The False People

Part 1

The Forest of Norwardlen, a place where Freaklings spawned

"Wake up." a joyful, honeyed voice shouts, as the unexpected flash of white, fries my two eyeballs to death. I cover my head with a pillow, as quick as I can. "Wake up. Wake up. Wake up! WAKE UP!" the voice's volume increasing with intense rage. My ears are literally bursting with irritation as the bang of a bullet, puts me back to sleep.

I awaken again. My body then swooshing off my bed, collapsing onto the ground, as two great, big hunks of flesh release my feet. "Ouch." I murmur, rubbing my back delicately, as if the sheild on my back, permanently sealed into my skin, was bound to shatter at this very moment. My eyes roll, as I hear the typical, croaky chuckle my grandmother fills, in the silence. She's such a horrible morning person. "I do this almost every morning, Dear. And you just refuse to listen to a twitter I tweet." she guilt trips me. And I say as I always do, in my unpleasant, monotoned voice. "Don't worry, Grandmother. If it'll make you feel any better, I'll go outside this morning before our morning meal and kill some Freaklings as training. So that I can become the biggest and baddest elf of all time."

She grins happily, and grabs the tip of my ear. She squeezes with a slight yank, not as hard as she usually does on a morning like this. "Ya daggone right." she whispers, letting go of my ear. "Now go on. Shoo, shoo."
She pushes me off through the large cabin hallway, and I grab my katana and old fashioned helmet and head straight out the door.

The drenched, enchanted rainforest creates a nostalgic feeling, as I inhale the smell of nature, and the beautiful atmosphere. Flowers are about, large rocks hide tiny families, tall trees hold pools of raindrops, their large leaves waiting to unleash the river of rain onto-
I am now soaked in the warm, clear liquid of earth. As I mutter unspeakable words of anger, wiping the specks of mud and insects off of me, I hear the gutteral sound of a growl. The Freaklings have been spawned, time to whip out the throat cutter, I smirk. I take a step.

And, SLASH!, the sound my katana makes as it slices through the smuggler's, filthy, vomit stained neck. One down, twenty-nine more to go. "I better be quick if I want to make it in time to have my morning meal." my mind shouts with impatience. I scrape off the immediately rusting blood from my sword. "Come at me!" I howl, my words echoing through the suspicious, noiseless forest.

Sounds urupt, I turn the other way, towards my home. The horde has returned. And they're trying to mess with my head.