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A Perfect Place

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((EDITED: to include Jobolg. Try and find him!))

Vilmah rolled over to her side. The sunlight was pouring in through an open window, and she could feel it’s warmth on her back. Outside, she heard the sounds of men and woman working, shouting orders at one another.

“Load this one up, Jim!” Shouted one of the Forsaken.

“Hands’r busy, Mitch!” Shouted another.

Groaning quietly at the interruption of her sleep, Vilmah sighed and decided to get up. She had a long night at the Rest In Peace Inn the night before, and while their rooms were comfortable, they were also within earshot of the farmlands that the Forsaken tended to. She opened her eyes and felt a tingle in her head.

This isn’t the inn, she thought.

The room she was in was brightly lit, as opposed to the dim light usually found in Tirisfal Glades. There was a gray dress lying on a chair nearby, and the shelves were lined with books. Downstairs, people were talking and talking. In a panic, she leapt from the bed and found herself naked.

“W-wheres my clothes?” She said quietly, to nobody.

Looking around the room, she searched frantically for her armor and weapons. Nothing, save some linen dresses and a few pairs of leather shoes, could be found. She was worried, now. Unarmed, she could defend herself.. but how could someone have lead her here without waking her up? Did Sanctuary know she was missing? Where was she? A yelp escaped her mouth when she caught a glimpse of something in the mirror.

“Human!” She said, startled, when she saw the face of a human girl in the glass.

Vilmah hid behind a dresser, hoping that the human didn’t see her. No doubt she’d call on reinforcements… but then a thought occurred; she wasn’t on a ground floor. Could it have been a levitating mage? Gathering her courage, she crept towards the window, and again looked outside.

The face greeted her. Vilmah tried not to panic, and the human did the same. They stared at each other for a long time, until she opened her mouth to speak.

“Who are you?” The young orc asked.

The girl in the window mouthed the same words, but did not reply. Again, Vilmah asked. Again, the girl was quiet. After a few seconds, Vilmah extended a hand to the glass, and touched fingers with the girl. It was then that she realized that her fingers were smaller, less dirty, and.. a pinkish brown color.

She gasped and pulled back her hand.

“What’s going on??” She asked herself, in a panic.

The girl in the mirror was her. Tossing aside her fear, she studied her reflection in the glass. She was the same size as she usually was, but her black hair covered her head now, and her nose was slightly larger. Gone were here tusks and pointed ears. She stared sadly at herself. She missed her own face.

“Vilmah!” Came a voice from beside her door. “Come downstairs for breakfast.”

Choking on her own voice, she shouted back. “..j-just a second!”

She looked around the room, and quickly put on the linen dress that lay on the chair beside her. Opening the door slowly, the smell of something sweet caught her attention. She looked around, and found a staircase leading to the ground floor of the house. At the bottom, she was met by two men, sitting in chairs and reading newspapers.

“Mornin’, hazlenut,” said the first. He looked terribly familiar, for a human. His face was covered in dark freckles, and his hair turning gray.

Vilmah took a step back, in surprise. “..daddy?”

“Of course!” He replied with a chuckle. “Who else would I be?”

“Prolly some old geezer, huh Gor’mul?” Asked the second man. He was older than the first, but dressed in scholars robes. In his mouth was a pipe. Vilmah’s eyes went wide with surprise when she recognized him.

She took a few steps forward. “Uncle Naz’shakul?!”


There was a pause. She tried to recover. “I.. um… good morning?”

“Good morning…” He replied, strangely. “You okay, Vilmah? You look a little flustered.”

“Flustered or not,” said a woman’s voice. “She’d better eat her breakfast and go milk the cows. Poor things are probably aching to be milked, by now.”

Vilmah turned to the kitchen, and saw a woman standing in an apron, wiping her hands. She looked like Vilmah’s human form, but was taller, thinner. Her eyes were hazel. “..mama?”


Forgetting herself, Vilmah rushed to her mother and embraced her tightly. She realized soon after how strange it must have seemed, but she didn’t care. Her family watched in awed silence for a few seconds, before her mother patted her shoulder and spoke softly.

“There there, I’m happy to see you too,” she said with a bemused smile. “Now go eat and get to work.”

