Smeg
Son of Smeg
The Morgue, The Happyland Funeral Home and Morgue
Oh, how the mighty have fallen.
Of course, such might was actually a case of grandly inflated ego but nonetheless the King of Skraal had been dethroned. From his self-imagined lofty heights of large rat society he had been toppled, whisked off of his throne and into an extra large sack. It was rude, it was heinous, it was a crime against the crown!
Smeg awoke in a cage, his matted back aching from the awkward position in which he lay. His skraal eyes easily adjusted to the darkness and while he could see the large room that he was in he didn't quite understand it. The walls were lined with doors, and there were a couple of repulsor stretchers (or potential new thrones) in the centre of the room but other than that there was nothing else.
He squeaked, extremely loudly as if it might have drawn somebody's attention in the empty room but alas, there was nobody to answer his shrill rat's call.
“DIS IZ AN OUTRAGE! YOU CAN'TZ TREATZ DA KING LIKE DIS!” he shouted, before beginning to gnaw on the bars of the cage with his tenacious jagged teeth.
Unfortunately the metal bars of the cage were fortified and there was no chance in hell that Smeg would have been able to gnaw through them, not without dying of starvation first. So, suffice to say he gave up on that option of escape very quickly.
Speaking of starvation…
It had likely been many hours since the (former) King of Filth had eaten and that was too many hours too late because King Smeg was always eating, his gluttonous always-expanding belly having grown accustomed to constant feeding. It growled and gurgled, as if it was its own entity, demanding junk food in trade of temporary relief.
Again he squeaked, a prolonged and ear-splitting sound that was one part mournful, two parts furious and five parts starving.
---
[member="Sage Bane"]
Oh, how the mighty have fallen.
Of course, such might was actually a case of grandly inflated ego but nonetheless the King of Skraal had been dethroned. From his self-imagined lofty heights of large rat society he had been toppled, whisked off of his throne and into an extra large sack. It was rude, it was heinous, it was a crime against the crown!
Smeg awoke in a cage, his matted back aching from the awkward position in which he lay. His skraal eyes easily adjusted to the darkness and while he could see the large room that he was in he didn't quite understand it. The walls were lined with doors, and there were a couple of repulsor stretchers (or potential new thrones) in the centre of the room but other than that there was nothing else.
He squeaked, extremely loudly as if it might have drawn somebody's attention in the empty room but alas, there was nobody to answer his shrill rat's call.
“DIS IZ AN OUTRAGE! YOU CAN'TZ TREATZ DA KING LIKE DIS!” he shouted, before beginning to gnaw on the bars of the cage with his tenacious jagged teeth.
Unfortunately the metal bars of the cage were fortified and there was no chance in hell that Smeg would have been able to gnaw through them, not without dying of starvation first. So, suffice to say he gave up on that option of escape very quickly.
Speaking of starvation…
It had likely been many hours since the (former) King of Filth had eaten and that was too many hours too late because King Smeg was always eating, his gluttonous always-expanding belly having grown accustomed to constant feeding. It growled and gurgled, as if it was its own entity, demanding junk food in trade of temporary relief.
Again he squeaked, a prolonged and ear-splitting sound that was one part mournful, two parts furious and five parts starving.
---
[member="Sage Bane"]
