Bay 12 Games Forum

Please login or register.

Login with username, password and session length
Advanced search  
Pages: 1 ... 74 75 [76] 77 78 ... 216

Author Topic: Web of Life: A Drider's Adventure (Ended)  (Read 189830 times)

RAM

  • Bay Watcher
    • View Profile
Re: Web of Life: A Drider's Adventure
« Reply #1125 on: November 09, 2017, 06:59:45 pm »

Ugh, it seems as though vampy is giving us a day off to check out the ghosts. We can probably have a chat with Death to help destress afterwards. Discuss the relevance of ghosts to Death's work, ask if our father has come thorough... talk about our friend's success in raising a necromancer skeleton, have some of that nice tea, see if Death is willing to tell the fourth wall if there is something stopping us from getting a level-up or if the orc village just wasn't that big of a deal and we are going to have to go through the whole overpowered vampire lord arc first.

I guess if vampy is giving us a day off, we may as well be polite and spend it with ghosts rather than making some diversionary attack against the central guard tower while a small band secures the farm.
Logged
Vote (1) for the Urist scale!
I shall be eternally happy. I shall be able to construct elf hunting giant mecha. Which can pour magma.
Urist has been forced to use a friend as fertilizer lately.
Read the First Post!

omada

  • Bay Watcher
  • Let's quack to death
    • View Profile
Re: Web of Life: A Drider's Adventure
« Reply #1126 on: November 09, 2017, 08:09:29 pm »

Okay, we should go in the ghost house trade traumatic events (Can we show them OUR traumatic events? We should ask that to them and train empathy)

Maybe our friends could make an attack on a tower close of the farm while someone else check a bit if there is no caravans coming there, after checking a bit the road of the outpost
Logged
Competent reader (any know lenguage)
Novice english wordsmith
Dabbling english speaker (rusty)
He is short, with a small and failed beard
He likes wood, spears, ducks for their nobility, and rabbits for their weak hearts and funny reproduction rate.
he has a hard time to focus, and values, err almost everything, he dreams of mastering a skill.

Liquefied Spleens

  • Bay Watcher
  • Flesh smoothies, fresh from the tap
    • View Profile
Re: Web of Life: A Drider's Adventure
« Reply #1127 on: November 11, 2017, 07:07:21 pm »

To be honest, you're not sure why you decided to tackle this house on your own. But ultimately, the less people you have around you when things go bad, the better. For both your safety and theirs. Especially theirs, if this goes entirely bad. Honestly, you can only hope your violent impulses direct you towards the vampire's forces, but there's a very decent possibility. As the iron fence creaks and shudders, you feel a chill. The garden is completely overgrown, moss and vines have begun reclaiming the ancient house, but it remains standing. The old oaken doors seem absurdly pristine in comparison to the failing stonework and lost artwork. A single statue of a maiden in a robe looks down upon all who enter. Her face looks locked into a disturbing, corpse-like grin. Teeth bare, but with no hint of mirth. You take a deep breath, and push your shoulder against the oaken doors. As the dusty hall comes into view with the natural light, you note the shadows seem far thicker and... animated than most. What little sunlight manages to push itself past the shadows seems out of place and unwelcome, and it doesn't take long for the heavy oak doors to slam shut with the same cadence one would imagine for the lid of a coffin.
It feels about the same too. The place is suffocating, too hot and dry for a day as this. You can see many footprints in the dust, most likely from the adventuring party. They're spread all around, as if they wandered no further than this hall. The hall itself is rather long, with a staircase to the far right. Immediately to your right, you can see a salon, lavish furniture and beautiful curtains must once have dotted this hall, but now only faint colors remain. The salon looks massive, enough to grant two dozen men and women their seats, and tables to allow them to place their drinks. You enter this room, considering you will need to explore to discover the basement...

