Fantasy FLESHSCAPE - THE MEAT

[ThaDruid]

Days of crawling over the Neurotic Mass, scaling it to the top...
The blue tissue quivers under your feet, threatening to tear. One misstep could mean several members of the tribe lost to the labyrinthine insides of the Fleshscape.
You reserves of meat and Clearblood are thinning by the day, though everyone is hopeful that after this ordeal the Promised Land shall be granted to them.
The Great Ribcage awaits...​

 

[ThaDruid]

There is a reason not many dare dig into the Flesh. More often than not, the terrain will knit itself above their heads leaving the helpless fools in the dark, prey to any burrowing creatures.
There are, however, small exceptions.
Natural orifices of the land. Open wounds, festering with disease. A shelter from the elements, for a tribe.

In the quivering insides of the Fleshscape, the tribe slowly prepares for nightfall. When the eye in the sky goes out, leaving only the fleshy earth's natural bioluminescence to guide your steps. The smell of strange humours hangs thick in the air. The cave is damp, but warm thanks to the various bonfires that have been lit. Most of the tribesmen stand together, huddled around the bright flames. Fire Larvae crackle as their charred remains turn to ash. Strangely enough, the council members are nowhere to be seen...

The Chieftain has called for an assembly. Judging by the urgency, it is important for the whole council to participate.
Gurgle and his kin, revered be their flesh, were rather abruptly interrupted during a sermon by a messenger carrying the Chieftain's message. This did not please the most zealous believers... After all, it is an ill omen when The Fleshreader ceases his fervent preaching.
Fang, you were overseeing the training of some new recruits when the message was recapitated to you. There were a couple of bright ones in this batch. Perhaps they could do better if you took them under your wing... Make sure that Hunter dosen't get his hands on them.
Hunter, your trackers had just returned from a scouting run. Their report: the carcass of some winged beast hanging from the branches of a tall bone tree. It is there, ripe for the taking. Won't be much time until something else sees it too. Just then, like the others, you recieve the Chieftain's message.
Lucan, your thoughts were clouded by intoxicating fumes, when the message reached your ears. Your research had been progressing at a good pace, you were perhaps close to a breakthrough... It would have to wait another day.
Roht, your ever vigilant gaze is scanning the tribe when a messenger brings to you direct orders from the Chief. You are to oversee the assembly. The Chieftain put great trust in you. This makes you happy.
Epicure, you were cleaning your axe of the blood from the last beheading. It dripped down onto your hands, staining up to the foream. There was only one more tribesman that had to be subject to your judgement for the day. Just then, you are called upon by the Chieftain himself. You hate to leave a deed undone, but so it must be.
Cael, you and your assistants were working upon the wounded and sick of the tribe. This day, you met a peculiar specimen... One man whose flesh had slowly begun to rot from within. His skin was ashy and flaked off, he feared that someone may have cursed his blood. Perhaps you could find a cure for this, or declare the man impure and have him executed... Thoughts for another day, as the Chieftain's message is presented to you.

How shall you approach the Chieftain's lair, and how will you treat the other council members?

Prizzy Kriyze CoolGuy Kloudy Squith @CrimsonEclipse billthesomething Osthavula

 

[billthesomething]

Epicure, you were cleaning your ax of the blood from the last beheading. It dripped down onto your hands, staining up to the forearm. There was only one more tribesman that had to be subject to your judgment for the day. Just then, you are called upon by the Chieftain himself. You hate to leave a deed undone, but so it must be.

Epicure growled in-frustration which scared the messenger if the quiet squeak that escaped from his lips, but he gave the messenger a pat on the head to calm the boy down before he standing up and hefting his axe over his shoulders. He watches the boy run off to deliver the chieftain's message to the next council member, He began walking towards the cave that was designated their home for the night.

With thoughts of only what could get the chieftain so riled up

 

[Prizzy Kriyze]

"I'm afraid it can't be helped, my children." Gurgle chanted as he hoisted the slingbag of religious oddities over his shoulder, preparing to head off to meet the blessed chieftain. "Amygdala, I entrust the responsibility to you. You must pray for our forgiveness, so that we won't be smitten for our transgressions." He nodded towards the various bonfires visible inside the flesh-cave. "Fleshreader, I will devote my own flesh and blood if necessary. We shall appease the birth-God." Gurgle smiled. Seldom did he come across such a devoted follower of the one true brain as Amygdala.

