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Lives in the world of Faeo: |
15 years8 month(s) 4 day(s) |
Region: |
United States |
Motto: |
Never stop beleving. Always chase your dreams. No good deed goes unpunished. |
About you: |
Spiderman owes me 6g playing on same computer with others so plz don't ban us Best crit-50 Best drop- taking orders for low lvl stones and dust 0+ selling grey dust at auction bid 5s buy 6s green dust 7s bid 8s sell You have exchanged 8000 valour for the rank of Soldier. Novice 0 Soldier 8000 Fighter 30000 Warrior 114000 Elite Warrior 396000 Champion 300000 Gladiator 400000 Captain 500000 War Master 600000 Hero700000 War Expert 800000 War Grandmaster 1200000 Marshall 1800000 Higher Master 2700000 Cedric Raver 8s per 100 amathyst dust = 500 amathyst dust The silver threads fluttered softly in the open breeze, as if each lived its own separate life. Then some unexpectedly broke loose, others became entangled, knotting themselves tightly together, whilst yet more began sprouting offshoots, branching out like a tree, continuing the infinite life cycle of this poorly understood, shimmering mass.
Somewhere in the distance, in the twilight of dancing shadows, a woman, whose age no one knew, was standing. The great Sheara, brought into being by the Creator himself, was the very embodiment of perfection. Her beautiful face was not touched by one wrinkle, her eyes sparkled with wisdom and had the serene composure that one might expect to find only in a venerable monk.
She looked thoughtfully at her needle work and every now-and-then she would make some precise adjustment to the fine threads, and at other times she would softly touch her masterpiece with the tips of her fingers, caressing it, as if her child.
The web of Fate had been restless for many eras and it was awful for her, understanding what lay ahead, knowing that all she saw would happen with unswerving certainty.
Sheara glanced briefly at the girl sitting by the fireplace. The young Magmaress cuddled a fluffy Pkhadd Bear as she looked deeply, passionately, into the fire. She spent every day sitting by the fire, peering into the crimson flames with only the sound of her breathin |
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