou D’Annen?
So terribly odd to see him at an event like this, he always has shunned parties of this sort. Perhaps he wishes to curry favour with the other princes along the border of Mottom’s territory, I’ve heard there has been some tension there of late, what with the scripture smugglers passing through.
Good to see him out and about though, I suppose. Been so terribly hard to get in contact with him after Mottom executed his brother. They were so terribly fond of each-other.
I’m rather tempted to see if I may find myself in conversation with him, it has been so long since I’ve seen his collection of misshapen souls, it must have grown quite grand these last centuries.
He had this fun little trick he’d do where he’d bake them back to life in that cauldron of his and have them dance for us while the soup was brought to boil. Such jolliness! Such joy! Oh, to hear the snapping of those limbs in their frolicking again!
Character back stories (sorry if I am picking something already done). Queen Nadia Om is surrounded by a crimson honor guard with visors and polearms. They appear to be lead by a bald dark skinned warrior with what is presumably a large slashing weapon across his back. Of course the Blood Flower Imperiatrix needs no protection from mere mortals but they are rather splendid.
The Ruby Praetorians have been Mottom’s bodyguard for nearly a decade originally being drawn from Dongola, an early conquest of hers. Their culture emphasizes martial prowess, honor and strength. As one might expect their history is characterized by brutal war as civilizations constantly struggled for power. The worlds environment largely consists of scorched vermilion deserts and humid crimson jungles. Little has changed on the world since Mottom’s seizure of power except that they now war for her attention rather than dominance, the reward being service in her armies.
These particular five hail from the Three Rubies Pact Alliance, a long standing Kingdom formed of three tribes which is currently dominant on Dongola. Their apparel celebrates their worlds color but underneath is masterwork scale armor and tight fitting helms. In the Alliance’s armies all but the officers are required to hide their features the ideal being that individuals should be appreciated for their skill rather than their appearance. The two on the left are known as Jaffan and Jakula, brother and sister from the Abdal tribe, joining the military early they were given this position after esteemed service in Mottom’s name. On the back right is Fasad, a quiet man who’s origins he is reluctant to reveal, this minor digression is made up for with his lethal skills. Lastly is Belanon of the Secotta tribe, a man of quick wit and blinding speed. Here they are armed with quarterstaffs to quickly and safely resolve any disputes, after all it would be unseemly for Mottom’s visiting guests to be impaled. Their leader is Huvala’ki, a man famed on Dongola for his prodigious strength and skill, Mottom personally asked for the Yungala tribe’s champion on her last visit to Dongola. After today’s earlier assassination attempt he is feeling particularly twitchy and is ready to draw his mighty scimitar at a moments notice, his intense glare keeps any from approaching his Queen.
Ah yes! The women with the mole on her cheek [106], Madam Ivalet Nuatxim of the “Greater Worlds”. A lovely place, capital entirely of Marble, though as depicted, it seems she is again reminding someone of that.
I just barely observe Armest Ures, the Gold Devil just below that lady with the fantastic galleon atop her head. In comparison, Ures’s garb is positively tame… though not to an extent that it would let her stick out in a party of Mottom’s palace. Such is her art; from what I understand, she is an absolute master of a very specific form of stealth, diplomacy, and subterfuge. She thrives in crowds and conversations of all kinds, and has an innate knack for knowing not only how to teach someone with offhanded commentary and gossip, but also how they may react to it. The right information to the wrong people; the wrong information to the right people; an exposed scandal to a susceptible crowd at the worst possible time; and, if necessary, a perfect frame to crush the voice of an opponent forever. It would not surprise you to learn that Armest Ures became a fantastic and popular reporter for her efforts, back when she was a blue devil.
Take note that one does not become a gold devil by simple journalism, nor does it get one into Mottom’s Palace. In her own way, Armest Ures can destroy someone in a way that few others can ever accomplish. Pray that she never speaks to you. Pray harder that you never cross her.
Peter D’vie-n, Liar, Aggrandizer, Villein of Throne
This one spies Mish’an’ak, Player of Syllables of Royalty upon the higher cushion to the right of the stage. His simple garb belays his talent to twist the most archaic and stunted measure into a magnificent skirl of unknowable dimensions. This instrument he is seen to be holding is an untruth, held in secret inside is the true maker of sound, a shred of the softest rock from his own world, long since stripped bare for the glorious Mottom and her particular care for yielding but firm pillows. He plays merely by speaking one of the syllables of Royalty into his tube, wherein the shred vibrates and thus creates the sounds of madness that so frequent the gods’ palace.
It is said that the most skilled of his musical order knew two or three syllables of the seven of Royalty and of YISUN, and could create songs that shattered entire planes of existence. Even so, a master of two such syllables could unmake the trappings of even a large gathering of power as this ball.
But! What a shame he only knows one.
The large brute playing the harp-demon, his name is Klaaarghn Fists-of-Brass. The band is playing it off as if nothing is wrong, but Klaaarghn is actually a last-second replacement for the original harp player, who was mysteriously found slain just an hour before the band was to perform.
Francocoeur, the bassist, was the one who discovered him just in time for the performance after a frantic search. Francocoeur does consider it strange that he was able to find a talented replacement so easily and at the party no less, but risking an offense to Mottom at her own ball invites terrible things. Better to ask no questions and accept it as good luck.
Klaaarghn had no qualms about murdering the former harp player. He trained for years for this night, in fact. He isn’t even very interested in playing the harp – he intends on stealing it after the ball is over, to turn it back into the demon from which it was wrought if he and his associates can manage. That demon owes them a great many favors, and even its current punishment isn’t enough to escape them…
Ah, excuse me, the others sent me to retrieve the Lord Trader. L-Lord Trader Count Lance Dragoon? Please, the other crewmembers already dislike me for being a mutant, and they covet my ability to see through the Warp. If I return without him, they will likely be incensed. The hulking machine-cleric has been looking at me oddly. I fear he intends to pluck out my Navigator’s Eye and wear it as a pendant! The Child of the Warp is no better. Outwardly, he seems friendly, but he is vulnerable to the tides of Chaos, as all Warplings are, and he may become possessed at any moment. Don’t even get me started on the blue one. Friendship with him would only deepen the others’ distaste for me, as he is Unhuman. Although she seems uncommonly amiable, I cannot bear to even approach the Void-Mistress, as she has no soul. The Trader, though, he recognizes that I am useful, strange and frail as I am. Please, do any of you know where he is?
The short blue deviless in the front? Serving drinks? That lovely young-seeming lady is Imix, an assassin and slow-poisoner par excellence. She snuck into Mottom’s palace years ago posed as a servant and has been poisoning the wine she serves ever since.
