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Posted: Sun Nov 16, 2014 6:46 pm
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Posted: Sat Nov 29, 2014 9:39 am
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Posted: Mon Dec 29, 2014 2:30 pm
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Posted: Mon Dec 29, 2014 2:46 pm
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Posted: Wed Dec 31, 2014 4:18 pm
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Posted: Wed Dec 31, 2014 4:22 pm
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Posted: Wed Dec 31, 2014 4:34 pm
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If he was going to be honest, it was the yelling which first attracted Rotti Itzal, the corpse carrier, to the isolated watering hole. It suited him well. He had a certain fondness for rivers and lakes - while many creatures could survive days without food, a significant lack of water was the harbinger of death. From time to time Rotti helped death along by poisoning such fountain of life with the empty vessels of his conquests. It was almost funny how something devoid of life could take the life's breaths of other with only a little intervention from the sly fox walker and his bloody saddle.
The sounds of screaming and splashing, almost like the death rolls of the local alligators had first attracted him. But as he came closer to the shore, he saw the cause was equine as apposed to reptilian. A kelpi living up to the species' mythology, drowning an unwitting victim. Rotti watched with interest, whoever was the victor would certainly be exhausted by these endeavors. While a mer or kelpi were typically very difficult to hunt in their watery environments, a tired and unwary fish merely had to be dragged up onto the shore. With these thoughts in mind Rotti was disappointed to see the pair break apart, until he realized that the flyer had been trapped in the sand barge - a little ways from shore, but not too far for a competent swimmer like Rotti. The kelpi's resignation to leave the flyer was all the invitation the walker needed. He stalked towards the shore, intent to sate his savage hunger. After all, what fox didn't love a good chicken.
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Posted: Wed Dec 31, 2014 4:46 pm
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Posted: Wed Dec 31, 2014 4:49 pm
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Posted: Wed Dec 31, 2014 4:51 pm
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Posted: Sun Jan 25, 2015 11:55 am
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Posted: Sun Jan 25, 2015 12:04 pm
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Posted: Sun Jan 25, 2015 12:10 pm
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Posted: Sun Jan 25, 2015 12:25 pm
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Against his better judgement, against All forms of judgement, Mal found himself swimming back towards the surface. It wasn't that he was a hero. Hero was a fancy name for an idiot who got himself and oftentimes those around him maimed or killed. So to be clear, Mal was no Hero. However, he did live by a certain type of code. And while that code did allow for a rather wide variety of somewhat questionable activities including robbery, some what less than veiled threats, and the occasional physical persuasive activities if events warranted it - cold blooded murder wasn't part of his creed. Neither was leaving someone to meet a fate worse than death. He'd always said that death was preferable to the fate a walker could inflict upon someone, but he was hoping he might be able to do just a tad more for the arrogant wind stuck in the mud above. Not that he felt any particularly kind feelings in the fella's direction, but he was an older brother and it was his responsibility to set a good example for Zo. Part of that included cleaning up your messes. "Of course this would never have been a mess if that idiot flyer would have just given up the collar," he muttered to himself as he pulled said idiots hooves free from the mud. Just to buy the moron a little more time he flipped a shell at the feet of the walker and made a dive for it. If the flyer was quick to his wings and didn't pull all of his muscles in the earlier struggle, well he had a small chance. That was more than enough for Mal to sleep peacefully that night.
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Posted: Sun Jan 25, 2015 1:34 pm
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