Author Message


Rank 0
07 Apr 2007
PostedJun 14, 2007 9:44 am
Very Happy It's definitely a very interesting story... I'm impressed of the big imagination and creativity you have... Congrats! and thanks for sharing this story with us Wink Keep on writing "hombre!" that I am reading each chapter carefully Very Happy


Rank 2
04 Feb 2007
PostedJun 15, 2007 3:55 pm
Please continue the story! pleaseeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee


Rank 0
02 Jan 2007
PostedJun 19, 2007 8:15 pm
Hi, again. Looks like the story picked up a few new readers this week. A hearty welcome to them! It's always great to hear when someone enjoys something I have written so please keep those comments coming. Smile

A note to anyone who has been reading, I'm going to try to post a new part once a week, probably on Tuesdays, or whenever they decide to do the weekly server maintenance.

The next part follows. Hope you like it!

A Stone of Contention, Part III – Deal or Knee Deal?

“It’s true! I swea—”

Swaglord’s ploy had worked—perhaps better than he had hoped. The rogue was back, alright, lured by his false promise of riches, but also back with one knee pressed roughly into his solar plexus. Below the rigid metal chest plate, his armor consisted mainly of chain mesh reinforced with thin strips of metal. It was good protection against dagger points and the cutting edge of swords, but also quite flexible and not very effective at all at stopping the rogue’s sudden knee-drop.


Swaglord grimaced from the blow and closed his eyes. He lay quietly for several seconds, panting, while the rogue watched. “You didn’t have to do that,” he said finally. “Please don’t do it again.”

“That was just so we understand each other,” she said. “If you’re thinking of trying something—I’ll take you down like yesterday’s laundry.”

“Believe me, I do,” he replied, though he was still puzzling over what yesterday’s laundry had to do with anything. “But you should understand something about me. I never forget a debt.”

The rogue lifted an eyebrow. “A debt? Hmph! Are you saying I owe you something?”

“No,” he replied, “I’m saying I owe you something.” Then, narrowing his eyes and lowering his voice, he continued, “And I always pay my debts. You get me?”

“I get you alright,” she said slyly. Though she had no idea what debt he was referring to, the threatening tone in his voice was clear enough. “You’re too much, knight. All tied up and still making threats. You should be more concerned about convincing me that you’re telling the truth about these supposed riches. Now, why should I believe you?”

Swaglord knew that she probably didn’t. He also knew it probably didn’t matter that much. He had his golden hook sunk deep into her imagination. Just the thought of riches, the mere possibility of it, would be much too much for her to ignore. All he needed to do now was give her some reason, any reason at all, to go along with it.

”I swear.”

“Ha! You’d swear to anything right now. “

Swaglord took a deep breath and answered her with all the solemnity he could muster. “Then by my sacred duty to the Templar Order of Odin’s Light, I hereby and forthwith do swear most fervently!”

The rogue seemed somewhat impressed by all the formal-sounding words, but still she frowned. “The templar order of who? I‘ve never heard of any such—“

”Think of it,” he interrupted, “a pile of heaven stones. Enchanted warrior jewelry, rare weapons—rogue weapons, too. And magical potions, scrolls, more gold than you can—“

“Alright, alright,” she said, putting both hands over his mouth and leaning on him. “I’m convinced.” She narrowed her eyes and continued softly, “You’ve been a busy fellow. How could you and that little pony acquire so much, hmm?” She seemed to be talking more to herself than him, so he didn’t try to answer, which at that moment would have been rather difficult anyway. “I accept,“ she soon continued. “I’ll free you and your pony in exchange for this precious stash of yours. But I swear, knight, if you try anything, anything at all…”

“Not so fast,” he said wriggling his mouth out from under her hands. “What reason do I have to trust you? And who said anything about the whole stash? I was thinking, maybe, one or two heaven stones at most. Oof!”

She bounced on her knee again, chasing the wind from Swaglord’s lungs and calling the grimace back to his face. “Are you bargaining with me? In your position!“

“The rogue’s pledge,” he croaked, barely able to speak, “swear-“

“How do you know about that?” she said, sitting back and crossing her arms.

“Swear by your guild’s pledge. You’ll let me and my pony go once we turn over the stones.”

“You mean your whole stash, of course?”

