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Post by B.oya on Nov 19, 2006 23:40:05 GMT -5
Presto
Ebonite stag wandered into the cliffs. His crania was raised high, swinging from side to side as his pools searched for another soul. The scent was there. The sight was not. The sense was. Someone was here..somewhere. He needed to speak with them. He needed a place to live as well, for there were no lands available. He stopped his jagged walk, standing perfectly still for a moment. He would give the leader three days to come. Just three days. It would be his if the stag did not come fourth, but even if the stag did come, he would ask for his alliance. He smirked, and tossed his blackened tassles, sending them flapping against his nape.
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Post by B.oya on Nov 20, 2006 13:37:21 GMT -5
2
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Post by B.oya on Nov 24, 2006 18:33:20 GMT -5
its mine.
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