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Gold and Glory [Closed]



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Mon Feb 16, 2015 10:32 pm
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Dreamery says...



Gold and Glory

For a time, the Kingdom of Cyron existed in a state of peace beneath the benevolent rule of King Maton Taendes II. During his reign, he ushered in an Age of Prosperity, Provinces becoming more affluent than they had ever been. Universities were erected, and trade and culture flourished. Religious tolerance became prominent, and many regions were becoming more accepting. Peace graced the people in this Era.

This was merely tentative, however, as in the Year Forty of the Era of Man, King Maton Taendes II was executed by a rebellious commoner that had placed himself amongst the servants. Although this revolutionary was expeditiously subdued and imprisoned, his uprising suppressed, the Council yet still had to scramble to fill the position. His son, Ander Taendes I, was the sole viable option, being the only living male kin of his father. Of course, he was inexperienced, being only of teenage years.

Soon, the realm descended into a state of anarchy, dubbed the Age of Wrath. Factions vied for control of the kingdom, whether once-loyal noble Houses or other syndicates. Bandit activity began to increase. Trade decreased as tensions heightened amongst the Provinces of the realm. The constructs of the Age of Prosperity began to burn to the ground, as edifices of fragmented power were raised.

Though, this tale is not of nobles or of the commoners. Rather, it is of mercenaries and treasure hunters.


Premise:

In the Kingdom of Cyron, plagued by the ides of anarchy, the economy of the realm deteriorates as the state of law does. Thusly, many must search for other methods of employment. Some attempt to maintain their businesses. Others sell themselves, whether their services, or otherwise. The most adept, however, undertake contracts of murder and treasure...

In the wake of King Maton Taendes' abdication, rumors arise of a mastermind plotting a voyage across the realm, securing treasures of the past and undertaking any contracts that they happen to encounter along their journey in the hopes of creating a treasury of funds to dwell comfortably upon. Your character, whether treasure hunter or assassin, has heard these rumors, and has endeavored to discover the truth of the matter...


Notable and Vital Concepts:

Spoiler! :
Locations:

  • Kingdom of Cyron: A Kingdom that encompasses an entire continent, spanning across multiple biomes and climates. Although being home to many Races, the Race of Man possesses dominance here.

Figures:

Events:

Other:

To be updated...!



The Band:

Zero positions vacant - no bargaining!

  • Dyran Oean (My character)
  • Morn Krysander (@15253's character)
  • Reserved by @QueenAnne
  • Vrolik Gedra (@TyrantOfWar's character)
  • Saélihn Irithyl (@LittleSister's character)
  • Athena Morre (@ForgottenMemories' character)


Character Information:

Code: Select all
[b]Name[/b] - [i]Primary Specialty[/i] (Swordsman, Mage, Bowman, or anything!)
[b]Age:[/b]
[b]Backstory:[/b]
[b]Skills:[/b]
[b]Weaknesses:[/b]
[b]Other:[/b]





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Wed Feb 18, 2015 10:43 pm
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TyrantOfWar says...



Chapter I: The Welcome
Vrolik Gedra – Base of the mountain


The unmistakable clanking sound of armour could be heard as Vrolik suddenly emerged from out of the undergrowth followed by two hellhounds emerging soon after, hot at his heels, the flames that enshrouded their paws burning into the ground, leaving noticeable tracks. His demonic blood had kept him going for this long however hellhounds were fast, exceptionally so. Sword in hand, Vrolik noticed his opportunity; a large ditch, needing a running start to be able to jump across. Unfortunately, the hellhounds were ever so close; he’d only get one shot at this. Clearing the ditch, he suddenly stopped and turned on his heels while swinging his sword in a horizontal manner, using the momentum to add to the power behind it, catching the closest hellhound directly across the centre of its body, splitting it cleanly in half, both pieces flying away behind him. The second hellhound, having not jumped across, merely bared its teeth before running off, evidently not wishing to join the others that had chased after him.

