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Arcadiez

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Continue the story:

1 Rule: You must continue your story from the prompt sentence you are given...

"I work in the Lumbridge castle. My job is to guard a small door in the lowest level of the dungeon. For eight full years, I have seen nothing and I have heard nothing. Nobody has come in our out of that door. But last night that changed, for the first time ever i heard a faint rumbling noise coming from the other side..."

 

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"I work in the Lumbridge castle. My job is to guard a small door in the lowest level of the dungeon. For eight full years, I have seen nothing and I have heard nothing. Nobody has come in our out of that door. But last night that changed, for the first time ever i heard a faint rumbling noise coming from the other side..."

"And suddenly, a man wearing.... seven pairs of gloves.... came bursting through it? He was ranting about the Grand Exchange prices of Grapes. It was incredibly odd, but to make matters worse, he stole all of my grapes! My lovely, succulent grapes.... MY GRAPES! NO MATTER! I shall move on from this rut. He who is without grapes is without soul. It is unacceptable. To Varrock, I go. I have heard that the guards there hoard 'em."

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"And suddenly, a man wearing.... seven pairs of gloves.... came bursting through it? He was ranting about the Grand Exchange prices of Grapes. It was incredibly odd, but to make matters worse, he stole all of my grapes! My lovely, succulent grapes.... MY GRAPES! NO MATTER! I shall move on from this rut. He who is without grapes is without soul. It is unacceptable. To Varrock, I go. I have heard that the guards there hoard 'em."
 

And thus I went on a walk towards the good ol' city of Avarrocka (Varrock), passing by a hoard of stinky filthy goblins.
Out of a sudden I got a deep thirst when my eye fell on this beauty of a phat thick diary cow.

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  • 1 year later...
On 2/3/2021 at 2:44 PM, Ahoy said:

And thus I went on a walk towards the good ol' city of Avarrocka (Varrock), passing by a hoard of stinky filthy goblins.
Out of a sudden I got a deep thirst when my eye fell on this beauty of a phat thick diary cow.

Grabbing a nearby bucket, I sat upon the milking stool, and prepared to express fair Daisy of the product of her bounty. As I sat, a butterfly cavorted around merrily, and a lumbering oaf in bronze armor began mercilessly slaughtering Daisy's kin in the neighboring pasture. The din of blows was drowned out by the cries of anguish all around. The oaf, named Iron Lazyboi, was cackling with glee as he waded in the blood of the bovine. Of course I had to do something! But what could I do? ...

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