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My father was something strange in the neighbouthood until my mother was ate by a lawyer near the outside. I am not slippery person, as such I could never accept this so I left my tower because I desired several dragons .

In my travels to the dungeon I found the average battered horse of my father. As I placed it upon my smeller it made me. A good thing indeed!

I have been many things, even a noble soul at times, sometimes I even took up eating , until I settled down in the dungeon . It's a annoying normal sized curved place full of people who are always slaying. There a pants is always all the colors of the rain.

Short story long, It came to mind... SLAYING!. I've also learned that the journey is rarely jovial if you consider the way my evil eye , which is a lovely shade of brown by the way, poked even my good twin

One day I bought a boring rock which was purple to cover my head with. Unfortunately it was made in the tavern for tending to wheat , so it had a modular shape.

My sister taught me that I should never use my walking bits for EATING AND DRINKING! , but You may reffer to me as smart so I had to do it. It battered me, so my rear became yellow and oval

Yesterday I was dressed up as with a tome of power in some place . The a goblin around me thought it was smelly, so he renewed me.

Total number of possible stories: 1.2622739564229E+82
E means '10 at the power of' so 1.2E+2 is 120. Pretty big number isn't it?
You can still have hours of fun with the previous version HERE.

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