Swaglord took his time, panting, gathering his breath again. It didn’t matter what he promised her, since he had no intention of paying her anything. He just needed her to believe his story, so he snorted and huffed as if he were furious that she was driving such a hard bargain. Finally, after what he hoped was enough snorting and huffing, he agreed.

“Fine! But swear it.”

“Fine,” she said, a very satisfied look settling on her face. “I swear as well.”

“Fine, now untie me. I’ll take you there right away—“

“Not so fast, knight,” she interrupted. “You and your frisky friend over there are quite an impressive team. I’ll have to think about this.”

The rogue stood up and looked over at Swaglord’s massive sword lying next to him on the ground. She reached down to pick it up, at first with one hand, and then with two when she found she couldn’t budge it. Setting her jaw, she squatted down, worked both her small hands around the hilt, and with a soft grunt, heaved it up off the ground about a foot. Then, by walking backwards in that bent over position, she dragged it over to her horse where, with a much louder grunt, she was able to raise the hilt to a height where she could lash it to her horse’s saddle.

When she walked back over toward Swaglord, he couldn’t help noticing how much less graceful she seemed. She was breathing very heavily and, wiping the sweat from her brow on the back of her hand, she reminded him more of a laborer than a stealthy thief. But he admired her determination and wondered how she would fare with his shield, which was much heavier than the sword.

The rogue didn’t even bother trying to lift it. Instead, she gave it a careless kick, as if testing to see how stubbornly it would resist her efforts. From the look of pain that ran quickly over her face, Swaglord was sure that she immediately regretted it. The shield had not moved an inch. He couldn’t say for sure what her toes felt like at that moment, but from the stream of swear words that then passed her lips, he felt he could pretty well guess.

“I guess you’re taking that,” she said finally. Plucking a dagger from her belt, she made a quick cut through the ropes around Swaglord feet and then just as quickly leapt up upon her tall mount.

“You can untie your own animal,” she said.

Swaglord worked his way free of the now loosened net and then went to his pony. He tried pulling on the net in several different places, but it wouldn’t come loose.

“That one,” the rogue said.


“There,” she pointed, “the braided one by its feet.”

He pulled on the part of the net she indicated and in a few seconds it was lying on the ground in a heap and the pony was back up on its feet, looking much happier but also slightly embarrassed. Swaglord stroked its mane a few times and then gave it friendly slap on the back.

“Come on, boy,” he said.

When he turned toward the rogue he noticed that she was holding another net in her hands and looking very serious.

“All finished? Good. Now...” She spoke slowly, as if measuring her words. “I’ll say this once, just so we understand each other, okay?”

She paused and waited until Swaglord nodded to her.

“Okay. You can’t outrun my mount and if you or your pony try to approach me,” she nodded down toward the net she held, “I’ll have you wrapped up tighter than one of Baal’s bug-balls before you can so much as spit. And if that happens, you know what happens next, don’t you? Like before, but I’ll make you regret wasting my time. Are we clear?”

“Yes, yes. I understand perfectly,” he said, wondering what in the world a Baal bug-ball was.

“Good. Now let’s get moving,” she said, pulling on her horse's reins and trotting the powerful charger out into the middle of the dirt path.

Swaglord ran over to his shield and slid his arm through the straps, then set out at an easy jog with his faithful pony beside him and the stern rogue following a few horse-lengths behind.

It felt good to be up on his feet again, even if he was temporarily without his sword. So far, so good, he thought, filling his lungs with the high country air. He’d soon show that upstart rogue how the Lord of Swag dealt with thieves. But first, he would have to do something about that mount of hers.

To be continued…


Rank 0
13 Apr 2007
PostedJun 21, 2007 9:26 am
can u not write them every week lol.. i want one every day.. this rocks lol
i like this indeed Smile right a book lol

Ign: 2HOT4U Guild:PhoenixDown Class: Rogue - Assassin Level: 4x


Rank 2
04 Feb 2007
PostedJun 21, 2007 5:43 pm
I agree with alisha except instead of every day every hour Very Happy


Rank 0
02 Jan 2007
PostedJun 21, 2007 5:46 pm
Alright. Well, by popular demand I'm going to start daily posts. See below for the next... no, not really. Gosh, ilovealisha, I appreciate the thought, I really do, but the first three I wrote each took a few hours to do. I gotta leave some time for playing the game, too!

