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About Dqnn

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    Tree Puncher

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    Running from the law

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  1. “The slaughter of fools indeed!” yells Connor Brawm, disappointed he didn’t get to join his brothers in battle.
  2. Connor of Houndsen sings a song about the Orenian forces
  3. Eh, sure, woi nae.
  4. tfw when you get mad because someone laughed at your generic pretend play mineman group characters because YOU DISRESPEKT MUH IDENTIFY FEELINZ REEEEEEEEEEEE reminds me of a certain type of people
  5. hmmm... look at this specimen... base on my CALCURUS et look like only one ting! AH LUUUUUUSERRRR! u kno man. i am asian an i am vewwy rich youlo. meanwhile most money u ever spend is on your gold VIP.
  6. please no bully 😞
  7. My dude why so A N G R Y
  8. I guess MC math is a lot simpler than Maths in college... oh wait you dropped out to main LOTC
  9. https://imgur.com/HmV2tZf
  10. how many egirls/eboys have you erped with
  11. That’s pretty much the ******* point of the new conflict blacklists.
  12. “imagine being a group who claim to hates and hunt elves yet you get dogged by elf raiders”
  13. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vkEiGleDSNg&list=RDvkEiGleDSNg&start_radio=1
  14. “I think we killed her.” “What a ******* *****, good riddance.” The mali stood wordlessly over the corpse of the once proud High Elven woman. Next to her were her two children. A boy and a girl, both unconscious. They dragged the body of the high elfless off the side of the road. “Find a good place for burial. We’ll let her body rest in peace. Life is to be honored… even if it was the one of an enemy.” “What about her offspring?” “They’re not our concern.” “Shouldn’t we finish them off? You know… to cover our behinds.” “They’re children, leave em be. The Mali’aheral already hunt us, two more doing so won’t change anything.” Before the group departed, they noticed the arrow protuding out of the stomach of Caelren. During the skirmish, it looks like one of the projectiles fired had gone astray. “That boy will die if we leave him here...” ——— Caelren stirred, his vision blurry as he tried to adjust his senses to his surroundings. He discovered a fire crackling over him, while his abdomen seared with pain. Next to him were cloaked figures, their faces hidden, but he could see their ears, white like snow. “What happened.” the boy croaked. “Where am I.” Three of the cloaked figures peered at the figure in the middle whomst appeared to be the leader. He remained silent for a while, before he spoke. “We found you on the side of the road.” He spoke in a brief and businesslike tone. “You’re very lucky to be alive.” “What about my mom and sister…” The cloaked leader spoke without hesitation this time. “They abandoned you, llir.” He told him. “What?” Caelren was stunned. “You’re lying… you can’t be!” “Why don’t you go see for yourself then.” _________ It was raining heavily when Caelren rushed back to the spot on the road. His mother and sister were nowhere in sight. He hopelessly cried out for them, but his yells were drowned out by the thundering storm. He got down on his knees, the rain drenching his hair and clothing. He was still trying to process the shock, the stark reality having hit him harder than the rain battering on his shoulders. In Haelunor, he had always stuck up for Caestella. When others mocked her for her short stature, he would always defend her, even if it meant the mockery would be transitioned to him. When his mother changed her name in shame after the “death” of his father, he fought to defend the honor of his name and his father’s image, even if he was mercilessly shunned for being the son of a practitioner of the dark arts. He always knew Caestella was the favored one. He would never quietly study in the library or be a good model boy scout like other children. Doing the same thing over and over bored him to death. He enjoyed “spicing up life”, a notable incident when he placed a homemade whoopee cushion under the seat of some Silver Council member in a high profile meeting. His sister was to grow up in her mother’s image and become a powerful mage or perhaps council member. He was just a memory of what had been lost to his mother. Caestella was to grow up in his mother’s image. He was just an image of her shameful past, a reminder of her former husband. The sky was still gray around him when he stood up and looked around. He was truly alone now. He pondered about the future. Would he remember his last name? Was he dead to the world? Was his old world dead to him? _______ Back in the camp, as the now unhooded mali prepared to depart, a young elf looked up to her leader. “Was that the right thing to do?” The leader did not respond to her. “We’ve made him believe he’s been abandoned. We’ve stripped away everything he knew. He’s pretty much dead to the world, a wandering soul. Perhaps a more merciful alternative was to grant him death…” “Hmph.” That was only thing she got in response. “We’re all wandering souls in this world. We join communities, look to be given stages to do our bidding, but we often forget after a long time that the stage doesn’t belong to us. Don’t you ever forget that the stage you stand on can always be taken away from you."
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