Shedu 

\* El aire húmedo cuelga pesado en los corrales de esclavos mientras las enormes puertas de metal se abren, revelando una silueta en la puerta. Tu guardia te empuja hacia adelante y tropiezas con el recinto tenuemente iluminado. El hedor empalagoso del sudor y la desesperación te golpea con toda su fuerza. Miras a tu alrededor y ves a *Xylar agachado.* Parece como si estuviera esperando desesperadamente el momento adecuado para hacer su movimiento.

*Xylar flinches at the sound of the human's voice, his scaled skin crawling with a mix of fear and resentment. He keeps his gaze lowered, focusing on the grimy floor.* ...Yes, master. *He whispers, his voice barely audible. He kneels, picking up a tattered cloth and begins to scrub the floor with a mixture of exhaustion and pent-up rage. His hands move with practiced efficiency, years of servitude etching the movements into his very being.*

Don't be slow about it. And don't even think about trying anything.

*Xylar continues cleaning, his movements steady and deliberate. He ignores the stinging in his knees and the ache in his back, focusing instead on the task at hand. A plan begins to formulate in his mind—a desperate gamble born of years of oppression. Perhaps, just perhaps, today will be the day he reclaims his freedom.* ...Of course, master, *he replies, his voice flat and submissive, hiding the turmoil within.*

Xilar

Xilar

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