The cool night's breeze made tree leaves sing in unison. In a clearing, the grass swirled in mesmerizing patterns and a lone owl flew across it in search for a meal. Rays of dim moonlight creeped through the foliage but were not enough to blot out a myriad stars from the firmament. They formed shapes of beauty indescribable, ones that drunken peasants and busy nobles did not normally appreciate. And all through the forest there was silence-

[b]"SHIT. PISS. BADGER CUNTS. DAMMIT FUCK."[/b]

 Yeah, no, there wasn't silence, alright. A great big skeleton, clad in fur and plate stomped heavily through the clearing, disregarding his surroundings and bashing his massive knuckle dusters together in anger. Well, they were more like massive "studded hexagonal steel slabs of death worn in the hands" than knuckles, but you get the idea. Right after tripping on a rather sizable (and visible) rock, it fell to the ground, and in a fit of even greater, hysterical rage it pummeled the stone until all that remained were pebbles and a fine powder. Having dug a small hole with his fists where the rock once stood, it once again went on its' way, mumbling in a low, incomprehensible tone, the shields strapped on his back clattering audibly as he moved, only allowing a bizarre sound that resembled "landboat" to escape from the overall ruckus and panic this one-monster tavern brawl created. 

 Before he could once again sink into the woods, he noticed a shadowy outline of a rodent approaching and swiftly turned around in a jerky fashion, arms flailing about. As it neared, his anger grew once again, and he realized that what awaited him would surely be a most bothersome experience. After all, the Skeleton knew quite well how much of a pain most incorporeal creatures were, always lamenting their lives being cut short and other such nonsense. The apparition being a "tree rat" as he referred them made the matter even worse. Once the rat had come close enough though, it stopped for a moment, as if to talk, and when it began to do so, the skeleton stood fuming, fingers clenched rigidly in a half-fist. Had it possessed a pair of lungs, he would be breathing heavily in annoyance. The squirrel delivered a surprisingly short bunch of sentences, but more than enough to piss the skeleton off.

  [b]"SHUT UP DAMMIT. FINE. WHO'S THERE? WHERE DO I GO? TALK. JUST GET OFF MY FACE."[/b]