Meet The Baroness

25 03 2012

Her origins are a mystery. If you were to ask her about her home she might tell you it was a beautiful place until she left. A place filled with trees and lakes and happy people. There was no disease. There was no conflict. The picture of pristine.

That’s one of the stories anyway.

Or she may tell you it was a wretched place. A place overrun by jungles of flesh-eating fungus. The site of an old Russian listening outpost where the twelve dozen survivors believe World War 3 has been raging for a decade.

 It’s hard to pin down.

It was Ya-Mimbi who found her. It was a Thursday afternoon. Before he had settled in his current cave, he ran in a small pack of his own kind. They would frequently make raids into towns along the countryside looking for the sick, the injured, the weak of heart. The worse were brought back to the community cave and the stronger, left on the doorsteps of unsuspecting hospitals.

As he returned, that Thursday, she was waiting.

The Baroness has a quality of command. There is a mask she wears that bleeds authority. Blue ceramic, red paint. Red that affects the mind. She tells the rabble, “This is how it’s done.” And for whatever reason, they follow. They believe. They question not the mask.

 Already she had converted the others, told them that Ya-mimbi was coming with her. No one resisted. Not even he. It is her way.

Now they are married.

The Baroness resides over a group of the others here, the ones who toil after the burning day-moon has gone to rest. From a great crescent altar she dispenses her commands and takes questions from her group. In the center, a great glass tablet, much like Ya-Mimbi’s, from which she can call the name of any man. It tells her more than just the strength of the heart however. It tells everything, like an ancient oracle.

To the right of the tablet is a large white cup filled not with liquid but the tools of her trade. Not all monarchs are removed from honest work you see. There are pens and markers, knives, scissors, adhesive, all the things you may need to cut the skin and close it again.

Cut the skin and close it again.

The Baroness spends her evenings driving her followers to move the sick. More and more, bring them here, through the court, to up above, where Ya-Mimbi can watch over them.

It is the charge of us all here at the Department of Toil and Dread, where plotting, planning, and charting the nefarious is our job.

Advertisements

Actions

Information

2 responses

25 03 2012
winter99

What a way w/words. So glad you share w/the masses.

26 03 2012
Kyllan Brindle

Pleased that someone out there thinks so. Always appreciate positive feedback Deej.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s




%d bloggers like this: