08-12-2018, 04:13 PM
[align=center][div style=" background-color: transparent; border: 0px solid black; width: 550px; min-height: 9px; font-family:arial; line-height: 110%; text-align: justify; color:; padding: 20px"]The pyramid stank of what had been forgotten, the smell of ages old rot settling on chattels that once had a clear purpose. Whoever lived here before had long been dead ― only this pitiful memory remained, dank and dusty, telling of much simpler times than the ones they lived in now. It was too dark to truly meander about in search for answers, of course, so the being who had curiously crawled inside set out to do the impossible. A task, if you will, to appease his fickle mind of the thoughts his master would once reign over in all his tyranny. Thinking for himself was not new, but the amount of which he did it was, and so he sought to give it new meaning that could be applied to his everyday life, rather than the jumble that it had first started out to be. This was his chance.
Esklav had never been inept to risking himself for foolish assignments; just before he had stumbled upon The Pitt as his old master died right in front of him, he had been searching for a cure to prevent his death, as was commissioned by an animal who was now the husk of the man he had been before. It was not in his own design to dismiss these unrealistic expectations, only to do as he was told. Those with souls had never been particularly smart. For what he lacked in with heart (as some would deem the emotions that thrummed through every life form in response to certain situations that arose) he made up for with efficiency and loyalty. If his individual agenda leaked somewhere between those lines, it was hard to tell. In his nearing death his master had made the mistake of ignoring his creation's oncoming deviancy.
The leopon was enticed to do what he could to familiarize himself with The Pitt's layout, as it would be odd not to. He did not find it satisfactory to end up getting lost here and there when going about his day.
The fair figure of the animal prowled the innermost workings of the structure, his light steps eerily loud in the silence that accompanied him. It was not long before his attention had been drawn to the familiar reek of death that emitted throughout the room as a pungent stench. Instead of recoiling from it, as most in his place would do, Esklav would approach it with the curiosity of one who wanted to learn, to acknowledge. What had happened here? As he neared it, his eyes adjusting to the Stygian lighting of the apparent ossuary, his ears twitched to attention at the skittering note of a nearby life-form.
He stood to attention, reaching his full height from where he had been leaning down. From there on, his dutiful way of walking was replaced by cautious steps forward, slow and meaningful. He dared not speak. Whatever was down here with him was not to be startled, lest he sought to risk being torn to shreds.
Esklav had never been inept to risking himself for foolish assignments; just before he had stumbled upon The Pitt as his old master died right in front of him, he had been searching for a cure to prevent his death, as was commissioned by an animal who was now the husk of the man he had been before. It was not in his own design to dismiss these unrealistic expectations, only to do as he was told. Those with souls had never been particularly smart. For what he lacked in with heart (as some would deem the emotions that thrummed through every life form in response to certain situations that arose) he made up for with efficiency and loyalty. If his individual agenda leaked somewhere between those lines, it was hard to tell. In his nearing death his master had made the mistake of ignoring his creation's oncoming deviancy.
The leopon was enticed to do what he could to familiarize himself with The Pitt's layout, as it would be odd not to. He did not find it satisfactory to end up getting lost here and there when going about his day.
The fair figure of the animal prowled the innermost workings of the structure, his light steps eerily loud in the silence that accompanied him. It was not long before his attention had been drawn to the familiar reek of death that emitted throughout the room as a pungent stench. Instead of recoiling from it, as most in his place would do, Esklav would approach it with the curiosity of one who wanted to learn, to acknowledge. What had happened here? As he neared it, his eyes adjusting to the Stygian lighting of the apparent ossuary, his ears twitched to attention at the skittering note of a nearby life-form.
He stood to attention, reaching his full height from where he had been leaning down. From there on, his dutiful way of walking was replaced by cautious steps forward, slow and meaningful. He dared not speak. Whatever was down here with him was not to be startled, lest he sought to risk being torn to shreds.