You figure it must be connected to the kitchen, to serve as a pantry. It was a common enough practice for this kind of house, although you are no expert. As you go through the threshold, you suddenly hear the standing clock strike 12. The GONG's set your nerves on edge, and after they subside you wander forward
Into a dark, neverending hole. You scream in terror as you fall and fall and fall downwards, your senses disappearing as you fall further and further from the light. Suddenly, your momentum disappears and you can see a faint light. Then you can hear the screaming. A woman, sobbing and screaming in pain and terror.
Berthold!? BERTHOLD. LET ME SEE YOU! I CAN'T FIND YOU... I NEED TO CUT THE BAD OUT!
Berthold hardly dared to breathe, shaking from pure fear as he heard his mother stomp around. She had gone mad when the flashing began, and the rumble started. Berthold HEARD the change, even now he hears whispers, but he can't understand them. He saw as people began screaming, some went still and very few among them remained as they were. Berthold could only hide as the former servants and friends of the family began wandering around the house, tearing at themselves or others. He watched as her mother jabbed the knife in her eyes, sending spurts of blood everywhere. He screamed, he ran, and now he hides. Inside the clock. The clock had latched closed, and he could only hear his panicked breathing and his screaming mother. Someone else had entered, and she stopped yelling clear words. He heard the grunts of Mr. Aprisco, the massive, scary man with all the scars. Soon, he no longer heard his mother, and only the constant, heavy breathing of Mister Aprisco. Then, he heard clothing tear, and a constant thumping noise. But very soon, all Berthold could hear was his own breathing. The clock was shut, it wouldn't open, it was becoming so hot and his breathing...
He felt short of breath. More and more he hyperventilated, the fear of the outside still too great to call for help. They had all gone mad, and he had to remain safe, in here. Remain safe. Remain safe. Remain safe
remain save. save and remain. safe safe safe safe safe safe
remains. Safe. re ma.;;;
hhh
remain s afe
hhh
re muh  ssaa
re
hhh
hhh
sssafe rem rremains
hhh
hhh
hh-

Suddenly you return to the salon, and you take in deep lungfuls of stale dusty air. You clutch your burning throat, and nearly collapse as you only barely get your air back. That was... What HAPPENED in this house?
What happened to Berthold?
On a terrible, fearful hunch, you step closer to the grandfather clock. You see a small, sturdy latch to the side, keeping the clock shut. You can't stop yourself from shaking as you unhook the latch, and open the clock. Inside, you find a small, mummified corpse, the face still and shriveled. You look away, not able to look at the poor child. He's still dressed in small suit, too big for him back then. You think what little remains of his final expression is still there. It's one you won't be able to forget anytime soon.

You wander on in the saloon, and see clear signs of damage. Some of the seats have been pushed over, and others have been torn open. Seems like a case of the crazies went around, that's clear. You also see a hand come out of one of the holes in the largest couch. There is no body inside the couch or anything, somebody just forced a hand in there. The hand has several broken fingers and is... far too preserved to be normal. It looks like it was cut off yesterday, with only the blackened meat and blood at the stump to show the age. At the end of the salon, there is another room. It looks like... a study. Of sorts. The main attraction looks to be the many, many dusty books that are piled along the walls. Bookcases that go as high as the ceiling are lined at the back, and there are many comfortable chairs spread around, each with distance. A quiet room for reading, you suppose. You spot movement to your right, and in a quick flick you draw you sword at the disturbance. What you see is harmless, but no less disturbing. A man in a suit has hung himself, and is still swinging around. One of his shoes fell off, and he is almost entirely reduced to a skeleton. Faintly, you see wriggling around his torso, causing you to take a step backwards in disgust... The body is too old to still have maggots eating at it, so whatever that is...
It can't be good.
When you look away, to the other exit of the room, you find a more humbly decorated hallway. This likely leads to a place more meant for servants. Just as you are about to cross that threshold, you feel a sudden grip on your shoulder

