High Commander Diah's Resistance

Busted...

Above is the dirty-birds estate... so unfair it looks so amazing!
amy14312222 thanks for giving me The Great All Sire's name, as well as Adlar-Batoor's daughter's name!

After enduring the indignity of having to be ferried to the pervy-luve's estate via a jerry-rigged sling carried between the two boys, Badlar and Cadlar respectively, which left me feeling like some awkward circus performer during an acrobatic display... we arrived at Sir Douchelot-order a mate's amazing tropical complex. It was round like some Blue Lagoon dream doughnut. I half expected Brooke Shields or Mila Jovavich to prance out to meet us in all their golden skinned wonder. The rooftops were like thatched dried palm leaves, the walls that deceptive dark wood I bet could withstand hurricane force winds easy peasy. The inside of the 'doughnut' held a myriad of outdoorsy entertainment spaces, such as conversation arrangements of patio furniture... an outdoor cooking and dinning area, and an enviable pool and lazy-river combo. Clearly this guy enjoyed showing off to visitors.

"This place is a home? It looks more like a resort." I comment to the boys as they gingerly set me onto my feet before the elaborate front steps of the complex, their parents landing next to us shortly after. "The Lag bloodline has ever been decadent Lady Lana." Adlar-Batoor dryly informs me while staring scornfully about the area. Lag? As in Lagos? Gag, if these yahoos are related to that whiny priest, it sure would explain the geezer thinking he could get away with this mess. I was about to ask about my theory, but the arrival of the other Patriarchs prevents me.

I move to press myself into the Batoors midsts, not wanting to leave myself seemingly up for grabs in any way. The family move to surround me protectively, showing they too feel it best to keep the Lago-lemurs at bay. I can tell the Patriarchs chose to take advantage of this opportunity to bring their heirs and spares with them, judging by the number of younger males milling around that strongly resembled the Patriarch closest to themselves. It was almost creepy, and had me jerking my head towards Batoor's own heir and spare to see if they too looked like freaky little mini-Adlar's. I felt almost weird noting that they did not look like clones of their sire.

"Hey, Adlar?" I whispered in a quavery voice, garnering the immediate attention of my host. "Lady Lana... what ails you?" He queries in concern, eyes roaming my no doubt freaked out expression as I dart glances at the new arrivals. "Dradion-Touroo... he and his son don't look like freaky carbon copies, nor do you and your boys... so, what's with the clone brigade over there?" Batoor looks taken aback as he blinks in puzzlement before looking at the 'brigade' in question. His brows raise as if in surprise, then he turns to me, eyes those of one enlightened. "I never truly noticed until now... they have always been thusly. Those who ardently followed Lagos? Their progeny are born in this manner... in their forebear's image... what you see? Are the faces of the original Patriarchs that defected alongside Lagos himself."

What in the sam-hell?! That's messed up! Is it some kind of curse?! These mind-blown thoughts are interrupted by Batoors further explanation, "It is said that the Mother, so disappointed in their defection, had decreed that they and their descendants should wear the same face... that she might always know them... that they could never hide from her, until they learned the errors of their ways... and only then, could their bloodline finally begin to earn individuality... for by following Lagos? They proved they were not more than identical blind sheep(my translator must have kicked in due to whatever Luve-centric word meant 'sheep' here) content to be led astray." Oh burn, Momma was pissed enough to brand them with their own Mark of Cain eh?

"One would think that the very fact that they have proof of the Mothers ire staring them in the mirror every day would be proof that they were being idiots." I remark absentmindedly as I curl one side of my lips in a Elvis sneer of disdain at their foolishness. They literally had proof staring them in the face for generations and they still wouldn't stop acting like brats? Pathetic really... and spoiled. Was it really such a hardship to just treat women like equals and not property? Men might be all physically strong? But let them have one birthing contraction, bet they'd cry like a baby. I snickered to myself at the mental image of these arrogant looking guys screaming for their mommies once labor had barely begun... only to realize my admittedly unpleasant laugh had garnered unwanted attention.