"Very good. Blood to blood, Acolyte." Amygdala seemed encouraged by the praise, and immediately bowed. "Bone to bone, Fleshreader." She rejoined the circle of tribesmen, gathered around a pole of bones. Held together by tendon and hair, decorated with teeth and inedible organs, generously smeared with pus and blood, and at the very top was a bowl crafted out of a skull, containing exactly one heart and 10 eyes from various creatures. What truly made the top stand apart though was the surprising lack of maggots and worms infecting it. Everything else was covered in them. Truly a beautiful sight to behold, whole circle of life in and of itself, but alas there were more pressing matters to attend.

Gurgle traveled through the caves with a seemingly unnatural precognition of its winding veins and arteries, yet was never lost. He parted the flaps to the chieftains lonesome corner of intestine, and bowed to his knee before him. "You called for me, blessed Cheiftain?"

 

[Osthavula]

Away from everyone, from where people sleep and where people gather, there were rooms half made of fleshy walls and half of layered skins, sewed tightly to the walls and ground with careful needlework. This was the place where the healers work, and among them the most respected one was Cael, the woman who was currently wrapped securely in layers of cloth, made of leather and intestines, bending over to examine her worst patient in the most secure room. The man hissed but failed to escape the tight grasped of her fingers, gaping the open wound on his arm. Most of it was cut open by beast teeth, an old wound that needed treatment. Some, however, was done by the bone surgical knife on the side, now doused in the green antiseptic solution.

The woman Cael did not say anything, merely frowned deeply at what she was seeing. Inside the wound she cut was a clear layering of the structure of skin and muscle, surrounding the veins and tendon and bone. Only, besides the lighter pink flesh and the darker colour of veins, another colour seeped from the beast wound to the surrounding tissue. The colour of death. Dying of flesh, structures and integrity melted away by... Something. Even the skin was turning a colour of white, leaving white flakes on her gloves.

Make no mistake, this was not a foreign scene to Cael. Only, this has never appeared to a still living person. The man winced, trembling as her finger touch the dead flesh. It was quick work when she dug the little bit of dead flesh unable to saved by any medicine and cleaned the open arm with all that is antiseptic and stingy. Over the shrilling scream, she didn't really hear the person outside who failed to compete. He was only noticed by the time she finished applying life ember to the still alive muscle.

"Who is that?"

No sound.

"I'll be out."

The cut was sewed by determined thread and needle. Pretending not to see the man sobbing, she spent the rest of the time in the next room changing, making sure nothing from that room ever got out. By the time the message boy could see her, she was in her normal outfit, and smelled strong of fungi and alcohol.

"Oh, it's you. What happened?"

"...Chief."

"Chieftain summons? I'll be right there. "

Then she called another healer over, asking her to clean the boy before sending him out, and no one should enter that room with the patient but that healer. That and the room required thorough and frequent cleaning, all precaution must be taken to be wary of the potential of spreading.

The healer, of course, was grim on receiving the order. "Won't this one be executed too, Cael?"

There was no change on Cael's face, all but her darkest eyes stared into the questioning one. No signs of what went inside the skull, but the unnamed kid instinctively stepped back.

"You will see the peculiarity in this case. An early conclusion will be more harmful. Or, you wish to question otherwise? Should I hand you the hammer?"

"No, no..."

"Good. "

That made all the conclusion needed. Being where she was, Cael was not only in charge of healers but also the execution of the wounded, should she make the decision too. It was the one exception against the taboo of killing people of own clan, no doubt some do have thoughts against it, but it was necessary. In the healer tent, no other dare to hold the hammer. THE hammer.

Seeing the matter settled, Cael pay no more attention to the two but quickly step towards the Chieftain room. She might have to inform the others about the situation, ask them to take caution of the beast that caused it, and more importantly, she wished to have a word with the Chieftain herself. In her life, she had never seen such rot occurred on a living human, but Chieftain was experienced. He might have seen one in his longer life.

