March 7, 2013 § Leave a comment
At the gutter-fringes of the Limbic Quarter, the human run-off from more traditional thaumic occupations blends into new and strangely twisted hybridisations. Some are transient, self-selecting themselves out of viability through accident or stagnation, but many persist into predatory or parasitic niches where they feed on the remnants of the underclass.
Aromanciers haunt the alleyways, grey-blue clouds of nerve-quickening prestidigitalis incense flowing from censers or trailing from the hems of their glyph-strewn robes, as they take furtive audience from watery-eyed adherents of the Red Lotus. Strange and fluting gibberings, repetitive litanies of nonsense numbers and other half-aware strangeness float in the air around their wavering figures, weaving through their smoke-smothered words.
With joints made arthritic and twisted by constant flexion/extension, jitter-witches pulse erratically with the coronal discharge of stolen nervous energy. Their scorch-marked sacks rattle-clack-clack with collections of spark-filled jars, glowing dully like fairy fireflies and destined eventually for the braincase of some scuttling Jack-A-Doll.
But the worst, perhaps, lurks in rock-lined cellars where the strangely bubbling vats of promethean demi-urgeons belch and roil as pallid patchwork creatures gestate within their brass-bound wombs. The bristling ozone stench of sparking lode-bearers, suspended on copper wires above smoke-glass jars of acid, twists and escapes up through corroded grilles to burn eyes and nostrils far above.
Citizens are reminded that unlicenced thaumaturgical endeavours are prohibited by Law.
Optick image of a confiscated demi-urgeon terata (destroyed)
Reproduced by kind courtesy of His Lordship’s Dept. of Maintenance & Pursuance