Thruk stood staring at the figure paralysed in fear as the diseased cadaver approached. The smile never left the slaves face as he shambled a bloated gangerous hand reached out to him. However Thruk did not live this long for not listing to his instincts and soon he was free of his fear he turned and fled.
He ran, sprinting as fast as he could away from that wretched slave, his bag jangling and clanking as he ran. A few merchants had to leap out of the way as he sprinted he gave breathless apologies to them as ran hearing a stream of insults his way. When he finally made it to Norjils house he collapsed to his knees huffing and puffing. He heard the light buzzing of his geonosian master's wings. WHAT ARE YOU DOING SLAVE GET UP! Norjil screeched his speech accented by the strange insectiod clicks which were present with all his kind. Thruk slowly stood up, sweat pouring down his body. Yes...master he said through breathless gasps. Now Hurry, Norjil pointing with his finger extended to his workshop, go now!
Thruk felt anger, red hot, with the natural hot Headedness of his kind, before pushing it back
As he always did. Thruk grumbled to himself about his lot in life and of many new colourful names for Norjil before scooping up his bag and obeying Norjils comand, dragging his feet along. He placed the precious parts down with a loud clang, next to Norjils work table, Before going inside thankful to be out of the suns hateful rays. Before he went to bed he kicked the wall in front of his bed in frustration, chipping off some of the badly made sandstone. It was just the afternoon and the sun would not set for quite some while. But Thruk was so tired he didn't care, plopping him self down in his bed and sliding the curtain that served as a makeshift door closed. He slept uneasily rolling and turning as screams and twisted horrors wracked his mind before finally dropping off into a fitful sleep.
He awoke the next day in a cold sweat, all silent except for the chittering of the sand beetles, it was still dark and the sun had yet to come over the horizon. His waking moments were filled with short visons and faded memories of his dreams, his mind was wracked with the fleeting visons of cosmic horrors and violence beyond compare, horrific acts and grusome butchery all done by his hands. As the memory's faded as dreams do thruk shudderd in his bed blaming the cold night air yet not quite beliving him self. Thruk stumbled out of his room looking for something to drink. Another day another personal demon to deal with Thruk muttered to himself as he wanderd down the dark streets, unaware to the irony of his statement.