 

[Squith]

Lucan grunt as he stretches his limbs. Hours could pass before he would notice when he was in his studies. The popping in his neck told him it had been a while. He dragged on the last of his roach, snuffed it, and gestured for Pollo, who had been playing him music while he worked, to come along. Pollo picked up his instrument, a bone of an unknown victim of the Fleshscape fashioned with tendons of varying thickness, and followed. He asked Lucan what he thought the assembly was for, but Lucan simply gave him the same inquisitor groan he used to express intrigue, or when he saw a problem. This did little to answer Pollo, as if to say "we'll see" without breaking his current train of thought. The two traversed the gurgling canal in silence until they met up with the congregation.

"Pray tell, for why doth the herald beckon?" Lucan exclaimed as they arrived, smoke rolling from his gullet with a lax tone of voice. Both his and Pollo's eyes as red as the veiny walls.

 

[CrimsonEclipse]

One can see Roht looking over the tribe, his steely gaze unbreaking and alert as he looked for threats that may harm his beloved tribe. Well, that’s what he’s supposed to be doing anyway. While his tribesmen may look at him and see a colossus of flesh, bone, and skin protecting the tribe from dangers, his thoughts aren’t exactly focused on that right now. ‘Roht wonders what for dinner today? Roht hope it not bugs again. Roht hate bug dinner. Bug dinner taste bad and get stuck in Roht teeth. Hope Hunter get nice flesh so we have good dinner. Roht wonder what happen if Roht eat fire bug? Tribe says not eat fire bug, but Roht like fire bug shiny. Maybe Roht shiny if Roht ate fire bug? But tribe get angry if Roht ate firebug. They say it ‘precious’. Roht no know what ‘precious’ is. Roht no like big words. Big words hurt Roht head. Roht wonder how the Flesh taste like? The Flesh looklike meat, does it taste like meat? But Gurgle might get mad at Roht. Gurgle love Flesh, Roht like Gurgle so Roht no eat Flesh. ’ Was what the stupid buffoon was thinking of as he distractedly looks over the tribe. If only they knew, then they wouldn’t be praising the big guy for watching over them.

Roht’s pointless musings when a nervous messenger approached him. The messenger, no doubt anxious to disturb the stonefaced goliath in his job. After mustering his courage, taking into account Roht’s good natured personality, he cleared his thought to get Roht’s attention. “Um, the chieftain called for you.” The messenger said when Roht’s faze focused on him. The messenger gulped nervously before continuing. “The chief said he wants you to oversee the assembly.” He finished before leaving. A grin spread over Roht’s face as head towards the Chieftain’s room. Now, Roht has no idea what an assembly is, nor does he have any clue what overseeing actually is. He just knows that people talk and use bigs words, sometimes big angry words, and all Roht has to do is stop anyone from fighting. Which, obviously, Roht is quite good at. Still, Roht is happy to be of use to the tribe.

On entering the room, Roht saw that some people have already gathered here. Roht grinned at the as he waved at them in a friendly manner. Roht considers everyone his friend, be it the Chieftain, the mean healer, Gurgle with his big words, the hunter named Hunter, the other members of the tribe, the members of the other tribe, those flying things that swoops down and grabs unsuspecting tribe member for lunch, those crawling things that nurrow under your skin and lay eggs in you, and even those running things that can gobble you up whole and take days to digest you. All of them are his friends, some are just angrier and hungrier than others.

“Hello Chief! Hello Cael! Hello Gurgle! Hello Epicure! Hello Lucan!” He greets them all with the same level of enthusiasm, which is sky high.

Squith Osthavula Prizzy Kriyze billthesomething ThaDruid

 

[billthesomething]

When Epicure entered the fleshy cavern the first thing he did was to wander over to the Tribe's cook and handed Render the beheaded corpses of the day's criminals, Render took the executioner's offering with a grin then placed the criminals to the side and bowed his head in gratitude before beginning to sharpen his knives in preparation for the cooking of the criminals.

