Geest
Salty marshlands separated the geest from the garret. Recently acquired cataclysmic underwear, worn on the outside of the outergarments, was the soup du canard. His outrigger rigor kept wrapped tight in jerkins and molluscs, this minor member of the current royal house was the second son of disillusioned chicken stalk parents presented no martial threat to outward appearances. Nevertheless, more lied beneath the red leather hoodie than less.
"Weeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee-eeee wenh-enh-enh nhah nhah nhah!" he howled in the direction of Mecha, his 6:17pm Prayer for the Koala Prophet completed, sans ablutions. Briny chilled peat drippings were hardly appropriate to the occasion. Having attained the proper mental state of flaggerghastronomy, His Mid-to-Highness sat down for an MRE and a smoke. "Beans again", he thought, as this tiny miracle of technology, a self-heating pouch of food, played old episodes of Aqua Teen Hunger Force as a distraction for the local sub-intelligent fauna.
A chill suddenly set in; three by three, curious psychedelic purple eyes appeared at the edges of darkness. Third sun was near to kissing the horizon, and he still hadn't activated a light source. The geest was slipping.
One double bubble, then two singles erupted from the surface of Beany Pond in a pouch. Serghio the geest leaned left to press an activator to banish darkness to a perimeter 9 times his height and froze. A low, keening screech began to build, then stammer, then awk from the direction roughly of Mecha.
He slips, falls on his ample buttocks and sharply bruised his testes on a pointy rock as he fumbled to activate the lighting. Once lit, the device pushed back the perimeter of predatory burritos. Burritos with three sets of fangs, three arms, three brains; a thing only Satan could spawn, immediately be horrified and kill with an ax. Serghio could still see outlines of faces, three eyes apiece, shuffling around to get a better purchase on the sharp rocks of the higher ground, to get a better view of a possible meal. Under some circumstances, the artículos de comida will fight over the plastic bag, still smelling of beans if they were still hungry after consuming 340 kilos of human.
Of course, it would take a good sized pride of perhaps a thousand to have any hope of subduing the average 4 and a half meter tall homo. Gargantuan specimens such as he, unmatched in arena and ring, only made the males fight amongst one another, entangling their antlers in great locks and tresses of pubic and ass hair, flinging great gobs of drool in SOS patterns wildly across hill and dale, mountain and meadow.
Moraine Sandur, sandar.