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The concubines of Lord Grotius Balbinus that follow him possess a wan, funereal beauty. They sway with the elegy of the procession, willing participants attired in the shade of lamentation. You see that similar to the Protector of Lord Grotius, Sabagadis Sleer, the concubines wear masks, fine white porcelain features sculpted into expressions of gentle longing - a sidelong glance or subdued stolen passion. The white masked faces of the concubines are veiled in transparency, some transparent polymer of an almost medical sheen - you dwell a little upon the hygiene implications of Lord Grotius and his incessant expectorating spume (BLEURRGHhhnngg), and shudder involuntarily. You cannot imagine how they might... mount him. The Naked Mountain. Perhaps these haunting ethereal women serve in some other capacity.
In his gibbering high-pitched falsetto, Lord Grotius Balbinus burbles contentedly:
- Bleurgh. Isonomy! I - so, no me! Meee! Bleurgh. I - son, no meee! Isonomy plop, defecate. No pee. Pound wife! Hnngggghh. Bleurgh!