Mottom knows all about it, and thinks it’s hilarious.
The musicians are the Regulus 5. They do not come from similar worlds, but met and formed the band, becoming extremely popular across The Wheel.
They are led by V’tres Hun’ab, a singer who’s able to hit pitches most species can’t hear without special equipment, both up and down the scale, earned through vigorous vocal training. Her appearance here is a little scandalous, as she was recently discovered to have been writing extremely explicit poetry under the pseudonym Sawtoothed Beast. While popular with some circles, widely she was condemned for the content. Yet here she is. At least she is only performing R5 classics, not any of her Sawtoothed material. However, it is rumored that she might begin doing solo performances as Sawtoothed Beast, if any establishments reach out to her. This worries their production company, as while they could make a strong claim for ownership of the poems, they do not wish to damage their image by assosiating the brand with them. Time will tell how they ultimately react.
The Olympian Cloud plays the hermonin, a instrument similar to a earth harp apart from in 5 key areas. The Cloud (as he prefers to be called) is also a champion at his world’s most popular sport, though he left to pursue his career in music after he was injured. The sport’s name, roughly translated, is The Act Which Praises the Rocks, Earth and Hells, though missing a lot of subtext involving the nature of this praising and which particular Hell it’s referring to, different for each game. It plays like a mixture of triathlon, american football and polo. The Cloud’s has written some B-sides for the band and is a founding member along with V’tres, having met her when she was performing backing vocals for a match. The Cloud is not using his regular hermonin, as it was damaged at their last performance. He is known for long solos, a habit that annoys some fans.
The two clarinet players (yes, they are exactly the same as a clarinet, though their species’ mouth structure allows for unique sounds) are the siblings Burrryuca and Hyyyrtr. Originally freelance musicians, hiring themselves out to fill up orchestras and the like, they joined R5 after seeing them perform live. If interviews are to be believed, the previous clarinet player (a elderly creature known as Eshuk) died live on stage, as it reached the end of his life-cycle. It released spores into the crowd, but most had brought protective gear. Not so for the siblings, who inhaled the spores and thus gained Eshuk’s ability to play the clarinet (they previously played only the tuba). They joined R5 soon after, being fired from their previous agency for breaking contract, which counted the spore inhaling as drug abuse. They play in unison, mixed to provide louder backing to the vocal sections.
The insect is Two Three Eight Six One Seven. His species have a very short life span, maybe 10 or 20 years at most and so is the latest in a long family line of Ut players who have been in R5, child taking over from parent. His species have genetically engineered roles and his is Ut playing. As such, he is perfectly suited to playing it, both in physically and mentally adding a methodical, almost artificial sound to their music. He has been exiled from his home planet for “grub-scrugging”, the act of touching a newly formed grub, which split the fan base there. Fans can also buy his genetic material if they wish to “clone” him, though there is no guarantee of the child’s personality being the same (a fact a fan sued over).
I see several familiar faces: Myk the Bassist, a Kzke drone Engineer from The Realm of Shadows in Retrograde, known to some as the “Elvis of the Second Aethyr”; Horgon the Harpist, a Seeker from the Second Lowell Ecstasies, who once played for Jeddak Tardos Mors in the Kingdom of Helium; Freel and Zeer, two Thellani Speakers from the Uplifted Arc Zones, play the horns; and Wöx Pritch, of course, is the singer. Together, they’re the band–Dogma’s Olive. The name was Myk’s idea.
Obviously the pyramid-headed dude with the single red eye (way in the back, in the space between Mottom’s throne and the band) is a follower of Y.V., the Gun God. His name is King Redda ‘da Red, of the planet Venus (that is, one of thousands of Venuses that pay worship to Y.V.).
He pledged allegiance to Mottom’s empire, in return for phat stacks and lots of guns. Though the harvest of his world’s resources is a shame, his subjects bear the pay with forgiveness, knowing that Redda only follows their god’s commandments: GET MUNY. CLACK CLACK.
Has no-one spoken for numbers 126 and 128? I believe they are known to me.
I almost didn’t recognize them, but I am certain that they are daughters of the Ink Drippers Guild. Maxima Indigo and Cerulea Indigo, are their names.
The two sisters have hardly been apart since they were born, and they make a good team. Though they are Servants, they have a powerful Will, and should not be underestimated. Maxima, the elder, is known to be a skilled devil binder. Cerulea, the younger, is widely praised for her keen eye for detail, and her strong instinct for opportunity.
Both ladies have been accused of using their lady-like assets to further their family’s goals. I’ve even heard rumors that more than one rival was last seen following the pair to the bedchamber they share.
Their family was long a major power in the guild, however in the wake of the Battle of Hell 71, the tides have turned against them. Many of the slain were members or allies to their family, and their position is now precipitous.
They were wise to seize on this ball as a pretense for getting out of town, and away from the knives of their rivals. Among the guests here they will find many who will aid them in return for honeyed words and unenforceable promises.
Unless Allison does something to upset their plans, I expect they’ll live long, prosperous, unhappy lives.
Hm…good word, is that the Countess Marila de Valta of Ardemnon? Over there in the corner, to the left of the fellow with the scar on his head? I must say, I’m rather surprised to see her at an event such as this, she’s never been one for social functions considering her…unfortunate appearance.
She apparently was quite a beauty in the days before her planet’s conquest; the Rose of the Thousand Moons, the Pale Flame of Ciranalde they called her. She was well known for her many, many suitors, and even more well known for throwing them out on the palace steps screaming obscenities. Alas, her fire did her in in the end. When Mottom came calling, she was one of the only ones in the court to defy her, and…well we all know how Mottom deals with such things. It’s shocking the Countess got off as easily as she did, though I’m told the growth will spread and overwhelm the rest of her eventually; a slow, exquisitely hideous and agonizing death. Quite typical. How the countess eats like that I’ll never know, and for that I am quite glad.
And I do believe that insectoid fellow with the four wine glasses is X’janroq Pthoth J’kqonril, Commander-General of the United Federation of New Taiquil. Never met him, though I do know of him. During the Kaqavar Conflicts, when he was still only a commander, he won the Battle of East Qoth by having his men wear the carapaces of the fallen enemy soldiers and flanking them in the guise of bringing reinforcements. He also convinced the Free Army of Kor’quili’kir to surrender by arranging for them to receive care packages filled with flesh-eating Tykol spores. And apparently his first gift to Mottom was a statue supposedly sculpted from the heads of every general he’d slain; only one of the sculptors tells me they didn’t have enough heads to build it, so he secretly used some of his own injured troops instead. Charming man. Insect. Whatever.
The tall green insectoid fellow with the plumed crest on his head standing next to the left of the second pillar from the right in the far background is Twice-Molted Arbiter Krr’tk’tk of the Bilious Hive. He towers uncomfortably over the other guests and stands quietly next to the pillar in a vain attempt to make himself inconspicuous. Mottom knows he is socially awkward and invites him to her soirees solely to watch him squirm.
Efficiently written information. It will be profitable to anybody who utilizes it, counting me. Keep up the good work. For certain I will review out more posts day in and day out.
This is the strangest rendition of Hamlet I’ve seen in some time.
Definitely a fan of that bug dude in the middle quad-fisting wine glasses
the amount of class is unmatchable
Definitely a fan of that bug dude in the middle quad-fisting wine glasses.
Anyone else digging techno-washington?
Which one?
Center-Bottom-Left. The gentleman with the unique eyewear and powdered wig standing to the left of the insectoid fellow.
I was talking about the one with the orange glasses but I just noticed the one with the mask. I think they’re my new favourite characters
I was thinking “Starlord Washington.”
Electro-Jefferson certainly is.
He’s the first guy I noticed. I thought the same thing. Looks as if some of our founding fathers were more than meets the eye.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=l7iVsdRbhnc
Yes.
Yes I am.
A yes I remember Jesus of Nazareth an excellent healer but a terrible candidate for royalty. He knew of the terrible truth but was abysmal at violence and couldn’t wrap his head around the idea of paradoxes. Though he was a master carpenter made me house that still lasts 2000+ years.
I dunno, I like him for what he used his Art for. Making wine out of water is a surest way to a Black Flame’s heart.
No that your kind would care for wine.
Slander! Have you not heard how he preached that he was God, and God was three people? YTTR AM! And against your accusation of his pacifism, you should know he was an excellent swordsman. After all, he absolutely hated the sword. The violence of his life was so terrible that he destroyed death himself!
He also brought forth an unending stream of violence, murder, crusading and
inquisition of the heretics and sinners. He brought forth holy destruction upon dozens of other priests and faiths, and anihilation of whole societies or their enslavement in his name. He was the spark for many wars, and more blood has been shed in his name than a whole sea could hold.
The violence of his life was great indeed!
I take up part of this challenge.
The two similar men in powdered wigs and blue military garb are Lord-Admirals of the airship forces of a world known for its deep and eternal cloud cover. They both keep heir eyes covered due to a sensitivity to even this much light. The one far left wears a gilded breathing mask, relic of his service in the toxic storms, for which he is well regarded.
The Magistrate, a capricious wench of peculiar tastes, hardly regards his service in the toxic maelstroms of Venenubes as an achievement of high valor – rather an action of duty. One might say she will have finished her duty as an Estate Magistrate of One Thousand and One Worlds once she lies in a pond of her red essence.
Why, I do believe I know her – the large miss in blue, above the similar miss in orange, to our right. I do believe that that is Mistress Royesse de Calvarent. Now, as you all know, traditionally the Mistress Royesse is generally a minor role – while a member of a regency council, it is often the least of these notables, whose main duty is to educate their charge in matters of romance and debauchery (a lady for a Lady, of course). However, the Lady de Calvarent is a rather notable exception, and an exceptional lady indeed! Rather than using some drab or bon vivant for an example, de Calvarent taught the Princess Marcela how to seduce, dominate, and extract every once of pleasure from a partner by targeting the other members of the Regency Council. Man or woman, the pair had their fill of every Noble between the Princess and the throne, and rather than inheriting a throne weakened by years of infighting, she mounted one like she mounted all her Lords, mighty and unwavering. de Calvarent remained the doting and salacious servant to the new Queen, refusing the title of High Chancellor in favor of her Regency title in a show of humility. However, the facts place her as the highest confidant and adviser, title none-withstanding, and the only person to go match the Queen’s insatiable carnal appetites. Mottom, of course, appreciates a good insatiable appetite for flesh, having one of her own, or so rumor says. I’m not surprised to see her in this ballroom, one who seems lowly, but is the secret heart of power.
Sharp-Teeth Blue Lady x Shutter Shades George Washington is my new OTP.
This fool spies with his little eyes the Kanye west of the multiplicity. Acting all chilled with the shutter glasses douch bagging up the entire room.
There is nothing about this comment I don’t love.
How did Mother Om know she was referring to a person instead of a string of syllables?
Her own name’s Nadia, and there’s that other Demiurge guy called Solomon David. Maybe some names are just common across the Multiverse?
Jesus was a fairly common name, now represented as Joshua. Seems likely that she’s run into more than a few.
Well if you insist Alt-Text: The guy near the right with the mustache is the king of Speng. It’s kinda like spain, but hairier
The birdman (Shady Sherm) he’s talking with is giving him the “Don’t talk to me or my wife every again” treatment, purely because he’s
The downfall of Nadia Om is shaping up to be the saddest turn of events yet. All these moments are bittersweet.
The man with the wig, golden glasses and medals on his suit? Yes, I do indeed know him.
Anyone who has visited the Land of Aria will undoubtedly recognise the face of it’s foremost Crown Prince; Ayrvun Vys Garveid.
The Ayrvun Clan has ruled Aria ever since Mottom taught Queen Ayrvun Vys Mayim how to compose her Song of Chained Will and bind the land to her will.
It’s been generations since then and the current queen is growing ill, however Garveid seems too distracted by parties and hedonism to compose his own Song; which means it is likely he will be usurped.
Perhaps though, he’s attending this ball for a more important reason? I suspect he hopes Mottom will teach him what she taught his ancestor so many years ago, allowing him to keep cruising through life without effort or care.
So, does anyone have any royal gossip to share?
I am pleased that this does not conflict strongly with my own words.
Royal gossip is the least regal thing in the multiverse.
Now that the philosophical whatnot is out of the way, I do say that one of the princey boys there has already been usurped. He’s not visible in this picture, and good riddance, he’s an ugly mudder, but I think you can see his hat in the back. He was in good standing with Mottom, and good for him, he earned it. Tried to balance out his duties and delegate responsibly, yadda yadda. He forgot that Mottom doesn’t impose too often on guild action, so he got reckless. He borrowed from something like eight dozen guilds in the past fifty years and personally told off a few dozen more. A poor choice.
Taking advantage of the party, a last-minute guild union was formed and his big, fancy marble-steel castle just got hit with a low-orbit Gift of Mercy. He’ll hear about it soon and he’ll throw his hissy fit, but a banker’s family was just put in a temporary position of power. As soon as word reaches Mottom’s cabinet (another hour, probably), he’ll get thrown out of the party quietly. Then a few guild transporters will escort him to his final resting place.
