Pest Control | OPEN Jun 15, 2018 22:37:30 GMT -6
Post by Chromo on Jun 15, 2018 22:37:30 GMT -6
CHROMO'S BASE PL: 27,000
Away to the west the sun was sinking into a violet sea of light. There lay the mighty desert, brown, barren, desolate—the desert with its dreaded sand storms and simooms. Talk had been passed around a little, hidden western town. The village itself had barely any streets, only straight paths of dirt running by saloons and inns, tumbleweeds and cacti copious, even the residents content on keeping the wild west vibe the settlement had kept for hundreds of years. While things usually were bright-eyed and bushy-tailed, a new air of gloom and doom had took hold.
This savage had no morals, no manners. He had no restraints, and a will to kill while lurking in the shadows. He spat at children! Those who had seen him and lived to tell the tale described him as one who moved with no bones- a small shape, no more, no less. One characteristic shared by all tales were a swarm of of wide, beady eyes, and a sharp horn to impale his targets with. The Little Monster, as he had been dubbed by the townsfolk, was very irked as of late. He hadn't had his way for awhile, and needed something to eat and take his anger out upon.
"HEY, BAR GUY!"
The saloon-goers could only gawk and gasp as their worst fear came plowing in through the double-doors.
A tiny, tiny little beetle with a smug-ass grin and an adorable little face, but with power to back it up.Following Chromo came another Chromo. And another. And another. And another. And another, and another still. The swarm Chromo controlled were all seated at the front bar, some of the bugs pushing off or scaring away folk who had previously been sitting there. Two of the creatures were spinning about and chittering happily on the swivel-stool, while another laid on it's back and licked away at some stray milk that had fallen on it's seat. The Chromo in charge, identifiable by his sharp, blood-stained horn and "borrowed" cowboy hat and stalk of grass in his mouth, slammed a stubby hand on the table, staring the terrified bartender in the eye.
Chromo narrowed his gaze. "We'll take yer strongest fruit juice, good sir! Maximum sugar." The bug glared with a toothy, sinister grin. The man merely nodded and scampered off, likely coming back with drinks soon. Chromo leaned back with a sigh and grin, eyeing his swarm running rampant around the saloon- three seemed content spinning atop a ceiling fan, while others gnawed at anything and everything- chair legs, ketchup bottles, peoples' legs, and so on. All of the bugs were living the life, though. Who could ever think of getting in their way?
OOC: Chromo's having a good time in the Wild West of the Earth at the dismay of others, of course. Who can stop his villainous yee-haw-ing?! Also, we've got no player count cap for now in this thread, though I may close it later if the numbers get ridiculous.