Muahaha, just an evil little one-shot about Rook dying. He's got ta Verginix blood so you know he'll meet a horrible ending, in this case as... Well, you'll have to see. This story's neither very long nor very good but I hope you enjoy it. At least a little bit. Enough to leave a review.

"I killed Rook Barkwater…" the words escaped my lips in a whisper, barely daring to believe what had just happened. How had I gone from friend to murderer in just a few hours? I couldn't even look at the poor dead body. What would all the Freegladers think of me? More importantly, what would they do when they found out that I, Gregory, had killed Rook Barkwater, Captain of the Freeglade Lancers.

"Dead…" I tried the word again, this time glancing over at the corpse. He was pale as chalk, lying on his face, blood pooling under his head. I couldn't see the injury from my seat, thank Sky, but I knew it was horrendous. I heaved a great sigh and put my head back where it belonged, in my hands.

It had all started earlier this morning when I was on an early morning reconnaissance mission for the sky pirates. This small yet important group of Freeglade defenders took their duty very seriously. We sent out such patrols every hour all day long, and they had prevented many a disastrous attack on the Freeglades. Anyway, I was galloping over the Deepwoods on a prowlgrim, just minding my own business but keeping a lookout for enemies when from behind me came this terrible loud noise. A carnivorous fromp? An uber-giant halitoad, perhaps?

As the thing drew clower I hid behind a tree. It was a terrifying apparition, astride a black prowlgrim, wearing coal-black armor with only the tiniest visor slit. The unsheated sword glinted in the early morning sunlight. At this point, any rational person would have run away for help, but I have always prided myself on my clear thinking. Why not finish this monstrosity off once and for all? I had wondered.

It galloped closer and closer, and I drew my arm back, preparing to strike. As it galloped past, I swung the heavy pirate club and smashed it in the face. With a muffled moan it slid off the still-running prowlgrim and landed face-down on the ground with a sickening thud. I hopped off the branch, eager to uncover the face of this threat to the Freeglades.

When I yanked the helmet off, the first thing I saw was a head of curly, messy hair, and then I knew… only one person in the Freeglades had that hair. I saw the insignia of the Freeglade Lancers carefully engraved on the black armour, I heard the urgent snorts of the black prowlgrin as it pawed its dead master… and then I looked up and saw the quintain the Lancer had been galloping at before I took his future into my own hands. Rook Barkwater. Dead.

And now I sit on the cold ground under the rising sun and wait. I can hear the voices of the searchers approaching, and their crashing feet. They'll be here soon and then it'll be over. One look at Rook's body, one look at my hideous face, and the whole experiment will have failed. Never, ever again will the Freegladers let a kind and earnest gloamglozer enter their sanctuary.

Get it? The gloamglozer tried to be a goodie. But as they say in the Discworld, a leopard can't change its shorts. The curse of the gloamglozer works both ways; not only are Verginixes destined to die at the hands of the gloamglozers but all gloamglozers are destined to kill Verginixes, even if they want to be nice like Gregory Gloamy in the story. Little bundle of cheers, right? Anyhoo, I hope you like it.

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