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COLONISERS: Season 6!!! (Colonisers of Skyfaoll)
Gotcha. I do have three cards ready, one as my main entry, and I'm working on the story now,
edited October 2020
~ Last Stand, Part 1...
Another dreary morning arrived under an overcast sky. Kort himself had to ring the morning bell, because the bellstriker had fallen asleep at his post. Everyone had a heavy weight in their guts, and night shift was groggy from a recent change in sleep schedule required to accommodate today... about a fifth of the Witnesses' militant force would be left behind, along with Spire herself, to ensure there were forces to protect Genzfall in the case of a surprise attack from one or more of the other nations. The rest, however, would march either into a new tomorrow, or to their deaths...
Kort has gathered everyone coming along at the grave of the dear departed Last Genzian. Everyone took their turns asking for his blessing, and some mourn his death, crying into a censer that's passed around. Kort himself then performs his final burial rite; the fertilization of the ground with the tears collected. An ancient ritual, passed through superstition, is that the sorrow of loss will beckon the spirit of the lost soul to come forth. Once the mourning is over, Kort stands before the army to give them one last speech...
"Ladies and gentlemen. We gather here, on this fateful day, both in memory of our former Grandmaster, and by order of Spire. I know many of you are not ready for this day. Some of you are tired or exhausted. Others may be fresh out of training, or still in it, perhaps. But today, we stand to face an enemy capable of bringing about this world's destruction. Today, we are facing Faolinq, the scourge of this plane, and a dire threat to our survival. If he is not eliminated, he will bring death to all! Even with our war against Falun, Faolinq is far more immediate of a threat, and they must be exterminated at any cost! I expect heavy casualties, but do not allow your comrades' lives to be wasted! None of you are allowed to leave here without leaving a mark on that hideous beast, whether you're dead or alive! This land is ours to claimed! We've destroyed the evil that tainted it, and now, they are the last thing between us and the life our people have dreamed of for over a thousand years. A world of peace and tranquility! Where all can live in harmony with nature and one another! Where all prosper under one banner, and civilization stands tall against all that dares threaten it! This is a new day, and with it, a new way of life. Catch the promise of tomorrow on the edges of your blades, the tips of your tongues, the center of your souls... and wield it against our enemy. This is our last stand, our call to carpe diem! Join me, and quell this world's suffering once and for all!"
~ Lore Card ~
Morale was quite high given the circumstances. The convoy shared laughs and stories over light snacks as they trekked through the winding, twisting mountains that covered their territories, marching towards that dreaded sound... they didn't have a destination, and for most it would quite literally feel like marching to your doom, except spirits were too high to care. They've managed to prosper in this realm where so many others had failed. They were high on caffeine and ginseng, chewing on herbs, doing everything they could to enjoy their walk towards destiny. Old friends were able to meet up for the first time in years to chat it up. Parents and children were reunited as allies, and the trip went well. Not a single beast attacked them; they actually had trouble finding monsters to hunt for food, and eventually had to settle with a few simple baloths.
They could feel the rumbles and hear the crashing of the ground breaking away. Every step became treacherous; they're less than a mile away, for sure. The army slows pace and readies themselves for combat, saying their last prayers. Everyone from teenagers still in training to centuries old drakes and angels were ready to face the challenge before them. With hearts heavy and determination in their hearts, they advanced... until eventually, they saw him... and froze in their tracks atop the hill they were on, staring at the massive, goliath wurm, ready to sacrifice themselves for the greater good...
There it was... the very thing that would determine their fate. Whether they live as heroes or die as legends, this battle was one worth fighting. The front ranks, with their weapons ready, prepared to charge. A drake gets an early start, but gets swatted out of the air by a tail. A couple archers fire magic arrows at the thing, but they break against its nearly indestructible scales.
"HOLD! HOLD!" Kort orders. But it was too loud. The screeching of the wurm. The battle cries of battle-hungry Witnesses. The blasts of spells and screeches of drakes. No one heard the call to stop. In fact, some confused it for a battle cry, and became even more eager to attack. "HOLD YOU FIRE! HOLD YOUR FIRE!" Many are deafened by an especially loud bellow from the wurm, and it charges forward as spellslingers try to jinx it, soldiers attack, archers snipe, drakes claw, angels fly, and all hell breaks loose... Marks are left in the creature's incredibly tough scales, but it's insignificant as it swipes the cliffside... and sends the whole thing crashing down. Anyone on it falls, and anyone beneath it is pummeled by rocks or crushed under the rockslide. Heavy casualties are suffered rapidly; just that alone took out about a 6th of the army that came along. Some die quick, crushed into nothing, and others die horrible deaths, left to suffer with missing appendages, or perhaps, forced to live through the agony of the wurm's stomach acid...