Epicure had to restrain himself from salivating at the thought of criminals tender and well-cooked flesh, and thankfully the Birth-God has provided Epicure the most suitable distraction from his hunger, in the form of Roht, and his seemingly everlasting enthusiasm

"Hello, Roht" Roht's greeting were returned with far less enthusiasm by the executioner, not cause he was displeased with simple-minded protector. No, he honestly respected the giant for while Roht didn't know much, Epicure felt the boy did a good job with what he knew, but because Epicure isn't a very emotional being who'd prefer to let his axe to do the talking whenever possible, so he wasn't very good at letting his emotion show.

"Gurgle? Must be serious if the Chieftain needed to disrupt your sermons" Epicure decided to try to be friendly and make conversation with the other council member, also helped that a conversation would surely provide further distraction from his hunger

CrimsonEclipse Prizzy Kriyze

 

[CoolGuy]

Fang narrowed his eyes at the messenger, baring his teeth at him. None of the other warriors, his savages, stopped their training, which, at the moment, was simply beating a lump of flesh with their bare hands. The messenger, used to this treatment, still seemed somewhat intimidated. Good. He stood tall, turning away from the training warriors, waiting for the messenger to say something. The messenger seemed to have the same idea, and kept quiet. They simply stared at each other, neither wanting to break the gaze, as liquids dripped from the ceiling, the sounds of flesh hitting flesh filling the room.

Almost minutes passed, until the messenger diverted his eyes, causing Fang's smile to become a little more genuine. "You have been summoned by the chief," he said, much louder than Fang was anticipating. He admired his guts for a moment, before gesturing for him to leave. With a deep sigh of relief, the messenger left, though whether to inform another council member or if he was done, Fang couldn't tell. He turned back to his warriors. He was likely going to be gone all day, disallowing him from stopping them. Good.

He walked down, standing in the middle of the training warriors. Knowing intimately his own skill and strength, third strongest in the tribe, they were more intimidated than anyone with less knowledge of him. Though, some of them had the potential to surpass him. He'd have to train harder himself. He snarled at them all, only about six, who were too frightened to turn their gaze away from him. He'd beaten most of them with his bare hands and body, where they had armor and weapons. "I will be leaving temporarily, you disgusting lumps of flesh. Do not stop training. If I find out that you do..." He grinned at them all. "Do not stop training." With that, he turned around on his heel, and left to the chief's own room.

On entering said room, he couldn't help but notice that everyone else was already here. Had he really been last? Even Roht was here. Still, Fang looked at the rest of the council members. While he certainly had opinions on them, he kept those opinions quiet. "I have come," he said simply.

 

[Kloudy]

Hunter​

"Hmm... Go, rest. I shall ponder this news." Hunter gestured for his hunters to leave him. A large carcass had been sighted by the large bone tree nearby. It was no surprise that this had undoubtedly interested Hunter, who knew the state of the supplies food supplies. The Fleshscape had not been kind to Hunter as of late and pickings had been scarce, not to mention that the tribe was growing exponentially. Either the Chieftain had to delegate more recruits as hunters or a new method of food production would be needed.

Hunter, hard to pick out at the mouth of the flesh cave that made the tribe's sanctuary's entrance, was wearing his Corpse Camouflage as per usual. He was rarely caught without it and as one of the most efficient killers in the tribe he had a reputation to uphold. That meant he wasn't supposed to be easy to find. Blending in with the walls, Hunter made his way back into the cave as he turned over various ideas as to how he could retrieve the dead winged-creature from its perch.

Coming to a stop near a campfire, Hunter allowed his suit to mesh with the wall so that he became embedded into the cave, the sword at his back no longer visible to the naked eye in the light of the fire. He noticed a rather confused messenger walking about, frantically asking if anyone had seen the leader of the hunters. Hunter supposed it was probably a summons by the Chieftain, so he decided to make it easy just this once for the young lad. Seemingly appearing straight out of the wall of the cave, Hunter placed a hand on the messenger's shoulder. The other jumped in fright and whirled around in shock and surprise at the sudden man's appearance.

"Oh! H-Hunter! The Chieftain has s-"

"Summoned me. I know."

"B-But, I didn't even-"

"It is not just my prey that I predict, young recruit. All flesh is laid bare to the observant eye."

