<font:Arial:16>      As an Omphr, one often feels that life can degrade into an unending sequence of inescapable conflicts.  I didn’t care though: it was more fun that way.  Unfortunately, my two recent victories had been over opponents of, shall we say, meagre competence.  I longed for a genuine challenge.
      What I didn’t long for, obviously, was this incomprehensibly sanctimonious whiny-voiced wench.
      “Don’t you boys have something infinitely more worthwhile you should be doing?” she bleated.  “I take it from your absence from all the recent Conclaves that you are unaware of the dangerous rifts in the fabric of Omphr existence which have…”
      “Can it, harlot,” I quipped.  “Don’t bring that kind of chat round here. Damn.”
      “How dare you?” she responded.
      “Dare I…like this!” I said, producing my blade with a flourish.
      “Oh, please.”
      My eyes gleamed as I thought of her passable-but-not-really-worth-the-hassle frame skyrocketing towards atmospheric disengagement at the climax of our tussle.