-- ̶c̶a̶r̶b̶o̶l̶i̶c̶G̶a̶l̶v̶a̶b̶o̶l̶o̶g̶i̶s̶t̶ THE CHALKBOX [CG] has used a Juju [THE REDACTION STUB] to alter the timeline. --
BELIEVE ME. OF THE MISERABLE SHITHEADS ON THIS SITE WHO HAVE A FUCKING *INKLING* OF THIS CONCEPT. I KNOW.
⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅ Your care is selfish. ⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅
:o) Now how did you get your little hands on that? :o) My my my.... :o) How intriguing.
(|:O oh boy...
YOU DON'T KNOW A FUCKING THING ABOUT ME, ASSHOLE. YOU DON'T KNOW FUCK-ALL ABOUT THIS. GO FUCK YOURSELF. MIND SOME BUSINESS THAT'S *ACTUALLY* YOURS.
⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅ Lashing out at me will not make it any less true. ⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅ ⋅˚₊‧ ଳ ‧₊˚ ⋅
DON'T HOLD YOUR BREATH FOR ANY MORE MIRACLES FROM ME. THAT WAS THE ONLY PIECE I HAVE. I ONLY HAD ENOUGH CHALK FOR ONE SENTENCE. PLEASE, PLEASE, GRUBFUCKING SHITHIVE *PLEASE* LET IT BE ENOUGH.
:o) ...We will see. :o) Should you need anything, Chalkbox, I shall be here. :o) As I ever am.
With the delicate flick of an articulate wrist, scrawled about on the inordinate surface of the reality pleasantly blessed by the Chalkbox, his namesake is willed upon the land tenfold. In the delicate tapestry of time, a sublime textile sprawled across the luxurious front window of the Felt Manor, there is a single red thread now insultingly obvious to those who care to look. Those who demand to look, and count such threads would find them to be an infinite manifold of existence. Yet, they will always find this one, single thread amidst the chaos. On each fiber, twined into this thread, painstakingly spun from the simple cotton they once were, you will find a message sprawled into every single microscopic span of material. "Terran Ckotzl cannot kill Larkso Eldran by any means." Immortality delivered in one sole avenue. This does not mean Terran is incapable of killing, rather, Larkso is demanded to survive. So long as the deciding factor in the action is Terran, there will be no avenue for the troll to take the life of the other. Larkso, however, is not immune to the actions of Terran. He is only insured that Terran's actions will not end him. He will still be beaten, burned, drowned, maimed, he will still have his bones snapped through the chitinous skin, and his ribs caved inwards and collapsing onto his organs. But he will live. He will spew his liquid from his orifices, and he will spill his innards on the ground. He will still rise despite the protestations of violence that Terran is enacting. Larkso is simply, now, a law of Terran's life, however meager of a law it may be. However enforcible, or lacking of a law. It is still one abided by Terran.
