Mutant Monster Snow Goons

[clayforthedevil]

Milliways gets a lot of snow; a lot of wonderfully cooperative, snow-sculpture-friendly snow. It practically demands to be converted into snowmen.

Bahorel isn't one to ignore the demands of the populace; if they want to rise up, he'll certainly oblige. If the nature of the populace arising from the snow seems to be mostly things a little heavy on the extra limbs and peculiar in the dimensions, hey, no one can help how they're created. Especially not the multiheadedsnow beast currently acquiring a new hole where its heart should be, if multiheaded snowbeasts have predicatable anatomy at all.

That's a question for the scientists. Bahorel being none of that, his current concern is how much he can hollow out the torso before the whole thing caves in under the weight of its own heads. It's probably metaphorical somehow.

Comments

[photographs_well]

Liz Imbrie, coming across this scene, pauses to consider it.

"Building an army?" she asks at last. "Audience for a speech?"

[clayforthedevil]

Bahorel pauses to sconsider the situation, too.

"There should be an audience, certainly. This fellow has enough heads to represent the whole house of peers; it must surely be a frustrating thing to have so many mouths and no waiting ears." Even if the mouths are just suggestions made my rocks in round globe-heads.

[photographs_well]

"Oh, they prefer it that way, I'm sure," Liz says. "Did you make all of these yourself? How long have you been out here?"