<?xml version='1.0' encoding='UTF-8'?><?xml-stylesheet href="http://www.blogger.com/styles/atom.css" type="text/css"?><feed xmlns='http://www.w3.org/2005/Atom' xmlns:openSearch='http://a9.com/-/spec/opensearchrss/1.0/' xmlns:georss='http://www.georss.org/georss' xmlns:gd='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005' xmlns:thr='http://purl.org/syndication/thread/1.0'><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7570641267517349802</id><updated>2011-04-21T16:01:49.625-07:00</updated><title type='text'>What? Gailardia is pregnant?! And the father is...!</title><subtitle type='html'></subtitle><link rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#feed' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://neotowel.blogspot.com/feeds/posts/default'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7570641267517349802/posts/default?max-results=100'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://neotowel.blogspot.com/'/><link rel='hub' href='http://pubsubhubbub.appspot.com/'/><author><name>Towel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04331229606134936429</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><generator version='7.00' uri='http://www.blogger.com'>Blogger</generator><openSearch:totalResults>5</openSearch:totalResults><openSearch:startIndex>1</openSearch:startIndex><openSearch:itemsPerPage>100</openSearch:itemsPerPage><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7570641267517349802.post-2693457212619186023</id><published>2008-09-20T19:14:00.001-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-20T20:17:27.190-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Tyren's Younger Days [2]</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;11&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_0"&gt;th&lt;/span&gt; day of the month of the Snow Hare&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I can't believe it! That no good &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_1"&gt;Primus&lt;/span&gt;! That hater &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_2"&gt;Primus&lt;/span&gt;! That bastard &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_3"&gt;Primus&lt;/span&gt;! I can't &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_4"&gt;belive&lt;/span&gt; it! &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_5"&gt;Arggghhh&lt;/span&gt;! What am I going to do? How will I ever be able to escape this dreaded memory...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;I skipped happily down the road to meet Bubbles in front of her father's shop. When I was only a couple of shops length away, I saw her waiting outside the shop. She is so punctual! I walked up to her, not knowing what to say. Stuttering I manage a weak 'Hi', she returned the greeting easily. As we walked down the road, I told her about going to the beach and she agreed. As we approached the beach, we saw &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_6"&gt;Primus&lt;/span&gt;, my best friend. He walked up to us and Bubbles invited him to come to the beach with us. I was surprised she did that. I had hoped that it was only going to between us two but I didn't say anything since she already invited.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;As we were walking, we passed a shop that sold cookies. At this moment, Bubbles said she wanted some, so I offered to go buy them. When I got back with the bag of cookies, Bubbles and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_7"&gt;Primus&lt;/span&gt; was nowhere to be seen. Seeing as they were gone, I started to freak out a bit. Did something happen to them? Then I heard some giggles coming from around the corner. I quickly dashed around the corner and saw Bubbles and &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_8"&gt;Primus&lt;/span&gt; there, laughing their ass off. I told them that I wouldn't go to the beach with them if they didn't apologize, hoping to regain some ground and get what Bubbles told me? She said she didn't want to go anyways, and it was all a joke with &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_9"&gt;Primus&lt;/span&gt; to make fun of me. I walked home after that... speechless.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;I do not know why they are doing this to me. I really thought that Bubbles and I could be together. And &lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_10"&gt;Primus&lt;/span&gt;, who was supposed to be my best friend, played me like a fool along with Bubbles. I swear upon my honor, revenge will be extracted from those two one day...one day they will pay.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;-&lt;span class="blsp-spelling-error" id="SPELLING_ERROR_11"&gt;Tyren&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7570641267517349802-2693457212619186023?l=neotowel.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://neotowel.blogspot.com/feeds/2693457212619186023/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7570641267517349802&amp;postID=2693457212619186023' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7570641267517349802/posts/default/2693457212619186023'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7570641267517349802/posts/default/2693457212619186023'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://neotowel.blogspot.com/2008/09/tyrens-younger-days-2.html' title='Tyren&apos;s Younger Days [2]'/><author><name>Towel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04331229606134936429</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7570641267517349802.post-5101826822019696149</id><published>2008-09-20T18:18:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-20T19:15:41.317-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Tyren's Younger Days [1]</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;11th of the month of the Snow Hare&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I am so happy! Today is the day I will be going on that long awaited date with Bubbles! Everybody else can try and try, but I know I will be the one who wins Bubble's hand! I wonder where we should go for our date? I was thinking of the beach, but that doesn't seem very romantic for our first date. There isn't much to do since I can't really swim. It would be very bad if I start to drown in front of Bubbles, yes, that would be very bad.