Things That Scrape the SkyMature

I am taking glee in guiding this man to the silent city, mweehehehe. He doesn,t know what will become of him, get stamped with some newfangled metal implant thingy by the anal king. Probed. Mwhehehehe. Mindraped, maybe? I do not know nor do I care? But I know I will feast well, mweehehehehe. So many stories to barter and inscribem mweheheeheheh.

 

The dryad of the many legs will know what to do with him. Mweheheehheheh. Ooooh, yes. My feathers are twitching, itchng feel, so good. The man cowers before me, mweeheheheee. As I scamper about, looking for hidey holes and tunnels to crawl through.

 

Arching my aching creaking porcelin neck, as I sniff the air, the acrid fumes going into my lung cavity. I have no lungs you see, but the essences wafting through the air, I can smeel them you see, sense their aeyther tinged vibe.

 

The Carnivorous Dryad is getting closer, getting giddy, mwehehehheheeee. Oh look, at the poor human. He can barely keep up, yes, yes, we are exiting out of the tunnel now. Lit with caged intruding faeries from rival Ramshackle Houses, MWHEHEHEHEEEEEE.

HOW DARE THEY. WE ARE THE BEST HOUSE OF ALL, THEY KNOW THE DRYAD DESPISES BEING DISTURBED BY OUTSIDERS.

 

Aaah, yes. The leaning mountain. I can see the human going pale. Mwehehehhehehheheheee.

 

Tumbles of rocks, rockfalls.  The skeleton of a skyscraper, it reached into the sky like a bony hand, vines intersected through the metal, and a raucous cacophony of cats were heard throughout the entire area. The Ramshackle Haus of the Sky Felines. An electrical fence barricaded the area, while rootwork interthreaded itself through the meal debris, lightning, sparked forking into the air. Crackling thunder and flashing The air was heavy with ozone and the atmosphere sizzled. Frying any bits and pieces that dared to fly in.

 

The air was clean purified by the plants and a circular ditch went round through the tower of felines, rising out of a mound of steel.

 

Mwhehehehehehehehe.sweet, sweet home. Cold distant mischievous hospitality, a haven in the horror of the swarmlands. Give them nice, nice delicious rats to eat. Her wings spread, plastic trash bags fluttering in the wind, held together by tape and magic. Spit, bitterness and wire. Stiffing, cardboard. Tipped by raggedy black magpie feathers with blinking beady eyes, that shifted and wriggled. But pointed straight ahead in any form of valuable treasure, weather it was material or immaterial like feathers.

She gave a mighty flap, hovering in the air, a flying porcelin doll. Grabbed the human by the armpits, he said nothing, numb by the horrors of the tank slaughter.

 

Mwhheeee. The human was limp, his name was Colonal Jack, his eyes were closed trying to calm himself with breathing, iron heart beating, and then he opened his eyes taking in the sights below.

 

To the west was the silent city and a clear path slithering its way to the Silent City, it was beaten to the metal. Metal slabs, tiled and tiled. It was an empty, usually, it was an invitation by Lord Rook to the Ramshackle Hauses, but it was never used. A hanging invitiation left empty. The ramshackle fae had their own ways to the city.

To the south was the Noble Ramshackle Haus of the Sewn Back Together Wrong, the ritualists of the Swarmlands. Its tower was smaller, but the more minarets, smaller. Residential places. Crafted from preserved flesh, jerky, they would go out to the wastes, kill infernal prey, and use the meat for clothing, ritual, magic, and of course shelter. If a house member ever got hungry, just tear off a hunk of jerky from the wall, and it would  sew itself back together =. Too much devouring meant the home would collapse. But it was a amusing reason, but in times of lean hunts, the tower would collapse thanks to hungry little ones tunneling through the meat. Population control was implemented and excess children were used to patch up the holes in the wall.

 

Colonol Jack shuddered when he saw the Tower of the Sewn Back Together Wrong, It was squirming, little fae larva crawling all over it. Nasty insectlike things. He wished for the clean metallic dwellings of his enclave. Not this…mocking imposter of a city, he couldn,t believe that this was once built by human hands, years ago? Centuries ago? The only person who was supposed to know was Lord Rook in this region, and his people stayed far away from any Eldritch.

Even those who had archived the history of his people, but he was desperate and needed shelter. All the best scientists and military tactians of his people, of the Enclaves struggling to hold itself together.

 

They all ended up drawn to the Silent City. Those who entered, never left.Colonal Jack needed to leave, his delivery was vital.

 

The cats kept meowing. Meowing, it drove him mad. He remembered some old holodrive archiving a message marketing ad clip for cat food.

Cat food.

His ancestry was so wasteful. Didn,t they know you were supposed to breed the cats for food and pest control, and recycle their souls for artifical Beast Incarnates?

 

That,s all the cats were meant for.  Useful for, other then tools for their endless endless war.

