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Literature
The Chromatic Faces of Ancillia: Survivor
They smelt no better than outside, but Darren appreciated stepping inside the decrepit buildings. He could tell they were small, salt of the earth type things when they were in their prime. It was a nice thing to think about during those moments where he struggled between windows and doors, in those moments where he had to re-enter the alley. The horn still trumpeted at seemingly random intervals and he could hear something else the closer he got, almost like distant yelling, but he couldn’t decipher it. “What in god’s name is happening?” he thought to himself as he limped between the next two houses. He went up
to the window of the next house, one that was slightly higher than the others and slowly struggled to pull himself up. Darren made it halfway up the wall before it started groaning suspiciously
climbing a little faster now he felt something give under his foot. Feeling the whole of the wall begin to buckle under his weight he braced himself as wood splin
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Literature
The Chromatic Faces of Ancillia: Fight
  The night came and went and soon enough the sun shone on the Lavender patch where Darren laid. His eyes bolted open the moment light touched them, instinctively he shot upright and reached for his gun, a decision he regretted instantly. A sharp pain shot rapid jolts of agony down his chest making him double over, almost falling flat on his stomach. He caught himself noticing the bolt was still thoroughly lodged in his chest. Vision swimming and in too much of a daze to remember his studies of field medicine, he wrapped his hands around the bolt and ripped it out. It was a barbaric thing, practically nothing more than a crudely wrought iron stake with surprisingly no blood on it. He investigated the large hole torn in his doublet, the bolt went straight through easily piercing the skin of his gambeson. “Useless.” he said under his breath “Armor should protect, must’ve lost a rib because of that lazybones quilter.”
   
He made a mental note
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Literature
The Chromatic Faces of Ancillia: Bolt
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The sword was alien and beyond beautiful. It shone like silver in the sun and with colors more odd in the dark. A saber with an impossibly sharp blade, yet undamaged were the finely machined murals that ran down the blade to the basket hilt seemingly carved out a single chunk of onyx. That too was engraved entirely with impossibly small and strange depictions that Darren knew nothing about.
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Chapitre un
Darren was awoken by the sounds of pots and pans gently rattling in the wind. He took stock of his surroundings. It was early afternoon, and the thrill of being alone with his wagon for the first time still hadn’t worn off. The ancient road spanned out into the distance in front of him. Despite the myriad potholes and cracks dotted throughout, the roads here were older th
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Literature
Queen of Gears
“Why do you shake so? The Queen of Gears is a friend to all good people! I’ve only ever slain snakes and dragons, are you a dragon?” -QoG negotiating with Rusi traders.
Name: Unknown
Known as: Queen of Gears, or QoG (Kog)
Race: R.T (ex-human)
Handedness: Left hand
height: 7’5
weight: 950 Lbs
age: 610
MOV: 11
Gods: Fox
Profession: Leader of Queensland
Affluence: Wealthy
Statistics
Str:50
Con:100
Siz:23
Int:13
Pow:10
Dex:3
App:14
Hit points:62
Fatigue:150
Mana:0
Armor
Limbs: 20
Torso: 16
Head: 7
Appearance: The Queen strikes an imposing figure at seven foot, five inches tall. The only remains of her humanity are her head and her respiratory system. Her eyes have been replaced with an advanced camera system and targeting matrix making it so only the bottom half of her face and her hair
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Literature
Character Profiles: Jannet 'Jane' Aranae
Name: Jane Aranae
Race:Succubus (wraith possessed/wendigo infected)
handedness:Right hand
height: 5,3 Ft
weight: 125 Lbs
age: undetermined (pre new world)
MOV:27
Gods:non-worshiper
Profession: Autarch of the Matriarchy of Jane
Affluence:Wealthy
STATS
Str:30
Con:40
Siz:9
Int:18
Pow:20
Dex:24
App:21
Hit points:25
Fatigue:65
Mana:20
Appearance: Jane is a rather short woman of athletic build, she possesses wavy brown hair (dyed green at most times) attempts to always keep her eyes half lidded, and wears a disarming smile, using her hair and makeup to hide six extra eyes and an inhumanly large mouth. She tends to prefer Victorian style dresses, trimmed down with open back, armor is cleverly hidden in the design, and an elbow length waxed cape for catching liquids. This is usually accompanied by a pair of boots that look more suited for a battlefield than a audience hall. Her main armaments are a model five hundred revolver, lovingly nicknamed L'ender, and an ancient enchanted man-catcher na
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Was gone for the fun but I suppose I'll upload it. :iconmarkusrhodes:MarkusRhodes 5 1