&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I know everybody would be very jealous. Why? Just because of the fact that Bubbles is like the prettiest girl in town. I still can't believe how lucky I am to get that 'yes' out of Bubbles. I would never forget that moment...&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;It has been 4 weeks since I started working at the shop that Bubbles' father owned. She helps around the shop, making sure its clean and my job is to aid the customers. I think it was around midday when I was going on an erand for the shop. I was walking with an delicate glass when I saw Bubbles surrounded by 4 thugs. They wouldn't leave her alone so I took it upon myself to be her savior. I ran up to her, grabbed her hand and started to run. It wasn't until she told me her hand hurts that I stopped. How stupid can I be? I held onto her hand too hard, I am not thinking! Suddenly, I remembered. The glass! Where was it? I went back to where I saw Bubbles being bullied and found the glass shattered on the ground. I must have dropped it as I went to Bubbles' rescue. I am so screwed. Thankfully, Bubbles was able to explain for me and I didn't get into that much trouble.&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;That night, I asked Bubbles for a date and she agreed. I think it was because I saved her, but I am glad either way, this will be my big chance to score it big!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;I think I will take Bubbles down for a walk in the beach after all. I suppose we can play in the shallow waters. Maybe I can get Bubbles to wear a bikini if I told her we were going to the beach. If she does, I'll be the happiest person on this land. I can't wait! I can't wait!&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;-Tyren&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7570641267517349802-5101826822019696149?l=neotowel.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://neotowel.blogspot.com/feeds/5101826822019696149/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7570641267517349802&amp;postID=5101826822019696149' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7570641267517349802/posts/default/5101826822019696149'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7570641267517349802/posts/default/5101826822019696149'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://neotowel.blogspot.com/2008/09/tyrens-younger-days-1.html' title='Tyren&apos;s Younger Days [1]'/><author><name>Towel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04331229606134936429</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7570641267517349802.post-4341516524265913331</id><published>2008-09-17T09:20:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-17T22:24:32.467-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Final Battle</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;22nd day of the month of the Seven Boars&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;This is has been a long war. I am tired. My bones ache. I do not know if I can fight for much longer. Our General, Tyren, is be a shadow of the man he used to be. 7 years of constant war can do that to a man. Each night, we hear the screams of our brethren, yet we can do nothing. Not until the morning sun comes out.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;In the beginning, we, led by General Tyren, were almost near victory over the Nation of Rogwel. But it was at this time, nearing the end of the first year of war, that they did something none has ever dreamed of. Primus made a pact with the devil, in exchange for power, he offered the lives of all the men in his army. Now he controls an undead army in the day and an army of spirits at night.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;p&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Our casulties are seemingly limitless. Even our proud Oracle, Gailardia, has fell to the powers of the undead. What's left is no more than a tenth of what we started with. I fear that we will last no more than two months if things continues like this.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;The only way to win this battle, this war, is to defeat Primus. Only then, will their devil army be without a leader, will they vanish and be destroyed.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;As soon as the first ray of the morning sun hits the land, I will go talk with the other leaders. We must end this battle soon. If this drags on any further, we will lose the war. Tomorrow shall be the day we fight our decisive battle. Tomorrow, there will be only one army standing, be it Elerd or Rogwel. I pray the gods may stand on our side at that moment. What else can I do but pray for the best...&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;-Towel&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;Captain of the 4th Assassin's Division&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/p&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7570641267517349802-4341516524265913331?l=neotowel.