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Tyresias
Yellow. His sightless eyes perceive nothing other than yellow in its manifold shades. The books he has read at the behest of Terrakis have fixed the yellow somehow within his sight and within his life. Yellow. It moves within him and thinks within him and at times the yellow before and within his eyes speaks within and through him. In his own way he has come to love the yellow for its blinding mysteries are far more wondrous than any prophetic insight his previous gift had granted him and if indeed he still wears the mantle of prophet it is only through the words the books of the yellow kingdom have taught him to speak.
Speak them he does and even mighty Terrakis stands in silent respect for how fluent his speech in the tongue of yellow has become. They are easily found, the two that have been chosen for sacrifice. His hands gesture with an unnatural awkwardness, performing motions never intended for humanoid limbs. A shimmering oval of yellow light whose color seems to turn in about itself burns now before the warriors. With a nod of his head he indicates to the great giant that all is in readiness.
“Go and be swift both in striking and in returning,” Terrakis commands. “The time draws near.”
[ 03-16-2004, 10:21 PM: Message edited by: Cyril Darkcloud ]
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