Say what you will about guilds, but you can’t deny that dealing with loan sharks is always a bad choice. I never liked him, anyway. Owed me a couple seasons of drywheat and yeast.
This one is impressed by your references to our own worlds regal history, the boat hat was a nice touch.
some would say
nice boat
Admiral G.W. Shark(foreground, don’t act like you didn’t notice him) was the leader of a revolution from an oppressive regime known as the Meglodom. His people were an exploited race, smaller than the mainstream Meglodom elites, and forced to give up the product of their labor to fund an ever-expanding empire. As shark-people, the Meglodom empire depended on a fish-based diet rich in omega 3’s, but over-consumption was killing the fish population. Without precious omega 3’s, heart disease was the biggest problem facing the Meglodom. The solution? Send the smaller race to a colony to perform the brutal manual labor of farming flax seeds as a substitute of omega 3’s.
G.W. Shark became the leader and icon he is when he coined the phrase “no flaxation without representation.” The former colony became a great independent nation and a wonderful era of innovation and affluence began.
And here I thought this was obviously just Xanxost, writer of “Faces of Evil”.
Look, there goes the Marchessa of the world of Zan-zed – laugh not, good sir, for that on her head is not mere decoration, but an actual ship, shrunk down through an artifact, with her crew and treasures along in it. What magnificent posture, balance and confidence – to be expected of, from a pirate-queen.
The Lady with the Ship on Her Head is indeed worthy of royalty: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yb8EMPl5gxE
i don’t know who she is, but that lady with the ship on her hat is my hero. I bless.
Gives two entirely separate meanings to the phrase: She’s wearing a Pinafore. (What, never? Hardly ever!)
So I look at the guy with a powdered wig and shutter shade, and I think: there is a man who eliminated his rivals in rap battles to the death.
I have heard that he is indeed a master of the art of ‘Rap’, though he spits his rhymes sparingly and only rarely do those fortunate few who bare witness to his music survive to tell the tale.
My sister claims to have witnessed him lyrically annihilating the Circle of the Great Wave in Akansa, but I somehow doubt she would have managed to survive such an encounter.
Community response: No.
We shall begin regardless.
The only true answer is YS
Lovely use of color!
http://imgur.com/ptnTptz
Pick a number, everyone. We can get through this is if we work together.
Lord Shuttershades
My only sorrow, i fear six juggernaut will not wait for the song to end.
Baron Von Stunnershades in front, Overseer of the Htraxian Abyss, Keeper of the True Banner, Conqueror (or Liberator depending on who you ask) of the Republic of Jinraet, is actually long dead and has been undergoing Weekend At Bernie’s style hijinks ever since. His keepers, however have gone missing at the ball, but no one seems to notice that the Baron has been standing in the same spot for the past few hours.
Challenge Accepted!
The 3 beak faced gentlemens are regents of the Avian lands. Going counterclockwise they are:
Mermont the eldest of the three. Mermont the most agressive of the commanders enjoys red tinctures and relishes the lies of dying beings.
Trupit the middle of the three. Trupit is the commander of the dreaded Avian land Navy, the Armada squad. Trupit enjoys pillaging cheeses from the various peninsulas she visits.
Byrd the youngest of the three is the most dry of the regents, its is rumored that Byrd carries a big DUCK. What that truly means or entails is certainly unknown.
Does that dude have fucking shutter shades?
He Fucking do.
The Big Blue Mustached looking fellow, middle right side of the scene arguing with the talking Venus fly trap is, overall, a pretty alright. Unlike some Royalty he had the wisdom to see where resistance would lead and surrendered his world gracefully.
Sadly this has doomed his people to a slow death by a million cuts as membership in Motom’s empire takes its toll. Every night this once kind now hard hearted king weeps that he will be remembered as a treacherous tyrant his only solice found in the great libraries of Motom’s palace amongst the age dusted words of the dead.
Mottom’s balls are always bouncing, they’re the biggest balls around…
That big guy to the right and just below the raised platform Mottom and Allison are on? With the glasses and mustache? The guy the Servant with the beak is talking to? He’s no Servant. He’s a human who spent all his life trying to hide his defects, but in the midst of trying to cure himself of it, he only caused it to metastasize, growing blue fur all over his body and increasing his body mass. Now he is known as the Beast.
The harp with a mask on it was a golden demon that got a bit too uppity about being forced to play for Mottom, so she swore it would never be forced to play again, and indeed it lives for little else.
Ah! I recognize the man in front! He is MECHA BENJAMIN FRANKLIN, inventor of INVERSE LIGHTNING.
Wigged man with blinds shades:
Percuihanik, Six Hundred and First Admiral of Dark Ytterli
Percuihanik was born the seventh son of the great Admiral Asiida, but quickly outstripped his siblings in martial fortitude and navigational ability. Before his age grouping ceremony, he defeated Algreddas the behemoth of the islands and Vos the scourge of the air. When a creature from the Sightless Depths wrecked his mother’s flagship, he searched Ytterli’s seas until he harpooned its gelatinous body and fed its heart to his ship. When his siblings declared war on the Flame Empire, he fought against them, and in the end each sibling’s corpse was chopped in bits and thrown to the sea-maids.
His shades are designed to protect his light sensors from the painful brightness of Mottom’s palace, while retaining a semblance of fashion.
Excellent.
…I want wallpaper like that.
Ive met a fellow named Jesus Christ a long time ago. He sat somewhere in a corner of a busy street. Nice guy, to bad he got killed.
yeah man, I remember that guy…was a kid when I met him, though. 2 years from ending his apprenticeship with his…step-dad? Kid always dodged that line of questioning. Whatever. Gonna be a carpenter, he was. And he was good at it! one time, one time, the stool I was sitting on broke, and he caught it with one hand, and pulled out a hammer with the other, and repaired the seat while I sat there. damn fine bit of work. Bought him his first tavern beer for that save. Only seemed right, don’t you think.
Heard he got involved with some hippies or something, took up beat poetry or some such. Was pretty good, from what I hear, but it was a sorry waste of a carpenter, that I can tell you.
Here is the backstory for our man in the shades and wig in the foreground, mostly from the song “George Washington” by Brad Neely. He is 6 foot 8 and weighs a literal ton. He replaced his heart with a second brain, for better reaction time and more processing power on the field of battle. He rides a horse made of crystal, kickboxes men in half when they displease him. He achieved his rank after killing his superior officer and mentor, though his motive was unclear. He intimidates rivals by making them watch while he burns off their lovers extremities in acid at his annual royal ball. This tactic is so effective that the children of his rivals wish that he was their father. He wears the shades because his eyes are deadly laser weapons. (reports that he has like 30 goddamn dicks are exaggerated).
