"Hey, Chief! You better get your ass up here, this shit's weird."
"Jesus Christ, the hell do you think they're doing?"
Sandersson was currently witnessing the most bizarre situation of his life. The ramparts of New Rindyar Castle were bristling with quite a few extremely curious Frisians that couldn't quite comprehend the situation that was set before them. Of course, most of these Frisians were likely illiterate, possessing few skills besides those of butchering their fellow men. Even so, there were a few scholars among them, as equally baffled as the dullest peasant present.
"Well chief, it looks as though they're coming right at us."
"Yes...I can see this. I uh...suppose what I meant was...WHY are they coming right at us?"
"Beats me, chief."
One hundred and three peasants of the most dubious quality were sprinting as though the hounds of hell were nipping at their very heels. As they approached, the Frisians atop New Rindyar grimaced; these peasants smelled like absolute SHIT.
"Ugh. I can't even have my damn eggs with this foul stench about. Who're these swine under the command of?"
"I think it's someone named CRAPCONTESTANT, chief."
"I...see. And who would this fellow be representing?"
"I think it's a group named zero party, chief."
"Uh....huh. Well, I don't give much of a rats ass about any of this. All I want is those damned people off of our front lawn. Can't even have a bite of breakfast. I was under the impression that the rumours spreading around about the legendary stench of these southern interlopers was something like a joke. This ain't funny at all, this just stinks. Havelle, could you go get these people off of my property?"
"Yeah, I'm gonna go cut 'em up."
"Appreciate it, friend. Make it quick, I'm about to starve here."