It had been some time since Eshtaractih had been awoken by their new master as the disciple. They had managed to reform their mind, and pull together further information, the lisp and rolling r's having disappeared from their speaking. It was...progress, but the time had come to look further into what needed to be done around the havens. Staring into the pit there were far too many wholly ragged and decomposed bones sticking about making it too easy for new recruits to really slog and build their ferocity for continued living. That would not do. A somewhat deep snarl and they dropped into the pit, the putrid smell bringing back warm memories of their fight ages ago, the feasting, the devouring. Eshtaractih grinned to themselves, "Many many more shall come to the fold in the days that will pass"

As their hands set to the work of clearing out the bones that posed no use, they hummed to themselves, chucking the pieces out to ensure that only the vilest of corpses were left, a devious cackle as they mock chatted with a barely intact skull, then tossed it out into the growing pile of bone and cloth outside the pit, "Really, how can they let the decay drop off so easily?" They found the last of the dry rot and threw it out as well. Then took a few good moments and spent them flipping over the bodies that remained to keep the putrefaction from settling too much on one side.

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