For some reason your comment here feels like the beginning of an Alice in Wonderland tale. I hope you're not falling down the rabbit-hole with this new job. (Although if you are, I hope Amy turns out to be the Red Queen :) ) Right, I should get back to writing a minor character out of the Lord Derby tale, shouldn't I?
Moving on Doors had opened in the side of the Temple, and Samual immediately suspected that there would be doors in all sides of the Temple. He swore softly under his breath, wishing that his arms didn't feel practically paralysed. Scouting out the extent of the enemy army was ingrained into him, as was being able to deliver a clear and precise situation report when asked. Down below roughly humanoid creatures spilled from the doors, shuffling briskly out and forming up into squares. A dusty yellow mist swirled around their feet and legs, not thick enough to hide the brown, rugose skin or that their feet were three-toed and black-clawed and looked like birds's feet. He was put in mind of kiwi-fruit when he looked at them, and he wondered briefly what they looked like when they were cut open. From the knee up they wore armour: dusty metal plates that overlapped in some kind of scale mail. It looked archaic to his eyes, something he'd seen in the Martial Museum. The scales moved smoothly across each other as the creatures walked and seemed flexible enough to fight in. It was hard to tell from above, but he thought it was some type of skirted tunic. Their arms were uncovered again and were almost bark-like in appearance, ending in hands that had palms and fingers and looked almost normal. The arms were oddly swollen below the elbow, which puzzled him. Perhaps additional muscle to improve spear-throwing? Their heads were nightmarish though, and he avoided looking at them as much as possible. They were too small, brown and smooth like hazelnuts, and a ring of frond-like tentacles supported eyeballs all around the head. They moved constantly as though blown by a breeze, swaying gently this way and that, the eyeballs turning. Now and then, when he couldn't help but see them, an eyeball would blink, a brown scaly sclera sliding up from the eyestalk and over the eyeball, concealing it for too short a time. He sniffed, realising he'd been noticing an odd scent for a while, but it was getting stronger and stronger as more of these creatures -- soldiers? -- massed outside the temple. A mix of the numbing, spicy scent of cloves and the stomach-turning, buttery smell of chicken rotting in the sun for three days. He turned his head to the side, trying to find fresh air, but he realised that the miasma was rising up from the troops and steadily engulfing him. He looked behind him, deciding that retreating away from the edge and the smell might be wise. His arms were tinging now, sensation returning fully, so maybe he could climb up get an idea of how many of these things there were. Before he could move though there was a sudden commotion on the ground; short barking sounds from somewhere, though he couldn't see anything that looked like a mouth. Three of the creatures twitched spasmodically, then shuffled toward the Temple, their claws leaving deep grooves in the limestone at their feet. When they were maybe five metres from the walls they stretched out their arms -- and kept stretching. Their arms lengthened, the swollen section thinning out to normal girth, then thinning further until they were practically ropes and hands, now several metres from the bodies, seized the walls of the Temple and the creatures hauled themselves in, flying through the air as their muscles retracted, and landing half-way up the side of the Temple. Their claws dug in, holding them securely in place, and their hands reached upwards for the roof.
2 comments:
For some reason your comment here feels like the beginning of an Alice in Wonderland tale. I hope you're not falling down the rabbit-hole with this new job. (Although if you are, I hope Amy turns out to be the Red Queen :) )
Right, I should get back to writing a minor character out of the Lord Derby tale, shouldn't I?
Moving on
Doors had opened in the side of the Temple, and Samual immediately suspected that there would be doors in all sides of the Temple. He swore softly under his breath, wishing that his arms didn't feel practically paralysed. Scouting out the extent of the enemy army was ingrained into him, as was being able to deliver a clear and precise situation report when asked.
Down below roughly humanoid creatures spilled from the doors, shuffling briskly out and forming up into squares. A dusty yellow mist swirled around their feet and legs, not thick enough to hide the brown, rugose skin or that their feet were three-toed and black-clawed and looked like birds's feet. He was put in mind of kiwi-fruit when he looked at them, and he wondered briefly what they looked like when they were cut open. From the knee up they wore armour: dusty metal plates that overlapped in some kind of scale mail. It looked archaic to his eyes, something he'd seen in the Martial Museum. The scales moved smoothly across each other as the creatures walked and seemed flexible enough to fight in. It was hard to tell from above, but he thought it was some type of skirted tunic. Their arms were uncovered again and were almost bark-like in appearance, ending in hands that had palms and fingers and looked almost normal. The arms were oddly swollen below the elbow, which puzzled him. Perhaps additional muscle to improve spear-throwing?
Their heads were nightmarish though, and he avoided looking at them as much as possible. They were too small, brown and smooth like hazelnuts, and a ring of frond-like tentacles supported eyeballs all around the head. They moved constantly as though blown by a breeze, swaying gently this way and that, the eyeballs turning. Now and then, when he couldn't help but see them, an eyeball would blink, a brown scaly sclera sliding up from the eyestalk and over the eyeball, concealing it for too short a time.
He sniffed, realising he'd been noticing an odd scent for a while, but it was getting stronger and stronger as more of these creatures -- soldiers? -- massed outside the temple. A mix of the numbing, spicy scent of cloves and the stomach-turning, buttery smell of chicken rotting in the sun for three days. He turned his head to the side, trying to find fresh air, but he realised that the miasma was rising up from the troops and steadily engulfing him. He looked behind him, deciding that retreating away from the edge and the smell might be wise. His arms were tinging now, sensation returning fully, so maybe he could climb up get an idea of how many of these things there were.
Before he could move though there was a sudden commotion on the ground; short barking sounds from somewhere, though he couldn't see anything that looked like a mouth. Three of the creatures twitched spasmodically, then shuffled toward the Temple, their claws leaving deep grooves in the limestone at their feet. When they were maybe five metres from the walls they stretched out their arms -- and kept stretching. Their arms lengthened, the swollen section thinning out to normal girth, then thinning further until they were practically ropes and hands, now several metres from the bodies, seized the walls of the Temple and the creatures hauled themselves in, flying through the air as their muscles retracted, and landing half-way up the side of the Temple. Their claws dug in, holding them securely in place, and their hands reached upwards for the roof.
Greg - I think I was feeling like waxing poetic on the work transition. So far no signs of rabbit holes, but I'll keep you posted.
You should get back to what now?
Nope. Nope. No you are not killing Samual on that roof.
No.
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