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Ayyyy finally got my tabletop game in a payable state, now I need to get some fluff down.
It was bretty great, Shaft has come so far
i.imgur.com/ooC5UM7.gif
  • Listening to: L.A Dispute - The Last Lost Continent
  • Eating: some sort of steak made from tuna
But not the most sure yet. It's just that I've been making so much writing progress recently I feel fantastic and not only that but I'm more than halfway done with the preview rule set of a war game I'm working on. So I've been thinking of stretching my fingers with other types of writing exercises outside my comfort zone. I'll probably try to collab with someone eventually though the people I'm asking right now seem to not be all that interested.
  • Listening to: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=J5UiE_MWm2k
  • Drinking: Dragon Chai Tea
They smelt no better than outside, but Darren appreciated stepping inside the decrepit buildings. He could tell they were small, salt of the earth type things when they were in their prime. It was a nice thing to think about during those moments where he struggled between windows and doors, in those moments where he had to re-enter the alley. The horn still trumpeted at seemingly random intervals and he could hear something else the closer he got, almost like distant yelling, but he couldn’t decipher it. “What in god’s name is happening?” he thought to himself as he limped between the next two houses. He went up

to the window of the next house, one that was slightly higher than the others and slowly struggled to pull himself up. Darren made it halfway up the wall before it started groaning suspiciously

climbing a little faster now he felt something give under his foot. Feeling the whole of the wall begin to buckle under his weight he braced himself as wood splintered and snapped as the wall was brought down. tumbling in Darren hit the floor with a thud, letting out a weak groan, everything hurt, he was starting to feel dizzy, and the simple act of just moving down a street made his whole body feel like lead. He fought to sit upright and took stock of his surroundings. He was in what looked like once used to be a parlor. A table was set against the door and chairs laid broke, burnt, and scattered around the room. There was a burnt flag set above its fireplace depicting a blue rose. Two partway melted guns and some type of arquebuses by the looks of them stood crossed below the flag. Deciding the guns would probably be useless, he crawled to the window across the room from him. The horn stopped but the yelling hadn't. It became distinct now, audible, but he could not make out it's meaning. Though as it echoed hauntingly through the ruined buildings it was clear to him that these were not the cries of an animal. No, these were spoken from a foreign tongue, one that he could not quite parse, but understand the urgency of nonetheless.

Standing himself up and using the window to balance him he peeked outside to the town square. He saw it and hope flared within him, his wagon was set at the center of the square in front of it was a fire with horse’s leg on a spit roasted above it. Two gobbos stood at the fire speaking in an alien language and the sound of battle sounded dangerously close. “Is it the crusade? No, they would have won by now it must be a falling out.” deciding that the barbarians were turning on each other Darren thought it would be his best chance, if he could reach the poultices then he wouldn’t be caught off guard a second time. He drew the string back on his crossbow and dropped one of the demon’s crude bolts into it still believing that such crude demons didn’t deserve bullets. He kept himself low to ensure he had the element of surprise and took aim at the nearest gob of the two. Darren put more faith into his marksmanship than anything else. He watched the way the pans rattled on his wagon and recalled how loud the crossbow sounded when it first broke his rib. He aimed above the gobbos head, slightly to the left.

“Direction…”

He fired, the bolt whistled through the air barely giving the demons a chance to turn their heads to the noise when the bolt slammed into one of them. Piercing its heart directly and dropping it dead.

“Perfection.”