Anyway, I'll do my best to get one up every week, but thanks for your enthusiasm! Smile


Rank 0
02 Jan 2007
PostedJun 27, 2007 5:47 am
Hello, again. Here it is, my hourly... er, daily... er, weekly... er, I guess almost weekly posting. Apologies for the delay. When I was ready to post last night the forum seemed to be down. However, this part turned out to be a little longer than the others, so let me just say: Bonus! (Consider it a midnight snack that didn't arrive until morning.)

Hope you enjoy it, and keep those comments coming!

A Stone of Contention, Part IV – Taking the High Road

Afternoon changed to evening, evening to a phosphorescent night, and then, after what seemed no more than the passage of a star’s twinkle, perhaps only the time it took for some ghostly lurker to blink it’s curious, celestial eye, it was afternoon again. The passage of time was difficult to gauge under such an enigmatic sky, and as he passed the crest of yet another hilltop—they seemed to crowd the road like wolf’s teeth gnawing a hungry tongue—he had little sense of how long he had been running.

But then, his mind had been on something else: escape. And a plan. It was a plan he needed, a plan he did not quite have. Other than being careful to avoid encounters with the unpredictable and dangerous Merac natives, he had been heading nowhere in particular, taking this turn or that in the endless road, allowing his wits to lead him as best they could.

Where to go? Despite the promise he had made to the rogue, he had no pile of heaven stones—no stash at all, in fact—hidden anywhere in the area, so he had nowhere to take her and nothing to give her that might secure his safe release.

But the piney air and the invigorating run over the high, hilly terrain had gotten the rusty gears of his mind turning, at least. He knew he had to find some way to separate the dogged rider from her ride, and the hilly terrain he had been studying for he knew not how long was beginning to seem like the key to doing just that. If he could find the right spot, a place where he and his pony could make a sharp turn off the road where the rogue’s warhorse couldn’t follow...


Deep in thought, he didn’t notice the rogue’s calling to him from several yards away. A steep hillside might do the trick. But it would have to be just right, too steep for the rogue’s mount, but not too steep for me and …


At the sound of the rogue’s now louder and much closer voice—she had pulled up along side him—he dropped out of his run, took a few halting steps and turned to face her. He was breathing hard, but far from exhausted. “Yes?”

“I’m getting a little tired of this, hombre. How much farther?”

“Not far.” He said, bending and putting his hands on his knees, breathing deeply. “It’s just over the next hill.”

The rogue frowned. “That’s what you said the last time I asked you.”

“Well, you know,” he panted, “these hills—they all look so similar…“ He looked up and saw his sword, tied by several turns of a leather cord to a cleat in the horse’s saddle. It was almost within his reach.

“Don’t even think about it,” the rogue snarled, noticing the object of his gaze. She quickly backed her horse away and raised her voice. “Tell you what I’m gonna do. I’m going to give you one more chance. But this is your last warning. The next time I stop you it will be with this rope. And you know what happens then, don’t’ you?”

Swaglord nodded his head vigorously but said nothing.

“Now get moving.”

He turned and started jogging again, searching the road ahead for a place to make a dash for freedom. He knew it had to be soon. The eerie landscape might indeed be timeless, but the rogue’s patience was clearly nearing its limit.

It wasn’t long before the road took a downward slope and soon after they were entering a small valley between two lines of hills. In the distance he could see the they were lows hills but the rise of the hillside along one side of road was quite steep. When he entered that section of the road, he saw how steep: the road was lined with what was almost an earthen wall, rising almost straight up from the road, but not particularly high, no more than two or three times his own height.

It was high enough, though; the rogue’ horse could never leap to such a height and certainly it could not climb a grade like that—but he could, and with the help of the pine tree growing out of the hillside just ahead he might be able to get his pony up too.

Slowly and, he hoped, in a natural enough way to avoid alerting the rogue to his plan, he began to edge toward the side of the road. When he got to within several strides of the tree he called to his pony and broke into a full run.

“Come on, boy!”

The pony dug it's hooves into the soft earth and in an instant was right at his side, matching him stride for stride.

“Hey!” The rogue shouted, spurring her horse, and raising the rope in her hand.

