TCP: Oddity Session

[victorianflorist]

We are vast, a god of odd patterns that trace in the mycelium. We are a maze of flesh and knowing and being. An epitome of the life that rises from the rot and the ruin. Stone shoulders rise from a thin waist. A faceless visage sprouting above, rooted and tied to the stone from which we rise. Our blossoming crown is a parody of flowers and blooms, a brown beauty appreciated by few. Our limbs are ever reaching, tendrils running through dirt and earth and flesh and the quiet deep of the sleeping graves. They sleep and in their stiffness we make them into new life. We are the fear, the fear and the strength of a vastness that grows and changes others into things they hope they are not. We are numerous and we are inevitable.
We are Populace.

Populace, God of Fear and Inevitability
Motifs of Ruins and Mushrooms