Damn Demons, Vrolik thought as he looked around, hoping he hadn’t lost his bearings. Thankfully, the cloud of smoke was not hard to miss. However, maybe it was not the best idea to continue. Hellhounds acted as scouts and, even now, more may be on their way; yet the camp did provide refuge. Having decided it was worth the risk, he continued to head towards the source of the smoke, keeping his sword unsheathed just in case more dangers were in store for him. The hellhounds hadn't forced Vrolik off too much and within a few moments, found himself at the base of the mountain, looking at a stone path, mostly obscured due to the dirt. Curiosity had got him this far, he wasn't about to stop now.

Setting off at speed, the dirt and rocks crunching beneath his armoured boots, he continued to ascend to the camp, not bothering to take in the scenery. Suddenly though, he keeled over, red electricity crackling and coursing around his arms, as if reacting to something. A being of celestial energy was headed this way, to the mountain camp. Grimacing slightly and getting to his feet, he continued to march on, having come too far to just stop, the only sound being the clinking of his armour, every step taking him closer to his destination until the light of the fire came into view.
I want to see you choke on your lies,
Swallow up your greed,
Suffer all alone in your misery.


My Life Story:
Lies Greed Misery
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9Dq9q6afIP8





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Wed Feb 18, 2015 10:50 pm
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Dreamery says...



Chapter I: The Welcome

Dyran Oaen - Mountain Camp


The flames must have been visible from across the town. The sparks leapt into the air, landing and dissipating some length from the tinder. Night sky and ground alike were bathed in a red glow, complemented nicely by a comforting warmth. The flicker of the campfire--bearing much more similarity to a signal fire than anything else--threw Dyran's distorted shadow against the face of the cliff that stood behind him.

Opposite it, there lay a sheer drop from the ridge upon which he sat. Although posing quite the threat of plummeting in a groggy daze, it provided him a wonderful view over the forest and the town that had been constructed beyond. From that vantage point, he was able to observe any incoming threat or, with any bout of fortune, a potential prospect for his band.

He'd realized that his intentions had been placed at quite a height, intending upon assembling a syndicate of the highest-quality rabble of Cyron. Then, he'd wished for cooperation on a perilous journey to collect archaic treasures and contracts.

One could quite simply consider him to be an optimist. Though, he'd considered himself to be a "positive realist."

His optimistic disposition was rather accurate, considering that he'd already received a candidate that night, a mere two hours following the creation of the signal fire. From a distance, she appeared to be human--she was certainly humanoid. Upon more scrutinized inspection, however, he believed otherwise. She was much taller than any Man, and a great deal more graceful in her bounds than the most adept of rogues, such as Dyran. He was intrigued by her, to say the least. Though, his advances to spark conversation were thwarted by her reserved nature.

The night had begun with her adjacent to the fire, but she'd relocated herself toward the cliff, much to Dyran's dismay. Regardless, he continued his culinary endeavor into preparing a meal--a stew of vegetables and whatever meat could be located, complemented nicely by bread. Silence had descended upon them as they sat, becoming rather unnerving for Dyran. Fortunately, for whatever reason, she rose to her feet and began to descend, bounding into the forest. He could no longer be discomforted by her silent presence.

Some time had passed preceding the possible arrival of another. Unlike the previous, this vagabond's entrance was considerably more extravagant. The noise that the chase amongst him and his hound pursuers was audible from the ridge, bounding over brush and thicket without a care for stealth or silence. Dyran observed with disdain at the recklessness of this one, taking notice of the gorge that the fleeing individual was quickly approaching.

Surely, gravity will make short work of him! thought the spectator. To his surprise, however, the rogue leapt over the crevice, slashing through one of the canine beasts entirely! Whether due to fear or acceptance of its inability to face such an opponent, the other hound retreated. Needless to say, Dyran was struck with awe. Despite the clambering movements, this warrior was certainly adept, and would be an able addition to the band.

Perhaps his postive realism would be much more accurate than he'd previously anticipated.





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Wed Feb 18, 2015 10:58 pm
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StupidSoup says...



Chapter One: The Welcome

Morn Krysander- Uncharted Mountain Range



Mountains tended to be very cold. Morn had learned that over the past few days. Now, with a blizzard on his heels, Morn expected it to get a lot colder, even though he didn't think it was possible for it to do so.

