| Return of Lirrit; Prologue-Dont Look Back In Anger... | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: 13th November 2006 - 05:27 PM (249 Views) | |
| daemonic badger | 13th November 2006 - 05:27 PM Post #1 |
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Veteran/OAP
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Don’t Look Back In Anger… The rat gulped nervously from the bestial roars that were erupting from within the chamber. He closed his eyes and, breathing deeply knocked twice on the door. The sound echoed throughout the chamber, leaving a nervous anxiety in its wake. “Yes…” the voice growled from within the room. Not for the first time that morning the rat cursed he’d pulled the short straw on who’d personally serve Lirrit for the next month. “Your-your food, Sir,” he stuttered making sure not too sound cocky or anything that could be interpreted as an insult. “Enter,” The menacing voice boomed and the servant slowly pushed open the door. The Room was not exactly decorated lavishly, fashioned from the old quarters of its previous master, there was no ornaments or the such decorating the room. Instead there was numerous battle maps pinned onto the walls, huge stacks of paper, and five portraits, five pictures of his greatest enemies. Each were fearsome in their own right, But the rat would back his master all the way in a one on one fight. “Sir,” he said, bowing low and holding the platter of food in front of his master. Dressed only in a loincloth covering his bottom half, he ad clearly been practising his fighting again. This was confirmed by the limp bodies of two of the biggest slaves lying in the corner. While Warlord Lirrit was completely against the murder of slaves, he didn’t consider this murder-they’d been given a chance after all, albeit an incredibly small one. Lirrit’s muscles were rippling, veins throbbing on his forehead, and his sharpened fangs begging for blood. The fire in his eyes was aglow with a fierce hatred, one that had only been fuelled by 2 years of betrayal and failure. A gnarled hand snatched the meat from the plate and jammed it in his mouth. Despite the reputation of the cultured clans of the Rebellion, the warlord of Clan Lirrit was increasingly prone to fits of bestiality and savagery. Suddenly and unexpectedly the Warlord dashed forward and grabbed the slave who squirted the musk of fear. Hoisting the slave up Lirrit slammed him against the wall. The slave closed his eyes as he glimpsed the feral depths of the Warlord’s eyes. Perhaps the rumours of his drug-taking was true after all. “Your one of the, aren’t you? One of them who’s judging me, Well tell them to f**k it! I’m back for revenge, and this time its for good!” |
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