Sashrilis

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Snoofman
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Sashrilis

Post by Snoofman »

Sashrilis - Legend

I would like to start a topic to encourage creative writing and explore the possible mythos of loroi history. Specifically, I would like to invite users of this forum to write original legends and myths of ancient loroi. So please, let your imagination run free!

And so there is no misunderstanding, this is just fan fiction.

But if Arioch wanted to include any of these stories in official Outsider lore or official loroi history, that would be awesome. :mrgreen:

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Snoofman
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Re: Sashrilis

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Loroi Legends

The Legend of Morningstar


Author's note: The name 'Kaladra' is not included in Outsider lore.

-

Thousands of years before the reunification of the Sister Worlds, on the ocean world of Taben, there was a fearless sailor named Morningstar. Born on the small continent of Beleri, Morningstar’s familial clan were sailors dedicated to fishing. While it was a necessary occupation to feed the Belerid loroi during Beleri’s epic, stormy winters, fishers were not as respected as the warriors and raiders who ventured south to the Amenal Islands. Morningstar was not satisfied with the meager life of a fisher and wanted more.

Morningstar had heard the tales and seen the telepathic imagery shared by Belerid loroi who raided the southern Islands. They told tales of underwater cities, beautiful menfolk that swam in the depths like <sea spirits> and loots of treasure stored away in the cities of Amenal. Many Belerid raiders succeeded in raiding the smaller settlements of Amenal, but none succeeded in taking the larger cities and harbor forts.

While some of her kin advised against it, Morningstar asked raiders to be admitted into their crew. But every raider she went to laughed and turned her away. Warriors like them did not want to dishonor themselves with a fishing weakling.

So instead, Morningstar gathered two of her sisters and nine closest friends and together they made plans to sail south and return with treasure. They gathered all the knowledge they could from sailors and merchants that ventured south. Since the northern islands were rich with evergreen wood, Morningstar and her comrades built their first ship together.

Within months, they completed their ship and sailed south. They arrived at what is known today as the island of Soladra, where they happened upon a monastery, home to more than a dozen loroi scholars. The scholars of Soladra were a gentle people and not prepared for the attack that Morningstar and her comrades launched that day. The Belerids simply killed half the scholars while the remaining scholars begged for mercy. Amazed at such an easy victory, Morningstar and her comrades captured the scholars, took all the treasure they could find at the monastery, including books, silver, iron and even wood. Wood in that ancient time was as valuable as precious metals. Wood could do many things, like buildings ships, crafting tools, forging weapons or simply to use as firewood. Which for many Belerid loroi was considered a luxury. For while the Belerid loroi were a stronghard people that could withstand the harsh winters, no one cherished a warm flame more than a Belerid.

Upon returning home, Morningstar’s familial clan were overjoyed to see the return of one of their own. And were more surprised by the treasures and captives they brought back. The scholars, meek and docile, were put to work as the clan’s familial slaves. But Morningstar ensured they were well treated. For she intended to learn from them. And if they were well treated, they were more willing to share their secrets.

The scholars commitment to memory was astounding. They shared wondrous stories of ships that flew through the heavens in a lost age and loroi that had the power to move and sculpt matter with the power of invisible hands. Some of the treasures of this lost age were said to be buried deep beneath the shores of the Amenal Islands.

Morningstar was so excited by this knowledge that she determined to return and claim this powerful relics. She took one of the scholars, Crystal, with her to one of Beleri’s most influential raiders, Saber, who had built a substantial fleet of raider ships over the decades. Morningstar shared the stories of the Soladra scholars and convinced Saber to lend her ships to bring back these lost treasures and other loot the Belerid found.

And so, with Crystal both as advisor and captive, Morningstar returned to the Amenal Islands. For years, she uprooted settlements and ravaged harbor villages, stealing treasures and even males. She shared this wonderful wealth with her Beleri kin and grew with popularity among the Beleri, raising the status of her familial clan.