Kort is caught within on the cliff as it crumbles, and begins to plummet a hundred feet down to the ground with his mount. His steed kicks at the air as he tries to determine how he'll make it out of this situation with his life. His armor was heavy and hard, providing no cushion, and some of it fell off as he tumbled. His horse had saved his life countless times, but in this moment, it would do it for the very last time; Kort is forced to sacrifice his mount so he can reach the cliff, and it barely works. His sword has been passed down through ages, and he prays for it to last another as he attempts to slow his fall. However, it's not to much avail; his sword doesn't break, but it also can't get a good enough stick in the rock to slow him down, so he just keeps tumbling, and tumbling, and falling down to his doom...
[To be continued...]
I'm dropping out. School is getting more and more hectic, and I'm not sure I'll be able to spend enough time to put my best effort.
I had some, lets call them hiccups, this week so I may be late but I'm working on my entry.
That is quite unfortunate, but I understand completely. You will be immortalised as the fifth place of this season, and good luck in any future endeavours.
edited October 2020
Fifth place is not bad. The best I got was 7th, with the spiders I think.
(I have a new plan for my next entry. Trust me, I have lore this time)
edited October 2020
If you need a time extension, now would be the time to inform us
edited October 2020
I've had a busy and complicated week but I'm working on my entry today
it's likelly I wont be finishing all of it till tomorow tho
Since we are nearing the final battle, it is worth it to give more time.
I know that with enough time and ressources you people can take this game and turn it into art, so I am willing to provide the former while MTGCS provides the latter.
I will get my submission in shortly
The wind was like an oven
there was an unearthly wail
under a pitch black sky
found at the end of the trail.
Violent quakes shook a land
that reeked of death's smell,
then an evil voice roared,
"Hello all, welcome to your Hell!"
A streak of lightning splits the sky apart,
shredding the peace and quiet of night.
Falling rain loudly pummeling the roof,
as shattered dreams are swept away.
Your hopes smash upon the nearby rocks
fracture as waves dash your wishes.
Lost in a storm that rages without end
walls breached by emotion you let in.
You awake in bed crushed against your pillow
just a splintered fragment of yourself
realizing you're cracked and damaged
but smiling because you are beautifully broken...
As you struggle with the unseen demons that beset your psyche.
Chaotic memories come out in fright,
never sleeping through the night.
Pools of flinging fevered dreams
trap you in your lucid screams.
Where rapid eyes move with no rest
and paradoxical pulses beat out your chest.
Left to know trepidation’s best,
so you entomb them deep to remember less.
To perplex the weary mind,
to be checked and to gloomy cell confined.
Collared your impressions bind.
Nature has prompted and no law denied,
shut the gates of mercy on any of its kind.
See the darkness yielding,
time to concentrate on your healing.
Into night, clarity you shall climb.
Up mountains that tore apart the light.
Caged by demons, can’t come out to bite.
Ascending yourself without a drop of fright.
Now all is done have what shall have no end.
It is time, you will not bend.
*Author's Note: I just got off a 12 hour night shift so I am uploading this now and I might come edit it a bit when I wake up. I wish everyone luck in this challenge and all future ones.*
Tetravain sends a powerful Angel to fight Faolinq. Yrak and several others of His followers are meant to hold Faolinq off until their true goal can be realized.
While Yrak is certainly a force to be reckoned with, even he cannot kill that which is unkillable. As such, more drastic measure must be used.
Tetravain knows that Faolinq cannot be killed via the means they have at their disposal, but death is not the worst fate one can have.
The Systemic Banisher is a tool of Tetravain and his children's own creation that removes the target, and all those like it, from existence. A very straightforward solution since a problem is no longer a problem if it doesn't exist anymore.
edited October 2020
~ Last Stand, Part 2...
Kort is 20 feet from the ground, and he closes his eyes. Is this it? Is this how his life ends? Not slain by this beast, not allowed to kill himself to preserve his honor, but forced to fall to his death? He prays one last time, and...