"Oh, Brundel, dear, could you bring those biscuits with you? I think it may attract some of the guests to the reading room, I've been dying to discuss my latest novella!" The unmistakable, peppy voice of Missus Brimsly says to Arthur Brundel as he makes his leave to the servants quarters. Even through the thin gloves, the chubby fingers of the pleasant woman are easily felt. She always seemed to wonder where the weight was coming from, even as she partook in yet more biscuits. She had a love for the thing, and her son, Berthold, seemed to follow in her footsteps. At Brundel's suggestion, she has been leaving the biscuits alone, which is a relief to most of the servants. They all know the risks of obesity, since the loss of the master's father, Ser Robespierre. The man looked awful, bloated with gout and seemingly rotting from "Mellitus" as the beaked doctors called it. Not contagious, fortunately, but death came as a mercy. Still, it does not do to think of such horrors at such a joyous time. Master and his son were performing some flight of fancy in the basement, the first time Brundel had ever seen master talk fondly to his son since the death of Ser Robespierre. The slow death did not do wonders for the masters state of mind. He shook the thoughts from his mind. He had biscuits to fetch.
As he gathered them on the plate, a sudden flashing of the lights and a rumble shook through the house. For a small time, people looked around bewildered. Then, Martha screamed and took a cleaver to her fingers. And for Brundel, the screaming started. The reminders, the doubting, the orders the work the family
when are you getting the medicine? why don't you care for us anymore why can't the nobleshelp?
It was the damned plague! He couldn't do anything as the sores appeared and his wife wouldn't let go of the festering child she still called his son! He was a plague victim, nothing more. Keep our son out of it, he's gone, damn you! He's gone and so are you! because you wouldn't leave theat thing alone. I don't want to be alone don't leave let me go. . . . ..
The damned whores guests don't care for Brundel.
He'll go to the one place where they might still care. The plains of silence, where his family might yet roam. He took the rope as the fat bitch stabbed herself in the eye, bellowing for her spawn. The noose was tied the chair was set the plains of

*crack*

You gasp as the tingles of a broken neck still haunt through you, your heart hammering as you felt the pure insanity of that day. This is... You can't...
You swallow, blinking away tears as try to calm yourself. You move forward. You can't leave now, you need to get there!
The kitchens are far less impressive than the saloon, to say the least. A corpse was splayed out across a cutting board, her left arm cut to ribbons and a rusted cleaver still clutched in her right hand. She has a napkin in her mouth, as if to stifle herself. Martha, you presu-

Cut the bad out cut the bad out cut the bad out cutthebadoutcutthebadoutcutthebadoutcutthebadoutcutthebadoutcutthebadout bad bad bad bad bad  bad   bad bad b-b...

You clutch your left arm as the tingles of the cleaver still linger. You can't control your breathing anymore, everything is just...

I'm sorry.
He bashed her head against the floor again
I'm sorry
He bashed her head against the floor again.
I'm sorry
He bashed her skull against the floor again
I'm sorry
He bashed her brains against the floor again.
I'm sorry
He bashed his hand against the gore again.

You vomit. It's an awful, dark red color, and you taste the blood. It makes you even more sick, and you take slow, halting breaths. You look to the left, cleaning away tears.
You can see the corpse of the man, still lying over the far smaller corpse. His arm is mangled against the floor, and his face is completely gone, leaving nothing but a skeletal face.
He kept bashing. Why did he keep bashing? Why did any of this happen? Shaking, stumbling, you struggle forward in the house, mostly on autopilot. At the end of the servants quarters, you see the door to the cellar. Ancient bloodstains still mark the door. Claw marks, deep in the wood and a mummified corpse with the fingers ground down to the nubs!

get in there get in there get in there make it stop make it stop MAKE IT STOP.

Your fingers hurt. You grind your teeth in frustration. The door is locked. The fucking door is fucking LOCKED!
Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck FUUUCK! you yell, finally reaching your breaking point.



Leave now
Kill. KILL! KILL!

Break the door down.
I WANT INSIDE. LET ME THE FUCK IN

Ransack the house
You want to stay here so bad? I'LL BURN IT TO THE FUCKING GROUND.


Basic Stats
Spoiler (click to show/hide)

Items and equipment
Spoiler (click to show/hide)


Sorry for the delays, everybody, I couldn't get myself started properly, yesterday. I think I got it this time, though.
Logged
Neat stuff I do:
A suggestion game about a drider that does a lot of stuff. I think it's kinda neat.

crazyabe

  • Bay Watcher
  • I didn't start the fire...Just added the gasoline!
    • View Profile
Re: Web of Life: A Drider's Adventure
« Reply #1128 on: November 11, 2017, 07:22:04 pm »

BREAK THE DOOR DOWN.
Logged
Quote from: MonkeyMarkMario, 2023
“Don’t quote me.”
nothing here.

omada

  • Bay Watcher
  • Let's quack to death
    • View Profile
Re: Web of Life: A Drider's Adventure
« Reply #1129 on: November 11, 2017, 09:25:58 pm »

SYDNEY CAME FOR THE CELLAR, AND THE QUEEN WILL ENTER IT

BREAK THE DOOR DOWN
Logged
Competent reader (any know lenguage)
Novice english wordsmith
Dabbling english speaker (rusty)
He is short, with a small and failed beard
He likes wood, spears, ducks for their nobility, and rabbits for their weak hearts and funny reproduction rate.
he has a hard time to focus, and values, err almost everything, he dreams of mastering a skill.

