- Joined
- Jan 10, 2011
- Messages
- 624
- Reaction score
- 0
The ash has begun to fall again. Thought Myr with a contemptible smirk as he sat upon the rocky bottom of the pit. Flakes of gray-black slowly floated down in a thick cloud, coating the Nautolan's tendrils, shoulders and forearms. He smiled as the aroma flooded his nasal passages and delivered a sense of nostalgia, prompting him to sigh contentedly. Memories raced to the forefront of his mind, flooding him with every ounce of pain he'd inflicted and the images of despair on each of his victim's faces. They'd always looked so happy and carefree at first but soon after meeting Myr their lives were changed and they achieved something great: Furthering his agenda.
There was nothing greater, in Myr's opinion, then furthering the understanding of pain and the limits of different beings. In a way he envied them but that was overshadowed by sheer hate. He hated them all for being so blissful and they way they paraded around seemed to mock him. They'd had their demises coming.
A rustle up above brought Myr's head up, sending an avalanche of ash from his tendrils to his shoulders and cascading further down his malnourished frame. Standing at the rim of his pit was one of the few overseers of the colony holding a tray. "Still alive down there, Psycho?" shouted the man with a gravelly voice. It was like hearing a trash compactor crushing bones soaked in slush.
Psycho was a word Myr found insulting to his genius and insight and he could feel the heat of anger burning under his skin. His eyes glared daggers as the overseer leaned forward, squinting to peer into the blackness to find the nautolan. In that instant Myr hated the man intensely with his gammorean-like face and he wished the idiot would simply die. In fact he pictured his arteries clamping shut and his heart suddenly stopping.
As if in cue with Myr's imagination the overseer clutched his chest and collapsed, dropping the tray into Myr's pit.
Interesting result
There was nothing greater, in Myr's opinion, then furthering the understanding of pain and the limits of different beings. In a way he envied them but that was overshadowed by sheer hate. He hated them all for being so blissful and they way they paraded around seemed to mock him. They'd had their demises coming.
A rustle up above brought Myr's head up, sending an avalanche of ash from his tendrils to his shoulders and cascading further down his malnourished frame. Standing at the rim of his pit was one of the few overseers of the colony holding a tray. "Still alive down there, Psycho?" shouted the man with a gravelly voice. It was like hearing a trash compactor crushing bones soaked in slush.
Psycho was a word Myr found insulting to his genius and insight and he could feel the heat of anger burning under his skin. His eyes glared daggers as the overseer leaned forward, squinting to peer into the blackness to find the nautolan. In that instant Myr hated the man intensely with his gammorean-like face and he wished the idiot would simply die. In fact he pictured his arteries clamping shut and his heart suddenly stopping.
As if in cue with Myr's imagination the overseer clutched his chest and collapsed, dropping the tray into Myr's pit.
Interesting result