"Gah- uh- What's going on?! Unhand me!"
Kort's armor is dented, and a couple bones broken as he suddenly finds himself being caught by...
(Not an entry or a new card)
"What in the name of-"
The Last Genzian chuckles, holding Kort in his arms, shielding him from debris. "I do apologize for my absence. I see I'm late to the main event..."
The Last Genzian lands at the bottom of the cliff and sets Kort down. Beside him is Kort's mount, slightly injured, but otherwise safe.
"What happened to you, Grandmaster?"
"What do you think happened? I fell for the ruse of power and payed the price. By the grace of our army's blessings, I have been given a second chance to make sure that never happens again... and to say the least, I plan on punching a wurm in the face today."
"So the superstitions were true..."
"Correct. It is a method previously used by the devious of our world to ensure their return if they were to be slain. Hence why my will had a very specific set of instructions..."
Kort flinches, and backs away for a moment.
"You fool! You just made us perform necromancy!"
"So? That's the least of our concerns right now..."
Kort is picked back up again, along with his horse, as the grandmaster jumps to avoid a tail slash from Faolinq. It's both elegant and comedic to watch him backflip with a full sized horse atop a shoulder and someone slightly larger than him in nearly full plate mail armor in his arm, but it works, and he lands unscathed. The impact agitates the injures of Kort and his steed, but it's better than being dead.
"Thank you, grandmaster!"
"It's no problem. Now keep your eyes open and your wits about you! I'm going to try distracting it!"
"Don't get yourself killed!"
"I took notes from the last time I got attacked by a wurm. This time will be different..."
The Last Genzian sets the two down again, then rushes in to strike, leaping from rock crevice to rock crevice and letting out a battle cry. Kort mounts his horse and kicks them, lifting his sword and letting out a cry of his own as he charges. At this point, the most tactics that can be put into play here are trying to exploit this creature's key weaknesses... but none seemed apparent. The army had only encountered a worm once before... the day the grandmaster was eaten alive. At this point, communication was locked to telepathy, as it was too loud to hear anything.
"Grandmaster! Do you know any weaknesses?"
"The inside of a wurm is its weakness, but I found myself lost in a bout of madness. I could think of nothing but that crystal in that moment, and my mind blanked out when I got swallowed."
"The... inside... hmph."
How were they going to get inside of it, and frankly, how were they going to kill it? None of them were experts with this kind of anatomy, even with the grandmaster's experience. Wurms were considered legendary on Ignisp, with the predominate alternative being sky serpents.
This raises a question, which Kort asks.
"We don't happen to have any explosives short of spells, do we?"
"Our fleet should have gunpowder, but do you see them anywhere around-"
"IT'S TIME TO DROWN THIS BEAST IN THE DEEP! CREW! FIRE THE CANNONS!"
The group is shocked to find Zetz... flying the ship through the air above the wurm...
~ Lore Card ~
The Last Genzian is amused.
"I see someone's having fun..."
Kort, however, is much less amused.
"What are you doing out here?! You're supposed to be defending the port!"
"I hate to come without warning, but you'll love my reason. Falun surrendered!"
The grandmaster is confused.
"Falun... didn't we have a non=aggression pact with them? Whatever happened?!"
"I should be asking you the same question! I thought you were dead, Admiral!"
"Well, I suppose this world is just full of surprises... it's nice to see they've changed for the pleasant. But on that note, a favor. How much gunpowder do you have on board?"
"8 Kegs! What of it?"
"We'll need a few. We plan on killing this thing from the inside out!"
"Classic! I killed a sea serpent like that one day. I wonder if it'll work for this miserable creature..."
With their plan in mind, they begin to work.
"Attention all units! We've formed a strategy! We're going to attack this creature from the inside out! We need you to distract it so we can get kegs in its mouth and detonate them! Mage rings Albatross through Jade! You are hereby ordered to restrain him with his mouth open! All those incapable of restraining magic are to lure him into position in the canyon!"
A chorus of telepathic confirmations rush in, and the plan is set in motion. Kort's expertise in combat maneuvers lures the wurm into position, and the mages set the trap. Once they (think they) have the enormous Faolinq captured, the plan is set into motion, but only time would tell if the attack would be effective or not. It was all or nothing now as the leaders of the Witnesses put their lives on the line in an effort to kill it. The kegs were thrown in and exploded by the assistance of Crag's magic, and with the innards either weakened or destroyed, the bravest warriors, led by Kort, jumped in to attack with newfound vigor...
