hello!
Im sorry for the HUGE delay... 🙇♀️
But... Here it is the last of Belzer sibling edition... I present to you 🥁🥁🥁
FRYGART FUGA
Basics
Name: Frygart Fuga
Age: 250 thouson years
Pronouns: He/Him
Sexuality: Gay
About: The last one of the family, his job its to create any kind of diseases (like Ebola, Covid and the Black Plague) but his real objects, his deepest dream, it's clear off the planet from the humans. For him, humans, are just the dirtiest thing ever existed. His worst enemy is the doctor who destroys his hard work just to give to the patients the medicine to cure what he created. For many reasons he never leaves his house, except for a few moments in his life to share sometimes with his sibling, but other than that just stays in his room to take care of himself. His children serve as cosmetician, janitors and plumbers, they are basically handymen as far as sanitizing an entire room is concerned, they are also capable of cleaning that 0.0001 of germs in the environment and air.
Personality
Likes: Stays in his personal room, a place that it is always clean and fragrant, loves reading various medical journals on new infectious diseases, watching soap operas on hospital life to make fun on them.
Dislikes: Humans, to him they are just a bunch of rats who are capble to talk, and also hate the doctors.
Traits: Arrogant, narcissus and selfish.
Relationships: He is the younger sibling of Buffalo Belzer, Alina Arostia, Calvia Chirox, Doxis Digma and Eron Etha, he is the uncle of Wendell and Wild.
Fun fact: He and Doxis Digma share a common passion for hating humans.
This is the LATS of Buffalo Belzer sibling edition, what do you think?
I promise i have a bunch of draws and lore about tham! 🙇♀️✨
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For Gods and Gold - Excerpt #2
The night has come, and the braziers are burning. The usual herbs and spices are soothing, soporific, and smelling of summer grass.
Aletta is sitting on her bed, the cut of raw deer meat in her hands. The flesh is red, and cold, and heavy in her hands.
Aletta swallows. Just how much do I have to eat for the vision of my future to come? Maybe one bite is going to be enough?
She knows, in her heart of hearts, that this is not the case. For the truth to be revealed, for the powers that be to answer, a half-hearted sacrifice of one bite is never enough.
The meat is still smelling of rude life. Aletta imagines a swiftness of the animal, the muscles rippling beneath its hide.
She puts the slab of meat to her lips, and takes a first bite. The meat in her mouth is unpleasantly slick, and excruciatingly hard to chew. With an effort, Aletta forces it down, and thinks belatedly that she should have prepared water or sharbat to make it easier.
On the other hand, sacrifices are never supposed to be easy.
Sacrifices. I am supposed to chant an incantation over it.
Right. What incantation?
‘I dedicate this flesh to Ytscen, the All-Mother, the Protectress of Cattle, the Lady of Fire, the Keeper of Poetry’, Aletta whispers, cobbling together a formula from the god-knowledge in her bones. ‘Ytscen of the mantles, Ytscen of the white feet…’
The deer blood is staining her lips and flowing down her chin.
‘I dedicate it to Sibraht, the Lord of Eloquence, who leads men by chains of gold and amber’.
The blood is dripping down upon her bare breasts.
‘I dedicate it to Etrele, the Mistress of the Woods, the Lady of the Boar, the one who leads the souls of the dead’.
Aletta swallows another bite. It is not getting easier.
‘I dedicate it to Hangil, the Lord of all Healing, the Master of Snakes. I dedicate it to Frigart his wife, who soothes black thoughts and gives men sleep’.
The wind behind the window rises, and clouds are blotting out the moon.
‘I dedicate it to Irmhild, the Lady of the Silver Wheel, who rides a chariot drawn by three owls, who rules the tides and lights the ways of travelers. Irmhild, let your wheel show me the way. Ytscen, let me touch your fire. Sibraht, give my tongue swiftness. Etrele, let this child of the woods show me the path. Hangil, preserve me from death. Frigart, let my dreams show me the future’.
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