sa indigos the reason
Ok.

*>sa he said that i was irratating and non contributing i made a log u can reaad it
Ok.

*>
Vairë says 'that is NO reason to make a NEW account'

*>sa all i did was change my whois
Ok.

*>
Vairë says 'there is NO REASON TO MAKE A NEW ACCOUNT'

*>
Vairë says 'is that clear?'

*>sa yes it is he made it so i counldt even tell so i had to find a new way to contact
Ok.

*>no
Alas, you cannot go that way...

*>
Saving Laxe.

*>shake
You shake your head.

*>
Vairë says 'what's wrong with a NEW char?'

*>sa can i wash my winky in your kitchen sink
Vairë says 'IN YOUR ACCOUNT?'
Ok.

*>sa nothing
Ok.

*>sa it takes to long to load back on
Ok.

*>
Vairë says 'fine i'll just jail you'

*>sa 5 minutes to play on same account
Ok.

*>sa hld up
Ok.

*>l
Morgul Vale
A dim red glare in the east reflecting off the low dusky clouds silhouettes
the craggy peaks of the Ephel Duath. High on a rocky seat upon the knees
of the Mountains of Shadow stand the walls and tower of Minas Morgul. All
around the tower darkness lies like a cloak on the landscape, but the tower
itself is lit by a pale corpse-light that illuminates nothing. The top-most
course of the tower slowly revolves, first one way and then another, a huge
ghostly head leering into the night. A stream flows out of the valley - wide
flats lying on either bank like shadowy meads filled with pale white flowers.
A white bridge crosses the stream, and beyond the road winds up the valley
to the city gates. Figures stand on the bridge, carven with cunning in
forms human and bestial, but all corrupt and loathsome. The water flowing
beneath is silent and steaming, but the vapour rising from it is deadly cold.
A hooded brass lantern has been left here.
A small hunting knife lies on the ground.
A mailbox stands here stuffed full of messages.
A steward of the Valar stands here, ready to assist you into a room.
Vairë the Ainu is resting here.

*>
Vairë says 'what's wrong with MAIL?'

*>sa how can u jail me i already here?
Ok.

*>sa forgot about it my bad
Ok.

*>sa indigo is gay mumble
Ok.

*>
Vairë says 'i'm going to leave you here for a week'

*>
Vairë says 'maybe you'll learn to use mail'

*>sa ok bye bitch ass fucker
Ok.

*>
The Valar have decided that you shall be put in jail.

*>sa hold up
Ok.

*>sa what about garifts account?
l
Ok.

*>Morgul Vale
A dim red glare in the east reflecting off the low dusky clouds silhouettes
the craggy peaks of the Ephel Duath. High on a rocky seat upon the knees
of the Mountains of Shadow stand the walls and tower of Minas Morgul. All
around the tower darkness lies like a cloak on the landscape, but the tower
itself is lit by a pale corpse-light that illuminates nothing. The top-most
course of the tower slowly revolves, first one way and then another, a huge
ghostly head leering into the night. A stream flows out of the valley - wide
flats lying on either bank like shadowy meads filled with pale white flowers.
A white bridge crosses the stream, and beyond the road winds up the valley
to the city gates. Figures stand on the bridge, carven with cunning in
forms human and bestial, but all corrupt and loathsome. The water flowing
beneath is silent and steaming, but the vapour rising from it is deadly cold.
A hooded brass lantern has been left here.
A small hunting knife lies on the ground.
A mailbox stands here stuffed full of messages.
A steward of the Valar stands here, ready to assist you into a room.
Vairë the Ainu is resting here.

*>
Vairë says 'why do you care?'

*>sa hes my rl friend we tight
Ok.

*>
Vairë says 'and calling me a fucker just will add to your time'

*>
Vairë says 'then i suggest you both grow up'

*>sa ok fucker

Vairë wãves.

*>
Ok.

*>
Taking all the stories of time, Vairë the Weaver returns to her tapestries.

*>wave
You wave.

*>
Saving Laxe.

*>