Yes: The story itself is 100 words, right on the nose. Firin' up the ol' noggin with a drabble before I fill this section up...


Parched

Thirsty... I need a drink.

Everyone else's sitting on their rears under the shade like it's a damn picnic, and here I am, securing the perimeter while baking under the sun in this accursed armor. Not a cloud in the sky, too...

It's bad enough that those Alistellian bastards have the gall to offer a truce, as if they have the high ground; us accepting it only confirmed that! I can't help but feel that the enemy's taking their sweet time getting here, just to rub salt on the wound. What I'd give to punch their faces in...!

So... thirsty...