(no subject)
Whatever son of a Trow saw fit to stick me to this cow-faced broad is going to find their internal organs painfully rearranged when I find them.
*ow, damn it, hands off the goods! Drop that knife before you lose that hand!*
And so the Bard found himself in quite the predicament. Stuck to a woman he, for once, wanted nothing to do with.
Truly the heavens favor swift and copious judgment.
*ow, damn it, hands off the goods! Drop that knife before you lose that hand!*
And so the Bard found himself in quite the predicament. Stuck to a woman he, for once, wanted nothing to do with.
Truly the heavens favor swift and copious judgment.