Swaglord put one arm over his pony’s back and yelled, “Jump!” The trusting animal leapt on command and Swaglord did too, reaching for a branch high over his head. He managed to hoist himself and the astonished pony half way up the hillside and then shoved his pet ahead of him. He changed handholds on the branch and with the aid of another, higher branch dug his shoulder into the hind quarters of the frantic animal, which was struggling in vain to find traction on that steep slope.

“Go!” He yelled, driving himself and the small animal forward and up toward the top. After a final push from below, the pony managed to reach its front legs up over the crest and pull itself over, with its master clambering up quickly behind. In just seconds they were both up and over the high, steep edge of the hillside. Swaglord could hardly believe it. “Ha!” He shouted, leaping to his feet and turning to look down at the rogue just as she brought her mount to a stop at the base of the hill.

“Ha!” he shouted again, pointing at the furious rider, and then ducking quickly when a crossbow bolt whizzed past his ear. He ran low to the ground away from the edge until he was sure he was at a safe distance, and then looked around for his pony, which had smartly scampered behind some dense bushes without having had to be reminded to do so by the rogue’s crossbow.

Swaglord ran to his pony and gave the panting animal’s mane a good rub. “Good boy! We showed her, didn’t we?” he said, but it soon dawned on him that the low hill he had chosen was not an ideal refuge. The hill sloped gently away from the summit on all sides except the one that they had just climbed, and another dirt path on the far side led him to believe that if the rogue thought to do it, she could probably gallop around the hill and be coming up on them in just a few minutes. Searching the landscape about them, he didn’t see any other defensible or secretive spot they could run to in that short a time.

But the sound of pine needles scraping against leather interrupted his consideration of their new troubles. The rogue had apparently left her horse and climbed up after them, using the same tree to vault her way up just as he had. She nimbly hopped up on the summit, where she was some twenty feet away from them, crossbow in hand. She couldn’t see them yet, but it wouldn’t take her long to follow their footsteps right to back to them.

Swaglord’s pony nudged him. “Huh?” he whispered. The keen animal nodded toward a wide spruce a few yards away and then trotted softly toward it. Swaglord smiled and waved him on, stifling another “Good boy!” and moving very quietly in the opposite direction using the shrubbery as cover. He stopped when he reached a point where his position and that of his pony formed a wide triangle with the spot where the rogue stood scanning the hillside for any sign of them.

“I can hear you!” she said, shouldering her crossbow.

“Well,” the knight replied, in a jocular and confident tone, “nice of you to join me, thief!”

Immediately, she turned toward the sound of his voice and when he was sure he had her full attention he straightened up and came out from behind the bushes. Seeing him, she called back, copying the brash, friendly tone Swaglord had used. “Well, aren’t you full of surprises? Still got your shield, I see,” she said, taking a tentative step towards him. “I don’t suppose you found another sword?” Swaglord smiled and waved his sword hand at her, quite free of any knightly measure of steel.

She took another step, looking him over closely. “Really, knight, you are making this much too easy.” She smiled and lowered her crossbow, locked the trigger and then slipped the weapon into a holster strapped to her back. Then she took the coil of rope from her shoulder and a folded net from a loop on her belt. “Well, I’ve still got these,” she said, starting to tie the rope to the net.

Swaglord called to her. “Come, thief, we can work this out, can’t we?”

“I’m sure we can,“ she began, finishing her knot and then continuing in the sarcastic way that he had come to expect, but he wasn’t pay attention to what she was saying. He had made eye contact with his pony and was waiting for it to get into position. The clever animal was slowly and silently working its way around behind the rogue. When it was directly behind her, Swaglord stepped slowly forward and slightly sideways, hoping to take her gaze even further from his pony.

“Alright,” he said loudly, throwing up his free hand. “You got me.” He continued walking, hoping to get within a few yards of her before springing his trap.

“You’re acting very strange, knight. I wonder…” she said, “where is that little friend of—”

Swaglord whistled and instantly the pony charged head down, just like before, a pint sized battering ram with a ten gallon attitude. The rogue whirled around and, seeing the speeding pony, made a sudden and acrobatic jump backwards, skillfully avoiding its charge. “Ha!” she exclaimed, landing slightly off-balance on one foot and twisting around ready to face Swaglord.

But the rogue was not the only one who had moved with acrobatic speed. As she turned, a pirouetting Swaglord met her with shoulder and shield.