He trudged through the thick blanket of snow and ice on a false peak, headed towards that light in the distance. He knew it could very well be a camp of mercenaries or bandits but at this point, Morn would do anything to sit next to a fire. As he walked, Morn had time to think, of course he had been walking for several days but hadn't really focused on his thoughts until now.

He had been led here by a friend, James, the helpful bartender. James had helped him clear out the Tavern when a group of thugs had barged in. After the fight, he had told Morn that things were getting worse and worse on the main roads. Without the king, marauders were roaming free, attacking innocents randomly. James had directed him to take the roads less traveled, in this case it was an old dirt path that led through the mountains and eventually came to a simple border town, Nallua. There, Morn would stock up on arrows, seeing he was almost out, and maybe buy some new knives.

Now, the storm was upon him. Wind blasted him from all directions and shards of ice clanged of his armor. Desperate, Morn searched wildly for a cave or over hang of some kind yet the plateau was flat as the top of an anvil. A numbness slowly encompassed his fingers, then his hands as the blizzard persisted. Frostbite. Frantic now, Morn reached inside himself and drew out a spark of light from his demon. The air was suddenly a bit warmer, and the flying ice began to melt as it hit Morn. Scrambling over the snow, he dashed over to the nearest tree and walked up the trunk, a reddish light emanating from his boots. He slipped behind the tree and onto the first branch. There, were the wind could not reach, Morn sat, shivering as the sun slipped below the horizon.

It was going to be a long night.
Last edited by StupidSoup on Sun Feb 22, 2015 5:47 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Thu Feb 19, 2015 2:05 am
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Editor says...



Chapter I: The Welcome

Saélihn Irithyl - Forest Below the Mountain


Saélihn swiftly darted through the forest, gracefully leaping over each large, thick tree root that crossed her path, stalking her prey. The creature she was hunting was an especially large and fat rat-like rodent with a ruby for an eye. There was a rumour in a nearby village that it's lair was filled with other treasures as well, and so Saélihn was waiting for it to retreat to it's home so that she could follow. Soon enough, it made a sharp turn into an underground cave and Saélihn darted behind it, bow in hand. She nocked the arrow, drew it, aimed and released. The arrow hit the ruby eye, knocking the ruby out of the socket and ripping straight through to the other eye socket in just a few seconds. Saélihn picked up the ruby. One treasure among the millions of treasure piled behind the giant rat.

Saélhin opened the numerous pouches strapped to her arms, legs, and waist and piled the treasures into them. She would have to come back later to collect more. Before she left, she wrapped her fingers tightly around the tail of the rat and began to drag it. Should she be attacked, she could easily drop the rat and defend herself. She made her way back to the camp.

Saélihn dropped off the dead rat in a storage crate and went to sit by the fire once again. Everyone in the group sitting near the fire tensed up and began really engaged conversations with each other, as if they were too busy to talk with Saélihn. However, one man was looking at her as is he had something to say.
"The rat," he spoke, gesturing to the crate.

"What about the rat?"

"Care to explain its presence in this camp?"

"It's a very valuable rat."

He nodded, collecting a handful of pebbles. "Of course. As are these rocks."

"The cave that it claimed as it's home is full of treasures," she explained. "And it, no doubt, has tried to eat many different treasures."

He raised his eyebrow, as if he needed further explanation.

"If something is to big or too heavy, it can't go out the other end too easily," she muttered. "It will keep us fed for days if we ever happen to run out of food, as well."

The man continued to stir the contents of the pot above the fire, "I needn't an Elf to explain the digestive processes to me." He paused. "Though, this rat of yours could be a valuable asset."

"As I had said earlier."

The silence that had descended amongst the two was shattered by another attempt at conversation from the man. "'Dyran', by the way."

"Saélihn. Saélihn Irithyl is my name."

"Do you happen to possess a name in the Common Tongue?"

"No, I do not. Or at least, I have never been taught my name in your language."

"Ah..." His face contorted into one of seemingly pensive thought for a moment. "I will refer to you as 'Sae', if you wouldn't mind. For the sake of brevity, and all."

"I am fine with that."

Although Saélihn was yearning for more conversation, the silence set upon the two once again.
ï' ø вøɾε





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Fri Feb 20, 2015 1:26 am
Amnesia says...



