Captivity [At the Shrine of the Artisan where soldiers mill around without any particular urgency, some of them feel free to perform their own exploratory and sometimes invasive investigations of their captives. A small crowd forms centered around an especially curious figure. With the shafts of their weapons the bystanders poke and prod at what appears to be a sort of robot, made of metal and rags forced and shaped into the form of a man, topped with a metal "face" with two eye holes that glow from blue light within. It puts up no fight and reacts only with a tinny, yet inappropriately emotional voice that bounces between cheerful and enraged, the swerves occasionally scaring some people off.]
What's the problem? Haven't you seen a faithful of Xelor before? Of course you haven't! Haha!
Waiting [As the newcomers are loaded into their carts Nox seems to withdraw into himself, becoming closed off to the world or the everpresent guards that surround them. During the day he is almost inanimate, silent and shock still except for when he is corralled somewhere, at which point he shuffles off without any protest. Sometimes at night he can be heard speaking to himself over any company.]
So the World of Twelve meets its untimely end - and not even by my hand! All my naysayers doth protest too much, after all.
[If he spots someone in the party attempting an escape or a rebellion, he'll speak up, breaking his self-imposed isolation with an unblinking gaze that suddenly seems to be seeing instead of just staring off into the distance.]
Why are you even bothering? It's all over. We all saw it back there. Or are you the slow and unobservant type?
Nox | Wakfu | Artisan
[At the Shrine of the Artisan where soldiers mill around without any particular urgency, some of them feel free to perform their own exploratory and sometimes invasive investigations of their captives. A small crowd forms centered around an especially curious figure. With the shafts of their weapons the bystanders poke and prod at what appears to be a sort of robot, made of metal and rags forced and shaped into the form of a man, topped with a metal "face" with two eye holes that glow from blue light within. It puts up no fight and reacts only with a tinny, yet inappropriately emotional voice that bounces between cheerful and enraged, the swerves occasionally scaring some people off.]
What's the problem? Haven't you seen a faithful of Xelor before? Of course you haven't! Haha!
Waiting
[As the newcomers are loaded into their carts Nox seems to withdraw into himself, becoming closed off to the world or the everpresent guards that surround them. During the day he is almost inanimate, silent and shock still except for when he is corralled somewhere, at which point he shuffles off without any protest. Sometimes at night he can be heard speaking to himself over any company.]
So the World of Twelve meets its untimely end - and not even by my hand! All my naysayers doth protest too much, after all.
[If he spots someone in the party attempting an escape or a rebellion, he'll speak up, breaking his self-imposed isolation with an unblinking gaze that suddenly seems to be seeing instead of just staring off into the distance.]
Why are you even bothering? It's all over. We all saw it back there. Or are you the slow and unobservant type?