Across the land, it was well known that a skilled knight can use his shield for far more than protection. Often swung with the intent of stunning an opponent, a Lord’s Kite, as they are sometimes called, can also be wielded as a formidable weapon. Woe be it to any warrior that underestimates the devastating effect of a shield strike from the hands of a full templar of any of the many holy Eresian orders.

In the case of this duel between the slight rogue and Swaglord’s massive shield, swung with all the adrenalin-charged might he could muster, it was hardly a fair fight. The impact lifted her completely off the ground and threw her backwards a full body length. When she landed she was more than stunned—she was out cold.

Swaglord went to his pony and stroked its long mane. “Well played, my friend.” But the pony shook its head and pulled away, whinnying its annoyance. “Alright. You’re all business, aren’t you?” He said, to which the pony only snorted. “You’re right, though. Let’s get our heaven stone back.”

He walked over and looked down at the unconscious rogue, flat on her back, her arms splayed out at to the sides, looking almost more dead than alive. Her complicated leather garments seemed a sea of pockets, pouches, folds and laces. The knight frowned, wondering where she might have hidden the small stone, stroking his chin with one hand.

”Hmm…” he said to his humorless companion, “if I were a heaven stone, where would I be?”

To be continued…


Rank 2
04 Feb 2007
PostedJun 27, 2007 10:41 am
I love the story Very Happy


Rank 0
02 Jan 2007
PostedJul 03, 2007 5:56 pm
Next chapter follows. I finally managed to get this ready in time for the server maintenance. Hopefully this will make the wait go a little faster.

A Stone of Contention, Part V – A Gripping Request

There were times when Swaglord did not appreciate his armor—not very often, to be sure. He had adapted to the rigors of knighthood years before in his youth. He virtually lived in his armor, had grown strong enough to bear it lightly, and knew how to use it to its full advantage in battle. It had saved his life more times than he could count.

But just then, as he fumbled ineffectually through the bulky metal fingers of his gauntlets, trying to unbutton even one button, untie one tied lace, or probe the contents of even one of the many small pockets in the rogue’s attire, he found himself close to cursing it. He could remove the gloves, of course, but he preferred not to; it was time consuming and, as accustomed as he was to his armor, he felt almost naked without any part it.

Anyway, he had begun to doubt if he could find the small stone on her person at all—with or without his difficult gloves—or at least not quickly. And there was also the question of whether feeling around in a lady’s pockets while she lay unconscious was a gentlemanly thing to do. Highway robber or not, she was still a woman, and though he would not hesitate to slice her in two if she gave him a good reason, as a templar knight he was sworn to protect the highest standards of virtue, one of which was respect for feminine honor.

It was quite a pickle, what with the fat, inflexible fingers he was forced to work with, and having to avoid touching the unconscious girl—her youthfulness was now obvious to him—in any inappropriate way. The longer it took, and the more his frustration grew, the clearer it became that the only thing for him to do was to wake her up and convince her to hand it over.

And for that task, his gauntlets would serve quite nicely.


He hit her very lightly and used only two fingers. When she did not respond to that gentle prodding he used a little more force. And then a little more, and then a little more, until she finally came to.


The rogue moaned quietly and rubbed her jaw. When she finally opened her eyes, it seemed to take her a second to realize the position she was in: lying on the ground with Swaglord kneeling over her, one of his metal-clad hands lingering about her face, two imposing fingers extended like a mugger’s cudgel—then all at once her situation and the pain in her jaw seem to make sense to her.

“Caramba! You son of a—ggggh!”

The rogue’s spirited greeting quickly faded into gurgles when Swaglord put his hand around her neck and squeezed—not enough to hurt her, but hard enough to make a point.

“So…” he said softly, “just so we understand each other.”

The rogue grabbed at his armored wrist and gave it shove but quickly discovered that she could not budge either his arm or his grip. Next she reached for her weapons, but found only empty sheaths where she had expected her daggers to be.

“Unh-unh-unh,” Swaglord said, nodding to the two daggers neatly stacked on the ground well out of her reach.

The rogue replied with angry sounds that might have been swearing had it not been for the muting effect of Swaglord’s iron grip on her vocal chords. She reached suddenly for something down by her calf. Swaglord had expected that she would have some other weapons somewhere, it was a small knife hidden in her boot, most likely; all he did to stop her was close his hand just a little bit more.