After two decades of building her reputation, Morningstar was ready to launch the greatest assault on Kaladra, the richest of the Amenal Islands. But their assault was doomed to failure. For unbeknownst to Morningstar and her Beleri fleet, the Amenals had anticipated their attack with the aid of powerful mystics that could see beyond the scope of common loroi. The Amenals countered with a small fleet of five ships against Morningstar’s fleet of forty-five. Upon the bows of each Amenal ship stood a lone warrior, each holding a magic stone that shined like lanterns. Their eyes burned with brilliant fire and, with the power of invisible hands, smashed the Beleri ships. These magic loroi who saved Kaladra and drove back the Beleri raiders would be remembered as the Great Five.

Seeing how easily overpowered she was, Morningstar withdrew and fled. But the winds were not in their favor. So the Beleri rowed. But could not row fast enough to flee the Great Five. With the power of their magic stones, the Great Five pushed their ships’ sails with their invisible hands, encircled Morningstar’s leftover fleet and decimated every ship.

Amidst the floating wreckage, Morningstar and scholar Crystal survived and were taken captive by the Great Five.

Upon learning that Crystal was an Amenal loroi, the Kaladrans released her. But the people of Kaladra were demanding justice and called for Morningstar’s blood. For the villages she destroyed, the people she killed and the treasures she stole. However, scholar Crystal pleaded for mercy. While Crystal had been Morningstar’s captive, she had also shown the scholar kindness. After days of debate, the Kaladrans gave Morningstar a choice. Reveal the location of her loot and treasures and be granted a painless death. Or she would be tied and bound in a reef and left to be devoured bit by bit by the beasts of the sea. Fearing a torturous death, Morningstar revealed the location of her treasures and loot.

Upon Crystal’s insistence, divers swam to the darkest depths of Amenal’s waters and took poison from the beasts.

True to their word, Morningstar was locked in a bathing room and offered a warm bath together with Crystal. To be given a warm bath in that time, when wood was precious, was considered a most generous custom. Crystal offered her captor and friend cups of brew and the poison taken from the depths of the sea and bathed with her. For thousands and thousands of solons, Crystal and Morningstar drank brew and laughed together.

When they finished talking about all they could and finished their brew, the time had come. Morningstar drank every drop of poison and fell into Crystal’s arms. Even as she felt the poison killing her inside, Morningstar held onto Crystal, who stayed by her side even in death.

Morningstar’s body was simply cast into the sea. The Kaladra loroi would not grant her an honorable funeral for her years of pillage and plunder. Scholar Crystal swore to keep the tale of Morningstar alive.

This was how the ritual execution of Morningstar was first conceived. As both a warning to the Belerid and a compromise to captured raiders. Even Belerid eventually adopted this ritual. For enemies must compromise with each other.

I, Listel Bluereef, a direct descendant of Scholar Crystal, have kept this tale alive. As has every Listel and scholar and storyteller that came before me. For the tales of the loroi, both good and bad, truthful or legendary, define who we are and where we come from.
Last edited by Snoofman on Wed May 26, 2021 8:09 am, edited 1 time in total.

Dan Wyatt
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Re: Sashrilis

Post by Dan Wyatt »

Nice story.

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Snoofman
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Re: Sashrilis

Post by Snoofman »

The Snow Man. - First Chronicle

From the Ancient Legends of Mestirot. Recorded and preserved in the Toridas Archives. Dating back 40 000+/- tozons



During the Reign of Chaos, in ages long past,
There lived mighty Hailstorm from the warrior caste.
Her clan was Zaral, who made their home in the trees
In the woods far north where no one could reach.

Every year, the Zarals left their home in the woods
To raid the lands of Deben and take what they could.
The plains of Deben, where the farmers tended fields,
Were rich with crops and herds and men and steel.