And with that, Hunter strode off, his sword glinting nastily in the low light as he swiftly left. The messenger remained there or a few moments longer, stunned at what had just occurred and more than a little in awe of the grim, unreadable man. Even Hunter's body language gave away less than his stone-cold poker face, although even then not much could be garnered through the mass of body parts, flesh and bone that covered his muscled body. But despite the enigma of what Hunter may be thinking, it was actually quite obvious. Hunter was always thinking about the Hunt. His Great Hunt. He had a quarry out there, somewhere. So he could continue his work until he one day found his ultimate prey, or predator, that he may do battle with. It was fated to happen one day, fated.

Hunter had crept into the Chieftain's room stealthily and integrated himself into the wall again, essentially ensuring that nothing and no one would be able to see him. Invisibility was a commodity that most hunters sought during a hunt, and whilst most were skilled enough to achieve a form of mimicry of it, Hunter's suit was absolute in its power to conceal him. Only his eyes were visible and even then there was a thin mesh over them to somewhat conceal them. Perhaps the Chieftain would guess that Hunter was already present, but the others would have no idea. Hunter liked it that way, and some even speculated that he enjoyed scaring others with his arrival in some sort of sadistic sense of humour. Hunter had yet to comment on such rumours. He awaited the Chieftain's words.

ThaDruid

 

[ThaDruid]

The twisting tunnels and contorting canals give way to a vaster room. Glimmershards have been hammered into the walls, bathing a lone fingure in their faint light.

Chieftain Ten Tongues.

He who has led the tribe for a quarter of a generation. All have been content under his rule, before the exodus to the Great Ribcage. This long trudge through meat and bone has costed a great number of resources, and now discontent is spreading itself between the tribe members. Like a tense muscle, everything may rip apart if nothing is done about it.

The Chief's misshapen figure rises from a sitting position. His body is alien, inhuman, formed by a thousand squirming creatures all part of the same organism. The result of tasting a Dragon's essence. The Sceptre lays by his feet, crooked bone glinting menacingly. The Cloak, draped around his shoulders, slowly contracts and relaxes, digesting a hard lump of ground-up flesh.

The remains of a luxurious meal remain in front of Ten Tongues. 12 finger bones and a bowl of clearblood.
Beady eyes, more than any human should have, spy at your forms at each council members, in one way or another, enters the room.
Gurgle's exaggerated salute is recognized and reciprocated.
Roht's enthusiastic greetings earn a nod of amusement.
Even Hunter is somewhat acknowledged, as The Chief begins talking without waiting for him to make his presence known.

"Greetings, my kin."

His voice is, as always, distant. As if he constantly longed for something that was just out of reach...

"I have brought you together because there are problems within the tribe that must be fixed if we hope to survive. A disease that propagates in our system, and requires a cure."
"But before I bring forth the problem, tell me. Is there anything that I must be notified of? Be they failures or successes that you or other men have committed. Speak to me, council. And say only the truth."

billthesomething Prizzy Kriyze Osthavula Squith CrimsonEclipse CoolGuy Kloudy

 

[Osthavula]

Cael was surprised by the words of the chieftain. Did he knew...? Originally standing to the side, she circled around the rest of the council, stopping closely beside the chief, and kneeled down on one knee. Her dark hair covered her face in process of such deep bow.

"Chieftain." She raised her head slightly. "I have received a patient today, his flesh is turning dead as the man is still breathing. He had been attacked by a beast with four legs, and black teeth. I did the basic treatment, but I don't prepare to make the judgement before knowing what it is and possible cure. "

Her report was short and to the point, as usual. Then the dark-haired healer turns her face towards the others, with a relatively grim expression. "I mean not to alarm you. We have taken every precaution for the possible spread. But the symptom is unique, and a first-time occurrence in my time. Any beast of similar appearance must be approached cautiously. "

"We will need any supplies we can get for the clan. Anything antiseptic, the liquid and mushroom, if possible. " She nodded towards Lucan's direction. Finally, she faced the chieftain again, eyes staring straight to his face of twisted flesh. It was truly a monstrous spectacle to behold, and she was fearful towards him when she was younger. Not anymore. In private she does wonder if it would be wiser to fear.

But for now, she talked to him with the most respect she had given anyone in the clan. "I meant to ask you if you have any knowledge of the matter, chieftain. " She said no more. In that same position, she waited for chieftain's answer, as well as the rest of the council to speak.

