Gancho Libre

Thanks again, archer!

LIKE ME MRAIZE I AM FOREVER YOUR SERV- I mean, hehehe, What????? Assassin??? Nah. Loyal??? Who?!? Not me, right? Nah, not me... being loyal... to you. *Regains composure* Don't be a silly goose, Mraize. As much as the Mraizearchy was fun, You've also killed one my characters, basically killed another of them, and didn't let another of my characters kill Solace. I kinda not really extremely resent you for that.

Ioc thought, then mentally externalized the voice of Chaos. 'You've... always been stronger than me,' Ioc said to it. 'You've aided me when I've been useless,' The Voice of Chaos rumbled in agreement. 'Well,' Ioc thought, 'I'm having a little trouble right now. I was separated from my power. As soon as I leave Solace's head, I die,' The Voice of Chaos was still as it thought. 'What would you do?' Ioc thought to it.

An old man entered the room, shuffling in at a slow pace. "Helow," he wheezed. "I'l neid too aloomanum hats, pleez,"

I'll join in as Pummy'in Coach

Thankfully Butt stole Butt's identity.

Language, Unbounded!! There are children present! ... You know what, Unbounded!? Never mind.

Oh well. Thanks! It's fine. I've told it to plenty of people... I'm pretty sure some of them are still working on it... They have made it their life goal..... Years and years of life wasted...

And thus, the recruitment wars begin! Dragon Reborn and AdOokla, you must each recruit as many members into the Ghostbloods as you can before Koloss Head-Munching day. AdOokla, your version of the "Ghostbloods" doesn't count. They must be recruited into this Ghostbloods. Any questions? And no, this is not just a way to get Mraize to do my job.

Xena pointed at the building in the horizon. "You sure that's the place?" she asked the old man with whom she had been conversing. The old man laughed. "Of coarse, my deer," Xena resisted the urge to wince at the poor spelling. "What exactly do they do there?" she asked. "Space!!!" the old man wheezed. "Eyev never bin in their myself, but they do space stuf!" Xena sighed. The spelling was just getting worse. "Watz the matre?" the old man asked. "I before e except after c..." Xena mumbled. "Wut?" "Thank you," Xena said, loud enough for the old man to hear. "'Space stuff?' Sounds like a place where interesting things are happening," The old man laughed. "Yoo cud sai that, yue kuld sae that..." Xena turned very quickly away from the old man and started speed walking towards the building. Nobody understood the torture she went through. Then again, Nobody was an invisible man from an old story on Earth, and most likely even he didn't know her plight. Xena sighed. Sometimes, it was hard being the most intelligent person you met. It was also hard to be so humble. Xena approached the front door of the building. In her mind's eyes, she imagined knocking, but having her fist stick to the wood, with the crazy blue light. The door opened, and a clawed hand pulled her in- Xena sighed. Her imagination was getting out of control. She knocked loudly. Not on the door itself, mind you, but on the doorframe. She wasn't stupid, just careful.

Hey Archer, it's me again. My beaver just died. Poor George. Didn't even get a proper burial. So sad. *Wipes eyes* Can you put that George is dead on his bio please?

Who is this band?

But Thankfully Butt was.

Keep in mind, you may get stabbed welcomed for initiation.

Hey guys, Gancho here, I'd like to ask all of you, when you all are making your posts, to leave any misspelling or grammatical errors you make on your first draft. That way, my newest character can make fun of you for it. Thanks!