Vilmah nodded, and walked into the kitchen. What was this place? Where her family was human, and they didn’t seem to have any cares except for milking cows. It was strange and alien, but peaceful and somewhat enchanting. Wandering through the kitchen, she found breakfast awaiting her; an orange colored pastry with a glass of milk. She took a cautious nibble from the pastry, and smiled with delight when she realized it was made with pumpkin and sugar. Drinking down the cold milk, Vilmah felt full and content. She explored the house more, until she finally came across a door leading outside.

Outside of the small house were grassy fields and flower-filled meadows. Enclosed in a wooden fence, several cows grazed. Right beside them was a barn, and in the barn’s field, enclosed by more fence, stood a bull. A few chickens trotted past Vilmah, and one of them stopped to eat next to a grazing horse that Vilmah assumed must have belonged to her family. She patted it’s broad neck, and made her way to the cows. Beside the field was an empty bucket, so she put it underneath one of the cows and looked at the utters with confusion.

“Now.. how does this work?” She wondered aloud.

“Need a hand, Vilmah?” Asked a male’s voice.

She looked up, and saw a friendly human male’s face beside her own. “Oh! Oh, sure.”

He chuckled, and put her hand on the utter, and guided it up and down to squeeze out the milk. “I never thought I’d see you forget how to milk a cow. You’re lucky I came over here early, to check up on Fhenrir!”

“Fhenrir??” Vilmah said with shock. “Fhenrir’s here?!”

“Well sure!” He said with a laugh. “Where else would he be? I needed to borrow him, so I brought some of my girls along. Think he’s busy?”

Vilmah was confused. “I... busy? Girls? What are you—“

“Oh! There he is!” He said with a grin.

Vilmah followed his eyes over to the dark colored bull enclosed outside of the barn. “…that’s Fhenrir?”

“Well, who else would it be? Hah, your family owns the only good bull in town, and you ask if that’s really him…”

“I’m sorry… town? What town?”

The man looked at her, worried. “Did you hit your head or something, Vil? You’re in Manusfield! Named after—“

“Let me guess,” Vilmah said with a smirk. “The great warrior Manus?”

“Um, no,” he said with a bemused smile. “Actually, the great cow breeder. He was so good at his job, he gave everyone a cow just so we could build this town! But that was years and years ago. Nowadays, he just sits at home, and his boys take care of him.”

Vilmah continued to milk the cows, thinking hard. “You’re Maisone, aren’t you?”

“Gee,” Maisone said sarcastically. “However did you know?”

“The cows. You seem to have a passion for tending to them. I remembered that, about you.”

Maisone grinned, and helped her up. “Yeah, well… it’s a way of life and all, but I can’t complain! I love my girls. Now, you should probably take that into town, before your mother kills you,” he said, pointing to the milk.

Vilmah nodded, and walked towards the road. She didn’t want to ask if she was going the right way, so she waited for Maisone to stop her. He didn’t. He simply wandered to Fhenrir’s pen, several cows behind him mooing happily. Fhenrir seemed content.

Vilmah knew she was in the right place when she heard voices about her shouting things like, “Eggs for sale!” and, “Fresh baked bread!”. In one corner, an older man stood on top of a wooden crate, trying to get the people gathered around him to buy cutlary. "I've created the greatest sharpener of all time! Simply press down on the metal grates with whatever knife you're using, and presto! A finer cutlary sharpener you'll never see! Only twelve silver!" His passion for inventing lead her to believe he could be none other than Jobolg. She’d never been this close to a human town, and was surprised how similar it was to Orgrimmar. The people seemed genuinely friendly, especially the young woman who waved her over.

“Hey, Vilmah!” Said a grinning girl. She had black pigtails, and bright blue eyes. “Gonna sell me that milk, today?”

“Oh, sure… Okhu?”

The girl giggled. “Of course! And y’know, I’ll take more than just milk from ya, if you’ll allow it,” she said, wiggling her eyebrows.

“Oh, you’re Okhu alright…” Vilmah said with a smile.

Okhu handed her a handful of copper coins, and picked up the bucket. “Well that’s all I need, today! Say, wanna go visit Niethan with me?”

“…Niethan? Where’s he?”

“In the bakery, as usual,” Okhu said with a giggle. “He’s been making these new pastries with melted sugar on top… mm! They’re great! Oops, watch out for the kids! Morning professor!”

“What kid--, oh!”

Vilmah stopped short before she stepped on a traveling group of human children. They were in a line in front of an older looking man, wearing scholarly robes and holding a handful of books. He looked slightly annoyed, but smiled graciously at Vilmah and Okhu. “Ladies.”

