I do own scyther. In fact, I own a L100 scizor who evolved from a really
great scyther. So I own it. Deal with it.
Blade Warrior
By Farla
I'm a hunter. A killer. It's what I am, what my destiny is.
Could I live peacefully? A foolish question. I am a predator. It is what I, what all of us exist for.
The reason? Simple. Destiny. Every line of my body is drawn as that of a killer. Natural selection, a creator, it doesn't matter, for the result is the same. It is not a matter of mercy or malice. It is not a matter of kindness or cruelty. Not a matter of want or hate or any emotion. Not a choice. It is my destiny, no more, no less.
Bloodlust? Enjoyment? Don't anthropomorphize us. We don't do this because we want to. In a way, we don't really do it because we need to. We kill because we exist to kill. We don't want to kill, we don't not want to kill. Hunt, kill, gain the strength for the next hunt and the next kill. It is simple.
I am a killer. It's what I am and what I do. I feel no remorse, I feel no happiness or joy. I kill because that is my reason for existence. I do not have a choice, nor do I want one.
I am made for killing. I have no hands, my arms merging seamlessly into blades. Even my wings could cut a creature apart. I am made for killing. Bladed hands and wings, fangs to dig into living meat. I eat my prey alive, because I do. My body is green, to hide better within grass to attack.
I am a killer. It is my destiny, and it could never be any other way. Could you see a scyther tending the wounded with our arms of knives? Could you see us holding a child? We are killers. I am a killer. It is what I do. It is the only thing I can or shall do.
I kill.
Blade Warrior
By Farla
I'm a hunter. A killer. It's what I am, what my destiny is.
Could I live peacefully? A foolish question. I am a predator. It is what I, what all of us exist for.
The reason? Simple. Destiny. Every line of my body is drawn as that of a killer. Natural selection, a creator, it doesn't matter, for the result is the same. It is not a matter of mercy or malice. It is not a matter of kindness or cruelty. Not a matter of want or hate or any emotion. Not a choice. It is my destiny, no more, no less.
Bloodlust? Enjoyment? Don't anthropomorphize us. We don't do this because we want to. In a way, we don't really do it because we need to. We kill because we exist to kill. We don't want to kill, we don't not want to kill. Hunt, kill, gain the strength for the next hunt and the next kill. It is simple.
I am a killer. It's what I am and what I do. I feel no remorse, I feel no happiness or joy. I kill because that is my reason for existence. I do not have a choice, nor do I want one.
I am made for killing. I have no hands, my arms merging seamlessly into blades. Even my wings could cut a creature apart. I am made for killing. Bladed hands and wings, fangs to dig into living meat. I eat my prey alive, because I do. My body is green, to hide better within grass to attack.
I am a killer. It is my destiny, and it could never be any other way. Could you see a scyther tending the wounded with our arms of knives? Could you see us holding a child? We are killers. I am a killer. It is what I do. It is the only thing I can or shall do.
I kill.