Spoiler Please do not post in my thread. Rulers of Lennith, your most important prerogative is to protect your citizens from the beings so named for their poison- Yirerft. When power cannot hold them within the sanctioned borders, only a sacrifice of life will satiate and destroy their collective stomach. Bapheuftamist caught himself remembering a law he tried daily to forget. He squinted his eyes shut to rid the ghostly sign from existence, and to his satisfaction, the granite plaque disappeared. Long, deep scratches in the wall were all that remained to remind him of what used to be. He swiveled moodily away from the missing article, facing instead the only window in the workshop. The lengthening sun played with his new position upon his stool, throwing mid-afternoon shadows where he needed light. “Must I battle with the sun, before I am allowed to continue?” He murmured, whilst creaking back and forth on his sitting stool. A few more shifts of his weight and he faced the only door that led out to the breezeway. ‘Good enough for now.’ The king thought, in a resigned manner. As it stood currently, Bapheuftamist had both a magnificent strength and a dispirited soul, the latter bringing about a choice to break the law. ‘If I could just-’ Bapheuftamist arched his thick claws a little more firmly around the mold of timber in his paws. ‘Concentrate on this blasted lump of coal!’ Contentment did not fill him at this moment, he needed more than just a hobby to arrest his unlawful wish of feeding himself to the Yirerft clan. With a slow slide of his claw a single scrap of bark fell off of the hideous clump. Feeling as though he could manage nothing more, Bapheuft looked up at the other figurines for a smatter of ingenuity. Steel shelves bolted to the right and left walls, crammed with statues, miniatures, or dioramas. But no desire to continue his work inspired him there. Even worthless yetis had been able to carve whom they had wanted to appoint for sacrifice. Others gave into marriage. His thoughts concerning his parents did not remind him of stability, but weakness. A true yeti’s divine endurance did not concede them to clutter the assigned workshop with objects of such frivolity. But if not for those artists, his adobe abode would have looked much different. Ugly even. He chuckled in a disturbingly cheerful way, reminded of his parent’s disgusting appreciation for research. They had both decided on Yirerft specimens as candidates for their field of study, when Bapheuftamist grew heavier than their laps could hold. The researchers lasted no longer than a meal served at time of twilight. He grew up not entirely alone, though still entirely unsatisfied. “Dullness or food?” King Bapheuftamist returned his gaze to the wooden work-in-progress. He wondered if he were to be so cunning as to make an interesting pad-mate. A snail figurine didn’t speak to him in the same way which the alabaster statues did. "'They that flushed amber/ at praise from streaks of sunlight/ standing behind trimmed ivy bushes/ separating the garden rows.'" His secret desire to make poetry startled him more than the absence of food that caused his stomach to whisper of treats already concocted. The yeti ignored both of these thoughts to try once more to sculpt even a reasonable resemblance of a creature over which he ruled. There might be a new hybrid race that he could have his guards bring to his porch. He only had to remain resolute, and then the work would be finished. He clawed at the wooden stump for a few more minutes before stopping once more. “I am not so lucky, to be so foolish in my desires.” Said the beast. It was time to get up and give up. He thumped his ugly work against the stool, un-crossing his legs and landing toes first on the ground. With his rat-like tail now looped around his arm, the tidy beast made his way to the broom that leaned next to the door frame. Bapheuftamist dropped his figurine on the floor, sweeping up discarded wood chips onto the sloped and inefficient dust pan. Giving his art a sniff of resignation, he tossed the offending pile into the waste basket. The broom and now connected dust pan, he smacked against the wall nearest to the door. “I’ll start over. Make up something disgusting.” The bipedal wooden figure looked nearly human, and was therefore certainly worth a do-over. “Humans are rather plain anyways.” The yeti opened the door before him, deciding that since the bog hadn’t crossed his land entirely, he put off sending out his guards to collect a new inhabitant. His attitude changed greatly when the clawing stretch of hunger became more of a nuisance. “Head Chef Charlane mayhap, or Sous Chef Toole.” He mused about who would in charge of making the meals this month, scratching his plated belly. It occurred advantageous to him to see if any of his workers could choose a design for the next sacrifice. Perhaps they had someone in mind, a being that happened to be both intriguing and a nihilist. 'An excellent personality for a short-term pad-mate to have.' Shutting the workshop door with aid of his tail, Bapheuftamist mentally collected all his foul emotions from a pool of awareness to a place of ignorance. A walk along twelve feet of stone had a soothing effect on the king. Hands that felt useless were dragged on the glass-paned walls, his tail reaching for and soon opening the western entrance door.