Chapter I: The Welcome


Athena Gordram- Trees halfway up the mountain


Athena walked up the base of the mountain, Cassidy was silent for once. Athena was enjoying the silence. The Angleic form of herself hadnt shut up for the past few hours since the fire at the top of the mountain had gone up. Athena was determined to go up and check it out, Cassidy on the other hand was being very vocal about how it was a bad Idea and did Athena ever stop and think that this fire could be a trap devised by Demons to capture Angels....Yea Athena hated the fact that Cassidy had been on earth for hundreds of years and had experiances with Demons (not that Athena even cared since she was born human and became Angelic only because Cassidy decided to latch onto her as an infant). It irritated Athena more than anything to have Cassidy constantly reminding her that she was no longer human. Though sometimes when Athena blantantly went against Cassidy's directions Cassidy decided the silent treatment was sufficiant punishment.

Athena walked a bit farther up the mountain and into the forest. Being used to Cassidy's chatter all the time also made the silent treatment unsettling for Athena especially being in the forest on a mountain by herself.
"Cassidy? Cass can you please talk to me?" Athena asked.
"What do you want me to say Athena? You're basically taking a chance. Risking both our lives just to satisfy your curiousity!" Cassidy said angrily.

Athena stayed silent, her Angel was mad at her and it was safer to not say anything than risk Cassidy taking over her body and destroying something in a blind rage again. Shifting her pack again Athena treaked farther into the forest.
"Athena?" Cassidy asked a while later
Athena debated on replying to Cassidy, ultimately decided to not act like a toddler she responded "Yea Cass?"
"Look, I get mad when you do things like this because you're risking the chance of getting killed. You're an Angel, like it or not. I have to not only protect myself but you as well, but my power can only do so much." Cassidy explained as they neared the fire.

Athena paused for a moment, just outside the camp area that she had finally gotten to.
"Cass, can you sense for Demons?" she asked
Cassidy stayed quiet for a moment "Yes, there's two that are here but I dont think they'll attack, be careful though Athena"
Athena nodded and stepped into the camp area.
I want a Harry Potter reboot with Benedict Cumberbatch as all the characters~~Mem
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Sat Feb 21, 2015 1:41 am
TheCrimsonLady says...



Chapter One- The Welcome

Lairheann Rielsiehe- Dunraven Treasury



Stupid bakeshop lady, she thought. If she hadn’t gone on about the stupidity of the Red Lady, I wouldn’t be here. Laire fiddled nervously with her tightly cut dress and took a deep breath.

“Come on, Laire. You’ve done this before. How hard can it be, to steal the…” She groaned as her voice stopped working. “By the Triad, it’s only a few guards! What’re you so scared of?” The pep talk seemed to be working. Squaring her shoulders, she marched forward, towards the town square. The only sign of her nervousness was her hands, twisting at the deep red gloves she wore.

As she neared the treasury, however, her nervousness ceased as her blood sang with the thrill of deceiving an entire town. Just as she neared the door, she screamed, high and long. Three guards rushed out the door in perfect uniforms and looking completely ready. Their well-kept weapons gleamed. Damn. Not quite so easy, then. Of course, it would be stupid for any town to leave such a precious magical artifact guarded by lazy soldiers… but one could always hope, couldn’t they?

Coming back to the present, Laire pressed a hand to her collarbone, and said, “Oh, my, there’s a wicked man chasing me. Please, won’t you protect me from him?” She fluttered her eyelashes at them and swayed on her feet for good measure. The soldiers, looking eager to help a damsel in distress, looked around behind her.

“There’s no one there, miss. Perhaps he fell along the way. Shall I go look?” He made as if to start down the road. Now, that won’t work. What’ll happen when he finds no man? So she did the only thing she could do. Laire swayed again, but this time let herself swoon directly into the arms of one of her ‘saviours’. Thankfully, he caught her, and they started muttering amongst themselves. Finally, she was set down on a bench, and some water was sprinkled on her face. Her eyes flew open, and with a gasp, she sat up. The first guard looked down at her with a kindly smile on his face.