~ Main Entry ~
I am finishing up my entry rn
edited October 2020
(This uses the lore of the other factions' entries plus some things I discussed with Tommia and Monkeypirate in DMs.)
were the only faction that sought to fight the threat of Faolinq head on, the battle had cost them plenty and their morale was low, until a sudden visit from their fallen leader revitalized their resolve, now with a new plan they seek to kill the ancient wurm in what is sure to be a suicide mission, that is, without the aid of someone who can see the course of fate.
The Cult of The Wheel still has use for The Witnesses in the coming times, before their master walks the cracking earth of this plane for the first time, and having forseen these events, they made their move.
As the Wurm rattled against the attacks of The Witnesses' amy that tried to lure it away from their forces a giant began to arise from the depths of the sea behand it's sillouete, the giant, wile not nearly as big as the collosall wurm, it began to wrestle it with all it's might as water fell from it's rotten pale skin like waterfalls.
(It's made from all of the waste products of the cult plus some other dead stuff combined into one huge thrull haha.)
As Faolinq pushed back against it's assailant all manner of spells began to be shot at it from the opposite direction, from fireballs and lightningstrikes to decay beams and frost rays, suddenly an army of mages riding in flying thrulls accompanied by some wheel specters had appeared from seeminly nowhere. As the wurm responded to miriad of attacks the gigantic thrull wrestled it once more, slamming it against the ground as it pressed it's hand on it's new injury, the Faolinq coiled and attacked the giant with it's body, seemingly crushing it though with it's last ounces of strengh the giant once again clawed at the wurm's injury before being finally destroyed by it's pained retaliation.
In unison, just as they had predicted, the Cult's mages began to cast binding spells and curses, and even finished some they had been casting already, and millions of magical chains bound Faolinq to the land it once ruled undisputed, and as he was bound a million curses were cust upon it, death, decay, misfortune, and everything you could think of, the wurm was suddenly struck by a million magical ills and more, even the body of the gigantic thrull it had slain began to dissolve as it was used as a component for many potent curses against it, it's own power being used to debilitate it, the wurm fought back against the bindings enraged, tough it's strength was severly diminished, it would soon break free, and thus, without a moment to lose, the one tasked with overseeing this mission made his apperance.
A golem subservient only to the Cult's master, he followed the gorgon Archbishop only as it was dictated to him by the wheel's course, and here he was, with an army of negligible numbers yet substancial firepower, ordered to provide an offer to which he already knew the answer, and that is what he did, like a cog in an unbreaking machine.
The Witnesses were offered the choice of being guided and aided to victory in their plan, with the bonus of as many of their forces as possible to survive, along with a pact of nonagression for the duration of the battle and it's aftermath, all they had to do, was follow the cult's instructions; and as The Wheel dicated, they accepted.
Faolinq was breaking free from it's restraints, but now The Witnesses and The Cult of The Wheel were allied together in this battle, the clerics of The Cult used their magic to provide everyone with guidance. As The Cult's mages blasted and cursed at the wurm, and The Witnesses' fleet shot at it, no single instance of crossfire happened, for everyone instinctivebly knew where to shoot and where to be.
The Armies of Midnight
do not care about the inmediacy of the wurm's threat, for they will exist regardless of it, though it'd be wrong to say they dont care at all, but regardless of this, their actions are of no concern to The Cult, they have fullfilled their purpose, and in building up their numbers, they have built up the numbers for The Cult to use in this battle.
Atho, a skilled sorcerer that manipulates nightmares and brings them into reality, they is to bring forth the second purpose for which The Cult perpetrated the ritual to increase the spawning of The Armies' soldiers.
All of the despair and death from the battle against the wurm had only helped increase the rate at which the nightmares spawned, and many of them concentrated near the area of the battle, some perhaps, atempting to pick off lonely soldiers for themselves, others jus to witness the horror of the battle, regardless, it is by their very nature that they were so easy to manipulate.
Before they existed to be a nuisance for the other factions, now they exist as sacrificial pawns for this battle, as Atho raised his hands and tendrils dark shadowy smoke began to spread far and wide into the distance, with a few mages suporting them with their magic, suddenly horrors of all shapes and sizes began to storm into the battlefield, some attacking the wurm, others diverting it's atention, and others just being used as sacrifices for the spells of various mages.
