Member Since : 2010-05-10
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Dark were the skies and chill was the wind as the land was covered in a vale of mash. Across the hill did ride a dread army of the night, cloaked in mist and fog, prepared to reign down death and destruction upon the land.
And the people did cry out for a saviour, a noble soul to save them from their impending demise. Just as it seemed all was lost, in strode a mighty hero. Gladed, shimmering metal from head to toe wielding a terrible broadswoard he did cleave his foes in two!
Smashing them with righteouss fury.
When the day was done and the enemy was spread across the field in pieces, the people did turn to the warrior and say: We shall name this day in your honour! Spek onto us, your wisdom! The warrior said one word that
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