1st of Winter, 512 AV
"Amazing..."
Thomas let out a low whistle; he couldn't help it. Lab 15 was huge, cavernous. Golems decorated the entirety of the lab. The clank of tools meshed well with the strong smell of oil and Djed -- to Thomas, it was beautiful. Everything about this place stank of power, of opportunity. Everything he wanted.
The young animator too care as he made his way down the stairs. Many other pulsers and golems were busy loading and unloading creative gadgets and spare parts, Nuits conducting animations, pulsers carefully adding last touches to thousand miza golems --Thomas couldn't afford to make any mistakes here.
He smiled, as always, to the right people. And as always, he ignored everyone else. He had no plans for friends on the undead isle. Success. Power. Learning. But not for friends. Sahova was nothing more then a tool, a resource.
And Thomas would drain it dry.
"BOY! You, come here!" A familiar voice called out, gruff and ancient. FIlch. Thomas groaned inwardly, not wanting the old Nuit to hear.
"Master FIlch?" Thomas asked, a slight bow indicating the Nuit's higher status. While Thomas still wasn't sure if bowing was traditional in Sahova, or if the island could even claim a culture, but it had worked wonders in both Syliras and Mura. Flattery was a universal currency.
"Yes," The Nuit paused, seemingly perplexed by the young animator's gesture. Nonetheless he continued on, "Those boxes?" He gestured to three large boxes over by the stairs, "Move them to the docks. They are to prepared for loading and to be sent off. They will not be opened prior to arrival, understood?" FIlch nodded, and turned back.
Thomas sighed, and stared at the boxes. More manual labor and still no animations to show for it.
Great.
. PM if you have any questions 
