Shapers of Form
Fifteenth Day of the First Month 294 AC
Before Gogossos there had been Gorgai, a city of Old Ghis, washed by the waters of the Amber River, guarded by walls of stone and legions girdled in iron and before that perhaps some other nameless settlement of the Sothoryi washed away in water and silt, yet Saenena Caleris thought it was this newest incarnation of the city that was somehow the least human. Even in the days when the flesh-smiths of old held sway here you would not have seen so many strange and arcane beings abroad under the light of day.
Black clad warriors animated with the cold symphonies of death walked in lockstep, most mindless automation, though one in every fifty was commanded by spirits of curdled blood and ancient spite seeking to turn the weapon of their old foe against itself. Packs of wolves, filled with the light of the southern sun and the wisdom of older times, patrolled through the docks to help the city's more permanent guards until it was their time to be carried over the sea, while black cats slunk through the shadows, their tread disturbing not a single leaf.
In one of the larger squares the gardeners wove their magics into choruses seemingly with no greater purposes than amusing themselves and testing out the limitations of form, but to Saenena's gaze the display was... almost frightening. So many of them, not trained, not bred from dragon's blood, not even steeped in flesh as the servants of the gods were, but simply birthed to magic from the first hour of their blooming. They did not fear death and did not know fear in the face of any foe save one.
Sometimes the erstwhile Lady of Lyceos wondered if her new patron understood what he had unleashed upon the world, but then she recalled his expression when the first mind dragon had awoken and pledged to him. He knew and he understood what he had wrought, what the Lords Freeholder had always feared, but in such times as these what choice did any of them have?
A shadow passed over the face of the sun, a winged form sleek and black, the chill of evening's shadows clinging to its wings. The first of the Myrkdreki were out in the world already. Qyburn and the chain fiend were outdoing themselves in swiftness decanting the newest, strongest creations of the forge.
That could only mean one thing, they had unraveled the last of the tangles of their current task.
Project Praetorian Complete 30/19
Eager hopefuls would soon step into the depths of the forge and Praetori would step out. The sorceress could certainly understand young Viserys' desire for such soldiers, obedient and fearless as the dead could be, wise as were the children of the Green Dream, but this was still a realm of mortal men also and they aught to share the burden of its guarding against even the blackest of threats. Men could be treacherous and foolish, vain, greedy and spiteful, this Saenena had learned in her girlhood, but in this ruined world striving to match what had come before she learned of the strengths of men also, of valor and will, of brilliant wit in the strangest places and ambition shining bright against the darkness that would envelop all if it were not warded and pushed back.
Had anyone been close enough to the lady when she stepped through the spell-forged gate into the depths of the forge they might have heard her hum the melody to an old battle song, its verses lost to history.
***
"We believe the results are stable enough for live trials," Three ever-twining serpent's heads hissed as one. "The mental degradation is still too severe for long-term deployment of course, but much can be learned from putting it all together."
Though Saenena had not prayed properly since she was a little girl, still waiting to be granted her egg, she briefly considered begging Ever-Watchful Syrax for patience. "Do you want the girl to skin you for birthing a creature doomed to madness and uncontrolled mutation due to Far Realm energies?"
"The mutation rate has been brought down to within a tenth of a percentile of initial attempts," Urax said in what it probably imagined was a sweet and conciliating tone. Someone should probably inform it that it was quite a waste of effort from one of such mien.
"Which would still slash the viable lifespan of subjects by a third," the sorceress sighed. In a flash of inspiration she added. "Look, this is an entire paradigm of mental powers foreign to the spheres we are experimenting with here. Would you truly wish it to be said that our first creation capable of harnessing them was so flawed as to shatter more readily than the raw materials from which it is wrought?"
"No," a single voice agreed, but the others raised no protest thankfully.
A Method to Madness Progress 29/40
What next?
[] Receive a report (Interlude series)
-[] From Slaver's Bay
-[] From Ghoyan Drohe
-[] From the Sea of Fire
-[] From he Southern Seas
-[] Write in
[] Continue to the Reach
-[] Write in where to begin
[] Write in
OOC: I tried to include as many flesh-forged creations here without making it into one giant list. Hope it worked.