The Autumn People

A loose network of necromancers, slavers, and grisly churgeons, the Autumn People view other humans as tools, stock, and meat. They are the only humans thought to be willingly allied with the viscerids.

Many think the Autumn People have a symbol by which to identify themselves to each other - a leaf, a skull, a rune, or some other such nonsense. They do not. Symbols are things of the flock - symbols get you caught.

They must then have a code word or a secret sign - a snippet of Tutsg'gac, a furtive handshake, a way to move the eyes. They do not. These are tools of the impatient and irrational, those who desire to be culled.

One person knows another. Only beasts mark their territory. Only the herd.

For some, autumn comes early, stays late through life where October follows September and November touches October and then instead of December and Christ's birth, there is no Bethlehem Star, no rejoicing, but September comes again and old October and so on down the years, with no winter, spring, or revivifying summer.

For these beings, fall is the ever normal season, the only weather, there be no choice beyond.

Where do they come from? The dust. Where do they go? The grave. Does blood stir their veins? No: the night wind. What ticks in their head? The worm. What speaks from their mouth? The toad. What sees from their eye? The snake. What hears with their ear? The abyss between the stars.

They sift the human storm for souls, eat flesh of reason, fill tombs with sinners. They frenzy forth. In gusts they beetle-scurry, creep, thread, filter, motion, make all moons sullen, and surely cloud all clear-run waters. The spider-web hears them, trembles--breaks.

Such are the autumn people. Beware of them.