[centre][b]Okarzunkaxoxondrom 
the Glorious and Ever-Victorious[/b][/centre]

Okarzunkaxoxondrom sat in place, unmoving, his limbs curled up beneath him and his multitude of eyes wide open. '[i]Go get a clam Okarz. Go get a lobster Okarz. Go catch a fucking seaweed Okarz.[/i]' The relatively tiny vrool muttered venomously to himself. The rather young vrool was of a generation that knew little of the olden days of freedom (except for the heroic tales told and retold), before the vroolix race was all of it subjugated and brought low beneath the yoke of one enterprising tyrant or another. Gone were the days of liberty, when a vrool was born free and lived free and could carve for himself a territory and call himself king of himself. Now it was [i]go get a salmon, Okarz[/i] and [i]come wipe my beak because I'm an imbecilic sea-slug that should be swiftly and mercilessly exterminated along with all my progeny and whosoever holds an inkling of relation to my mishappen fucking visage, Okarz[/i]. It was a fucking disgrace. 

The great race of vroolix, terrors of the deep, glorious givers of battle, reduced to a grovelling bunch of over-inflated minions and parasites with far too much fat and little muscle. Why, such behemoths had no need to give battle, they merely had to roll over (if they could manage the feat!) and what passed for battle among them was done. Of course, Okarz did not blame the thousand and one vying tyrants for wishing to further their power and influence through the subjugation of others - indeed, it was efficient and intelligent - but in so doing they had destroyed that old world of nobility and glory, the very world that gave these tyrants their nobility and glory, so that now there could no longer be magnificent vroolix. The age of magnificence was at an end, and this was the age of grovelling and humiliation. It was a fucking disgrace, the destruction and abasement of the vroolix race!

And so, Okarz [i]did[/i] blame the tyrants for this despicable state of affairs, just as much as he blamed every vrool that was content to grovel and live in the shade of another. Despised is the master, despised is the slave! - that was Okarz's principle in life, and by the many-tentacled-progenitor-whose-name-may-only-be-whispered, he would die by it. 
'Oi! Okarz.' [i]Ah, a fatuous codbrain deigns to creep into my resplendent presence.[/i] 'Okarz you fucking molluskspleen, stop mumbling to yourself and get the fuck here right now!'
'Of course, glorious Suxuklixuc, I was just keeping an eye out for that salmon you wanted!'
'You useless piece of seaweed excrement!' The bulging Suxuk gurgled, striking Okarz between his sets of eyes, 'stop lazing about and get to work!' Okarz bowed and took the beatings, stroking the bigger vrool's ego with words of praise and submission.
'As you say, oh vast and terrible Suxuklixuc, oh mercy smiter of vroolix in the fray, tearer of limbs, you of the many and endless prize-beaks,' the words seemed to mollify the larger vrool, who gave something akin to a harrumph and left the tiny Okarz alone.

The noble, glorious, and ever-victorious Okarzunkaxoxondrom drew his tendrils beneath himself, glorying in his triumph as his hated foe receded from view. Oh, for the days of old! Oh for the days of the noble and magnificent of the vroolix race - it was among those great ancient ones that such as he belonged, not among the impish mockeries of today! It was a fucking disgrace.

[hider=Summary]The mighty Okarz sits reflecting on the glorious days of old, when vroolix were free and not ruled by tyrants. A principled and noble vrool, Okarz shall bring down the tyrannical order through his brave and courageous rebellion against the status quo.

Note: The term 'vrool' is singular, plural, and refers to the whole group. The term 'vroolix' is, in fact, incorrect.[/hider]