Topic: Nostalgia. [PROLOGUE]

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  Posted on March 4, 2015 at 7:05 AM
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Low, The Manipulative Elite

Contribution: 3,950 (3,650 + 300)
Joined: March 20, 2011
"What are you doing?" He asked me as I sat on the edge of the canyon, looking down at the ruins of a magnificent fortress. It was once a bustling empire but now, its population is zero.

"...Nothing." I replied, getting up.

War of Ninja was history. Long gone are the days when I used to roam its halls and playground. I miss those days, my friends and family. But I guess everything must come to an end. I had to move on in life. And I did.

"Come om then, its almost time for the server to go down." He told me, pointing at a giant timer in the sky above the fortress. At long last, they were ready to pull the plug on this game. There was one minute left on the timer.

I turned back to my brother and warded him off, "I want to be here when they kill it." I told him.

He nodded and right before my eyes, he faded out, starting from his legs.

The timer hit zero, and there was a blinding light. I was expecting to be back in my room and take off the console from my face, and throw it in the garbage can.

But something was not right. I was still standing at the edge of that cliff, and it was bright. Just what the heck was going on? There was the fortress below, and it was shining and I could just feel life oozing from there. Sounds.
  Posted on March 5, 2015 at 5:37 AM
RagicanoX, The Black Inferno

Contribution: 1,467 (1,261 + 206)
Joined: April 3, 2010
  Posted on December 28, 2016 at 9:38 AM
Low, The Manipulative Elite

Contribution: 3,950 (3,650 + 300)
Joined: March 20, 2011
"Are you coming or what?" I was shaken out of my daze by a voice. Turning around, I see a short brown haired man wearing a white turban on his head, a white garment wrapped around his body and holding a 6 foot pole in one hand. This was only slightly taller than the person himself.

Through this guise, one could not tell that the person in them was not very frail at all. In fact, he looked rather strong, the aura he gave out was one of absolute seriousness.

And then it struck me, this mans name, "Mirroga," I chant, turning around. "Let's get going,"

Not far from the edge of the cliff, by the road going down hill, a carriage is parked. In front of it, sitting on the horse is a red furry haired monkey, wearing black underpants and an open flap jacket. He looked about 6 feet tall, and was munching away at an orange.

We call him crazy monkey. He is one of the toughest fighters you will hope you never face. Behind that character of madness is a natural born martial artist, admittedly among the ranks of top 5 experts in the land.

As for myself, I am not a very powerful martial artist. My talent lies in "Darker" endeavors. I dress myself in plain clothes, not befitting a supreme magus. Thus, almost no one recognizes me for the threat that I present them with. And I like it to be so.

"We are only there for talking monkey!" Mirroga said, climbing into the carriage
Monkey jumped down from the horse, landing on all fours, then crawled at lightning speeds into the carriage through the window, breaking the glass and curtains on it.
"Crazy!" I yell, annoyed by how uncouth this creature can sometimes be.