Hailstorm rode first with her blade held high,
On the Debens she reigned terror with a mighty war cry.
Though the farmers begged for mercy and fell to their knees,
Hailstorm hated weakness and slew them despite pleas.
Though few resisted, the Zarals shed Deben blood
And left the Debens’ bodies to rot in the mud.

Hailstorm and her kin returned with their gains
Back to the north, leaving the Deben plains.
In their home of the Woods, the Zaral loroi singed,
Of Hailstorms’ triumphs and treasures she did bring.
Steel and silver and cattle and linen
And their greatest prize of beautiful men.

Another year came and the Zarals went south for more
In search of menfolk and treasure and glory and war.
But the Debens had fled and abandoned their fields,
After burning their crops and taking their steel,
Along with their cattle and few menfolk left.
The once rich plains of Deben were now bereft.

Furious and angry, Hailstorm’s kin cried, “Revenge!
Let us hunt the Deben weaklings. Our honor we must avenge!”
Hailstorm hesitated, unsure if they would prevail,
For winter was coming. The snow would conceal the Debens’ trail.
But Hailstorm conceded, the trek home would be disgrace
If they returned without loot. And so they gave chase.
Though Autumn was nearly ended and winter drew near,
The Zarals would hunt the Debens, unhindered by fear.

Southward the Zarals went and followed the trail
Of the Deben people who fled to Somail.
A mountainous region of sharp rocks and pines
With ravenous beasts and frosty, thorn’d vines.
When winter struck Somail, the snow was so cold it burned.
Few journeyed to the Somail peaks and fewer returned.

Desolute and tired, the Zarals trudged on.
Then the snow fell. Their chance to go home was gone.
But onward the Zarals marched through the snow and stress
Bent on hunting the Debens, without much success.

They came upon a village of the Somail tribe
But the village felt dead with few left alive.
A loroi called Greystone welcomed the Zarals to her tent.
The Zarals hesitated, but relented. Their strength spent.
Greystone’s tent was small, but pleasantly warm.
The Zarals rested their muscles worn.
The food Greystone offered was bitter and stale.
But the Zarals were hungry and every bite they inhaled.

Hailstorm was curious and asked, “Why
Are there few people in this village amidst the pines?
Where are your mothers, your daughters and kin?
Do they camp nearby? And have you seen the Deben?”
Greystone answered, “The Deben have we seen.
Fled to the mountains and snowy ravines.
They came and feasted and rested with us.
And warned our tribe of a clan most callous.
Are you that clan? Are you they the Debens fear?”
Hailstorm cried, “Silence or you die by my spear.”
Greystone sighed and said, “I fear not to be killed.
Your threats are nothing compared to the terror in the hills.”
“Nonsense. What terror?” Hailstorm asked askance,
And would never forget Greystone’s answer, “The Snow Man.”


-End First Chronicle-

Krulle
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Re: Sashrilis

Post by Krulle »

oh, nice!

Well done!
Vote for Outsider on TWC: Image
charred steppes, borders of territories: page 59,
jump-map of local stars: page 121, larger map in Loroi: page 118,
System view Leido Crossroads: page 123, after the battle page 195

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Snoofman
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Re: Sashrilis

Post by Snoofman »

Krulle wrote:
Mon May 31, 2021 6:53 am
oh, nice!

Well done!
I'm glad you like it. This was just the first part. Poetry is hard. My biggest fear was that this would sound more like some tale by Dr. Seuss. Not that Dr. Seuss never made good stories. They just did not contain tales of conquest and blue bloodshed.

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Re: Sashrilis

Post by Dan Wyatt »

Snoofman wrote:
Sun May 30, 2021 6:40 pm
The Snow Man. - First Chronicle

From the Ancient Legends of Mestirot. Recorded and preserved in the Toridas Archives. Dating back 40 000+/- tozons



During the Reign of Chaos, in ages long past,
There lived mighty Hailstorm from the warrior caste.
Her clan was Zaral, who made their home in the trees
In the woods far north where no one could reach.