 

[Squith]

Lucan had the slightest of grins from the corner of his mouth. So faint that the flickering light from the flames made it nearly impossible to see if you weren't at the perfect angle. The anonymity of his smirk wasn't hidden in his voice, as he seemed to almost welcome the challenge of the crisis as if it were a refreshing lap of Clearblood. "I would more than happy to help in anyway I can, Cael. In fact I insist on it. Not everyday you learn something new. That being said, uh.." he stopped to clear his throat as he turned to Pollo. "Pollo, go gather any supplies supplies that Cael might be able to make use of. I'm sure I have a few first-aid provisions laying around in there somewhere." The youngling nodded and started to head back before Lucan grabbed his arm. "And do be discreet until the counsel can properly inform the others. No sense in making them anymore paranoid than usual. We'll take care of that in due time." The boy visibly swallowed a lump in his throat and squeaked out a yessir before doing as he was told.

Lucan turned back to the counsel with a quick hacking-up of phlegm. "Poor kid can hardly handle his fungus. Where was I- Oh yes. Despite my previous statement, I've been making good headway in my studies. I feel like I'm getting close to something, something that's hiding just under my nose. A quick side project such as this could be good for me to take a step back from it for a moment and come back with new perspective. However..." Lucan's tone became a little less enthusiastic, "Even my supplies are dwindling at a less than comfortable rate. This may be a good time to discuss sending a small party on a scavenging run. And from the sound of this mysterious disease, we may not have many options otherwise. I won't speak for anyone but myself but we can't afford to distract ourselves from this issue for much longer, lest there happen to be any incantations that can reprimand such concerns?" Lucan jest'd to Gurgle.

 

[Kloudy]

Hunter​

Now that the Chief had given allowance for the council begin, Hunter listen from his position in the meat-wall, simply taking in the information he was hearing before deciding to speak. It was a virtue that all of his hunters possessed; the ability to sit, wait and observe. It had proved to be a useful talent out in the wastes of the cruel, unforgiving Fleshscape.

"I know the beast you speak of, healer. A monstrous creature. It killed one of the gatherers with its vicious maw." Hunter had revealed himself, seemingly spawning out directly from the fleshy mass of the wall itself. It was during his last hunt that they had met such a predator. It exhibited hunting behaviours, stalking them and striking out from the shadows when they were unprepared. The first strike had killed a man. The second only injured the next, but that one was a trained hunter, one that Hunter really needed if they were to continue with the same quality of performance during a hunt. He had saved that man's life simply for that reason, his intuition allowing him to fend off the beast as it came and leaving it a retaliatory parting gift of a deep cut on its side with his sword. Perhaps it's dried blood trail would still remain if they went back?

"The meat is dwindling, Chief. We have but a few days left before the tribe... perishes." Hunter had been out hunting with his hunters a little more than a week ago. They had come back with mere scraps, a fatal chance of misfortune to their already low food supply. It was also the reason Hunter hadn't reported this dire situation yet, as he hadn't been present. But besides that, it was the fatally wounded hunter that had forced him to return early, seeking out the healer's aid as soon as they could.

Fortunately, the scouts had found a carcass worthy of a feast off past their usual hunting grounds. A giant bird corpse strewn throughout the large branches of a gigantic bone-tree. Scaling the massive construct would take some effort, but if the corpse could be dislodged and dropped to the ground then the tribe would be fed for at least the next week or two. Of course, that was only half the problem fixed though. The local hunting grounds had grown stale. The game had figured out that it was no longer safe territory in the woods, that beings far more dangerous than the usual predators lurked in the shadows, waiting for the embrace of death they would likely deliver. The hunters would either have to frequent hunting grounds further afield, which meant more gathers/hunters would be needed to provide more meat to make up for the increased length of time gone, or the tribe would need to relocate to a fresh land.

"A large carcass has been found, past the twisted woods by the goliath tree. The bird could feed the tribe for a week, perhaps two. My hunters cannot carry it back alone, however, and a second trip will find the meat rotting by the time we get back." Hunter glanced over at Fang for a second, his face masked by the suit. Fang's warriors would likely be strong enough to carry the bulk of the meat back, plus it would help their training to get some real experience out beyond the tribe's fleshy caves. It would be a win-win situation for everyone no matter what way you looked at it. He looked back to the Chief.

