[tw, for squeamish-ness? Silent is never not horrific and his eating habits are terrible, apologies]

another morning, another sweltering day,

And the hollow sounds of cracking bones and rending flesh echoed in the silence of the dunes as what might have been a mighty beast of some kind was flayed open and torn into by a creature mightier in size and far more unnerving in appearance pulled back an angular hollow eyed face consisting of far too many jaws from its ribcage.

The dying beast was seemingly still alive - for now - but it gave a final gurgling as the thing which had torn it open and feasted on its insides pulled out its throbbing heart.

Cruel, yes

But the perpetrator hardly cared, flesh was flesh was food - to be consumed - still living or not.

Still the beast was dead now and thus no more complaints issued from the still warm carcass as Silent gorged itself.

It had gone too long without a ‘meal’

A pity the mind here was not worth consuming - a dull feral beast that had no more presence to offer it and made the glaring mistake of wandering into the Pitt’s territory, a shame - they would likely have to wait for a raid of some kind to find that craving.

With its jaws occupied, the horror levered its upper body over the corpse, two strong and unnatural legs holding itself steady as the latter set rose up and flexed its taloned hands over its target,

They lunged downwards, grasping and ripping the creature open, ghastly,

But not the worst thing - for with the insides exposed, the uncanny grave’s own ribcage seemed to snap open like a cavernous set of monstrous jaws that yawned wide before several tendrils, each as long as its own limbs plunged into the wound, grasping and rending and tearing great chunks of flesh and organs into its gaping maw in a cacophony of ghastly sounds.

Silent did not care for if he might have attracted a horrified (or fascinated) audience, as a few Pitt members had indeed stumbled upon him, curious about what he was doing so far out - most had left as quickly as they came with the horror barely noticing them.

tw: still for squeamishness

to say the lack of bloodshed had left him craving was putting it mildly, perhaps why he had savaged the once breathing corpse so,

Or perhaps Silent did not care for mercies to either his food or his audience.

No matter to the creature, as it’s long fleshless tailbone lazily swiped through the sand behind it, another curiosity in that it looked more like the bones of a tail held by long extinct theropod dinosaurs - but then, the entirety of Silent was a horror of corpses mashed to create the thing that now roamed the pittlands

Thin ridged ears flickered at the voice and a sharp staccato crack echoed as the spine along its neck drew back from flesh abruptly, gore still warm and steaming from the fresh carcass congealing and dripping from both jaws as the head turned sidelong to ‘view’ the speaker.

Eyeless pits somehow seemed assessing before the taller - somewhat canine - shifted its weight to turn sidelong - the ribs-mouth of it’s chest still gaping as the tentacles spilled from its ‘mouth’ and continued consuming,

It looked over the other - infested as they were - with what might be mild curiosity - not at all put off by parasites that squirmed along the Pittian’s Coat,

Silent himself was not host to parasites, mostly because he was a parasite, though far from any kinship with the ones in this ones fur,

That and any parasite that had tried quickly found itself prey to Silent’s inherent malicious make up,

The moments seem to stretch, Then the dual jaws ground together what remained in its mouths before the upper most gaped wide in shadow to reveal rows upon rows of teeth and at its throat, another mouth that moved as it responded

“a fresh corpse for the open earth” spoke the deep rumble of the chorus, Which seemed to be its agreement - no doubt the open earth meant the Pitt in some non sequitur.

The thing’s head tilted, the smaller tendrils wreathing its shoulders and legs wavered idly, the creature searching for a moment in the silence, punctuated only by sickening sounds as the tentacles continued to pull meat to the maw

”Silent is the grave”, a name given, if in an entirely nonsensical way.

tw: squeamishness and also IC opinions, bc much like Dirt, Silent is just a cold bastard and has a really weird viewpoint.

the creature had been aware of Kydobi’s silent judgement and presence but had not cared to react beyond his continuous eating until the jaguar had spoken up - upon which point, that massive cavern eyed head swung around to ‘their leader’ and its gaze could almost be called amusement, annoyance or vague disgruntled - or some confusing mess of the three for all that this shambling monstrosity made of any kind of sense.

And of course with that turn, the cracking of it’s own estranged limbs - and the ribs of the corpse it had been standing upon as it moved - brought to bear that gaping maw where a chest should be, rubbed teeth fluttering around the writhing tentacles that - with their sickening length - were still rummaging inside the corpse for every scrap it could find, 

Then that awful voice that sounded like far too many in one answered back

“Cruelty is perspective - this land is fed - nourished - by it”

Seemingly dropping it’s vague non sequiturs for the blunt approach, for it did not care for if what it did was cruel or not - meat was meat was flesh for consuming, the thing died either way and all death was agony to life, what did it matter the merit of how it was done,

The only thing that mattered was if you wasted it

And Silent was a beast of opportunities and extreme resourcefulness

An abomination of recycled materials himself, much though life hated that he even existed

But it seemed it had drawn an audience and ones that seemed disinclined to paint so broad brushstrokes as ‘their leader’

But if it bothered the other so, they could always leave

Of course, that ran the extreme risks that without being of benefit for a resting place, anything here would be suddenly recategorised as food as it’s sole resource

And well, who’s to say any of them might end up the next dedicated corpse upon which the thing fed - though they might take comfort in that, at least as thinking beasts, Silent would honour them by adding their voice to the chorus

It was really all quite simple in the end - everything had its use

And the only thing that kept Pittians safe was their use in a place for his ‘grave’

”the sands thirsts where you deny to slake it”

Perhaps he talked about the land itself and it dry desolation, of how the howling winds sounded like baying cries for blood and the ashes and echoes of old wars and wounds - for this land was built on blood and for blood it cried out,

It was what had drawn it here after all,

Or mayhaps it spoke to the thing that curled in all hearts and called those to said place much as he, everyone had their secrets whether open or closed - the longer they went without, the more it might howl

Land and the shadows in the eyes of those that roamed here both,

At Jacks words the creature gave a strange shudder-gurgle as if agreeing ”death is death” were it’s words on the matter, agreement with Dirt in its ‘bones’ as one might say

Kydobi seemed to wish to blunt the claws of his fellows, but Silent was not a creature made for bluntness - not even a creature made by any hand but it’s own to spite all else that found it so reviled - Silent was a creature made of horrors and thus it made them in turn

If the Ardent expected the corpse god as he had been so feared afore to be cowed then he’d find naught but disappointment,

Still it rose, the smaller tendrils - unlike its tentacled rib-mouth - that wreathed along its limbs and shoulders fluttering before a sharp crack had its bulging neck spine twitch and its head toss to indicate the corpse

”if there is use, you may partake” a somewhat go ahead for if the others wished to take bones, skin, flesh and the like from its meal - elsewise he’d likely remove the corpse to wherever it is the creature rested and continue there now that it’s greatly reduced weight would not be a bother to drag back.