He only has 23. He was born with 24, but when you make sweet love to the molten core of your planet, even one such as he does not leave unchanged. However, the virile gifts he left in that furnace belly of the mother world has extended the potency of the planet for another 1,000 years, resulting in bumper crops that make Om’s reign merely difficult, instead of the back breaking work found in other realms.
Nadia is right; Allison at twelve *is* just adorable. SUCH CUTE LITTLE PINCHABLE CHEEKS
We have observed a few among the number of attendees to this ball.
The corpulent amphibian in the foreground to the left is the Grand General Ozydius Hearkod, 34th of 97. Born to a rarely small clutch of eggs, the good General rose to greatness through his ferocity in battle and his insistence on fighting at the head of his troops. A conqueror and a king and of high quality in both fields, he held many stars under his banner when Mother Mottom came for his world. It was expected that the resulting war of resistance would last centuries.
It lasted less than a week. Some claim this was a result of mercy, to spare his worlds the worst that such a war would bring. But the General was a warrior, and expected the same of his followers, and so this possibility is believed to be unlikely. It is also said that it may have been an act of cowardice, that the power of Mottom was simply too great for even the powerful General. Others still say that the General joined her willingly, joyfully even.
The linking factor in all of these rumors is that those from whom they originated have since been repurposed into tasteful living room decor.
Isn’t that a great paradox?
All those kings and queens, yet no Royalty.
The blue devil who carries the drinks is noone other than Morax Valiant Against All Edges Twinklestar, PhD. She was formerly equal in stature to me, but her names decayed after centuries of indolence the verdant devils can so easily fall into.
The Imperatrix of Glory saw her from the lofty heights of her palace, as Morax was providing drinks to others of my kind waiting in the Void. The Queen then decided she’d like a new servant, and sent her sorcerer-slaves to bind her.
A tale a lot of devils in Nadia’s service share, but there’s more to that – Morax wants, in her heart of hearts, to form a pact with a bearer of the Key of Kings, thinking it will elevate her station. She aims high, as all of us do, but even a Black Flame can burn in the horrible radiance of Glory.
i found waldo
Not all kings are as foolish as King Pryan Sor when they first approach the Mottom’s seat, a truly a Siege Perilous. Yet all who first approach are foolish, because no woman, man, or other can understand the demands of Royalty. So it was with Heraclitus, son of Herakon and Blason, the Dual Tyrants. He may now be recognized as the scarred man in the upper left.
When Mottom first unveiled the gate to his world, his nation immediately surrendered, for acknowledging superiority is no sin. Heraclitus’ fathers committed suicide, as defeated Tyrants are ought. The sole inheritor (all others were too cowardly) Helenclitus approached Mottom with immense offerings from his world: rare wines, imported silk, and rarified oils. Yet as he approached the throne he noted servitors offering impossible mechanical wonders, worlds worth of flowers, and impossibly large choirs. It was in his shame of the paucity of his offering, the fear of Mottom’s wrath, and the foolishness of uninstructed youth that he made his mistake.
After presenting his world’s gift, Heraclitus threw himself upon the floor before Mottom and abased himself. He begged forgiveness for the paucity of his gift, for his provincial ways, and for his ignorance. Mottom would have readily accepted these apologies as she understood poverty, fear, and foolishness (though long gone), but for Heraclitus’ final mistake/nobility. He promised that he would bear any punishment in stead of his subjects, until his world(s) could provide a proper gift to Mottom.
Although Mottom remembered her past, gluttony is never hard to resist, and she accepted (graciously). The first harvest was hard on Heraclitus; it robbed him off his skin for a week. The second, less so (only his eyelids). And soon, the punishments were only perfunctory: a cut here or there, a shattered tibia, indigestion. He had corrected his foolishness and learned to serve Pride through humbleness. But the scars of his foolishness remain until this day.
Somehow he still believes that the path toward gluttony and abasement may still lead him toward satisfaction and rule. A strange philosophy of opposites from ancient philosophers in his land.
That first panel was def worth the wait.
I’d rather imagine the look on their faces when 6 Juggernaut and 82 White Chain crash the party ^w^
I take up the challenge, Alt Text!
The two blue-skinned ladies in the centre-right of the image are princesses Nan’Shul L’Raban and Nan’Vasha L’Shiani, daughters of the battle-kings of the world of L’Lamos. The two ladies will in the future inherit the twin thrones of L’Lamos, and thankfully are good friends, being almost inseparable since hatching. Until their fathers pass away, they works as L’Lamos’ diplomats. Nan’Shul (the one with orange on her face) dislikes crowds and small talk, which is why on parties, she sticks to her friend like a glue – this way, she won’t have to talk. On the other hand, Nan’Vasha is eager to mingle and self-confident, and happily launches herself into crowds of far more experienced aristocrats.
To the right of the Llamos princesses, the two figures with castles on their heads are lady Ginnamonna Valleriana (in the back) and her servant, Ronniana Gellarda. Lady Ginnamonna is a well-known slaver, trading millions of beings every year, with contacts across hundreds of worlds. In three hundred years that she have lived, she had seen several uprisings among her stock. It was during the last of those, fifty years earlier, that one of the slaves managed to irreparably damage her throat, which is why these days, she keeps Ronniana as her mouthpiece, communicating with her by sign language. Miss Ronniana, in turn, comes from a family that’s been conquered by Vallerianas, and as such sees working for lady Ginnamonna as little more than a chore, but one that may prove useful. She’s planning to poison her mistress to render her deaf, so that Ronniana may have complete control over what lady Ginnamonna says and hears to and from others.
The insect playing that cello-ish instrument is named Francoeur.
Aha, spy the gentlemen with the floating pyramid-head standing by the stage? The legendary painter-king Tess, obsessed with symbolism and hidden meanings, founder of the cryptoparanoiac school of art, whose work is famous even in worlds beyond his own.
But see how he is transfixed? String music is forbidden on his world, on account of how the sensation is utterly addictive to his people. By the end of his ball he shall be nothing more than a degenerate wretch, unable to function without outside assistance. A tragedy sure to amuse our lovely host.
And who is that in the far back, right in the middle of the third pillar? Could it be the secretive Queen of Assassins and Assassin of Queens? Who inherited the title by murdering her sister before her, who inherited the title by murdering her mother before her, who founded her dynasty by murdering the completely unrelated QOAAAOQ before her? Monarchies among shapeshifting species are inherently unstable, but make for good gossip, at least.