Every year, the Zarals left their home in the woods
To raid the lands of Deben and take what they could.
The plains of Deben, where the farmers tended fields,
Were rich with crops and herds and men and steel.

Hailstorm rode first with her blade held high,
On the Debens she reigned terror with a mighty war cry.
Though the farmers begged for mercy and fell to their knees,
Hailstorm hated weakness and slew them despite pleas.
Though few resisted, the Zarals shed Deben blood
And left the Debens’ bodies to rot in the mud.

Hailstorm and her kin returned with their gains
Back to the north, leaving the Deben plains.
In their home of the Woods, the Zaral loroi singed,
Of Hailstorms’ triumphs and treasures she did bring.
Steel and silver and cattle and linen
And their greatest prize of beautiful men.

Another year came and the Zarals went south for more
In search of menfolk and treasure and glory and war.
But the Debens had fled and abandoned their fields,
After burning their crops and taking their steel,
Along with their cattle and few menfolk left.
The once rich plains of Deben were now bereft.

Furious and angry, Hailstorm’s kin cried, “Revenge!
Let us hunt the Deben weaklings. Our honor we must avenge!”
Hailstorm hesitated, unsure if they would prevail,
For winter was coming. The snow would conceal the Debens’ trail.
But Hailstorm conceded, the trek home would be disgrace
If they returned without loot. And so they gave chase.
Though Autumn was nearly ended and winter drew near,
The Zarals would hunt the Debens, unhindered by fear.

Southward the Zarals went and followed the trail
Of the Deben people who fled to Somail.
A mountainous region of sharp rocks and pines
With ravenous beasts and frosty, thorn’d vines.
When winter struck Somail, the snow was so cold it burned.
Few journeyed to the Somail peaks and fewer returned.

Desolute and tired, the Zarals trudged on.
Then the snow fell. Their chance to go home was gone.
But onward the Zarals marched through the snow and stress
Bent on hunting the Debens, without much success.

They came upon a village of the Somail tribe
But the village felt dead with few left alive.
A loroi called Greystone welcomed the Zarals to her tent.
The Zarals hesitated, but relented. Their strength spent.
Greystone’s tent was small, but pleasantly warm.
The Zarals rested their muscles worn.
The food Greystone offered was bitter and stale.
But the Zarals were hungry and every bite they inhaled.

Hailstorm was curious and asked, “Why
Are there few people in this village amidst the pines?
Where are your mothers, your daughters and kin?
Do they camp nearby? And have you seen the Deben?”
Greystone answered, “The Deben have we seen.
Fled to the mountains and snowy ravines.
They came and feasted and rested with us.
And warned our tribe of a clan most callous.
Are you that clan? Are you they the Debens fear?”
Hailstorm cried, “Silence or you die by my spear.”
Greystone sighed and said, “I fear not to be killed.
Your threats are nothing compared to the terror in the hills.”
“Nonsense. What terror?” Hailstorm asked askance,
And would never forget Greystone’s answer, “The Snow Man.”


-End First Chronicle-
Beautiful, Is this from Deinar tales?

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Snoofman
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Re: Sashrilis

Post by Snoofman »

Yes, it is meant to be from Deinar tales.

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Snoofman
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Re: Sashrilis

Post by Snoofman »

The Snow Man. - Second Chronicle

From the Ancient Legends of Mestirot. Recorded and preserved in the Toridas Archives. Dating back 40 000+/- tozons


Though skeptical they were, the Zarals did wonder,
Who was this Snow Man who dwelt in hills yonder?
“Be still, Zarals,” Greystone implored them.
“I will tell you a tale of the Snow Man.

’Tis a tale our mothers and their mothers from long ago,
Warned our children of a loroi most brutal.
Not a warrior born from lineage strong,
But a man with flesh not touched by the sun.
Few have seen him and lived to recite
The horrors he inflicted on those that survived
The labyrinth of ice and stony rifts
That trapped loroi who traversed the mountains amiss.