Darren liked crossbows. The other creature spotted him and hastily drew a club almost dropping it in the process. Darren’s heart started beating faster again and he got that strange feeling again like his brain knew the pain was there but detached it from him. Sent it far away. He drew his parma and sword, leaping over the window with new found energy, his leg was dumb but he kept a brisk a pace as possible trying not to let the animal get its bearings. A stinging pain shot through his other leg and instinct took over as he fell on his knees before he knew what he was doing he stabbed directly behind him putting his sword through the head of a third gobbo. Time slowed down as he heard the quick footfalls of the club gob closing in on him, he felt the shock through his parma as he quickly put it between him and the club. It backed up, knowing speed was on its side it could attack whenever it wanted. Darren could only counter “Not gonna die,” he thought he was too close his wagon and the supplies were right in front of him no more than a meter away. There was only one thing to do, his gun was his only hope. Throwing his sword in an attempt to distract it while he reached down for his weapon. The demon took initiative as soon as he disarmed himself, charging in he went to strike. Darren grabbed his gun fast as lightning he brought his arm up and came face to face with the dead eyes of the demon.

It took his mind a moment but he finally processed it once a blade slid back out from its neck, a silver blade polished to an almost unnatural shine. Standing before him was a man though he looked like no crusader. He wore no armor but was dressed in simple mostly ruined sackcloth and soaked in blood. He had broad shoulders and with arms of slab-like muscle more akin to one of a life of heavy labor rather than a knight. The square was lousy with monster corpses now that he had a good look at it “Did this man kill them all himself” he found that hard to believe when he struggled with four.

“Who’re you?” The man asked him. his voice was neutral, and his posture was more guarded than outwardly hostile. Darren opened his mouth but choked up his body became heavy again pulling him to the ground, vision becoming hazy, and pain assaulting him at all angles. His heartbeat was beginning to sound more distant, duller. He reached out his hand to the man, pleading.

“The wagon, poultices!” the man’s eyes widened for a moment, quickly turning around he ran up to the wagon. Attempting to throw open its side door the lock wouldn’t budge once, twice, three times. The stranger then kicked the door with the force of a trebuchet making it explode into splinters. He headed in. Darren heard a quick moment of rustling before his head popped out from around the door.

“This’un- oh fuck!” he held up the right potion but his hand slipped smashing against the ground with a resounding crack that made Darren inwardly cringe at the notion that someone could handle a potion worth a servant’s yearly wage like that. Darren nodded to the man and motioned for him to grab another fast. He came out this time more carefully, popping the cork he handed it to Darren who swigged it with the wild abandon of a man close to death breaking out in a coughing fit in the process. Not even a moment after he began to seize on the ground an intense pain that doubled everything he felt so far wracking his body but he was prepared for this. “I-I’ll get another.” The man said nervously eyeing him as he backpedaled towards the wagon.

“It. Is. Fine” Darren said towards gritted teeth, he could feel the rib in his chest get forced back into place through brute force his metabolism working overtime to knit damaged skin together forming large patches of scar tissue over the wounds. His seizing soon ceased his wounds fully healed all that was left was an intense hunger. He looked to his wagon hoping the gobs were just fine with his horse and ignored his provisions he then looked back at the man. He wasn’t a knight but he was a demon killer and no ordinary peasant owns a sword like that. “You wanted to know who I was right? So, let’s eat.”

As Dawn turned to day Darren came to appreciate the peasant proverb “hunger is the best sauce” The mutton he brought from home took forever to roast over the fire. Meanwhile, the stranger was frying some sort of large mushroom over his fire and it seemed like it was almost done. Darren crawl-scurried over to his fire.

“Trade you, half for half?” He asked inclining his head towards his slow cooking lamb. The stranger gave him a puzzled look before shooting him a toothy grin.

“Seems a bit rich for my taste, but ‘ell when am I gonna get another chance like this.” He took a long knife out from his belt, he divided the mushroom into equal portions and stabbed one-half through his knife. He startled Darren by snatching one of the bolts from his side faster than a man of his size should move and stabbed the other mushroom through it and tossed it to Darren.

“So the first question’s mine,” Darren announced. “Why have you been so trusting of me?” He bit into the mushroom, he didn’t know what he was expecting but it was underwhelming in all aspects. Neither delicious or rancid it tasted rather plain but it felt filling which was the most important thing for him right now, he began to eat it with a bit more gusto.

“Well, you were wearin the colors of the church for one.” Darren internally praised himself for that “knew it.” The stranger then took a bite of his own shroom, he continued talking with his mouth full. “An also, yous from the Argoney house ain’tcha.” Darren shot the man a look, as mispronounced as it was that was way too close to his name for coincidence.

