Inspiration hits with a flash, stories written on the go. A rumble of laughter and the tale is heard only in echoes. The wind blows me in a new direction. Whom shall I visit next?

It faltered; the gash I'd opened enveloped me as we both smothered in muddy ichor.

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I acted without thought, and It was not at full power; my death matters not.

The Ploy Ends Successfully

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