No game night tonight.
Snow. Too much snow.
Ridiculous amounts of snow.
Blast those Archons and their damnable weather machines!
All I ask is a tiny plastic ship and a pair of dice to steer her by.
Snow. Too much snow.
Ridiculous amounts of snow.
Blast those Archons and their damnable weather machines!
All I ask is a tiny plastic ship and a pair of dice to steer her by.
Bad poetry always ends in a preposition.
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