I wrote this today as a joke, in about fifteen minutes. Totally worth it.
The Adventures of Groknar
One final effortless swing of his enormous sword cleaved the kitten hurtling towards Groknar’s face in two, the air stained with a crimson cloud and purple guts. It fell to the corpse-littered floor with a soft thud, muffled by the mountain of kitten fur and blood and innards at his feet.
“You’ll have to do better than that, Kalizor!” screamed the mighty warrior, his fearsome voice booming back to him a thousand times in the gigantic torchlit stone room.
A tittering laugh echoed around him, simultaneously seeming to come from everywhere and nowhere, along with the sound of heavy stone sliding across stone as the room slowly bloomed into brightness, light spilling from an opening that was growing on the north wall.
“Foul wizard,” Groknar muttered under his breath as he sheathed his sword, beginning to trudge through the thick carpet of thousands of dead kittens that were so recently trying to claw his face off, bones crunching beneath and pricking his bare feet, warm fur and intestines squishing between his toes.
He was well aware that the next room would hold a trap as well, perhaps even more deadly than a thousand angry kittens, but he moved forward unafraid. There were only two things on his mind as he walked towards certain doom: his lover the Queen of Hothmarnia, and sweet revenge against the evil sorcerer who had taken her hostage.