Tonight’s kill count: 2.
RAGE! RAAAAAAAAAAAGE FROM THE HEAVENS! Fire and death and blood! Poison and ruin and hate! You cannot escape it. You cannot hide. I continue my hunt, and my soul burns with seething contempt. Would that my gaze could set you alight. Would that my anger burn your insides like acid. Would that I could manifest my will, and turn this world to endless fire that consumes you in the flames of my wrath. I would make this planet a cinder simply to eradicate every last one of your number. I would leave a kingdom of bitter ashes in my wake. Come, feast at the banquet of misery. Drink deeply from the cup of lamentations, and eat your fill of regret.
Tonight’s kill count: 30+
Imagine my surprise, scorpion, when I saw you daintily poised upon my wall, glowing a radioactive green under blacklight. Something was strange about you. Your back shimmered and undulated in an alien fashion. Children. Dozens upon dozens of your hideous children. A vile raiment of future horrors to poison my home.
You brought your children to this place. To the killing fields. Some three feet beneath you lay the shattered corpses of at least two of your brethren, yet you saw fit to bring your foul get here. You doomed them and yourself. Did it shock you when the poison came? A stinking, burning cloud that set the vile fruit of your loins dropping like rotten fruit from the vine. Your progeny fell like wheat before the scythe. You tried to run, perhaps at last realizing your folly, never knowing you were already dead.
There are none left to weep for you. You brought this on yourself. Your line is at an end by virtue of your thoughtless action. For myself, the harvester, I shall sleep the sleep of the righteous. Victory, you spindle legged weakling. Victory over two generations. I have severed your line from the loom of fate. I pick at the string and it unravels. You are undone.