In the blink of an eye the alliance between the Cult of The Wheel and The Witnesses had gained numerous new forces.
tagging u cuz ur faction might see this as an affront to em, or not, heck if I know haha)
(This is just the first part.)
edited October 2020
was in dissaray, though they had gained new members thanks to their short alliance with The Cult their infighting and the shifting lands had left them in direly constrained in resources, and as the threat that Faolinq posed became clear the Disciples of Moktaractus deemed it an impossible task to attain control of the plane and decided to leave it for good, leaving the ones not loyal to them behind to die.
Though Florence's third in command had gained more influence and was moving forth with plans to regain control of the faction, the sudden change in affairs had left it in dissaray, he desperately tried to assert his command in order to asses the situation and somehow move forward, but before anything could be done he felt something suddenly thrust into his stomach, as he puked his own blood he looked down to his gut and he could see it, tentacles red like rust, so red they blended with his blood, had thrust into torso.
(I cut the rest of this cause like, it was kinda gory lol, I can send it to someone if they ask for it, but for here I'll leave it in the suspensefull cut lol.)
The others in the room ran and screamed in horror as their improptu leader was gored into an unrecognisable mush by a creature that could mostly be described the same way. The ones left behind would either die to the wilderness or be taken in by other factions, likelly The Cult itself. And as for the Disciples of Moktaractus, lets just say that they have not managed to avoid the influence and eyes of The Cult, even if they were spared from it's blade, for now.
had sent minor forces to deal with the fight against Faolinq and The Cult was taking advantage of their contribution acordingly, the main purpose that they had was merely to stall until they could build a device to exile the wurm where it could do no harm, and sure that would be a good plan, but The Cult had different things in mind, they needed the battle to proceed as normal, and they needed to leave behind the corpse of the wurm for certain purposes, specially because it'd make a fine wellcoming meal for their master, and after all, if Faolinq were to be banished while The Witnesses were fighting it, they would surely get caught in the blast as well, and The Cult never goes back on it's word, after all, they only make promises that they know they will keep.
So The Cult of The Wheel has sent a message to Tetravain's Followers, one they are sure that they will listen.
Though their magic and their gathered intelligence many sabotage actors were sent to where The Follower are building their machine, by destroying and rewiring parts of it and the facility without being noticed they will hamper their progress inmensely, and once they're found they will use their agility to avoid capture and kill the facility's workers if nessesary, and if they do get destroyed, they will use their last breath to utter the final warning of The Cult, stop production, or taste oblibion.
(I could probs write an entire scene with one of these guys, I imagine them moving and talking so creepily and aw man I wanna write it lmao.)
(This is part 2 and now comes part 3!)
edited October 2020
With everything falling into place and the final battle against Faolinq being fought, it was time for The Cult of The Wheel's true purpose to finally be fullfilled.
Medea had gathered her twelve most trusted and powerfull summoners, all of them were about to give their lives for the purpose of calling their god into this world. They all gathered in a circle as Medea stood a distance away from them holding a staff, as she raised it into the air blue circles began to be drawn in the air, they formed as if reality itself was cracking into their shapes, and as them ages chanted circles began to be drawn arround them, first forming within their bodies, then from the ground, and finally through the air, the eyes of the mages glew bright blue as they screamed into the sky, the clouds bleeding red lightnings as they began to swirl arround the center of the ritual, the top of the staff the Archbishop held begain to shine brighter than a star and then suddenly a flash of light like a beam pierced through the veil of the plane as if it was paper, in less than a second all twelve of the mages had been reduced to naught as the earth within the circle they once stood in was atomised by the beam that had pierced the sky.
(This one has no mana cost on purpose.)
It was finally time to see, if this was the destined plane, now all she had to do was wait and see if he would answer her call to his a planar feast.
(And that's all! lmao)
(Erm, Florence is already dead. He got replaced by a clone earlier on.)
Aaah sorry, my memory is garbo, I kinda asked ya in DMs and u said Florence was fair game, should I rewrite it?
The Syndicate as a whole was fair game, so you could easily replace Florence with a third in command or something like that.
