His shaven feet pacing along the woren tail, scattering pebbles and striding over the lustfully lit vegetation. Grignr growled with thanks as the hamlet slowly reared by a distant fell, capped in a reflective white powder. "He shalt be found, Grignr will be there" he mumoured soliloqually under his fetid breath.
Guesturing overawingly the shrivelled homonoculus that is Halkfimnt froze in the act of mechanistically examining his adgented spectre surmounnted by it's baleful orb. "Let those, of my ardent slaves, whose bodies crustify my panorama, be sent untop the neatherworld instantaneously" he whimsicorralised to Yamppil his bentbacked servent.
Yamppill leered foetidly, his deteriorating bicuspids obtruding from his gwping maw. "Yes, my Master. Shall I tell Neafrnd to prepare... The Insuffulator?" Quesried the servent.
Halkfimnt's body quivered in ill-concealed ire. "No! That is to god for those peasant dogs! Any who perjure me in the slightest way shall die slowly and punfully at the steak!" Exhaled the man. "And now I must think in solitudinous silence."
Grignr approached the guardhouse, on the road leading into Arragryfmk. A tall biped approached back, and hailed:
"Who goeth there at this time of night?"
"'Tis Grigr" the heaving warrior replied, "wil'st thou not let me penetrate the city?"
They're was a gasp. "'Tis Grignr!" whispered a
voice, at the top of its voice!! Grignr cuold see movement through the
pitch blacknes. With a giantlike howl, his huge blood thirsty sword whirled
through the atmospere and decapitated two pouncing archers at the kneecaps!
"A fine welcome, sluts" Drooled Grignr, as he skeuwered the next slavering axe-welding homicidal assailant like a fish. "Verily, I come only to ingage your women in whimsacoracal repartee! Ho Ho." ....
Grignir's heaving frmae quivered like a feather in a zephyr. He glanced to and fro, waiting in zealous anticipation for the consequent melee. "Mfrikt!" gulped the Ecordian, as a secret mass gambolled onto his posterior. Grignir adroitly ducked downwards towards the foot-trodden floor, flinging his archenemy from his perch. Letting his mammalian instincts takeover Grignr let fly his claymore penetrating his nemesis's ribs with foot of blinding iron/carbon composite. Grignr stooped to examine the cadaver, "Mkrift!", it was... good. The saccharine aroma of victory pulsed through Grignr, "Corrupt dogs like these mightily deserve to perish."
The barbarian's huge leviathon of an endoskeleton entered the
bar, his presence permeating the soup-like air. "Two scroats for
a flaggon of your finest foaming ale" dickered Grignr at the yeoman
behind the bar. Quaffing the caramel beverage and masticating gentlely
a burnt slice of animal carcass, a curse ejacualted from Grignr's oral
oriface as a memory slowly rose in his chasmous mind, the cadaver, it was...