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5/16/2025, 10:53:09 PM
>>6242174
“Speaking of which,” you add to your last line, turning away from the pole and the skewered lizardman, “let’s check for any more survivors. The more we can find, the more…” you step over the corpse of another Ubaiid as you check the nearby tents, the stench of their body reaching your nostrils. What a waste of flesh. Wonder where they come from. Master could probably explain, but judging from the lack of reaction Soralisa showed when she petitioned Ansàrra for enough Sanctions to burn through their scales, she must not consider them worthy of her time, nor her pity.
To think that these beings used to help Bradiamante, back in the day.
You turn over a smaller specimen, one that’s fallen over an older woman.
Her neck is broken.
You close her eyes and say a brief prayer, running your three middle fingers over her forehead, lips and heart.
The world must have grown cold since then.
Much more than usual.
In the end, you scour up a dozen of survivors: most of them are women, while there’s only one man, who looks younger and thinner, his long hair kept in a tail, some kind of pigment smeared all over his lips and cheeks.
Strange. And unnerving, in a way you can’t explain, like stepping into something you were never supposed to see — lifting over a stone to find a skittering spider.
As soon as you pull him away from his hiding place, he screams up high to the darkening sky, and kicks, with his naked feet, at the groin of he closest Ubaiid.
Again.
And again and again and again.
Soralisa frowns at the gesture, while Rubida looks pale, stricken, her mouth drawn into a line of pity. She reaches for the man’s shoulders, draping her arm around them and slowly pulling him away. She raises her axe and cleaves through the beast’s groin, leaving only a scoured mess.
You turn away, just to make sure not to watch the whole scene, and round up all the survivors.
If you miss someone, they will have to go back to the village by themselves, and there could be more Ubaiidi hidden in the woods or in the deep places of the earth.
“Sedate him,” Rubida asks Soralisa, who uses another Petition to send the man into a drunken stupor. He looks hollowed-out, but at least he doesn’t scream anymore.
[cont.]
“Speaking of which,” you add to your last line, turning away from the pole and the skewered lizardman, “let’s check for any more survivors. The more we can find, the more…” you step over the corpse of another Ubaiid as you check the nearby tents, the stench of their body reaching your nostrils. What a waste of flesh. Wonder where they come from. Master could probably explain, but judging from the lack of reaction Soralisa showed when she petitioned Ansàrra for enough Sanctions to burn through their scales, she must not consider them worthy of her time, nor her pity.
To think that these beings used to help Bradiamante, back in the day.
You turn over a smaller specimen, one that’s fallen over an older woman.
Her neck is broken.
You close her eyes and say a brief prayer, running your three middle fingers over her forehead, lips and heart.
The world must have grown cold since then.
Much more than usual.
In the end, you scour up a dozen of survivors: most of them are women, while there’s only one man, who looks younger and thinner, his long hair kept in a tail, some kind of pigment smeared all over his lips and cheeks.
Strange. And unnerving, in a way you can’t explain, like stepping into something you were never supposed to see — lifting over a stone to find a skittering spider.
As soon as you pull him away from his hiding place, he screams up high to the darkening sky, and kicks, with his naked feet, at the groin of he closest Ubaiid.
Again.
And again and again and again.
Soralisa frowns at the gesture, while Rubida looks pale, stricken, her mouth drawn into a line of pity. She reaches for the man’s shoulders, draping her arm around them and slowly pulling him away. She raises her axe and cleaves through the beast’s groin, leaving only a scoured mess.
You turn away, just to make sure not to watch the whole scene, and round up all the survivors.
If you miss someone, they will have to go back to the village by themselves, and there could be more Ubaiidi hidden in the woods or in the deep places of the earth.
“Sedate him,” Rubida asks Soralisa, who uses another Petition to send the man into a drunken stupor. He looks hollowed-out, but at least he doesn’t scream anymore.
[cont.]
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