Liquefied Spleens

  • Bay Watcher
  • Flesh smoothies, fresh from the tap
    • View Profile
Re: Web of Life: A Drider's Adventure
« Reply #1130 on: November 12, 2017, 05:48:03 pm »

LET ME IN, GOD DAMN IT! LET ME THE HELL IN! The queen roars as she bashes against the heavy door with her fists, making the old oak shudder. Sadly, it held strong, no matter how much she bashed and scratched at the infernal door. Her hands will not do, she needs something else. A club, a bludgeon, anything to break this door. Break it into a million little cursed pieces. She needs to kill this door. Sydney brought some things with her, something better than her claws, at least. The scythe?
The queen rears back with the scythe, and sends it against the door with all her might. The thin wood breaks and splinters as the blade remains inside the door, bent into uselessness. The sword is obviously too small and WORTHLESS against this insult of wood. The Queen needs something heavy. This house will provide. She returns to the servant's area, and hunts for a weapon. For a second, she sees a man standing over her, bashing his hand into her head. Another illusion, another threat, another insult, another piece of HERESY. She roars in anger, her teeth sharp, her claws gnarled, her will unbreakable! The hand, intent on bashing her again as this pathetic creature actually apologizes, is suddenly torn into by her teeth as her hand clasp shut over the apparition, which rapidly loses its color and shape as a black ichor pours from the wound. Before long, the Queen is bashing the spirit against the walls, before it finally dissipates entirely with an ear-destroying screech. The man is gone, leaving nothing but a small grey wisp, see-through and PATHETIC. Suddenly, the little spirit flies into her, entering her lungs. She coughs for a moment, but soon the coldness of death is overridden by the heat of life.
They are nothing to the queen. NOTHING

She sprints through the house, her claws tearing into any cloth long the way. Tables get flipped, corpses get get tossed, and any spirit that DARES to affect her is dealt with. She'll tear into her own damned arms if she needs to. By the time she reaches the salon again, her arms are filled with her own teeth marks. The pain keeps things real. The pain kills them faster than they kill her. She enters the hallway again, and rams open the door to the garage. A short vision of a servant forcing another man's head underneath a carriage wheel to crush it assaults her mind, but she tears the man away with her own hands before the man's treacherous hands kill the other. This is not what she wishes, so it is not what will happen or has happened. SHE IS THE GODDESS, AND THEY WILL NOT AFFECT HER!
Yet more of the spirits enter her, defeated and cold. She revels in it, her breath visible from the increasing cold. Her eyes itch, and she rubs them thuroughly to the point of pain in her current frenzy. In the garage, she finds yet more corpses, these ones propped up and attached to a wooden structure. They form a tree of rotten flesh and broken bones, an idol to the pain caused by whatever happened in the basement. A pain that will be The Queen's to give!
Then, her prize. A crowbar, sitting in the back, old, blackened blood still staining it from the last use, braining yet another noble whelp. It stopped struggling after the second blow, and the spirit stopped struggling after the third bite. Her arms bleed, her fangs tearing into her own skin, through the carapace. No matter what must be done, these spirits will NOT BREAK HER.

The crowbar works. The lock fails and the door creaks open. All at once, the shadows grow worse and a howling is heard. The man who ground his fingers to the nub appears next to the queen, see-through and grey. His eyes are unending black pits, and more of the black ichor leaks from his mouth. A disgusting sight, but he will not react to the Queens swipes of the crowbar. It seems he will be joining her. Whatever that implies.
It doesn't matter!
The basement is ancient. Dust seems to permeate here more than air, and the sweet smell of decomposition is rampant here. It doesn't take long before a corpse is found. Oddly, he has been reduced to a bloody skeleton, nothing left of him but a torn suit. No spirit seems to fit to this man, as if he was in the eye of the storm, he is the one man that truly died. The spirit with the bloodied fingers and gushing mouth gurgles and roars at the sight, and starts clawing and smashing the corpse. To no effect, of course, he is non-corporeal. Faintly, the queen hears a wailing noise
Why are YOU gone while we remain!? can be heard in the distance.