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://neotowel.blogspot.com/feeds/4341516524265913331/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7570641267517349802&amp;postID=4341516524265913331' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7570641267517349802/posts/default/4341516524265913331'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7570641267517349802/posts/default/4341516524265913331'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://neotowel.blogspot.com/2008/09/final-battle.html' title='Final Battle'/><author><name>Towel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04331229606134936429</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7570641267517349802.post-4157103703219235991</id><published>2008-09-16T15:40:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-16T21:41:34.205-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Unknown Market Thief [2]</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Filled with fatigue, Samuel had not notice when the sun rose up high into the sky. It wasn't until noon passed that he woke up. But when he did, he quickly got dressed, grabbed some bread from the breakfast table and ran out the house. Tearing large chunks of bread and putting them into his mouth, Samuel headed towards the market at full speed.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;As he approached the warehouse of Nasdaim, he saw a big crowd surrounding the storage. Wondering what happened, he stopped to ask one of the people in the crowd.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;"What is going on? Samuel inquired, "Why are there so many people here?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;"There has been a robbery," the person replied, "It seems that many of the items put up for sale in the market has been stolen. Yesterday, I placed 5 pieces of leather up for sale and now they're gone without a trace. You should check up on your stuff too."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;Hearing this message, Samuel was horrified. Worrying that his Zweihander might have met the same fate as the leathers, he pushed through the crowed, trying to find Lemmy. It was only after several minutes of intense pushing and shoving that Samuel managed to get through the crowd and located Lemmy with his head down. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;"Lemmy! What happened? Did my sword get stolen? Did it?" asked Samuel as he prayed.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;Lemmy looked up and stared at Samuel for a while. Then replied, "Sorry Samuel, it's gone."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;Upon hearing this, Samuel was furious. "How could this have happened?! How could anyone have stolen from the market?!" shouted Samuel. Then looking at Lemmy, "Do you have any ideas who did this?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;"Well, all that was left is this note." Lemmy replied and handed a small piece of parchment with several words scribbled on it.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;Once again, the incredible "Bug" has done what is said to be impossible!&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;em&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;/em&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;"Who is this 'Bug'?" asked Samuel.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;"Well, nobody knows." replied Lemmy, "All I know is that rumors have it that 'Bug' is a thief that goes around steal items from the most guarded places. Nobody really knows the real identity of 'Bug'."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;With that, Samuel walked away from the warehouse. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;Holding the note in his hand, Samuel shouted out as loud as he could, "You damned market Bug! I swear I will destroy you if it's the last thing I do! I will catch you and take back my Zweihander!"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7570641267517349802-4157103703219235991?l=neotowel.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://neotowel.blogspot.com/feeds/4157103703219235991/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7570641267517349802&amp;postID=4157103703219235991' title='1 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7570641267517349802/posts/default/4157103703219235991'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7570641267517349802/posts/default/4157103703219235991'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://neotowel.blogspot.com/2008/09/unknown-market-thief-2.html' title='Unknown Market Thief [2]'/><author><name>Towel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04331229606134936429</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>1</thr:total></entry><entry><id>tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-7570641267517349802.post-8926401796903178090</id><published>2008-09-16T13:37:00.000-07:00</published><updated>2008-09-17T21:33:27.997-07:00</updated><title type='text'>Unknown Market Thief [1]</title><content type='html'>&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;7th day of the month of the Winter Wolf&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:times new roman;"&gt;With night approaching quickly, Samuel hurried out of the forest, hoping to reach Nasdaim before it got too dark. Samuel was happy with what he got from hunting in the woods that day. Entering the forest with only a bow and a quiver of arrows, he came back with three hares, a wild rooster and even a young deer.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;Samuel walked as fast as he possibly could, holding the hares and rooster in one hand and dragging the deer with the other. Soon, the moon was high up in the sky. Samuel knew he wouldn't reach Nasdaim in time. It simply wasn't possible, at least not with the extra weight. &lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;"The night sky isn't so bad," Samuel told himself, "I don't understand why mum wouldn't let me stay out this late." Then he started to hum a little tune as he continued walked down the trail that leads to town.