P03 fucking hated him with every bolt and screw that made up his own body.Īll he wanted was to forget the pain, but nothing could solve the aching of being killed over, over, and over again – and for what? Leshy’s sadistic pleasure? He may have been made of metal, but the memory of the feeling of pain was still there. He had to trust the player’s choices, though he would hurl sarcastic comments or even insults when he was played on the field – one way or another, it meant he would suffer from either being sacrificed to play a better card, or slain on the board by the enemies Leshy would set up against him. Trapped and contained – at the mercy of the player. A time long gone, forgotten in the way old wires are scrapped and replaced with new ones.īefore this, the bot was a stoat in a card. The scrybes got along at one point – but that was a longer time ago. It wouldn’t make sense if he didn’t have animals following him around. There always was a handful of beasts with him no matter where he wandered – afterall, he was the Scrybe of Beasts. The robotic scrybe eyes the lanky beast-tamer as he lumbers away from his cabin a few animals follow suit, where either Leshy noticed and doesn't care, or just didn’t notice the woodland creatures trailing behind his tall frame.
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