"I wish to take the warriors with me, as well as the healer. Strong hands would yield a larger portion should we secure the meat, and I wish the healer to be present in case that... beast returns." He bowed his head respectfully to the Chief, ever the serious individual. Hunter would have also requested Roht as the man's strength was nigh godlike, but he doubted the Chief would allow it. Roht was needed to keep the peace and protect the Chief and his council at all times. And neither could neglect the tribe by leaving it to its own devices for a while. It was a constant job and Hunter was just glad that his role on the council didn't clash too much with his busy hunting schedule. Truly, the hunt was all that mattered to him in the end.

ThaDruid (S'pose that was what you were waiting for? xD)

 

[CoolGuy]

Honestly, Fang feared, hated, and respected the chief in equal measure, the disgusting form he took too far from human for him to recognize. While it made him obedient, at least, it also made him a bit... distrusting, of the being. Therefore, he said nothing, at first. Though he was fairly certain Hunter wished to take one of his warriors, a specific stealthy one. Hunter hadn't said anything to him, but he was sure he'd seen Hunter's eye on him. He wouldn't allow Hunter to convert one of his warriors. But, that was his business and Hunter's, not the chieftain's, or the rest of the council's. If such a thing happened, then he would simply be out another warrior. If not, then he wouldn't. They were all expendable, if need be.

He mostly ignored the other council members' words, hardly listening to Lucan or Cael. They all had a role to play, but he found that he rarely needed to know what they were doing for his warriors. A lack of supplies? All his warriors needed was meat and meat, and there was plenty of that around. Though he'd admit that the food supply was running uncomfortably low. Then, Hunter spoke. While, again, he hardly cared about most of what he said, he paid a great deal more attention to Hunter asking for HIS warriors to come with him, simply to carry a corpse.

Fang looked at Hunter, eyes wide. The absolute audacity! He threw his arm forward, pointing at Hunter as if accusing him of something. "You're overstepping your bounds. I will not allow my warriors to be treated as brute strength!" He had nothing with which to hide his face, allowing his anger to shine through. He had only just begun training this newest batch, and he certainly wouldn't loan out any of the veterans, needed at home lest another tribe attack with only Roht to defend the tribe. "You are hunters. Who are you if you can't even transport meat yourselves?" It was the principal of the matter more than any displeasure at the actual idea. His warriors might find some advantage in having some outside experience, but he would not allow them to serve the hunters for convenience.

 

[billthesomething]

Not receiving a response from Gurgle, Epicure made the decision to attempt to just stay quiet for rest of the assembly, being content to just listen to other's concerns and news during the meet.

And as he was the executioner/lawman, and had nothing unusual was for him to report to the chieftain. Though his title of Lawman, rarely came into play, for if someone had done a heinous enough of a crime to warrant his involvement then there wasn't usually the need for anything more complex then a swing of his Axe, for normally the tribe members were civilized enough to handle minor squabbles between one another without the need for violence.

So, when the Fang began screaming about how his warriors aren't Beasts Of Burden, Epicure scowled, he couldn't believe the warrior's behavior, he'd rather risk the death of the tribe over his own pride, Epicure wandered over to Fang and looked him in the eyes

"Fang, you have truly proven yourself to be the dullest of blades. If such a request enrages you so! you're warriors may be strong, but they won't survive without food. So get it through your thick skull and Lend The Hunter some warriors, so we may all live & fight for another day!"
CoolGuy Kloudy ThaDruid

 

[CrimsonEclipse]

Roht grinned widely once the chief appeared. Roht liked the chief, barely even registering the chief's harrowing and disturbing appearance. Roht cares not about the chief's appearance, the big guy even finds it interesting. Then again, this is the same guy who wanted to keep a brain eating bug as a pet since it looked 'pretty', so maybe that isn't saying much.

Roht took his position behind yhe chief once the meeting started, a guardian ready to give his life to protect the chief. Roht listened as the council members said what they had to say. Needless to say, Roht absolutely no idea what they were talking about save a few things here and there. His mind was filled with unnecessary and pointless things as usual.