They say he is silent and speaks not a word,
His presence is masked and thoughts unheard.
He wanders the frozen hills, in thick robes bleached
His home is the mountains where no one can reach.
No one has seen the Snow Man’s face, although
He is said to have two orbs of shining gold.
Those who saw the Snow Man and lived do warn
Never look at his face or you shall not return.

The Snow Man has no weapon, but the hills he can craft
Into anything he wants. From the shadows he attacks.
Stones are his arrows, icy pikes his spears, frosty thorns his slings.
He adorns the mountain with headless bodies and dead things.
The Snow Man seems to have an affinity for death,
He dismembers his prey and steals their heads.
Some say he takes the heads to hang aloft as his prize
Like trophies in the caves and icy woods where he hides.

The Debens who trekked to our village we did warn
Of the Snow Man and begged them to stay with us, safe and warm.
But the Debens warned of callous warriors who came
To steal their menfolk and leave the rest slain.
The Debens warned us their chasers would come.
We begged them to stay, but they chose to move on.
They accepted our offer to reside one night and rest
Before parting for the mountains with all they had left.

Our village was once joyous and merry with cheer.
But the Snow Man has killed many who wandered too near
To his home in the ice and snowy peaks.
A lonely life to grieve our lost kin is now all that we seek.
So heed my warning, Zarals of the Northern lands.
Go not to the mountains. None survive the Snow Man. No one can.”

“A ridiculous legend,” Hailstorm aloud thought.
Yet felt Greystone’s sincerity, her mind most distraught.
“The Debens did not believe me,” Greystone sadly said.
“If they fled to the mountains, they surely are dead.
Give up your hunt and go back to the North.”
But Hailstorm refused and her knife drew forth.
“You have aided our enemies,” Hailstorm said enraged.
“And now you must aid us or die by my blade.”
Greystone bowed and cried, “Do as you will.
But I shall not venture up to those hills.”

Hailstorm dragged Greystone by her hair outside
And together her kin impaled their spears in her sides.
Greystone sent no curse nor vengeful cry,
But painfully sent, “The brutal live and the gentle die.”

For a moment the Zarals felt remorseful guilt
For the gentle woman whose blood they spilt.
But they swallowed remorse and blades they drew
And gathered twelve Somails still living, refusing to rue.

“Vengeance will be ours,” Hailstorm boasted and cried.
“We will chase the Debens in the mountains where they hide.”
But the Somails warned, “The Snow Man dwells in those peaks!”
Hailstorm laughed, “Then we shall claim him and his seed.”

The Somails were enslaved and bound by their wrists,
Forced by the Zarals to lead them up the snowy peaks and cliffs.
Twenty Zarals and twelve Somails ventured to the mountains that day.
Only two would return and the rest slain away.

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Re: Sashrilis

Post by Dan Wyatt »

More about this snowman, please?

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Snoofman
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Re: Sashrilis

Post by Snoofman »

Dan Wyatt wrote:
Tue Jun 22, 2021 7:16 pm
More about this snowman, please?
Working on it. There is a part 3 and possibly a part 4 planned. But poetry takes time and brain power. Which is hard to muster when you're tired after laboring at a full-time job a whole day.

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Snoofman
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Re: Sashrilis

Post by Snoofman »

The Snow Man - Second Chronicle

From the Ancient Legends of Mestirot. Recorded and preserved in the Toridas Archives. Dating back 40 000+/- tozons



And so the Zaral’s and their Somail captives arrived at the base of the snowy peaks. Just as Greystone had warned, the base of the mountain was encircled by a forest of thorns. Large and sharp, these thorns could surely kill. Though bound as captives, the Somails resisted, begging to be released. But Hailstorm, brutal and merciless, ordered them on. Two captives were forced to the front, to scout a way through the forest of thorns. But the further into the sharp patches they went, the more restless grew the Somails. Frustrated and furious, Hailstorm unbound one of the captives and impaled her on a thorn.

