Tonight’s kill count: 1.
Scorpion. You tried to run. Surely you know this was folly. You were dead the moment I saw you. You persist in this lunacy. So many have died needlessly. You could come bearing an armistice in your pincers or impaled on the barb of your tail and it would matter not. These are not your lands. They shall never be your lands. I am the stone around which your tide breaks. I am immovable. Continue to smash yourself against my resolve if you will, but expect not other outcome than death by whatever numbers you are foolish enough to bring. Before you set a single chitinous leg on my property, dig yourself a grave. You will soon be occupying it.