This is a descriptive writing imitation from LLTL Level 5.
The Nome King was in one of his rages again. Over and over again he stormed from one end of his cavern to the other, all the while shouting and cursing incoherently at the rough stone walls that surrounded him. Every now and then he plucked one of the many gemstones that protruded from the walls, and threw it as far as his short arms would allow across the cavern. Repeated incididents of this behavior had left most of the cavern walls that were within his reach bare of the glittering jewels. A line of dull stone thus struck right through the middle of the jewel-studded walls, serving as a testament to the Nome King’s very violent way of coping with his problems. The Nome King seemed to see this patch of ugliness as yet another outrage that warranted his gibbering, cursing, and the throwing of large objects across the room.
About midway through one of his furied charges across the room, the King suddenly skidded to a halt, ceasing his shouting as an altogether more ominous look came into his eyes. His eyes flitted to the large gong he kept in the room, and in a moment he was savagely beating it, sending its deep rumbles throughout the cavernous complex that was his kingdom. For such a person as the Nome King, a tantrum held only so much pleasure without someone to torment.
Within moments, the Chief Steward of the Nomes had arrived in the throne room, sticking only his head through the main door and into the cavern. A fist-sized emerald barely missed striking him in the face, clattering off the wall beside him. Summoning up a bit of courage, the Steward opened his mouth and began to speak formalities.
A ruby struck him in the eye, dropping him straight to the ground. His vision blurred as the Nome King’s ranting filled his ears.
“You’re not here to speak! Bring me the Counselor! I said, bring me my Counselor!”
The Chief Steward had just enough time to scramble to his feet before one of the largest saphires he had ever seen went flying past his ear. Despite a fat body and short legs, the Steward took off down the narrow halls of the caverns at an incredible speed.
A few minutes passed before the Chief Counselor stuck his head through the door. The Nome King was still angry, but in a subdued way—a silent, predatory rage that conveyed more danger than if he were shouting death threats. The Counselor had seen enough rage from his king to make a fair comparison.
The Counselor entered the throne room, bowing low before the glaring monarch. “You have summoned me, my lord?”
The Nome King’s narrow eyes fixed on him.
“I am angry at the moment,” he breathed softly, slowly rotating a melon-sized crystal in his hands.
“Yes, my lord. Are you appropriately enjoying your anger…?”
“Anger is a poor subsitute for godhood, Counselor. While a good rage gives one the feeling of true power, it is ultimately empty. Boring.”
The Counselor’s eyes drifted to huge crystal. Clearly he did not find the King’s rage to be particularly boring.
The Nome King suddenly threw the crystal into a wall and began his ranting anew.
“My Belt is gone, fool! Every so often I wish for it. I remember the feeling of godhood that accompanies it. I remember the impossible things I could accomplish with it girdled around my waist. But now, the power to reshape this universe is out of my reach. This causes a… certain amount of ire on my part. What, my Counselor, would you suggest?”
The Counselor wrung his hands helplessly. “I have little to suggest, my lord. Surely you in your wisdom can find a much preferable answer that whatever I might—”
“What would you suggest, fool!”
The Counselor swallowed. “Well, my only thought would be that, if your rage is tied to your wanting for magic, then, perhaps, it might be prudent to simply… learn to do without magic.”
The Nome King stood quivering for a moment before falling to his knees with a cry of rage. His clawed hands went to his own face, clawing at his bearded cheeks and drawing blood. Cries of pain mingled with bellows of rage as the King rocked back and forth in this manner. Abrubtly his head moved upwards, his eyes fixing on the Counselor, who had been slowly backing away towards the door.
“You are a fool!” the King shouted, still scratching at his own face.
For the first time, a hint of defiance seemed to manifest in the Counselor. “If I am a fool, then at least I am in good company.”
With that, he turned and hurried out of the room, his heart beat echoing just as loud in his ears as the ear-splitting shriek of the Nome King.