He was thinking how pretty Cael was, which may or may not be a compliment considering Roht's sense of aesthetic. Roht was also wondering why Lucan likes to say big and complicated words, maybe he just likes the way it sounds? Roht is also amused by Hunter, how did he keep appearing and disappearing like that?! Roht really likes it when Hunter does that. Lucan is very frightening when he's angry, Roht would always think despite being larger than the man. Roht is also wondering why Epicure's name is like that, it feels so weird whenever Roht says it. Roht is also wondering why Gurgle was so quiet, and how relieved Roht is for that. Roht can't understand half of the things the man says, and as much as he likes Gurgle, hearing Gurgle talk makes Roht's head hurt.

Roht was also getting alarmed and anxious when Hunter, Lucan, abd Epicure started arguing over a meat, tree, and some warriors. As far as Roht can understand, Hunter wants to get skme meat and he needs someone strong so he wanted Lucan to help, but Lucan doesn't want to and he got mad, then Epicure got mad sunce Lucan got mad. "Roht can help get meat. Roht strong, so Roht can carry bird meat. No fight if Roht carry bird." The big guy said to them. He really didn't want to see his friends fighting, so he thinks nothing of carrying some meat. Roht is nothing if not helpful.

ThaDruid Osthavula Kloudy Squith billthesomething Prizzy Kriyze CoolGuy

 

[Prizzy Kriyze]

Twisting figures, tiny moving parts. Ever-changing, ever-adapting, a perfect monstrosity. If Gurgle wasn't already familiar with their chieftain's structure he might've lost his vocabulary, but the sheer magnificence that radiated from Ten Tongues was enough to amaze him on any occasion. The heads of the tribe slowly gathered in the room and a couple of his fellow council members offered some form of greeting, but out of his own self-imposed principles he refused to answer anything before their esteemed leader had given them permission.

Gurgle's ceremonial cothing entailed a sort of fur kilt with various symbols and bone-artifacts of varying sentimental value according to the religious past of the tribe. It was stained with blood and rested gently against the dry, unbroken membrane that served as the flooring in the vast flesh chamber as Gurgle kneeled before his superior. His upper body was, albeit lacking in the warriors' walls of muscle, chiseled and only covered by his slingbag and his long pitch-black hair that generally had a tendency of hiding all of his features. Even now, before his lord, his hair fell forward and covered not only his face but also the floor beneath it.

He stood straight once Ten Tongues declared that they must speak, and with a gentle smile upon his face he patiently waited his turn. Even through the worrying words of a death infection, even through the enraging jests of his least favourite council members, even through the angry words being traded by the hunt master and the tribe's strongest warrior his gently curved lips and proud posture remained still. Only when Roht spoke up did the Fleshreader finally react.

A gentle laugh escaped him as he threw his hair over his shoulder to reveal the lidless, irisless black stare of his third eye. His normal eyes were per usual covered by a length of hairgrass cloth tied around his head. He reached out and gently touched Roht's arm, before turning to look at both Fang and Hunter. "Roht truly has a form of unspoken wisdom that we could all learn from, wouldn't you agree?" His charismatic voice had a soothing sweetness about it, betraying the many years and days he had had spent trying to keep morale high.

Then he turned to Ten Tongues and slowly raised his hands to undo the tie at the back of his head. The band slid down to rest over his collarbones whilst he carefully opened his light-sensitive eyes. It was natural that he must use all he could to behold the bizarre wonders of the fleshscape, such as his leader. "Surely it is below the prestigious veterans of the tribe to do such busy work, but don't you think the young blood would be excited for a mission Fang?" The question was rhetorical, and only Gurgle's third eye was directed at Fang while he spoke, but it soon too joined the others in beholding Ten Tongues.

"Blood to blood, Ten Tongues," He began, "When the Fleshlands beckons I must reply in kind, and I don't know if you've felt it, but-" Gurgle abruptly stopped, and a mixture of excitement and worry became apparent on his face. "... Well, it's been getting louder. I wasn't going to mention it, but my concerns need to be expressed in light of this new occurence." He gestured towards Cael. "I think something's killing the flesh, and it is screaming for help."