“Y-you pronounce it Argonne.” He shook his head. “And how did you know?” He felt a twinge of unease, biting down again all he tasted was iron, he didn’t realize he finished that fast.

“The feathers for one.” He pointed at the crest on his doublet’s shoulder. “Though I s’pose anyone can fake a crest, was the carriage full-a medicine that sold me. Yous people used to come by the village all the time before, ya kept pa running way past his due date.” He slid the rest of his shroom back into the pan. “You can ‘ave the rest.” He took a spare piece of cloth nearby him and began using it to polish his knife.

“Used to?” Darren was beginning to feel very nervous, the man seemed to notice it and tried to give him a reassuring smile, resheathing his knife he brought his rucksack to him.

“Nah, no, no, no. I ain’t implying your people left dad to die, yous aren’t the problem. I lost my village to slavers, demon slavers. It wasn’t but a short while ago, I suppose that’s where yous were heading through guess ya made a detour?” Darren swallowed he thought of what might have happened to his father’s caravan. He needed to get back but he had no horse. He decided he’d see if the stranger could help.

“So how did you end up in this village anyway?” He set the bait.

“Gonna get em back.” The man replied near instantly. “I heard they were here but I must’ve missed em.” He stood up. “Not really sure where’d they be now.”

“We should go back to your village,” Darren interjected sounding a bit more desperate than he may have liked. “Bandits always return once the retaliatory force leaves. You can bring my carriage you have a horse, right? you’re bound to be hurt on the way.” He nodded back to him when he asked about the horse, the man turned to the horizon, looking into the distance.

“Is that right?” He replied scratching the back of his head. “I guess I can saddle my horse up to your wagon then, but why are you so willing to help me?”

“Your village was a major source of profit.” Darren may or may not have lied, he never really paid attention to his father’s spreadsheets and charts. The stranger nodded at this, it was perfectly acceptable for a merchant to be concerned with gold after all. “By the way, the demon. It isn’t gobs, is it? They look too similar and no offense intended but you’d of probably called off your hunt after this. What took down your village?”

“A fox.” Was the only thing he replied with.
The Chromatic Faces of Ancillia: Survivor
Three down two more to go. I plan on trying to perhaps network this when I'm done.

Previous chapter: markusrhodes.deviantart.com/ar…
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  The night came and went and soon enough the sun shone on the Lavender patch where Darren laid. His eyes bolted open the moment light touched them, instinctively he shot upright and reached for his gun, a decision he regretted instantly. A sharp pain shot rapid jolts of agony down his chest making him double over, almost falling flat on his stomach. He caught himself noticing the bolt was still thoroughly lodged in his chest. Vision swimming and in too much of a daze to remember his studies of field medicine, he wrapped his hands around the bolt and ripped it out. It was a barbaric thing, practically nothing more than a crudely wrought iron stake with surprisingly no blood on it. He investigated the large hole torn in his doublet, the bolt went straight through easily piercing the skin of his gambeson. “Useless.” he said under his breath “Armor should protect, must’ve lost a rib because of that lazybones quilter.”
   
He made a mental note to make sure his father heard of this during his return but until then a cursory inspection of the hill revealed there were more pressing matters at hand. “Where’s the wagon?” He limped to the spot where his wagon once stood, even his horse’s corpse was missing. Anxiety was beginning to beat out pain now. Thousands of gold worth of medical supplies, provisions, and tinctures only a knight could afford were missing, not to mention his own supplies. He calmed himself down, he was still okay. The bandits must’ve missed him in the large lavender bushes. He scried the environment for a sign of where his wagon might have gone, looking around their was only one thing in the environment “smoke?” A single trail of smoke was rising from the village. A campfire, if they moved his wagon, they couldn’t have moved it that far without a horse. He drew his sword. “Alright, fine, I’m still armed. Just need to fight now.”
   
He took tentative steps towards the village. Being forced to regard it again pushed the smell back into his mind. The sickly sweet smell of death was certainly new to him and one he knew he’d have to deal with in this line of work, but he still couldn’t help but feel nauseous. He started whenever his eyes found what he thought might be a body in the ruins and he decided to go the way where he thought there would be the least. He crouched low and kept his pace slow as to not have another incident like last time.