As the Disciples of Moktaractus make their leave, a young man frantically searches every nook and cranny within the walls of Falun. To see such a person, a narcissistic leader no less, lose all of his cool in his attempt to find a desired pendant, brings a good cheer to the last remnants of the Syndicate, shortly before they are obliterated by outside forces (cough cough the Wheel cough cough). As his departing words, the usurper does not gloat in the face of Falun's destruction. None of that. Instead, all he says is this:
"WHERE IS THAT DAMN NECKLACE?"
Meanwhile, in the dark clutches of nonexistence, a man clutches to a small talisman dear to his heart, keeping it as a last laugh to the one who betrayed him.
edited October 2020
Judging is DONE!
Epic finale being written up. It is nearly upon us. The fate-deciding battle.
Almost all is well. Faolinq is bound. Your allies are supplied and supported. Your dark master will soon descend all is almost well. But a small sliver of disarray is soon to throw itself into the works. A young, yet ambitious archmage, one of the many to be finishing the ritual of Faolinq's sealing. His mind is filled with nothing but great devotion to the cult. The gray skies turn slightly maroon from the dark magic involved. The archmage licks his lips. Soon, the one he has waited all his life for will be here.
Yet not all is right in his mind. Because doubt is forming, very slowly, in the back of his head. Deep under the conscious, or even the subconscious, as those are all still devoted to the cult, somewhere deep inside his soul, he hears a call.
The sealed beast is beckoning, on a frequency only he and the archmage can hear. Whispering, taunting. Promising power. Promising before unheard magics. Promising all the riches of the multiverse, if the young archmage were to simply let go.
And in the last few seconds of the ritual, the archmage, just for a split second, falters. One less beam of magic holding Faolinq down for just a split second.
That is all it takes.
The ground ruptures. The seal is broken.
I am terribly sorry. The cult must flee. They have almost succeeded, but now the entire rage of Skyfaoll is about to bear down on them. If they wish to save themselves, they must quickly fold all of the dark robes, hastily scrape the strawberry jam off the walls and HEAD HOME!
As Faolinq is rising from the depths where the Cult had sealed him, Yrak rises to confront him.
Terribly sorry for how unambiguously white Yrak looks here. It was hard to find art for this scene.
The battle is long and arduous. These are the forces supported by Skyfaoll itself and the combined might of its conquerors respectively fighting for the other's fall. Yet the invaders have something that Faolinq does not. The Banisher.
It unfolds like a vortex, revealing the powerful magics hidden within. Capturing Faolinq. Luring him inside attracting him more than anything did before. Yet even it is not strong enough. From the strain of trying to control such a powerful being, the Banisher chips. It strips. It breaks. And in the moment of fate, Yrak's soul is devoured.
Tetravain sees the situation for what it really is, as he did always, eyes unclouded by the veil of conformity. He calls for a retreat from this place.
As unfortunate as this situation is, I am sorry to say your forces must say their final prayers, untangle their wings and HEAD HOME!
But the death of these factions has not been in vain. From the three remaining, a mighty army is assembled. It is not a holy army, not a profane one. It is an army of the new order.
takes their already powerful forces, and adds them to what was usurped from Tetravain. It is a force like this world hadn't seen yet. When the wurm is in its moment of weakness they strike. Driving it, driving it forward. They are not meant to kill Faolinq yet, even they do not have the strength alone. But before they must make a strategic retreat, they weaken him to the point of exhaustion.
This is where the force of
comes in. Thousands of nightmares pour onto Faolinq's mind at once. From all directions. From every angle. He is overwhelmed. They drive him on and on, through Skyfaoll's desolate wastelands. He is afraid. He must flee. What he doesn't realise is where he is fleeing to. His manic frenzy leads him straight into
's trap. It is there where all the forces unite to bear down upon the wurm. After what seems like an eternity of fighting, the ancient beast finally gives in. Lapsing slowly out of consciousness, he accepts the new masters of Skyfaoll. He resigns his seat of power. Deep into the deeps he flees.
This leaves only you three.
Brothers in arms suddenly realise something.
The only competition left is each other.
And such is the rule of the COLONISERS, the Hero of the Capes cackles inside the leader's heads over and over again, is that there can be only one winner. Only one faction is destined to stay.
You have a week to vanquish the other two and emerge THIS SEASON'S WINNER!
Holy &&%$ I'm still in. Well then. Time to end this contest with a BANG!
(Especially since ToC 3's deadline is in 1 day lel)
This discussion has been closed.
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