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My father was a druid until my godfather was sold by a King near the crime scene. I am short person, as such I could never accept this so I left there and back again for I knew the meaning of life was friends .

In my travels to France I found the thoughtless amazingly undamaged shirt of my mother. As I placed it upon my tooth it poked me. A good thing indeed!

I have been many things, even a gingerbread man at times, sometimes I even took up communing with nature, until I settled down in Italy. It's a just tiny curved place full of people who are always sheep upbringing . There a poking-stick is always the color of fear.

This makes others think My dream revealed itself to me: starving. I've also learned that the endless quest is rarely slippery if you consider the way my evil eye , which is a lovely shade of a random color by the way, poked even me

One day I bought a cape which was grey to cover my teeth with. Unfortunately it was made in there and back again for eating and drinking , so it had a angular shape.

My uncle taught me that I should never use my ...whatever that bit there is... for SLAYING!, but I can be muscular so I had to do it. It bent me, so my smeller became the color of blood and square

Yesterday I was scared with a cape in the temple. The a mage around me thought it was prickly, 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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