The reincarnated sage steeped further into the hall, brewing over the monster slayer’s nystagmus, which darted, from corner to wall to shrine, over concealed apparitions. Before Theodore reached the egress, the cleric stopped his exodus.

[color=ec008c]“Halt. Let it go first.”[/color]

The avian-clad butler in the elbow of the room jarred from its statuesque hibernation; its syncytial gaze riddled with the radiance of oblivion, an Egyptian herald for the young accountants of light, of a prophecy of ten plagues yielding a briefer lifespan. The objective was simply reconnaissance, methodical and meticulous, to demolish the curious resolve of knights in order to checkmate any larcenous king cradled in this fleeced tomb. The unseen pawn entitled itself to a job security by willingly suffering any potential pyramid of pain, even to the extent of sacrificing to the very danger being sought.
 
Slothfully unraveling its magical position with sluggish footsteps to the Stygian exit, the invisible mute was commanded to test the darkness beyond. The excitement built within Wick, as the ranger remained still as the servant began to peer further ahead, with eyes of a Horus. 

[i]Would a rapacious nova tumble this tax collector downward into a Nekhen of its own imaginary blood?[/i] 

Opening the portal, its contorted carcass suspended momentarily, slouching any attention drawn to the Memnon shadows looming over the murky unknown, distracted by the gazelles of the coming, exhaustive void.

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The unseen servant is commanded to go past the door and into the darkness, before Theodore plunges in.
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