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;As Samuel was nearing the outskirts of Nasdaim, he heard a rustle in the bushes to his right. Samuel stopped and looked towards the origin of the sound and stared for a moment. It was too dark too see much, mainly because it's night and the clouds were blocking some of the little moonlight there was. Just as Samuel was about to continue his trip to town, a voice came from the bushes.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;"Wait! You young'ins have no patience nowadays." said the voice.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;Startled, Samuel replied, "Who's there?" Just as Samuel completed his sentence, an old man in pitch black robes stepped out slowly, as if making sure he wouldn't step on any ants as he revealed himself.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;"There is no need to tell you who I am," the old man replied, "We'll probably never meet again. But I have a deal for you. You see, I am famished. I don't know how long I have gone without solid food in my mouth. You, I can see, have a considerable amount on you. Why don't we trade? Here I have a sword," the old man said, bringing out a large sword, "Its name? The Zweihander. So what do you say? Shall we trade?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;Samuel has never seen such a sword in his life. He stood there, awestruck, at the sword. The old man, filled with nothing hunger, got impatient. He threw the sword at the boy's feet and took his hunted prey then disappearing quickly, going back into the shadows he came from.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;It was only after the old man left, that Samuel began to regain his senses and gather his thoughts. Never like this has happened before so he had no idea what to do. He peered around, as if looking for signs of what to do. Then he remembered, he was supposed to be in town by now. So he quickly grabbed onto the hilt of the sword and headed towards town.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;It was well past midnight when he stepped into town. He knew his mum would be furious, since he was supposed to get home before dark. But before he goes home, he has one more thing to do.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;Samuel walked towards the warehouse, lugging his sword. Upon reaching the warehouse, he saw the warehouse keeper, Lemmy, standing at the entrance.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;"Hey! Well isn't it Samuel? What are you doing out so late? asked Lemmy.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;"Hey Lemmy." Samuel responded, "I have something to put in the market, check this out."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;"Woah! Where did you get that? That's one fine looking sword you got there. I bet it weighs a bundle too."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;" Yeah, it does. It's really heavy. So Lemmy, how much can I sell this for?"&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;"Well, it depends on what you want to sell it for Samuel. Here in the market, you set the price. If someones comes and likes it, they'll buy it and the money will go into our deposit in which you can come and pick up later. Oh yes, you must also select how long you want to put it up in the market and you'll have to pay a fee accordingly."&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;"I see. Let's put this sword up for 500,000 gold for 12 hours then!" exclaimed Samuel happily.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;"You're the boss." Lemmy responded as he took the sword from Samuel.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;After the sword was handed over to Lemmy, Samuel headed towards home. He didn't know what his mum would do to him, but he didn't care. He was sure that his mum would be happy once the sword was sold and he brought home the money. Thinking about the large sum of gold he would receive, he skipped the rest of the way back home.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;"&gt;That night, after getting scolded by his mum, Samuel slept soundly in his bed, waiting for the morning to arrive so he could go back and check on the market.&lt;/span&gt;&lt;br /&gt;&lt;span style="font-family:Times New Roman;font-size:85%;"&gt;&lt;/span&gt;&lt;div class="blogger-post-footer"&gt;&lt;img width='1' height='1' src='https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/tracker/7570641267517349802-8926401796903178090?l=neotowel.blogspot.com' alt='' /&gt;&lt;/div&gt;</content><link rel='replies' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://neotowel.blogspot.com/feeds/8926401796903178090/comments/default' title='Post Comments'/><link rel='replies' type='text/html' href='http://www.blogger.com/comment.g?blogID=7570641267517349802&amp;postID=8926401796903178090' title='0 Comments'/><link rel='edit' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7570641267517349802/posts/default/8926401796903178090'/><link rel='self' type='application/atom+xml' href='http://www.blogger.com/feeds/7570641267517349802/posts/default/8926401796903178090'/><link rel='alternate' type='text/html' href='http://neotowel.blogspot.com/2008/09/unknown-market-thief-1.html' title='Unknown Market Thief [1]'/><author><name>Towel</name><uri>http://www.blogger.com/profile/04331229606134936429</uri><email>noreply@blogger.com</email><gd:image rel='http://schemas.google.com/g/2005#thumbnail' width='16' height='16' src='http://img2.blogblog.com/img/b16-rounded.gif'/></author><thr:total>0</thr:total></entry></feed>