Then, around the next corner, she can see it. A slab, surrounded by an arcane circle. Blood is still on the slab, and a knife lies next to it. Above the slab, there is a familiar chandelier, clear as day. It's enough to make the queens vision blur with rage.
A spiked halo, around a human skull. The Gestating God had something to do with this. The gestating god...
The vampire was a product of the ancient enemy, through a sacrificial ritual!? On a pedestal, there is a large, dusty tome. It is made from bone, and written on human skin. It yearns to be possesed...

Do you claim the First Tome of Eternal Darkness?

Basic Stats
Spoiler (click to show/hide)

Items and equipment
Spoiler (click to show/hide)
Logged
Neat stuff I do:
A suggestion game about a drider that does a lot of stuff. I think it's kinda neat.

Puppyguard

  • Bay Watcher
  • An avatar? What's that?
    • View Profile
Re: Web of Life: A Drider's Adventure
« Reply #1131 on: November 12, 2017, 06:52:23 pm »

Sure.
Logged

crazyabe

  • Bay Watcher
  • I didn't start the fire...Just added the gasoline!
    • View Profile
Re: Web of Life: A Drider's Adventure
« Reply #1132 on: November 12, 2017, 09:33:59 pm »

THE WORTHLESS BOOK WILL BE A FINE TROPHY FROM THIS GHOST INFESTED, SOON BE FINE PILE OF ASHES.
Logged
Quote from: MonkeyMarkMario, 2023
“Don’t quote me.”
nothing here.

omada

  • Bay Watcher
  • Let's quack to death
    • View Profile
Re: Web of Life: A Drider's Adventure
« Reply #1133 on: November 13, 2017, 10:50:35 am »

The vampire is fruit of the fruit of our problems, just a seed on the sea of darkness HIS BLOOD WILL BE CONSUMED ON DAYLIGHT


DESTROY THE ARCANE SIGIL, or it might have a trap and the queen is gonna have none of it

I don't know if we should claim it, i am almost sure that it will drive us insane, but we will have knowledge of the fundamental magic that keeps the vampire alive, plus of how the gestating god works on our realm to defeat her later.

Maybe if we destroy the book we will free everyone else and not drive insane, or maybe if we seize it we control them...

(oh god i am easily carried away when the queen is in play, i had to struggle to not answer everything with glow orange, i hope there are psychologists somewhere on this game before we lose sydney to madness)
Logged
Competent reader (any know lenguage)
Novice english wordsmith
Dabbling english speaker (rusty)
He is short, with a small and failed beard
He likes wood, spears, ducks for their nobility, and rabbits for their weak hearts and funny reproduction rate.
he has a hard time to focus, and values, err almost everything, he dreams of mastering a skill.

RAM

  • Bay Watcher
    • View Profile
Re: Web of Life: A Drider's Adventure
« Reply #1134 on: November 13, 2017, 02:44:04 pm »

We should activate soul vision, animate the corpse, then have it assist us in ruining this vile obscenity. We can loot the remains after the cursed thing is broken.
Logged
Vote (1) for the Urist scale!
I shall be eternally happy. I shall be able to construct elf hunting giant mecha. Which can pour magma.
Urist has been forced to use a friend as fertilizer lately.
Read the First Post!

Liquefied Spleens

  • Bay Watcher
  • Flesh smoothies, fresh from the tap
    • View Profile
Re: Web of Life: A Drider's Adventure
« Reply #1135 on: November 13, 2017, 03:00:46 pm »

This book will do fine. It looks important, and it seems to have a good taste in hosts. But first... this heresy to the old god cannot be left standing. It is an affront to all that lives, all that will serve Her. A nod of her head, and the skeleton behind the queen rises, the old bones shaking and clattering as it finds its bearings after centuries of nothing. The necromancy is all that keeps the bones connected and moving, but it will serve its purpose. It runs forward and, in a drama-shattering manner, jumps on it's chest and penguin slides through the circle, destroying a good part of it. The skeleton, with a strange level of agility, catches itself and continues on its knees, tearing at the dusty ground and removing more and more of the arcane circle. Faintly, as if far away, The Queen can hear some kind of relieved shouting. The spirit must still be here, no doubt glad the corpse of the sinner will wash out the ritual. Perhaps. The slab is too large and heavy to be destroyed, but you suspect it holds little significance on its own. It might as well have been a table! Regardless, the knife next to it...
It's a strange blade, it's blade snaking along. Eastern design, made to improve the amount of bleeding can be done, but it hardly did the toughness of the blade any favors. A flaw The Queen gladly exploits, breaking it with her bare hands. Metal shards fly out, and the remains are thrown far into the cellar. Nothing remains that could have indicated a blasted ritual, other than a small circle of scorch marks, most likely containing some of the offerings used during the ritual. They're long gone, and those scorch marks are meaningless.

