TonberryCrunch

Creation. Destruction.

The following is many stories told by the people of Marobon Fell on the ascension of Sarobur and has been blessed by the God-King. Sarobur was born into a warlord tribe in days long before the unification of Marobon Fell. In this time he showed prowess in guile and martial warfare. He trained his wits and body day and night. A curious child, Sarobur grew especially interested in the planes of the Daemons. By fifteen he was able to conjure into the planes. One day, he appealed to Frthringa, the Daemonic Lord of conquest. Sarobur was just a young man when he encountered Frthringa. "I am Frthringa, lord of conquest, scourge of the weak, blesse

Stop. Just... just shut up. Shut up for one minute. Then and only then you can hear it. The sound is faint, but it's there. Right there. There in the stew. No, it's not the boiling and bubbling. It's the screaming. Can't you hear it? The horrible, agonizing screams? Do you know what it is? It's the cries of the carrots. For them, this is genocide. They cry out in pain but we ignore them. We mercilessly murder them and all of their kin. Murder and eat them. Alive or dead. We feel nothing for them. If they were to scream louder we would be able to recognize that vegetarianism is murder. But now their mouths are sealed. And the cries of the carr

Heh. That bastard sure gave me a run for my money. Leaving me bleeding outside the bar and walking away like he's some rat bastard supreme. Makes me sick. Could see it - smell it - on him the moment he walked in. Glad I got to pound his face in a couple of times. He won't be such a prissy pompous little pussy pretty boy when he gets home, that's for sure. No Frank, I don't need you to help me up again. Even completely wasted I can handle this alone. Frank. Big tough muscle for the bar. No insecurities there, nope. It was only obvious how intimate he and I would become. My need for a drunken brawl, his job to keep customers in line. Doesn't m