Hailstorm warned them, “Not another whimper, or you die on these thorns!”

Defeated and despairing, the Somails obeyed. The troop pressed on. Forcing their way through the thorny forest, the loroi could not avoid the scratches of the thorns. Every scratch they inflicted made the skin blister and itch. But onward they marched. Until the two Somails ahead of the troop collapsed in a pit and were entangled in a patch of thorns.

The loroi cried, “A trap! A trap! The Snow Man has anticipated our coming.”

Hailstorm shouted back, “Nonsense! This is no trap. Just a pit for fools. We leave these sods and press on.”

Despite the pleas and cries from the two Somails entangled and impaled within the thorny pit, no one gave them aid. Not even their sympathizing kin could save them. Their captors would not allow it. Another captive, forced to the front, lead the way, finding the safest trail. And soon they emerged from the forest of thorns. The Somails’ numbers had dropped to nine. With twenty Zarals still alive and strong.

Then the loroi found a trail of many footsteps imprinted in the snow leading up into the peaks.

For joy Hailstorm cried, “We have their trail! We press on!”

Up the mountain they climbed, following the tracks. The dirt and rocks were covered deep in snow that reached the knees. Beneath the snow were patches of black ice. One slip would send a loroi tumbling down the mountain. Over rough terrain and cliffsides the loroi trudged. Until the Somails, bound in long queue, slipped and fell backward over a ridge, knocking one Zaral off the ledge, plummeting to her death. The queue of captives were pulled back up from the ledge. But Hailstorm cut one loose. Despite pleas for mercy, she too was cast over the ledge.

Onward they marched, cold, tired and frightened. With only spears to support their weight. Even the Zarals began to fear their chief. Soon they came to a valley, a quarter way up the mountain. And there they found six bodies of the Debens, four females and two males. Kneeling down to inspect, the Zarals found ice and pebbles stuffed in their mouths. Baffled and confused, the Zarals wondered who could have done this.

A Somail cried, “They took their own lives by choking on dirt and ice. Death is kinder than the Snow Man. Look at their tracks. They trekked up the mountain but fled back on their trail.”

The Zarals stripped the dead of anything useful and made to move on. But the Somails refused.

The captives pleaded with their captors to let them go back down the mountain. But Hailstorm commanded, “We make camp in this valley.”

With wood the captives carried and wood from frozen trees, the loroi made their camp and fire. Hailstorm took first watch while the rest slumbered. As she fed the flames, she watched shadows dance in the dark. Listened to the cry of the wind and the icy flakes scrapping across the snowy hills.

Every now and then, she heard the crunch of snow, as if footsteps were approaching. But sensing no presence, Hailstorm assured herself that it was just snow collapsing from the frozen trees. If ever she saw a glow in the darkness, she was certain it was only the fire’s embers dancing on the wind.

As Hailstorm sat and fed the flames, she remembered Greystone’s tale; that the Snow Man could conceal his presence. So if it were true, the Snow Man could approach without warning. But Hailstorm assured herself that no such man existed. Waking one Zaral to take next watch, Hailstorm laid her head to rest. There was no Snow Man. Of that she was certain. And even if there was, she would claim him.

Eight Somail captives and nineteen Zarals camped in the valley of ice and snow that night.

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Cthulhu
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Re: Sashrilis

Post by Cthulhu »

Snoofman wrote:
Thu Dec 23, 2021 11:53 am
Eight Somail captives and nineteen Zarals camped in the valley of ice and snow that night.
But how many would see next sunrise? The snow-man is vicious, and also undetectable...

Let's see, what could it be? A Yeti? Or even worse, a *gets dragged off into the night*

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Re: Sashrilis

Post by Dan Wyatt »

I can imagine Hailstorm yelling: "GET TO THE CHOPPA!!!!"

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Hālian
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Re: Sashrilis

Post by Hālian »

Oh my…
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Don't delay, join today!

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