Now. The prize.
The book radiates an unholy, threatening aura, but that is nothing to the feeling you get that it wishes to be possessed. Faint screams can be heard, and the simple altar seems to twist in shape as the queen comes closer, eventually forming a massive hand holding the book in its palm. There are faces in the hand, screaming in agony, but the book still goes on, yearning to be owned. Her chitin-covered hands touch the book, disturbing the dust. Another hand, and the large tome is lifted. All at once, the queen returns to the dirty basement, barely aware that she was gone. The Tome is in her hands, and it is ready to grant its ancient knowledge to those who will read it, and in turn, be read.
The queen puts it away, on her back. Regardless of what will come of this house, this book will come with. The power of the book already seems to course through you...

Level Up!

What will happen to the house?


Tear it down

Burn it down

Other (way of bringing down this house)


Basic Stats
Spoiler (click to show/hide)

Items and equipment
Spoiler (click to show/hide)

Sorry for the short update, but at the cut-off point I was assaulted by yet more vomiting.
It's a bit of a rough evening for me.
« Last Edit: November 13, 2017, 04:10:36 pm by Liquefied Spleens »
Logged
Neat stuff I do:
A suggestion game about a drider that does a lot of stuff. I think it's kinda neat.

omada

  • Bay Watcher
  • Let's quack to death
    • View Profile
Re: Web of Life: A Drider's Adventure
« Reply #1136 on: November 13, 2017, 06:20:17 pm »

Tear it down, and burn it down

and put the ghosts of those who remain or any bug that die inside the house so it can burn purple
Logged
Competent reader (any know lenguage)
Novice english wordsmith
Dabbling english speaker (rusty)
He is short, with a small and failed beard
He likes wood, spears, ducks for their nobility, and rabbits for their weak hearts and funny reproduction rate.
he has a hard time to focus, and values, err almost everything, he dreams of mastering a skill.

RAM

  • Bay Watcher
    • View Profile
Re: Web of Life: A Drider's Adventure
« Reply #1137 on: November 13, 2017, 06:56:55 pm »

They left all these corpses so handily lying around, perhaps the residents should do the honours... at our bidding, of course...

And let's pocket that mysteriously preserved hand, perhaps we will need a spare at some point.

And, hmm, this was a manor at some point, if we should happen to spot anything that would suit us. A chandelier would be a bit much to carry, but perhaps we can find a curtail that could make a nice cloak, or some jewels that would suit us. No need to work for it of course, just if anything catches our eyes...
Logged
Vote (1) for the Urist scale!
I shall be eternally happy. I shall be able to construct elf hunting giant mecha. Which can pour magma.
Urist has been forced to use a friend as fertilizer lately.
Read the First Post!

Liquefied Spleens

  • Bay Watcher
  • Flesh smoothies, fresh from the tap
    • View Profile
Re: Web of Life: A Drider's Adventure
« Reply #1138 on: November 14, 2017, 02:48:16 pm »

Still sick.
Skipping the update for realsies this time.
Logged
Neat stuff I do:
A suggestion game about a drider that does a lot of stuff. I think it's kinda neat.

omada

  • Bay Watcher
  • Let's quack to death
    • View Profile
Re: Web of Life: A Drider's Adventure
« Reply #1139 on: November 14, 2017, 05:08:14 pm »

Still sick.
Skipping the update for realsies this time.


Good luck, and hope you get better soon D=
Logged
Competent reader (any know lenguage)
Novice english wordsmith
Dabbling english speaker (rusty)
He is short, with a small and failed beard
He likes wood, spears, ducks for their nobility, and rabbits for their weak hearts and funny reproduction rate.
he has a hard time to focus, and values, err almost everything, he dreams of mastering a skill.
Pages: 1 ... 74 75 [76] 77 78 ... 216