05-09-2017, 11:42 PM
Present Time
What is it?
Hogard had never heard of such a creature roaming the Frozen Fields. The invasion of his mind put him on edge, but the words, the emotion that the invasion held... it was intense. The raw feeling was not falsified that he could tell, this creature was genuinely afraid for its life. That made it sentient, right?
Could it be a prime?
If that were true, what was it trying to do with him? Feed, maybe? Maybe not, though. And maybe it was not feeding maliciously. Hogard's first reaction had been to sneak the odd mushy mass to his abode for further questioning. If it was a threat, it had to be dealt with. If it was a young prime, bullied by the trolls that roamed the mountains, he and this blob had a common enemy. What better ally to have than a Prime, after all?
The slime remained inert for a while. During that time, Hogard poured it into a clay pot and sat it near the fire. Some of the hard objects in the creature appeared to be frozen chunks of accumulated snow and its own mass. An hour in, a few scraps of metal surface, ejected by the Prime's slow healing. "Seem's you've had a rough time..." Bullets had a Coruscant feel to them, but a lot of Primes run around with such weapons. The odd shrapnel had him at a loss.
The dwarf sat and waited. The longer he waited, the more curious he became. Eventually, he was kneeling beside the pot and peering down into its contents. The slime quivered once in a while, but for the most part it was as if it had fallen asleep. Fainted might be a better term, all things considere. Hogard almost felt sorry for the poor thing. The key word though, was almost. He was still very cautious of this potential threat.
Finally boredom caught up with him. Hogard rose and thundered his way to the kitchen for a late night snack and a well needed tankard to clear his thoughts and keep his mind open. He was always more accepting - even gullible - when drunk. At this point he hoped it meant he would jump to the wrong conclusion, or at least if he did he could blame the alcohol, not his character. Either way, it was an excuse to quench his thirst and dull his mind in one swoop.
Once again, he returned to waiting. The large drumstick and small wedge of cheese alongside his tankard made sitting and staring a bit more bearable. When that was gone and still no change, he stretched out along the floor with a grumbling breath. "Are you just going to sleep all night?" And deprive me of mine, he mentally added. He received no response.
Eventually, he fell asleep, hand propping up his head, eyes too heavy to hold open. His last memory is of the inert slime and the pain of boredom drilling into his skull.
What is it?
Hogard had never heard of such a creature roaming the Frozen Fields. The invasion of his mind put him on edge, but the words, the emotion that the invasion held... it was intense. The raw feeling was not falsified that he could tell, this creature was genuinely afraid for its life. That made it sentient, right?
Could it be a prime?
If that were true, what was it trying to do with him? Feed, maybe? Maybe not, though. And maybe it was not feeding maliciously. Hogard's first reaction had been to sneak the odd mushy mass to his abode for further questioning. If it was a threat, it had to be dealt with. If it was a young prime, bullied by the trolls that roamed the mountains, he and this blob had a common enemy. What better ally to have than a Prime, after all?
The slime remained inert for a while. During that time, Hogard poured it into a clay pot and sat it near the fire. Some of the hard objects in the creature appeared to be frozen chunks of accumulated snow and its own mass. An hour in, a few scraps of metal surface, ejected by the Prime's slow healing. "Seem's you've had a rough time..." Bullets had a Coruscant feel to them, but a lot of Primes run around with such weapons. The odd shrapnel had him at a loss.
The dwarf sat and waited. The longer he waited, the more curious he became. Eventually, he was kneeling beside the pot and peering down into its contents. The slime quivered once in a while, but for the most part it was as if it had fallen asleep. Fainted might be a better term, all things considere. Hogard almost felt sorry for the poor thing. The key word though, was almost. He was still very cautious of this potential threat.
Finally boredom caught up with him. Hogard rose and thundered his way to the kitchen for a late night snack and a well needed tankard to clear his thoughts and keep his mind open. He was always more accepting - even gullible - when drunk. At this point he hoped it meant he would jump to the wrong conclusion, or at least if he did he could blame the alcohol, not his character. Either way, it was an excuse to quench his thirst and dull his mind in one swoop.
Once again, he returned to waiting. The large drumstick and small wedge of cheese alongside his tankard made sitting and staring a bit more bearable. When that was gone and still no change, he stretched out along the floor with a grumbling breath. "Are you just going to sleep all night?" And deprive me of mine, he mentally added. He received no response.
Eventually, he fell asleep, hand propping up his head, eyes too heavy to hold open. His last memory is of the inert slime and the pain of boredom drilling into his skull.