Fred dragged the beaver, George across the rocky landscape. Fred had no arms, so he used what he had. In this case, it meant his mouth. Fred had gently bit down on the beaver’s tail, then used Pewter to drag him away. Inland. Towards the center of the island. Fred was feeling a little confused as too how he had gotten there. A man in beige light had exploded into Fred's room in the Thievery place, touched Fred’s forehead, and they had teleported. Not to this place, of course. The teleportation had been two days ago. No, the first place Fred had ended up was… a strange place with long, tall grass. The grass was beige, of course. It seemed to be the teleporter’s thang. There, Fred had met a creature with a neck longer than its legs. And they fought by swinging their faces around like… maces. ‘Wow,’ Fred thought. ‘I should really become a DJ. I'm a master rhymer,’ Then, Fred had traveled alone for several days, journeying into a place with tall towers of metal. Something seemed to be wrong about the place. Everyone seemed… sad. There were a lot of empty rooms he could stay in. Then, suddenly, the teleported had appeared again and taken Fred here. What was going on? O fall of his adventures, the one where he dragged a dying beaver across an island with his mouth clamped around its tail during a hurricane while the island was slowly sinking, but was still inhabited by lions who fought strange blackbirds was by far the most interesting. What a life. ~~~~~ George looked up at the stranger who dragged him. There was something familiar about the man, but George couldn’t think right now… The hurricane came closer. Geroge attempted another bark, but it turned into a wheeze. ~~~~~ Fred dragged the beaver into a small cave as the winds grew around them. He had never seen the Alleycane in person but had known it existed. Fred knelt next to the dying beaver. He didn’t know why he wanted to save it, but… something was off about this beaver. Something was strange. Something worth saving. Only, Fred didn’t have arms. So he couldn’t do anything about the blood that slowly seeped out of the beaver’s body. ~~~~~ George felt his life ebbing away. George was not sad. George had accomplished a lot. Eaten a lot of beavers, helped the stick people, chomp chomp chomp… George looked up at the stranger and saw only hopelessness on his face. Why the sad expression? Surely George’s wound wasn’t that bad… George wanted to bark. To run around, to eat a beaver. But… something held him back. It wasn’t the cut, of course. George had been cut before. This was laughable. He… was just tired. He just wanted to sleep. George closed his eyes and breathed his last. ~~~~~ Fred watched the beaver die, helpless to save it. Fred had no arms. Fred wasn’t some Surgebinder, who could heal himself. No, Fred had only Pewter. Dang. The first thing Fred did once he left the Thievery place was let an animal die. Fred stood up. He walked out of the cave, into the harsh winds. He bowed, flaring Pewter so he could keep his balance. He walked toward the shore. The water lapped up against the beach in a frenzy. Fred stepped into the water. Immediately, a current threatened to pull him down. Fred took a sip of his waterskin, which he had tied against his chest so that he could drink without arms. Well, someone else had tied it, of course. But it was the water that was important. It was full of Pewter flakes. Fred flared the Pewter harder now, then submerged into the waves. The undercurrent was so strong, the waves threatened to drown him- He pushed off the coast with his feet, then began swimming. He had no arms, but Pewter and a very special make of foot more than counted over than. He zoomed away from the island, taking only sparse breaths as he swam, kicking his feet like a motorized boat. Fred couldn’t get the image of the dying beaver out of his mind.

Thankfully Butt was always prepared.

I can do whatever yall want me too. I'm fine with doing the 'rise to villany', if nobody else can.

Scar was mad that his slaves were learning to yo-yo. As is tradition, yo-yo-ing is reserved only for the highest ranking in society.

George breathed heavily as the winds picked up. He knew... he knew when the end was near. The birds didn't land to peck at him. They had all flown away. They were smart. They could fly from the storm. George could not. Beavers couldn't fly. George sighed, the wind spraying his seeping blood back all over his snout (?). It was time... to go. George had done well. Many beavers eaten, many trees saved... "Hey, little guy," a confused sounding human voice said from beyond George's field of vision. "What's going on here?" George let out a half-hearted bark. "Well," the voice continued, "I'd love to help you, but, you see, I don't have any arms," At this, George twisted over to looked at the man who spoke. He was a tall, thin man, who looked more thin by, yes, a lack of arms. The man smiled at George. "So, is that a hurricane or what? We all gonna die or what?" George let his tongue go limp inside his mouth. Yup. Every beaver had to die at some point. "I suppose," the man said, "That since we're going to die anyway, you wouldn't mind if I bit you?"

... I see. But regardless, do you know what else makes sense?

Thanks Archer!

The hyenas didn't want to be called slaves; instead, they petitioned to become servants that never get paid.