And ah, she is talking to Hegle the Clean, construct sorcerously crafted to be the perfect ruler, fair and just, merciful and compassionate when the situation allows for it, swift and efficient when it does not. Mottom, upon hearing of his nature, appointed a minister with the authority to dictate trade terms and intermundal law for the express purpose of corrupting him: He is currently negotiating prices for the discreet murder and replacement of said minister. Painlessly and cleanly, of course.
Mottom’s guards today are king Syanvastransivanyerastandesvinyar of Sevrinimat and queen Hust of the United Colonies of Aeliehur. The former has not seen his erstwhile people in ten years. He is notable for maintaining his rule by personally besting literally every contender to his throne in personal combat. Mottom’s conquest featured trapping him in his own palace and sending individuals to one by one challenge him until he fell under the weight of his own exhaustion.
Queen Hust is still revered by her people, though they see her only when she returns with prizes for them. She has always had a prodigious strength- able to force a spear through a horse and rider from beneath. She very much enjoys fighting, and she had her people join with Mottom in the interest of increasing her own land. The United Colonies now refers to the entire world- all united under Mottom’s banner- and Hust fights now only for conquest in HER queen’s name.
The singer is Wöx Pritch, renowned as having a superlative singing voice, enhanced by drinking liquors and brews from many worlds. Since joining Mottom’s rule, her abilities have increased further- she can hold a note for several minutes consecutively, raise her voice high as mice squeaks and as low as lion roars; even adequately mimic any voice or instrument she so chooses. She enjoys the feeling of very low notes and often her songs have a variety of slate-like rumbles or growls in them.
She has been forbidden from imbibing blue devil liquor.
Truthfully enough, names are one of the many things I have trouble recalling.
Onto a more impressive matter, the precision of that one being in the bottom right grasping the glass between their talons is quite amazing.
The madam with the boat on her hat is Queen Sume of Las Dryas.
Boats are very important on her world. More-so than a house or a farm, since it essentially is one after some mad wizard or other melted all the ice on it (and it used to be a particularly frigid world, too). That’s what they say at least. Some suspect the unchecked industrialization to be responsible, which happened to keep up with Mottom’s demands, her forces having conquered that universe some decades prior.
Nadia is adorable. She’s just so cute! And she’s a Queen. Right in my target area!
I just can’t believe this is the same Mottom as before. The ol’granny seems to have disappeared under the flame of youth.
I like to think Mottom’s Guild guard is grumbling at all the people at this ball.
“Grmbl darn kings’n’fools, thinkin’ they can trick ma security per’mter. I’d kill ya all for ma Queen if I could. Lucky fo ya, I ain’t allowed to.”
Kill Six Billion Fashions
Oh look, you’ve discovered a worse instrument to major in than cello.
I can only imagine the band’s playing the canteen music of Star Wars IV. This gives a totally different atmosphere to the “ball”.
This one wonders if our friends who follow after the Key in Alison’s head (and, perhaps a certain blue devil with golden spectacles) are attending in disguise. It’s the perfect occasion.
This one also finds herself oddly worried about Queen Nadia. As if she cannot defend herself.
Allison: “….Wanna throw hors d’oeuvres at that one fat guy?”
Om: “Do I!”
Granted this works better after the bottom far left panel, but then I did read it right to left at first….>.>
You’re my hero and superstar, Alice-UN!
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6A5Z95QT5Pc
the blue devil in the distant right, just behind the orange curtains, is no king or queen. he is not one of the fake walks of life around him, pushed down a path laden with wine and sweet temptations. no, his invitation is a lie and his goal is a false pipe with a hidden knife between ribs at the end of this cluttered cavalcade.
one of these pet royals will leave here alone, presuming safety in the cloud of alcohol that lingers in their veins and in the shadow of the great palace that is all to happy to have them under heel. they are not meant to return to the world they “rule.” they crossed one too many lines and the devil will have this vengeance snatched away by warring angels and the kingqueens of gates.
he will fail to uphold the pact he has made. he will die, screaming and wretched and twisted into a hydra of four-jointed arms like a lion’s mane. and one sobbing face like a child’s. the lie that is his ballroom disguise will give to the lie that is his mask and many names.
his memory will be swallowed by the void and he will return to a primal state, all hot fire and teeth and a furious ache shared by all his heartless kin. he will not remember what he has lost. it is the kindest fate…
he was once named “my love” by a clever little thief.
Mottom’s speech isn’t orange! This must be an imposter.
The bug looking guy with all the win is Tunchak’vama, and is grieving over the loss of a broodmate serving in Mottom’s forces to conquer a world
Bottom left-hand panel. Mottom has a dish of, er, plums in a bowl next to Her couch. Eek!
Ah, the sweet voice of Pree Karisan is certainly a pleasure to experience, for those of her homeworld speak only in tones of consonance, and among them she is the finest princess in their history. Though plain of visage and slight of figure, she is a living instrument, perfectly tuned, and imbued with true empathy. Many have sought her hand, only to be tragically declined due to her dedication to the Queen. But, it has been rumored that she once was betrothed to a Servant of fine stature from the Planet of Briggin in the Argvan Galaxy whose gravelly bass undertones were a perfect compliment to her own sultry contralto. It was only after he mysteriously disappeared that she entered into the Queen’s service. And darker rumors in the depths of the hidden places in the Queen’s palace speculate that from time to time, he has been seen in the outskirts of large gatherings watching her performances with a melancholy longing that belies an even deeper pain. Karisan has not spoken of him since his disappearance… Seeing a direct line of sight from her forward position on the stage to only one lurking in background, methinks that here, there is a pregnant conspiracy close to bearing a stillborn conclusion.
Challenge Accepted:
Lady Fayari vom Minnleid, Fourth Baroness Gossip to the Queen of Ayld stands, drink perched twixt her fingers behind the golden-glassed sky admiral. In the court of Ayldea, certain nobles are charged with knowing not just every layer of royal protocol, but also knowing every layer of royal scandal, which they helpfully impart to anyone who will listen.
Although the position of the Baroness Gossip is richly esteemed, the lifespan of that particular noble class is rarely measured in decades.
My word, that gold-masked demon by the stage over there, is that the Marchion Ankou D’Annen?
So terribly odd to see him at an event like this, he always has shunned parties of this sort. Perhaps he wishes to curry favour with the other princes along the border of Mottom’s territory, I’ve heard there has been some tension there of late, what with the scripture smugglers passing through.
Good to see him out and about though, I suppose. Been so terribly hard to get in contact with him after Mottom executed his brother. They were so terribly fond of each-other.
I’m rather tempted to see if I may find myself in conversation with him, it has been so long since I’ve seen his collection of misshapen souls, it must have grown quite grand these last centuries.
