The second floor of the small building whistle, fly a big bowl of fireball, exploded in the swordsman group. Heat flow ruthless burning swordsmen exposed skin.
Keep My Fists Wide Open
There lived a great warrior who wanted to conquer world. He fought continuously and won many kingdoms So powerful,but afraid of death At last he surrendered
Seven’s The Name
But before he goes to repose for a day, there was one more task at hand. The situation at earth was going out of his hands. He had to do something today. They were all his creations.
Irony Of Life
The eyes were blood red, the calmness upon his face didn’t reflect upon his eyes. A spear in his hand, blood was dripping from the edge of blade. The sky above his head was losing its calm
The Hand that held the Sword
Editor’s Choice: He was a king and the easy road was not his take. He could not help being curious about the man who stood before him demanding justice
Wake
I would’ve been killed by wolves later that night if I hadn’t have walked a couple of miles. Soon I came upon a village were the townsfolk where fleeing from something
Was I dreaming.?
The bungalow is very old, I observe. The architect had the foresight to build it strong, which is a relieving thought to me. The main door has weird carvings
