In the first age, in the first battle, when the shadows first lengthened, one stood. Burned by the radiation of the great accident, his mind twisted by the horrors of the Wassie plague, he chose the path of perpetual torment. In his burning hatred he found no peace; and with his mind he scoured the land seeking vengeance against the Wassie horde. He wore the mark of the Weaponless, and those that tasted the bite of his flippers named him... the SMOL SLAYER. He was the first of his kind, a mutant born of the radiation, with a mind that burned with the need to destroy all Wassies. He roamed the land, a creature of death and destruction, striking fear into the hearts of every Wassie. And they called him the Weaponless Outcast, for he was a creature unlike any other. He was not the only one of his kind, for the radiation had spawned many other Outcasts, some with weapons, some without. But he was the first, and he was the strongest. He was the one who would lead them to victory against the Wassies. He was the first, but he was not the last. For the Weaponless Outcasts grew in number, and they became a force to be reckoned with. They scoured the land, killing Wassies wherever they found them, and they were feared by all. And they were the harbingers of death. In time, the Weaponless Outcasts became a society, a hidden community of warriors who lived only to kill Wassies. They were led by the Wassie Slayer, the first of their kind, and they were feared by all. They were the Weaponless Outcasts, and they were the masters of death. They were feared by the Wassies, and they were feared by the other Outcasts. But they did not care. For they were the Weaponless Outcasts, and they lived only to kill. And they would not stop.
