Information

Meaningless has a minion!

Minion the Skoth

Meaningless
Legacy Name: Meaningless

The

Graveyard Neela
Owner:

Torrie

Age: 12 years, 11 months, 5 days

Born: May 30th, 2011

Adopted: 11 years, 1 month, 2 weeks ago

Adopted: March 14th, 2013

Statistics

Level: 6
Strength: 11
Defense: 14
Speed: 10
Health: 8
HP: 12/8
Intelligence: 2
Books Read: 1
Food Eaten: 1
Job: Unemployed

H-Hello?

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Your voice trembles despite the question.

You turn quickly at the sharp sound of hooves on pavement, and a figure emerges from the opaque gray that surrounds you. Hesitation, born from surprise, slows its steps. Skin hangs in tatters like shredded cloth, exposing bone and muscle beneath aged fur. He, as you assume it is so, is both deer-like and not, familiar and alien at the same time.

"Oh." He remarks, "You are here earlier than expected." He begins to move again, his steps and vision no longer focused on you but instead the anonymous cloud that surrounds you both. A minute pocketwatch, gleaming silver and meticulously clean, materializes seemingly from nothing. "Much earlier" the creature quips, dispersing the watch with a annoyed snort. "Well come on then," His eyes, dull and opaque, turn to you with an expectant look.

"I want answers!" You bark, mostly in a wave of panic that has finally breached. "Why am I here? What is this place? What are you?"

The creature paws at the ground, stirring the fog into great tendrils that dance with tremendous allure, but says nothing. His shoulders sag with an almost tangible disappointment, but one that seems impossibly familiar. As you clench your fists, fingers find clammy palms as your heart settles into a hurried beat.

"They aren't ready for you." A third voice, metallic tinged tenor. Your vertebrae crack, twisting as you try to peer through the fog. The voice was talking about you. "They should be ripe by your next round."

"You said that last time..." The creature accuses in an accusatory hiss, but nods his head all the same, contemplative. With a quick turn of hoof, he begins to walk away from you, the fog swallowing the creature whole. It wouldn't take much to follow him, but your legs cannot move. A call might turn his head, but you cannot open your mouth. You can't make any sound at all. Your mind begins to cloud and your encounter with the creature is forgotten.

Moments pass, and you find your throat clenched shut. Grunting, you clear it and manage a single, trembling word.

H-Hello?

Story and Character by: @Torrie