Crossing the threshold and actually entering the town was a haunting experience, myriad thoughts passed through his head as he shimmied past the burnt out storefronts and empty stables “Did my father pass through this village, has he sold to them, did he know them?” Darren was a stranger to tragedy outside of books and the thought that the lives of so many could just be taken from them by demons filled him with a mix of apprehension and anger he never felt before. Deciding to pick up the pace, he continued towards the fire while thinking of his game plan “Should I move through the houses? Shoot them through the windows mayhaps, that’d give them a taste of their own medicine. Bullets are rare outside, though they didn’t fight upfront like cowards so maybe they’d be no problem in melee.” his train of thought was interrupted by a sudden THUNK. He ducked but didn’t hear the now familiar sound of cut air. He heard it again and started but then began to realize he wasn’t the target this time. With his back to the husk of a house, he edged ever closer to the sound coming up towards the next street. he peeked down to see the source of the noise his heart became like a hummingbird’s. A creature, it looked like a cross between a lizard and a rat standing on two legs. It was about half the size of Darren and it’s hunched posture made it look even smaller. It wasn’t wearing any clothes, bar a rope belt used to hold a ‘weapon’ which was nothing but a sharpened chunk of iron with a strip of leather wrapped around the end as a grip. It was pulling back the string on an equally crude looking crossbow. a few feet from it was a wood parma stood up against a barrel with a number of bolts lodged in it with a doll nailed to the center.

Darren had closely followed the studies of the Tenurgson university, bought every interesting book published by its alumni, and right now he recalled reading Sigismund’s Bestiarum. “Gobbo,” he thought to himself. Weak, barbaric, an anathema to the righteous man but also numerous. Looking around though Darren didn’t see a single companion with it, he could do this, for the sake of the villagers it would be purged. “Every corpse a saint, every grave a shrine.” the words of his preacher went through his head giving him all the faith he needed to charge the defiler.

The gob heard Darren’s footfalls, jumping back he swung around firing a bolt at the same moment Darren swung. The bolt went wide of Darren’s neck as the gob hissed in pain receiving a large gash on his abdomen. It glared up at Darren with an inhuman fish-eyed look that he couldn’t quite decipher then quickly glanced in the direction of the fire then at Darren’s person. Spotting the gun it quickly took up the parma against the barrel and drew its war knife before giving him a defiant hiss, it was almost funny.

“Something like you doesn’t even deserve a bullet!” Darren bragged to it, adrenaline flooding his system. It put it’s shield up and advanced but such crude equipment couldn’t compete with his masterly crafted sword. He jumped towards in bringing his sword down with his full strength, intending to crush through its shield and into its skull. The sword cut a few inches into the shield before getting stuck part way in. With a lopsided grin, the gob twisted its shield arm ripping Darren's sword out of his hand and with a shake of its arm threw the sword behind it.

“What!” was all he could say before the gob lunged at him stabbing his knife forward. Darren dodged left but a quick searing pain went through him as the knife left a cut on his upper thigh. He fell on his knee becoming eye level with the creature, he quickly reached for his holster but the gob noticed. One quick shield bash to the chest and the pain from his old wound flooded his mind, he fell onto his back and his pistol flew from his hand. The demon loomed over him, menacing him with his knife Darren tried backing up, kicking at the gobbo, blathering about his family, but it all proved useless in fact it seemed to enjoy it. Darren’s back hit up against a building there was no more room, the gobbo closed in knife raised and ready to end him.

Somewhere further back in the village a horn sounded flooding the streets with its dull baritone. The gobbo looked towards the campfire dropping it’s shield low for a second it was the only second Darren needed. He rocketed his foot into the gob's chest sending it careening down the street dropping his knife on the way. Darren and the gobbo stared at each other from across the street, both simultaneously noticing the gun at the center of the street. Daren could only hear his heart, time seemed to move slower, and the pain disappeared from his leg and chest. The gobbo broke out in a mad scramble towards the weapon while Darren mustered all his energy grabbing the knife and stumbling forward. The gobbo reached it first scooping up the gun and fumbling with it. but Darren couldn’t dodge there was nowhere he could get to fast enough, he could only keep going. Aiming his own gun at him the gobbo tried to fire, panic flashed in its eyes. It couldn’t figure out how to make the gun fire. Darren tackled it using his size to overtake it holding it against the ground by its neck he took the knife in his other hand.

