Post here when you're the only member on!

[shisteer of nothing much]

I am left to my own devices again. Thyme for some Kaeos.

[Booklover]

Chaos is easier to create with more people around.


Timezones... why are they so annoying?

[Sebias of Redwall]

*Sobs* Whhhhyyyyy!?

[shisteer of nothing much]

*laughs with a french accent*

[Booklover]

Why? I'm the only one on! Even though Lass is on discord, and we have been talking for a bit.

[Sebias of Redwall]

*Looks out from window. All alone.*

[Captain Wortshire]

[lass of something much]

 

Why? I'm the only one on! Even though Lass is on discord, and we have been talking for a bit.

Girl! just ask me to post, then stop posting yourself!

as for me...

[Sebias of Redwall]

Alone I fought, my companions leaving me one by one, to the dreaded foe. I blew my horn, trying to call them back, but alas, it's too late. They are gone.

[Wylder Treejumper]

The tree that never had to fight
For sun and sky and air and light,
But stood out in the open plain
And always got its share of rain,
Never became a forest king
But lived and died a scrubby thing.

The man who never had to toil
To gain and farm his patch of soil,
Who never had to win his share
Of sun and sky and light and air,
Never became a manly man
But lived and died as he began.

Good timber does not grow with ease:
The stronger wind, the stronger trees;
The further sky, the greater length;
The more the storm, the more the strength.
By sun and cold, by rain and snow,
In trees and men good timbers grow.

[Booklover]

Good poem.

Where are you??

[Sebias of Redwall]

[shisteer of nothing much]

Fools! You leave me unattended again. Will you never learn? I will destroy this place and you will not even be aware of it.

[Booklover]

Nay! It is you who leave me unattended!

[lass of something much]

The tree that never had to fight
For sun and sky and air and light,
But stood out in the open plain
And always got its share of rain,
Never became a forest king
But lived and died a scrubby thing.

The man who never had to toil
To gain and farm his patch of soil,
Who never had to win his share
Of sun and sky and light and air,
Never became a manly man
But lived and died as he began.

Good timber does not grow with ease:
The stronger wind, the stronger trees;
The further sky, the greater length;
The more the storm, the more the strength.
By sun and cold, by rain and snow,
In trees and men good timbers grow.

Oh! I love that!