A tall skinny man stands from his throne-like seat. He is wearing a lab coat and glasses, his hair unkempt. He walks up to the railing in front of him, looking down to see a horde of angry Hoplashes. He smirks.
“Release the wasps,” the man commands.
Thousands of decaying insects fly through the air, zipping around, with their wings creating a storm of buzzing. Hundreds of sky blue tadpole creatures charge with their spears, a special type of spear with a blade made of their solidified, toxic saliva.
One young tadpole in particular stands amongst the crowd. They look on in horror. They run the opposite direction as the others. Their family. Their friends. Everyone who was charging to their certain doom. Left behind. A coward amongst warriors runs from certain doom.
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Early in the waking period, three creatures decided to get to their daily shenanigans and adventures. Hoplash, a small, energetic, sky blue tadpole frog, went hunting, and killed about 30 snakes in their first waking hour, and about 45 more in their next. Coaliz, a tired dusty gray lizard with a horn protruding from their forehead, and a coal-like growth on the end of their tail, traded a couple of them in exchange for marshmallows, very much to Hoplash’s dismay. And Tortoiseed, the hyperactive, plant loving turtle. Uh, they nuzzled against a tree. Yeah.
After a long, peaceful day of hunting, exploring, and whatever Tortoiseed was doing, evening set in, and the crew settled down for an early dinner. Like every other day, it was salty fried snake, using Coaliz as a stove, and some oil Hoplash bought at the trading center in the village. Oh, and some peppers Tortoiseed grew.
Outside, under a nearby tree, two shady hooded figures sat down, with their backs facing each other. One of the figures, with a protruding green snout and a sharp little tooth poking out, starts the conversation.
“Status report? We’re quite curious about your findings.”
The other person, with a warbled voice and slight glint coming out of their hood, replies: “These bumbling fools wouldn’t hurt a damn fly if it was holding a knife to their throat. Are we sure that we can find anyone capable of fighting in a WAR amongst these little tree huggers?!”