Night Thirteen
The shambling figure had its sword at the ready and had decided who needed to go next.
Mumbling noble things through dead lips, it advanced on the random pile of junk that had been sitting around since somebody had torn its sack earlier in the grisly affair.
The sack, for its part, flashed a woefully untrimmed bush that disgusted the figure - but did nothing to stop it from finishing the task it had set itself.
With an almighty swing, he cut the book in half.
soc123_au is dead. He was Dutchy's Big Book of Lies, Independently Aligned Encylopedia of Falsehoods
His work done, the corpse man doubled over and began retching.
So.
Much.
Bush.
The pile of junk, for its part, seemed pleased to still be alive.
---------
The trio of hardened killers had decided was a good night to act, but shouldn't have been terribly surprised when the stern woman gave them a talking to and sent them to dispose of some garbage that had been troubling her.
Hoggmaster is dead. He was The FFB Fun Pack, Town Aligned Collection of Weird Accessories
Death couldn't help but chuckle, he'd gained two more souls and he hadn't even had to lift a finger.
His chances of victory seemed slim, but the dead man at last had cause to hope.
