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Mother3
A City Pregnant of its Own Filth - by Elobo

A city pregnant of its own filth, desolate piles of rot hidden behind a sparkling facade. And the sentries stalk the streets, always. Dissent is dealt with deadly swiftness. So all that remains are those who have deluded themselves into feeling happiness in this squalor. And this hate filled city will give birth to the end.

Author	Title	Description	Date	Rank
Elobo	Cruel Blizzard	Can you find the strength to laugh in your useless, frozen body? This beast that stands before you is horribly mishapen, a head that seems to dominate its body. It's breath chills the blood in your veins beyond freezing. The air around it hangs still, a haunting calm before it issues forth your bubbling red froth. You numbly grope for something... anything to use as a weapon. But more of their comically bulbous forms seem to coalesce from the ripping eddies of the blizzard. You find no other recourse but to throw your head back and laugh as the mountain closes in to take you.	4/23/09	9.00
Elobo	Repurposed	The huge Ego Orb is less potent than many of the giant dinosaurs of the Lost Underworld. But its foul taste and rocky shell make it a poor meal choice. So they travel around the Lost Underworld with a smug, sickening grin. When one of these colossal spheres does perish, its shell remains - locked eternally in supercilious expression. When Tenda find these bodies they are repurposed into sturdy communal homes. Organs? No... seems the Orb was full of hot air.	4/24/09	9.00
Elobo	Duality	They are two, one laid bare and one layered in opulence. Is this reflected perception of oneself? Bloated in decadence, but also vile in dessicated virtue? How can we rationalize ourselves? This visage reeks of two-faced duplicity. Who sees themselves as such? Who dreams of this unnatural caricature?	5/24/10	9.00
Elobo	Voices on the Wind	Soft envelope of night drapes over the harsh desert. Searing heat becomes the bitter cold. Huddle together, close, teeth chatter over the nocturnal sounds. But this chattering is met with the unnatural chattering of the wind. Looking up, the desert floats in front of you, both lonely and loamy. Who can even guess what this earthen creature desires? Who can even fathom the wishes of a desert? It’s voice is carried on the wind. All creatures in the desert hear it, but interlopers can never relate.	4/26/10	9.00