“Are you alright, miss? Shall I fetch someone?” Smiling weakly, Laire refused their offers of help and said that she could get home alright. Although they looked skeptical, they let her go, going back into the guardhouse. After she was far enough away, Laire stepped off the road and into the thick undergrowth. Stripping off the red dress and gloves, she found the bag she had stashed there. After redressing in black blouse and breeches, she slipped the red mask on and tied her hair back with a ribbon.

Instead of taking the front entrance, she slipped around the back and found a group of guards chatting idly. Blood of the Queen, is there no way to get into this…. hovel? The only way to get in would be to distract the guards. But how? Laire was growing impatient. She had to be at the fire soon, and two or three figures were already sitting by it. The night would soon be over, and then her chance to prove that she was not stupid would be gone. Finally, she decided that the only way to get in would be to walk straight in.

Well, I haven’t died yet. Checking the knot on her mask, she stepped out from behind the trees. None of the guards noticed her, and she quickly darted into the next shadow, blending in with the shadows. So that’s it. The less experienced guards were at the back. It was bad strategy, but helpful for her. Laire observed one of the men taking a long drink from a bottle and smiled. Drinking on the job… thanks, I suppose.

She darted to the door and pressed herself into a corner, hoping she couldn’t be seen. A few guards looked up, and one of them lumbered over. Halfway there, he tripped and fell flat on his face and didn’t move. His fellow companions roared in laughter and went back to their game, ignoring him. She worked a thin wire out from her boot, moving as little as possible, and worked on the locks until she heard a soft click. Pushing the door open, she slipped inside and… came face to face with the guard that had been out front earlier.

Laire gulped. Please don’t run me through. A mad thought came to her head. This soldier had shown concern, after all. Perhaps she could just…

“Oh, I’m so sorry!” Ripping off the mask with one hand, she burst into very convincing tears. The guard still stared at her warily. “Sir, I swear, I had to do this. My mother is so sick, and my father is gone! This was our only chance!” Falling to her knees, she bent forward and clutched the edge of the soldier’s boot, wondering if she was going too far. When she risked a quick glance up, the guard’s face had softened somewhat.

“Well, you’ll have to be imprisoned. I hope you understand why I can’t let you off.” Laire sighed. The act was working, but it hadn’t gotten her what she’d wanted. Slowly, she drew herself up to her full height- not very tall- and met the guard’s eyes.

In a dangerous tone, she started. “I think you will let me off. After all, if you’re not alive, how could you possibly imprison me?” His eyes grew wide at the sudden change, and he started to draw his sword. Laire used the moments he was distracted to dart around him and run towards the vault where they should have been keeping the staff. Behind her, the guard was bellowing orders for his men to cut her off, but she knew that if she ran only a bit faster, she could get there with time to pick the locks and get the staff. Getting out would be harder, of course, but she had to try. The corridors branched out, and with a quick look on either side, Laire decided that going straight was her best bet.

When she finally came upon the vault, she nearly missed it. It was a small door tucked into a corner that had no signs or markings on it. She slid a thin, needle-like dagger into the slit. After a few seconds, Laire convinced it to open. She shut and locked the door behind her; at least she would see the soldiers coming. There was only one staff inside the room. Beside the heaps of precious stones and metal, the staff’s dark wood gleamed in the dull light of the torches. On each end, a small blue stone was set into the wood. Laire gripped it, feeling the aura of magic the object had.

Am I really holding a staff that can call down storms? A yell from the corridor startled Laire out of her thoughts, and when she heard a key being inserted into the lock, she knew she had to get out. But how? Grasping the door, Laire pulled it open. The dozen men outside stumbled against each other as it moved. Laire directed as much chaos magic as she could at them- which wasn’t much, but it served to prolong their confusion for a few more moments. She darted straight through them, seeing no other way out. The tip of a sword sliced into her side, and she winced, but kept moving. Another blade cut into her shoulder. Ducking a dagger thrown at her head with deadly accuracy, she fled.

Of course, the guards gave chase, even after she was out of the building. She crashed through the undergrowth off the road and swore at the many cuts she was receiving. At one point, she went tumbling down a small slope and ended by knocking her head against a sharp stone. When she put her hand to her hair, she felt blood.