“Now die you damned!” he brought the knife down but the gob did it’s best to deflect it with its hand, he stabbed into its head dark red ichor splashing against his arm and face it let out a scream of pain and hisses of panic as it clawed at Darren’s arm tearing small chunks of flesh and drawing blood. “Die damn!” He couldn’t land a killing blow, it wouldn’t stop moving. it’s screams burnt Darren’s ears “Damned! Damn! Damned! Damn! Damn! Damn!” Finally, he must have struck something vital. The gobbo stopped screaming and its arms fell limp. Darren knelt frozen over it for a moment, his breaths rattled like a man close to death. He rolled over onto his side, his scratched arm frozen as if still choking the gobbo, he felt sick. “Crusaders don’t feel this. Crusaders don’t feel this.”

He laid there for only a few moments but it felt like it might have been days. He heard the horn again. He slowly stood upright again, he wiped his eyes getting blood in them and leaving them a lot worse than they were. “Gotta get to the cart.” he thought “To the- to the tinctures.” he rationalized. He picked up his sword, holstered his gun, and took the gobbo’s parma from its arm and crossbow from the ground. It might have been barbaric but if it could stop his sword then it must work. He limped forward turning down the next corner towards the horn, towards the fire, and hopefully towards the wagon. The full force of his senses returned once he turned down the next street. The smell of rot and the taste of burnt flesh rolled across his tongue, down the street were multiple charred black things, stood up on stakes so that their eyeless rictus grins could greet any who’d dare go down this charnel alley. Darren tried to turn around and run but his leg wouldn’t let him, he fell face first onto the ground and threw up. He thought that maybe he should just run away. Panic scratched the back of his skull, but he just had to force it back. He needed those medical supplies. “I’ll just… I’ll just move through the houses.”
The Chromatic Faces of Ancillia: Fight
Second chapter to my series of stories meant to introduce the FOX setting. Like always if you could tell me what you think or if you noticed an error I have not it would be a great help if you mentioned it.

Link to the next chapter: markusrhodes.deviantart.com/ar…

Link to the chapter before this one: markusrhodes.deviantart.com/ar…
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MarkusRhodes
Timbo Reiner
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It was bretty great, Shaft has come so far
i.imgur.com/ooC5UM7.gif
  • Listening to: L.A Dispute - The Last Lost Continent
  • Eating: some sort of steak made from tuna

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:icondescendant-of-elita:
Descendant-of-Elita Featured By Owner Mar 5, 2017  Hobbyist
Can you help me?? I've been harassed by four deviants. 
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:iconmarkusrhodes:
MarkusRhodes Featured By Owner Mar 6, 2017  Hobbyist Artist
That depends on the situation, who's you and where was the harassment.
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:icondescendant-of-elita:
Descendant-of-Elita Featured By Owner Mar 6, 2017  Hobbyist
The-Strong-Doctor and Sexy-Warrior 
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:iconmarkusrhodes:
MarkusRhodes Featured By Owner Mar 6, 2017  Hobbyist Artist
I talked to them and I believe they won't try to bother you anymore.
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(1 Reply)
:iconshadowmajoradrowned:
ShadowMajoraDrowned Featured By Owner Feb 18, 2017  Hobbyist Digital Artist
Thank you so much for the watch!!!
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:iconmarkusrhodes:
MarkusRhodes Featured By Owner Feb 18, 2017  Hobbyist Artist
No problem friend.
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:icongeneraldurandal:
GeneralDurandal Featured By Owner Jan 31, 2017
Thanks for watching.
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:iconwolfworld87:
wolfworld87 Featured By Owner Jun 24, 2016
thanks for the watch mate ^^
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:iconmarkusrhodes:
MarkusRhodes Featured By Owner Jun 24, 2016  Hobbyist Artist
No problem man.
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:iconcapnredivan:
CapnRedIvan Featured By Owner Mar 16, 2016  Hobbyist Digital Artist
who the fukc
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