“Was…” Vilmah stuttered. “Was that… was that Shadowspeak?? With children?!”

“Well, nobody else took the job,” Okhu said with a shrug. They continued to walk down the crowded streets, until they finally came to a little bakery with a sign that read “Niethan’s Baked Goods”. They walked inside, and Okhu let out a cheerful whine. “Niiiiiieeeeeeethaaaaaaaaaan…..?”

A dark haired man with dark circles under his eyes emerged from the back room, carrying a try of freshly baked rolls. He slid the tray into a glass case at the front of the store, and arranged them in a pretty way. “Is that you, Okhu? Oh! Hello, Vilmah.” Before anyone could object, a cat jumped on to the display case, which held dozens of colorful confections. Niethan swept her away with one hand. “Down, Sigrun! That cat, I swear… what can I do for you two?”

“Oh, we just came to visit,” Okhu said with a flirty smile.”

Niethan rolled his eyes. “Right… one sample per customer, Okhu,” he muttered while handing her a small pastry. “Next time you’re in here, bring me some milk for my cakes!”

“Already done! Here you are,” she said while handing him the bucket.

The baker’s eyes went wide with joy as he took the milk. “Finally! Now I can finish my morning orders. Thanks, Okhu. Take twenty of whatever.”

Okhu grinned greedily, and began picking out pastries. Vilmah giggled and waved. “Goodbye then, you too. I’ll be heading home.”

“Oh! Don’t forget about tonight, Villy!” Said Okhu, with her mouth full.

Vilmah stopped short. “Tonight? What’s tonight?”

“It’s the Fall Harvest celebration, silly,” Okhu said with rolled eyes. “Better find yourself a date before all the good ones are taken!”

“Who’s your date?” Niethan asked, skeptically.

Okhu shrugged. “I’m flyin’ solo. I’m sure there’ll be plenty of pretty things there to keep me occupied.”

“Hah! I bet…”

Niethan and Okhu continued to argue as Vilmah made her way outside. Wandering through the streets, she looked for familiar faces or mannerisms. The Undead friends she knew could be easily recognize, but not so much those who were once orcs or trolls, or even--

“Draekon??!” Vilmah said quickly, the moment she saw a huge lumbering man with an axe.

He was very dark skinned, and had black hair and eyes. He smiled at Vilmah, and set down the pile of wood he carried in one arm. “Morning, miss Vilmah. Excited about tonight?”

“I--, er, well sure…” she stuttered, still shocked at the sight of Draekon as a human. As a Tauren, he was huge and almost frightening. He carried those same traits, but for some reason, seemed more at peace. “Where are you heading?”

Draekon stretched a bit, and flexed his tired-looking muscles. “I’m headed home. Selene’s waiting for me to bring home the lumber I didn’t sell, so we could start building that cradle.”


“For the baby,” Draekon said with a smile.

Vilmah was flabbergasted. When she first met Draekon, Selene had already been murdered, years ago. Now they were together, and happy. When he was a tauren, and she a troll, it wouldn’t have been possible for them to have had children. Everyone being the same race seemed to make everything much more simple. “Oh, of course. How soon?”

“Maybe a few weeks,” he said, picking the wood up again and hoisting it over one shoulder. “If it’s a boy, another woodcutter to help around the house! A girl, that would be precious too. I can’t tell you how happy I am.”

The Warboss of Sanctuary smiled, tears welling up behind her eyes. Draekon had always been one with a fierce temper, ready to slay all of those who opposed peace. Here, there was no conflict. She could see on his face that he was genuinely content. “Oh, you don’t need to. I can see it.”

“Will I be seeing Nojinbu at the celebration, this evening?” The woodcutter asked, wiggling his eyebrows.

Vilmah choked on her won breath. “N-nojinbu??”

“Didn’t he ask you to join him?”

She thought for a moment. Would he? “I… I’m not sure…”

“Well, don’t worry about it!” He chuckled. “With a face like that, he’ll be lucky to have you! No offense, of course. That boy is good at what he does.”

“Oh… is he?”

“Sure!” Draekon exclaimed. “He’s the best darned leatherworker in town! I get my best skins from him. Well anyway, I’ll have to be going now. See you this evening, Vilmah!”

