"Hmm..." Howl moans aloud as he begins to do a handstand in front of their makeshift board. He slowly leans to the right placing his weight on that hand as the other reaches over and places an X just below the lumbering minotaur's next move, "I don't see what the fuss is about, we are the chosen. That means we are fated to arrive in time. Such is the way of existence, is it not?" Fate was such an interesting thread of existence, it was or it was not, or perhaps it is and isn't. Something to muse over at the least, Howl thought.
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President of the Official Zombie Horde: Shambling mess / Friend of Zombie Bear
I was just playing around with my imagination and then everything got INTENSE.
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