Post by ogre on Oct 21, 2006 16:20:49 GMT -5
((I don't know what you guys's policy is on npc's, so reprimand me if I cross a line. Also, don't get all holier-than thou when you read this. I'm tryin real hard to conform to your style of RP, but it's still kinda weird bein all 'nice' about it. Just try and save the kid, and don't give me any guff ooc. ))
Kroke had been walking all night and most of the day, when he finally made it to a place that he could understand. It was a cypress swamp, with gray mist hanging low over the sluggish water and writhing in between the cypress knees. "Grrrawwp, this I gets." he burbled and he shlumped along the road. Eventually he reached a bridge, and near the bridge was a thatched hut, the dwelling of a swamp rat no doubt. "Kroke hunry, yepyep..." the toad said, and decided if the inhabitants had anything to eat.
The house was inhabited by two souls; a female and a ratbabe. The mother was sewing on a stool in the corner, and the child wasplaying with a bone-doll. "Eh, wot?" said the woman when she saw the dirty toad with a pickax at her door. She stood up and came closer. "What are yeh? A furless mouse?" Kroke glubbered in laughter, and buried the pickax in the side of the wall. "Scram, mammy!" he shouted, and the rat fled with a shriek, forgetting her ratbabe on the floor. The tyke stared at him quizzically, and Kroke chuckled.
Though he came prepared with a fishing pole, he saved that for dire emergencies. His race liked meat, and they liked it fast and easy. When fresh meat could be procured, toads would pounce. that was why it was a stroke of luck that he came across a ratbabe, easy meal.
Kroke whistled a cheerful tune as he tossed logs onto the ellipsical firepit and set it alight with his flint and tinder. "No moves, rattybaby-" he jeered. "Kroke goin tah get fresh waddah, ribbit!". He the heavy cast-iron pot i the corner and went outside, to fillit with water. "Kroke eatin' good tonight!"
Kroke had been walking all night and most of the day, when he finally made it to a place that he could understand. It was a cypress swamp, with gray mist hanging low over the sluggish water and writhing in between the cypress knees. "Grrrawwp, this I gets." he burbled and he shlumped along the road. Eventually he reached a bridge, and near the bridge was a thatched hut, the dwelling of a swamp rat no doubt. "Kroke hunry, yepyep..." the toad said, and decided if the inhabitants had anything to eat.
The house was inhabited by two souls; a female and a ratbabe. The mother was sewing on a stool in the corner, and the child wasplaying with a bone-doll. "Eh, wot?" said the woman when she saw the dirty toad with a pickax at her door. She stood up and came closer. "What are yeh? A furless mouse?" Kroke glubbered in laughter, and buried the pickax in the side of the wall. "Scram, mammy!" he shouted, and the rat fled with a shriek, forgetting her ratbabe on the floor. The tyke stared at him quizzically, and Kroke chuckled.
Though he came prepared with a fishing pole, he saved that for dire emergencies. His race liked meat, and they liked it fast and easy. When fresh meat could be procured, toads would pounce. that was why it was a stroke of luck that he came across a ratbabe, easy meal.
Kroke whistled a cheerful tune as he tossed logs onto the ellipsical firepit and set it alight with his flint and tinder. "No moves, rattybaby-" he jeered. "Kroke goin tah get fresh waddah, ribbit!". He the heavy cast-iron pot i the corner and went outside, to fillit with water. "Kroke eatin' good tonight!"