Watching him leave, Vilmah marveled at the simplicity of it all. Nobody wore armor. Nobody carried weapons. Were all humans this peaceful, if left to their own devices? She pondered this as she walked along the dirt road that lead back to her “family’s” house. Along the way she saw a few familiar faces. Karkarov, looking young and strong without the effects of the plague, was working on an anvil outside of a home. He waved to Vilmah, and she timidly waved back. Chum walked by her on the road, walking beside a pony-pulled cart that was loaded with bricks. Clys, covered in mud and filth, tormented Danlily as she threatened to walk inside of their home with dirty boots. “Don’t you dare!!” Danlily shouted. Working in a field nearby, tending to sheep with several dogs, was a large and heavily muscled man. Vilmah didn’t recognize him until she heard him speak. “You sheep stay here! Need break…”

“Chingaso…” Vilmah said with a giggle.

She didn’t know what this place was, but it was certainly fun to visit. She wondered if it was some sort of dream, but it felt far too real.

“I can’t stay here forever,” she said, quietly. As peaceful as this world was, it made her even more uncomfortable to see herself and the others in different bodies. It felt unnatural not to hold an axe. Her yearning for the battlefield, however, gave a guilty haze that she tried to dismiss. “It’s not the fighting I miss,” she said quietly. “But this can’t be real. I can’t stay here.”

When she finally arrived back home, Fhenrir was asleep in his pen, while several chickens pecked the ground at his feet. She wondered if his old self would be offended, and walked to the front door.

“Oh, Vilmah!” Shouted a voice from the side of the house.

She turned to see a gangly youth, sweaty from the sun overhead, busy shoveling hay into a stack nearby. There was something familiar about the dirt covering his face; almost like war paint. “Yes… Rajjah?”

“Someone in there to see you,” he said before returning to his work.

Vilmah walked into the house, and saw her mother’s back turned to her, in the midst of conversation. “—yes, I agree. She’s very,” her mother turned to face her, and smiled. “Oh, Vilmah! Look who’s here.”

Moving out of the way, she spotted someone sitting in her father’s chair. He was incredibly tall, with pale skin, and long platinum blonde hair in a thick braid. However, the thing that caught her attention were the scars that covered his face and body. Even beneath his leather clothes, she could see indentations from the missing chunks of skin. His one pale gray eye turned to look at her, and she knew who he was. “Nojinbu.”

Rising from the chair, he stood in front of Vilmah and took her hand in his. “Thought I would make this good,” he said with a sly grin, and kissed her hand. “Vil, would you come with me to the celebration tonight?”

His lack of a trollish accent through her into a loop. He certainly wasn’t this romantic on the battlefield, but with enemies on every side, how could he be? Looking into his one eye, she felt an electric jolt. It was him, alright. And in this world, he didn’t even wear an eye patch to cover the gaping hole where his other eye once was. “Of course I will,” she found herself saying, even before she had a chance to think about it. It seemed as if for a second, her heart took over her head.

“Good. I’ll pick you up tonight, then,” Nojinbu said with a grin, and kissed her forehead before walking out.

Vilmah’s mother patted him on the back. “Such a good boy. Want anything from the garden? Carrots? Potatos?”

“Haha, no thank you, missus Bloodborne,” Nojinbu said as he and Mrs. Bloodborne left the house.

Vilmah stood in the living room, holding the spot where he kissed her against her palm. In a few seconds, she was breathing again.

Vilmah didn’t like where this was going.

After Nojinbu left and her mother returned to work in the garden, she made up excuse about having to buy some replacement fabric for a dress, and went back into town. It was less busy now, as it was becoming the early afternoon, and she searched until finally she saw what she was looking for; a school house. Inside of the school, she saw the human version of Shadowspeak straightening desks and grumbling irritably. She was relieved that his personality seemed intact.



Vilmah studied his face before continuing. “I… um… well, how do I begin? I have a bit of a problem, and I knew that you were well versed in these sort of problems, so I—“

“Say no more,” Shadowspeak said with a friendly smile. “Tell me, what sort of calculations do you need help with solving?”

“Calcu--, what?”

“Math! That’s your problem, isn’t it?”

She looked at his expression, and it was clear that he was telling the truth. He didn’t feel out of place, like she did. He was just naturally ill tempered. Vilmah sighed. “Oh… I see. Never mind.”

He watched her leave, confused, and went back to straightening the schoolhouse. Vilmah walked down the town , curious and alone. “That’s not going to work, you know.”