Her hands flew back to Swaglord’s wrist. She wrestled with her much heavier, much stronger foe for several more seconds to no avail. Swaglord was again impressed by her spirit and determination, if not by her common sense.

“Look,” he said gently. “If you keep struggling, I’m just going to have to keep squeezing and—well, look, you’re already turning blue.” (She wasn’t really.) “Now, I’ll let up a bit. And you take it easy.”

He did and the rogue immediately sucked a breath of air, then moved her hands down by her belt.

“Unh-unh,” he said. “Keep ‘em where I can see them. “

She lifted her hands up to her head and let them fall back on the ground, palms up. Swaglord loosened his grip some more, to the point where he was not squeezing much at all, but still holding onto her neck firmly enough to remind her that he was still very much in control.

“That’s right. Isn’t that better? You be nice and I’ll be nice.”

“You’re still a son-of-a-gnoll,” she gasped between a couple more deep breaths.

“That’s not very nice,” he said, shaking his head slowly. Then he smiled. “It takes one to know one, I always heard.”

The rogue showed him a fake laugh. “Heh-heh-heh. So what are you gonna do now, lecture me on manners?”

“Maybe I should. You could certainly use it—but no. What I am going to do now is ask you for my heaven stone back. And you are going to give it to me, aren’t you?”

The rogue’s answer was to try to spit in his face. He was too quick, though, and a second later she was again gagging, gripping his wrist and gasping for air, this time with a drool of spittle running down her chin.

“Tsk, tsk, tsk—not very nice, little girl. It seems you do have a thing or two to learn about good manners.” He kept the pressure on as he spoke—this time she wasn’t getting a drop of air. “Life can be very funny sometimes. It seems like only minutes ago when our situations were completely reversed. Let’s see... You were telling me about honor, about how you had defeated me and how I was honor bound to hand over my heaven stone. And yet here you are, captured fair and square, as helpless as I was, yet still struggling to hold onto that same little treasure that you thought I should so easily hand over. Isn’t it ironic?”

But any irony in the deliberately slow and drawn-out speech seemed completely lost on the rogue, who at that moment was struggling against Swaglord’s grasp like her life depended on it, which, for all she knew, it did. He knew that she hadn’t had a breath in too long and the look on her face told him that her proud defiance had begun to give way to panic. But still she struggled.

“Don’t you see my point? Isn’t it ironic? Hmm?” He continued speaking though it was obvious she wasn’t listening. Her face really was starting to look like a shade of blue now and when her grip on his wrist started to weaken he felt he had better let up.

When he did she gasped and coughed. More spittle emerged and landed on her lips and cheeks. Swaglord noticed trails of tears running down the sides of her face and as the blueness faded it was replaced by a deep flush of red. It occurred to him that he may have overdone it a bit.

“Look, I’m sorry about this.” He said. “I mean, it’s not normally the sort of thing I would do, especially…you being a woman, of course.”

“Yeah, you’re a real hero,” she said weakly.

“All I want is what’s mine.”

“Fine,” she whispered, then lifted her hands from his wrist. “Mind if I wipe my face, first?”

“No. First, the heaven stone.”

Swaglord endured a hard look while the rogue reached into her vest. He stared back just as sternly, half-expecting a weapon to suddenly appear in her hand. When she pulled out the glowing pebble he brought his brought his other hand next to hers and turned it palm up. The stone made a little clinking noise as it dropped into his gauntlet. Though he suspected a trick, the milky golden glow told him it was the genuine article. He released her and deposited the stone into the cuff of his other gauntlet, just as he had done earlier.

“Are we done?” she asked, wiping her mouth and chin with the back of her sleeve.

“I don’t know,” he replied. “What am I going to do about you?”

It was a serious problem. Swaglord knew that she could attack him again at any time. What bothered him was that the only solutions he could think of involved causing serious injury to the rogue or even putting her life at risk. He didn’t like those options, but what had to be done would have to be done.

But before the next part of their conversation could begin, Swaglord’s pony—once again—sprang into action without a word from it’s surprised master. Without so much as a snort or a warning cry, the bold little charger sprinted away from them, kicking up the loose sod as it raced down the slope of the hill opposite to where they had clambered up, and vanished from sight before Swaglord had a clue as to where it was going or why.

To be continued…


Rank 2
04 Feb 2007
PostedJul 03, 2007 10:46 pm
OMG just as it was getting interesting...
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