He had this fun little trick he’d do where he’d bake them back to life in that cauldron of his and have them dance for us while the soup was brought to boil. Such jolliness! Such joy! Oh, to hear the snapping of those limbs in their frolicking again!
Character back stories (sorry if I am picking something already done). Queen Nadia Om is surrounded by a crimson honor guard with visors and polearms. They appear to be lead by a bald dark skinned warrior with what is presumably a large slashing weapon across his back. Of course the Blood Flower Imperiatrix needs no protection from mere mortals but they are rather splendid.
The Ruby Praetorians have been Mottom’s bodyguard for nearly a decade originally being drawn from Dongola, an early conquest of hers. Their culture emphasizes martial prowess, honor and strength. As one might expect their history is characterized by brutal war as civilizations constantly struggled for power. The worlds environment largely consists of scorched vermilion deserts and humid crimson jungles. Little has changed on the world since Mottom’s seizure of power except that they now war for her attention rather than dominance, the reward being service in her armies.
These particular five hail from the Three Rubies Pact Alliance, a long standing Kingdom formed of three tribes which is currently dominant on Dongola. Their apparel celebrates their worlds color but underneath is masterwork scale armor and tight fitting helms. In the Alliance’s armies all but the officers are required to hide their features the ideal being that individuals should be appreciated for their skill rather than their appearance. The two on the left are known as Jaffan and Jakula, brother and sister from the Abdal tribe, joining the military early they were given this position after esteemed service in Mottom’s name. On the back right is Fasad, a quiet man who’s origins he is reluctant to reveal, this minor digression is made up for with his lethal skills. Lastly is Belanon of the Secotta tribe, a man of quick wit and blinding speed. Here they are armed with quarterstaffs to quickly and safely resolve any disputes, after all it would be unseemly for Mottom’s visiting guests to be impaled. Their leader is Huvala’ki, a man famed on Dongola for his prodigious strength and skill, Mottom personally asked for the Yungala tribe’s champion on her last visit to Dongola. After today’s earlier assassination attempt he is feeling particularly twitchy and is ready to draw his mighty scimitar at a moments notice, his intense glare keeps any from approaching his Queen.
Ah yes! The women with the mole on her cheek [106], Madam Ivalet Nuatxim of the “Greater Worlds”. A lovely place, capital entirely of Marble, though as depicted, it seems she is again reminding someone of that.
I just barely observe Armest Ures, the Gold Devil just below that lady with the fantastic galleon atop her head. In comparison, Ures’s garb is positively tame… though not to an extent that it would let her stick out in a party of Mottom’s palace. Such is her art; from what I understand, she is an absolute master of a very specific form of stealth, diplomacy, and subterfuge. She thrives in crowds and conversations of all kinds, and has an innate knack for knowing not only how to teach someone with offhanded commentary and gossip, but also how they may react to it. The right information to the wrong people; the wrong information to the right people; an exposed scandal to a susceptible crowd at the worst possible time; and, if necessary, a perfect frame to crush the voice of an opponent forever. It would not surprise you to learn that Armest Ures became a fantastic and popular reporter for her efforts, back when she was a blue devil.
Take note that one does not become a gold devil by simple journalism, nor does it get one into Mottom’s Palace. In her own way, Armest Ures can destroy someone in a way that few others can ever accomplish. Pray that she never speaks to you. Pray harder that you never cross her.
Peter D’vie-n, Liar, Aggrandizer, Villein of Throne
This one spies Mish’an’ak, Player of Syllables of Royalty upon the higher cushion to the right of the stage. His simple garb belays his talent to twist the most archaic and stunted measure into a magnificent skirl of unknowable dimensions. This instrument he is seen to be holding is an untruth, held in secret inside is the true maker of sound, a shred of the softest rock from his own world, long since stripped bare for the glorious Mottom and her particular care for yielding but firm pillows. He plays merely by speaking one of the syllables of Royalty into his tube, wherein the shred vibrates and thus creates the sounds of madness that so frequent the gods’ palace.
It is said that the most skilled of his musical order knew two or three syllables of the seven of Royalty and of YISUN, and could create songs that shattered entire planes of existence. Even so, a master of two such syllables could unmake the trappings of even a large gathering of power as this ball.
But! What a shame he only knows one.
The large brute playing the harp-demon, his name is Klaaarghn Fists-of-Brass. The band is playing it off as if nothing is wrong, but Klaaarghn is actually a last-second replacement for the original harp player, who was mysteriously found slain just an hour before the band was to perform.
Francocoeur, the bassist, was the one who discovered him just in time for the performance after a frantic search. Francocoeur does consider it strange that he was able to find a talented replacement so easily and at the party no less, but risking an offense to Mottom at her own ball invites terrible things. Better to ask no questions and accept it as good luck.
Klaaarghn had no qualms about murdering the former harp player. He trained for years for this night, in fact. He isn’t even very interested in playing the harp – he intends on stealing it after the ball is over, to turn it back into the demon from which it was wrought if he and his associates can manage. That demon owes them a great many favors, and even its current punishment isn’t enough to escape them…
Ah, excuse me, the others sent me to retrieve the Lord Trader. L-Lord Trader Count Lance Dragoon? Please, the other crewmembers already dislike me for being a mutant, and they covet my ability to see through the Warp. If I return without him, they will likely be incensed. The hulking machine-cleric has been looking at me oddly. I fear he intends to pluck out my Navigator’s Eye and wear it as a pendant! The Child of the Warp is no better. Outwardly, he seems friendly, but he is vulnerable to the tides of Chaos, as all Warplings are, and he may become possessed at any moment. Don’t even get me started on the blue one. Friendship with him would only deepen the others’ distaste for me, as he is Unhuman. Although she seems uncommonly amiable, I cannot bear to even approach the Void-Mistress, as she has no soul. The Trader, though, he recognizes that I am useful, strange and frail as I am. Please, do any of you know where he is?
The short blue deviless in the front? Serving drinks? That lovely young-seeming lady is Imix, an assassin and slow-poisoner par excellence. She snuck into Mottom’s palace years ago posed as a servant and has been poisoning the wine she serves ever since.
Mottom knows all about it, and thinks it’s hilarious.
The musicians are the Regulus 5. They do not come from similar worlds, but met and formed the band, becoming extremely popular across The Wheel.
They are led by V’tres Hun’ab, a singer who’s able to hit pitches most species can’t hear without special equipment, both up and down the scale, earned through vigorous vocal training. Her appearance here is a little scandalous, as she was recently discovered to have been writing extremely explicit poetry under the pseudonym Sawtoothed Beast. While popular with some circles, widely she was condemned for the content. Yet here she is. At least she is only performing R5 classics, not any of her Sawtoothed material. However, it is rumored that she might begin doing solo performances as Sawtoothed Beast, if any establishments reach out to her. This worries their production company, as while they could make a strong claim for ownership of the poems, they do not wish to damage their image by assosiating the brand with them. Time will tell how they ultimately react.