She turned to see a woman. Her heart skipped a beat when she realized that the woman was Undead. “Y-you’re undead! Who are you??”

The woman smiled and shrugged. “Not important. What’s important is that you know that you’re the only one who remembers your past life. Everyone else here only knows about this one.”

“But… but why? Did you do this?”

The undead woman thought a moment. “Um… I’m not at liberty to say. You’re here to learn a lesson, Vilmah.”

“What sort of lesson is that??”

“Quite simply,” she answered with a lifted index finger. “That when everyone’s the same, everyone’s happy. See how simple life is, here?”

Vilmah looked at her, horrified. “Yes, but—“

“You should stay here. You’re happier here!”

“That’s not true!” She protested, going to the Undead woman. “I want to go home!”

The Undead lifted a brow. “Oh? And what about Draekon? What about what he wants?”

There was silence.

“Are you really that selfish? Would you take his family way from him? Or what about everyone else? Isn’t this kind of life what you wanted? No war, no fighting…”

Vilmah stuttered. “I…”

“That’s what I thought,” the stranger said with a grin, and began alking away. “Ta-ta!”

“Wait!!” Vilmah ran after her, but the woman disappeared. “Don’t… go.”

She stared at empty space, and sighed. Walking back down the road to her house, she decided to get ready for tonight’s celebration. Maybe she would find someone to help her, there…

Nojinbu arrived at her house as the sun was setting. He hoisted her up on the back of his gray horse, and she held on tightly to his waist as they rode. The tall animal was much different from Edmund, but Vilmah felt safe with her arms wrapped around Nojinbu, even in his human form. They kept quiet on the way over, until finally, he broke the silence.

“So… what’s wrong?”

Vilmah snapped back to consciousness. “Hm?”

“You’ve been very quiet, all day,” he said while stopping the horse. Nojinbu turned to look at her. “What’s the matter?”

She thought for a moment, about whether or not she could tell him. It didn’t seem right to leave him in the dark, but… “Nojinbu, what happened to your family?”

“I already told you,” he replied with a shrug. “They’re still up North. I came here to find better game, and I did, so I decided to stay. You know that… now what’s bothering you?”

“Well…” she began tentatively. “Are you happy here? Don’t you miss being there?”

“Not really,” he said, shaking his head. “I’m happy here, with you. With everyone.”

She paused. “Is there anything you feel like you’re missing?”

Nojinbu took the time to think about her question. He sighed and shook his head. “I can’t say so. I have everything I need, here. A home, animals to skin, friends, and you. What more do I need?”

Vilmah smiled sadly. “Nothing. Nothing at all.”

She leaned over and held on to him tightly as they continued on their way. She wondered if they would ever be this close in the world she came from. How could they, if war was always on their side…

Soon, they arrived at the celebration. The entire town was dancing and mingling in front of a stage, where several musicians played on guitars and drums. Nojinbu tied his horse to a post and they joined Draekon near a very tired looking woman with white hair. Vilmah ventured a guess of who it was, when she saw her protruding belly. “…Selene?”

“Hello, Vilmah,” she said cheerfully.

Draekon and Nojinbu began to talk, and the band wound down as two people ascended the stairs to the stage. They were a couple, arm and arm.

“Looks like the mayor has something to say,” Draekon commented.

Vilmah recognized the woman as Nadea. The man at her side, however, seemed eerily out of place. “Mayor? Nadea’s the mayor?”

“Of course not!” Selen said with a chuckle. “Her husband Gorthok is.”

Vilmah’s jaw dropped. Gorthok? Alive? He looked well enough, for a human anyway… “My dearest friends,” he said heartily. “Welcome to the celebration! Please, eat, and drink of course, in the name of the wonderful Fall Harvest we’ve received!”

Everyone applauded. Even Nadea cheered for Gorthok, before he gave her a kiss. At the foot of the stage, Vimah spotted a human Keraph smirking at the couple with his arms folded. He shook his head and retreated into the crowd as the band resumed their playing. In the thrall, she could see many of the people she’d seen earlier in the day, and even more new faces, enjoying themselves. Okhu had her arm around a giggling girl, Clys danced seductively beside Danlily, and even Mortica stifled a chuckle at the sight of a well groomed Karkarov. Everyone seemed so happy. It wasn’t until she caught sight of the Undead from earlier that Vilmah remembered who she really was.

“Wait,” she said quietly. “This… this just isn’t right.”

