.o~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~o.
<~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ THE EMISSARY OF DEATH ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~>
'o~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~o'
He was no stranger to battle but today he would be pitted against friends and family. He had hoped that one day he would return to Lumbridge as a triumphant hero but instead he was returning as an emissary of death.
Of course, triumphant heroes tend to be few and far between when it comes to sheep, which is why they’re recognized more for growing wool and keeping the grass down than for undermining evil regimes and other such shenanigans. Greg the Ram was no exception so, despite his un-ovine-like daydreaming, his return was not heroic at all. There’s also a strict limit on how heroic one can be after having been gone only 48 minutes.
What about all that "emissary of death" stuff, you ask? We’ll get there, I assure you.
So Greg returned to the field outside Lumbridge, tattered and grubby, and pushed through the squeaky gate.
"Mehhh…" he bleated.
Sorry, I’ll translate.
"Mehhh…" he bleated.
Sheep really don’t vocalize themselves clearly, but the thoughts behind the sparks fizzing around his brain amounted to something like this:
"I’m back from many dangerous battles--most notably dodging palace guards after drinking from the fountains. I have returned from seeking out more succulent grazing grounds, yet the greenest, juiciest sward I found is not for the faint-hearted. Indeed, I'm something of an emissary of death [Author’s note: See, I said we’d get to it.] because this new locale is none other than the Lumbridge graveyard. However, I searched the tombstones exhaustively and could find no trace of buried ruminants. Therefore we should be entirely safe from hauntings, despite the environs possessing a decidedly spooky feel. And trust me, the grass is beautifully fertilised."
~continued~
26-Jun-2008 05:47:40
- Last edited on
09-Jul-2008 00:11:33
by
Dreamweaver