The Olympian Cloud plays the hermonin, a instrument similar to a earth harp apart from in 5 key areas. The Cloud (as he prefers to be called) is also a champion at his world’s most popular sport, though he left to pursue his career in music after he was injured. The sport’s name, roughly translated, is The Act Which Praises the Rocks, Earth and Hells, though missing a lot of subtext involving the nature of this praising and which particular Hell it’s referring to, different for each game. It plays like a mixture of triathlon, american football and polo. The Cloud’s has written some B-sides for the band and is a founding member along with V’tres, having met her when she was performing backing vocals for a match. The Cloud is not using his regular hermonin, as it was damaged at their last performance. He is known for long solos, a habit that annoys some fans.
The two clarinet players (yes, they are exactly the same as a clarinet, though their species’ mouth structure allows for unique sounds) are the siblings Burrryuca and Hyyyrtr. Originally freelance musicians, hiring themselves out to fill up orchestras and the like, they joined R5 after seeing them perform live. If interviews are to be believed, the previous clarinet player (a elderly creature known as Eshuk) died live on stage, as it reached the end of his life-cycle. It released spores into the crowd, but most had brought protective gear. Not so for the siblings, who inhaled the spores and thus gained Eshuk’s ability to play the clarinet (they previously played only the tuba). They joined R5 soon after, being fired from their previous agency for breaking contract, which counted the spore inhaling as drug abuse. They play in unison, mixed to provide louder backing to the vocal sections.
The insect is Two Three Eight Six One Seven. His species have a very short life span, maybe 10 or 20 years at most and so is the latest in a long family line of Ut players who have been in R5, child taking over from parent. His species have genetically engineered roles and his is Ut playing. As such, he is perfectly suited to playing it, both in physically and mentally adding a methodical, almost artificial sound to their music. He has been exiled from his home planet for “grub-scrugging”, the act of touching a newly formed grub, which split the fan base there. Fans can also buy his genetic material if they wish to “clone” him, though there is no guarantee of the child’s personality being the same (a fact a fan sued over).
I see several familiar faces: Myk the Bassist, a Kzke drone Engineer from The Realm of Shadows in Retrograde, known to some as the “Elvis of the Second Aethyr”; Horgon the Harpist, a Seeker from the Second Lowell Ecstasies, who once played for Jeddak Tardos Mors in the Kingdom of Helium; Freel and Zeer, two Thellani Speakers from the Uplifted Arc Zones, play the horns; and Wöx Pritch, of course, is the singer. Together, they’re the band–Dogma’s Olive. The name was Myk’s idea.
Nothing complements a periwig like stunna shades.
Obviously the pyramid-headed dude with the single red eye (way in the back, in the space between Mottom’s throne and the band) is a follower of Y.V., the Gun God. His name is King Redda ‘da Red, of the planet Venus (that is, one of thousands of Venuses that pay worship to Y.V.).
He pledged allegiance to Mottom’s empire, in return for phat stacks and lots of guns. Though the harvest of his world’s resources is a shame, his subjects bear the pay with forgiveness, knowing that Redda only follows their god’s commandments: GET MUNY. CLACK CLACK.
Has no-one spoken for numbers 126 and 128? I believe they are known to me.
I almost didn’t recognize them, but I am certain that they are daughters of the Ink Drippers Guild. Maxima Indigo and Cerulea Indigo, are their names.
The two sisters have hardly been apart since they were born, and they make a good team. Though they are Servants, they have a powerful Will, and should not be underestimated. Maxima, the elder, is known to be a skilled devil binder. Cerulea, the younger, is widely praised for her keen eye for detail, and her strong instinct for opportunity.
Both ladies have been accused of using their lady-like assets to further their family’s goals. I’ve even heard rumors that more than one rival was last seen following the pair to the bedchamber they share.
Their family was long a major power in the guild, however in the wake of the Battle of Hell 71, the tides have turned against them. Many of the slain were members or allies to their family, and their position is now precipitous.
They were wise to seize on this ball as a pretense for getting out of town, and away from the knives of their rivals. Among the guests here they will find many who will aid them in return for honeyed words and unenforceable promises.
Unless Allison does something to upset their plans, I expect they’ll live long, prosperous, unhappy lives.
Hm…good word, is that the Countess Marila de Valta of Ardemnon? Over there in the corner, to the left of the fellow with the scar on his head? I must say, I’m rather surprised to see her at an event such as this, she’s never been one for social functions considering her…unfortunate appearance.
She apparently was quite a beauty in the days before her planet’s conquest; the Rose of the Thousand Moons, the Pale Flame of Ciranalde they called her. She was well known for her many, many suitors, and even more well known for throwing them out on the palace steps screaming obscenities. Alas, her fire did her in in the end. When Mottom came calling, she was one of the only ones in the court to defy her, and…well we all know how Mottom deals with such things. It’s shocking the Countess got off as easily as she did, though I’m told the growth will spread and overwhelm the rest of her eventually; a slow, exquisitely hideous and agonizing death. Quite typical. How the countess eats like that I’ll never know, and for that I am quite glad.
And I do believe that insectoid fellow with the four wine glasses is X’janroq Pthoth J’kqonril, Commander-General of the United Federation of New Taiquil. Never met him, though I do know of him. During the Kaqavar Conflicts, when he was still only a commander, he won the Battle of East Qoth by having his men wear the carapaces of the fallen enemy soldiers and flanking them in the guise of bringing reinforcements. He also convinced the Free Army of Kor’quili’kir to surrender by arranging for them to receive care packages filled with flesh-eating Tykol spores. And apparently his first gift to Mottom was a statue supposedly sculpted from the heads of every general he’d slain; only one of the sculptors tells me they didn’t have enough heads to build it, so he secretly used some of his own injured troops instead. Charming man. Insect. Whatever.
Please tell me this is available as a jigsaw puzzle.
The tall green insectoid fellow with the plumed crest on his head standing next to the left of the second pillar from the right in the far background is Twice-Molted Arbiter Krr’tk’tk of the Bilious Hive. He towers uncomfortably over the other guests and stands quietly next to the pillar in a vain attempt to make himself inconspicuous. Mottom knows he is socially awkward and invites him to her soirees solely to watch him squirm.
I adore Will.I.Am George Washington.
Efficiently written information. It will be profitable to anybody who utilizes it, counting me. Keep up the good work. For certain I will review out more posts day in and day out.