Nojinbu raised an eyebrow, skeptically. “Well the band just formed a few weeks ago, they’re bound to make mistakes—“

“No, Nojin,” Vilmah said bitterly. “I mean everything… I just can’t… I can’t admit that I want it to stay this way.”

Before she could say another word, the undead woman appeared in front of her. “Why not just stay here, then?”

Vilmah glanced at Nojinbu and Draekon, neither of which seemed to be able to see the stranger. “I… but…”

“I’ll send you back, if you like,” she said with a shrug. “But imagine what you’d be doing! Poor Draekon would lose his wife, Nojinbu wouldn’t give you any sort of attention, and you’ll still be a murderer.”

“I can’t… but, I can’t just stay here!”

“Sure you can!” The undead said with a laugh. “You’re so much happier here! Unless you want I should destroy all of these people now?”

She raised a hand, and a black flame engulfed it. Nojinbu, oblivious of the goings on, continued to talk with Draekon as the undead aimed for him.

“No!!” Vilmah shouted, running between them. Nojinbu turned to look in what direction she was shouting, but saw nothing. “Don’t hurt him!”


Nojinbu put a hand on her shoulder. “What’s going on?”

“Nojin, I…” She looked at him sadly. Even as a human, his gray eye was fierce and intimidating. She couldn’t lie to him. “Nojin, this place isn’t real. You’re not human, you’re a troll! And I’m an orc, and this whole place shouldn’t be here…”

Nojinbu chuckled. “A troll? Are you joking? We wiped them out years ago! And I don’t even know what orcs are.”

“No, that’s not true! The orcs came through the gate and there were huge wars and… and…” Vilmah found herself crying. “I guess we wouldn’t have met if my people hadn’t come here, or if there wasn’t a need of Sanctuary, or if everyone didn’t want to kill eachother, or—“

“Easy, easy!” Nojinbu said, putting a hand over her mouth. “Sanctuary? Kill eachother?? Vilmah, nobody wants to kill anyone! We’re all happy here, see?”

She looked out into the crowd. Nobody was unhappy. Not even Shadowspeak looked gloomy. It was all like some horribly painted portrait of what could be, if only she’d let Infection win.

She looked at the Undead. “… Send me back.”

The woman frowned. “Excuse me?”

“I said,” she growled. “Send me back!”

“Look around you, Bloodborne,” the Undead said with a sly smirk. “You’ll never be this happy again. Nobody will. You realize that, right?”

She turned to Nojinbu, who looked confused. She was thankful for his ignorance. Even in his human form, she questioned whether or not he’d be able to control his anger. “…yes, I know.”

There was a flash of light, and it all evaporated.

A prod to the nose startled Vilmah awake. “Huh? Whuh?”

“Wake up,” said a low deep voice. “Weh gotta Guild meetin’ tonight. Ya planned it yaself.”

Opening her eyes, she saw Nojinbu. He was a troll, again, and covered from head to toe in leather armor. A black eye patch covered his empty socket, and daggers still bloody from earlier kills hung from his hips. Vilmah groaned slightly. “…will you give me a good morning kiss?”

The troll sheepishly looked over his shoulder to make sure they were alone, and gave her a quick peck on the forehead before heading out of her room in the Rest in Peace Inn. “Alright, come on, we gotta lotta tings ta discuss!”

Vilmah watched him retreat, and looked at her armor laying on the desk at her side. It was slightly rusted, and bent in odd places from damage. She remembered her time as a human, and smiled.

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((I think I feel just a wee bit left out. No tiny lil' part for Jobolg? I could just curl up in a corner and cry! But Fhenrir was just a regular ole' bull, so that makes me feel a bit better! And Shadowspeak was a math nerd, so that's a little better still.

Tears aside, this was a great story and I really enjoyed it! So I expect you to write some more tales of interest soon! Keep it up!))

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((I think I feel just a wee bit left out. ))

((I'm so sorry, I -knew- I was forgetting something!! I had a part planned out for you and everything, so lemme add it now.))

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((Shadowspeak... That = Hilarious!


((EDITED: to include Jobolg. Try and find him!))

Aww! That's so sweet! I'm touched! I used Ctrl + F to find myself. Is that cheating?))

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((A farm hand lol..ok fine...but gangly? gaaah it's because i'm a mage huh warrior!? lol. On a serious note Vilmah, your story was awesome..loved it. ))

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