05-23-2007, 11:35 PM
Garlic was pleased, very pleased, when Karl Jak's voice stopped raping his eardrum. Dammit but that thing's voice was grating. Now he let his eyelids fall and breathed in deep the midnight air. The crickets were a nice replacement, he let their song chirp in his head a little bit before exhaling and picking up his sack.
"On to death!" He yelled gallantly, his finger pointing at nothing. "For I too shall lie in the dust when I am dead, but now let me win noble renown!" Was anyone even watching? Holding on to his heroic pose his eyes darted about furtively for a camera. Fuck it. Garlic let his arm fall limp and shouldered his bag with the other.
"Death..." the goblin grumbled as he hobbled with the awkward sack, "nothing noble about that. Piss and shit everywhere." Garlic flicked a fly dancing about his nose out of the air and continued his march on through the brush.
Hints of the sun were beginning to highlight the horizon by the time he came to a stop, with no progress notable. He wondered idly if he'd make it through the coming day without a struggle for life. Part of him wanted that gamble, another, vaguely foreign, element in his mind preached caution. His gaze rested on a discerning sort of tree that would be a fine place of rest. That is to say, it was the same as every other tree there. He sat, pulled out a piece of bread and waited. Time passed. You know, he thought, its right now I could use a voice in my head. Nothing like being batshit insane to pass the time. But alas all he had was bread.
"Yesss, my precious." he hissed with a glint in his eye, "We are glad for the nice man's food, yes. No no no, Garlic hates nasty fag's bread. It chokes us!" Indeed he did choke a little, but on laughter not bread. No, his mind was clear this morn, if not quite on the weighty task ahead of him. On to death, he snorted derisively at his early turn of phrase. He waved his half eaten wheat at the rising sun.
"Here's to life."
"On to death!" He yelled gallantly, his finger pointing at nothing. "For I too shall lie in the dust when I am dead, but now let me win noble renown!" Was anyone even watching? Holding on to his heroic pose his eyes darted about furtively for a camera. Fuck it. Garlic let his arm fall limp and shouldered his bag with the other.
"Death..." the goblin grumbled as he hobbled with the awkward sack, "nothing noble about that. Piss and shit everywhere." Garlic flicked a fly dancing about his nose out of the air and continued his march on through the brush.
Hints of the sun were beginning to highlight the horizon by the time he came to a stop, with no progress notable. He wondered idly if he'd make it through the coming day without a struggle for life. Part of him wanted that gamble, another, vaguely foreign, element in his mind preached caution. His gaze rested on a discerning sort of tree that would be a fine place of rest. That is to say, it was the same as every other tree there. He sat, pulled out a piece of bread and waited. Time passed. You know, he thought, its right now I could use a voice in my head. Nothing like being batshit insane to pass the time. But alas all he had was bread.
"Yesss, my precious." he hissed with a glint in his eye, "We are glad for the nice man's food, yes. No no no, Garlic hates nasty fag's bread. It chokes us!" Indeed he did choke a little, but on laughter not bread. No, his mind was clear this morn, if not quite on the weighty task ahead of him. On to death, he snorted derisively at his early turn of phrase. He waved his half eaten wheat at the rising sun.
"Here's to life."
Sinners make the best Saints
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