|April 27th, 2009, 07:34 PM||#1|
Join Date: Apr 2005
The Kitin Raids
Strolling over to the local watering hole, George looked around and breathed a sigh of relief. It had been a relatively quiet day, which seemed to be a rarity recently. Maybe today he could just sit back, have a refreshing drink, and enjoy the night. The crowd at his favorite watering hole, as usual these days, held a disgruntled air. There were several mumblings about the recent raids that had laid devastation across their once peaceful homes.
As he settled in and took a long draught of his drink, Frank's angered ramblings fractured his peace.
“I hate em! I hate em all! I can't stand those beasts!”
“I hear ya, Frank. I know what you're sayin, bud. But, uh, what exactly are ya talkin to yerself 'bout?”
“The kitin, George. I hate em. Those little hellion beasts!!”
“I'll drink to that, Frank.” George took another long draught.
“I mean, damn them! A crew I was working with, we were farming the Roots as we usually do in a spot that has normally been pretty safe. There we were, peacefully gathering our materials, you know? I was actually feeling pretty good about life. I was doing my job, and a darn good job too, if I do say so myself. I had gathered enough to keep me busy for a good while. Then I heard the scream.
We tried to scatter. What else could we do? There they were... a Patrol. Fear, George, that's what iced me. I couldn't barely move. A whole friggin Patrol. Bearing down on us with a bloodlust, like a nightmare you can't wake up from. George, do you understand what I'm saying? I'm talking a massive group of hellspawn tearing into us with pure evil in their eyes. Ripping our crew to shreds and not stopping long enough to watch the bodies hit the ground. I knew right then, that wet feeling down my legs, that was pure, horrifying fear.”
“I hope ya got that cleaned up, Frank.” George peered at frank out of the corner of his eyes.
“I hate em, George. I hate those kitin with every fiber of my being.”
“Uh, Frank, I think the fear got to your brain a bit.”
“Oh, yeah, George? Why do you say that?”
“Look at yourself, Frank. Then take a look at me and everyone else in here.”
Frank looked around, the anger still in his eyes.
“We're kitin, Frank. That patrol, that was those devious little homins.”
“Oh, yeah. I guess you're right George. I hate em. I hate those demonic little homins. I'm glad we're kitin though, George.”
“Oh yeah? Why's that, Frank?”
“Cause we squashed those little squishies,” Frank said, a big smile finally forming under his hard shelled exterior. “We squashed them right good.”
“I still hate em, George.”
“I hear ya, bud. I'll drink to that.”
*thanks to SweetMarie for organizing the latest kitin spank, and to Nysha and Marelli for convincing me to join the fun.*
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