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.
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!