It doesn’t matter. If those guards catch you, they will gut you like a fish. Get up and run! So Laire got up. Her ankles were twisted multiple times on loose rocks, and she ran into a tree- and then she was out. The road stretched before her, but she could still hear sounds of pursuit. She looked for the signal fire, and seeing it in front of her, took off. As she ran up the slope, her twisted and abused ankles protested, and when she stumbled, a dagger caught her in the back. It didn’t lodge in the wound, so it probably wasn’t too deep, but Laire could feel the blood running down her skin. The world seemed to spin, and the sounds of pursuit died away. When she looked back, only one remained, doggedly pursuing her. She kept running- at least she could expect some sort of help when she got to the fire. The wind bit at her cheeks and caused her eyes to water as she ran. Everything seemed blurry, but Laire refused to faint. Fainting meant death. She finally came to the base of a steep cliff face, and began climbing. Her left shoulder screamed at the effort- she must have hurt it in her tumble down that hill- but it didn’t seem serious.

Halfway to the fire, Laire heard a dull thump. Looking down, she saw the guard’s body lying prone on the ground. He must have fallen. Relieved, Laire climbed the rest of the way, the world blinking in and out of existence. She knew that she must be staggering, but she had to get to that fire. She just…. quite…. couldn’t…. remember…. why. When she got close enough to see the two figures, they stood. One of them took a step towards her, but Laire had made it. As the world faded to darkness and the ground rushed up to meet her face, Laire smiled, a sudden burst of clarity upon her.

She had done it. She had stolen the Lightning Staff.
Let the blood pour down in rivers as the world burns.





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Thu Mar 12, 2015 12:08 am
StupidSoup says...



Morn
Uncharted Mountain Range


Dawns light found Morn barely conscious, clinging to a frozen tree branch.

As the last winds of the storm passed, Morn half clambered half fell off the limb and into the cold embrace of the snow below. He jumped up somewhat comically and looked towards the horizon where the camp fire of hope was stationed. To his surprise and immediate despair, there was no longer a flame but a barren brown hill. Crushed, Morn slowly stumbled down the mountain towards the light of the rising sun.

Morning found Morn mounting the hill. Finally arriving at the campfire provided some sense of relief even though no one was there. It signified a checkpoint reached in his chase. Fingering the still-warm coals, Morn searched about the camp, his tracking skills, though slight, coming into play. A slight crisscrossing of footprints indicated the arrivals of some members and, after some time uncomfortably close to the ground, Morn found an exiting mess of footprints pointing north across the barren foothills.

While he walked, Morn's thoughts inevitably turned to Harl. The old man lingered in his subconscious, a ghost of the past. He had been a like a father to Morn, being the only one to take him in after he had been found in the Grove of Summoning, Harl taught Morn the ways of humans, how they thought, how they talked, their emotions. Morn had absorbed this knowledge like a sponge yet he never felt as if he belonged, he had grown up alone with Harl and only once the old man died was he forced into public.

The villagers had driven him out, blaming Harl's demise on him. Morn had spent the next few days wandering about the wilderness, catching food and sleeping under trees until he came to the next town, a larger village that went by the name of Rillir. Morn had slipped into the crowded community without confrontation but soon had to interact with the village inhabitants. Though he was able to get by, Morn had the feeling that the townsfolk were unnerved by his way of speech.

Morn had stayed in this village for the next ten or so years. That was until King Maton Taendes was executed. Then, the town was raided, and though Morn had fought with the townspeople, they had little hope and were driven out quickly. Ever since, Morn had been wandering city to city, town to town, sometimes working, sometimes passing, until he had seen the signs. A certain someone by the name of Dyran Oaen had requested a team of six to meet just outside of town. Morn, being eager to work again, had decided to join.

Sadly, this began to seem like a less and less viable option. Although he liked the outdoors, he was certain he could not survive another storm.
I have a license that lets me solve aids - A friend of mine


Here Comes the Birdyyyy ~Poopsie


You gotta have the confidence of a gazelle running through a herd of lions - TK Sharp


I was once Numbers

Now I am Soup








Wise men talk because they have something to say; fools, because they have to say something.
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