 

Cat Incarnates were faster and more agile then the baseline man or woman, greater senses of smell and night sight. Whiskers modified to sense invisible prey, eyes seeing into the unseen spiritual spectrums of energy and noise. And extra lengthened claws of course.

 

Females once awakening from human dreaming sleep, upon puberty, would develop multiple tits and their litter wombs were perfect for breeding extra soldiers and cats for met plus milk of course. A few depraved kept them around for “entertainment’ and to attend to their needs, utterly disgusting.

 

Both human males and females were meant to fight, leaving the breeding to artifical wombs and surrogates, rare it was for a human woman to carry, she was considered selfish and nostalgic for a dead past, she had weight to carry and the wombs carried more

Children needed to resupply the populace after a devastating raids.

 

Cat Incarnates of the domesticated variety unless spliced did not live very long, unless modified to do so. Best to have disposable soldiers instead of wasting precious human human lives.

 

Colonal Jack did not resist the Trash Eldritch picking him up. He viewed the approaching tower with apprehension to see a Beast fully wild and free, not under the exploiting thumb of mankind, well, that would be a sight to see. Same with an Eldritch helping him out, he had been taught they would kill him on sight. Or worse…

 

With the recycler and vats gone from his enclave, death would not be an escape. After the humanity realized that the afterlives were real, fear of hell, drove them to invent the reycler.

 

Colonal Jack did not even know if hell was still functional with the infernal and celestial planes merging with the middle one, the yggrasil, the world tree warping out of control, out of shape. The roots meeting the canopy, the crown, the tip top, of the tree.

 

His eyes, shiftin, his sight meandering over the landscape. He was interested in what was going on, he was fatigued, hungry, tired, bruised. Everyone he knew and loved were dead, he could feel the wind caressing his face, smells of an odd kind wafting over his nose.

 

The cacophony of feline noises became quiet, an eerie feeling. He did not know what was going on, it stunned him. An odd foreboding. In order to break the unnatural stillness, he decided to make conversation with the manic eldritch. For other then her the odd material like the porcelin and the flesh of dead rats and the magpie feathers were haphazardly glued on/ duct taped/ or sewn on that made her up and her abnormal trashbag wings and the fact that Aethyr animated her, she seemed quite human. After all, she could speak, even though it sounded like teapots breaking or bones cracking apart, and she had the general figure of a woman. Not the most attractive woman, of course but her shape and frame , were quite relateable to a human male who had not seen a human female or anything resembling a human female for quite some time a nice dink in an otherwise inhospitable desert. He felt himself growing hard, a bulge in his tactical suit pants, a Kevlar like material laced with spirit repellent and holy water along with the unblessed blood of demons along with many many pockets.

 

As Eldritch went, she wasn,t that bad. Not bad at all.

 

“so hyoooman…” went Taelia. “You think I,m preeeety?”

 

“Colonal Jack eye,s widened. A mind reader?

 

“Yesss, hyoooooman. I am a mind reader. Reallly, solider, I am disappointed. I thought a man of yourrrrr caliberrrr, would have beeen trained to deal with someoooneee like me?”

 

 

Mewhehehehehhehehe. Taliea cackled, sending shooting shivers down Colonal Jack,s reconfigured spine. That laugh. She hoisted up from his arm pits, grabbed his legs and carried him in the old martia

Taelia has her man, Colonal Jack all cradled up, in the old human style of bridal style. She was the husband, and he the virgin bride to the alter of the Noble Ramshackle House Of Course Felines. She leered at the pale hyooman, and for once in the first time of this journey looked him over like a predator studying its prey. What an odd creature it was, no wings. Not even small ones like the sprites who flew in other ways. Pale sallow skin but the cheeks ruddy, a pink tinged complexion on a yellow bone tinged human.

Grey eyes like the debris of the swarmlands and like her cracked broken porcelain skin. Brown hair, the color of droppings. She squeezed his leg, her fingers fanning out, feeling the hard muscle below. Their eyes met, Taelia simply smirked to herself, a short screeching sound like fingersnail against a chalkboard, no scratch that, like a miniature car crash, no scratch that and toss it, like a shark shrief emerged. The sound I mean. And brought her feminine face closer to his rougher more harsher rugged face. She could see that little beads of sweat were developing on his brow and that fear was emitting from him along with anxiety and depression. And numbness from the death of his family and teammates.

The tank slaughter had totally broken his will. She whispered into him, her hot breath on his ear. “Caaat. Got your tongue?” Her centipede tongue unraveled, flopping itself on his face, the legs wriggling everywhere. Tasting its face, a quick slurp and she was done. He tasted like salt and fear and deteriminstiom and desperation and most of all, grief and obedience. It was  Funny how much you tell fom someone just from their smell alone.

“And if you think of trying to fight back, hyoooman? We,re hundreds of feet in the air, and if I drop you will die. Alooon with all your precious precious cargo. Those vials and those chips, mwheheheheeee.

The End

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