Have a nice day, Mr. White

The visitors, however, are sometimes few and fart so much that there is no way to guide them. Ultimately, you are on your own when the gate closes behind you. Don't rely on the guide, be your own person.

“I have a lamp”

the flirt to his right whistles, her sticky hot, naked body full of sweet, beguilingly fragrant secretion, dark love blue, three breasts dripping from her nipples, she unashamedly grabs his crotch, we all know why orcs are sought-after mating buddies

"what a piece of equipment, white man"

He becomes hard, and the Mitnand is already starting to take effect, later perhaps he will indicate to her that these elves are a drug themselves, he thinks, mating with elves is almost like the very best second pastime besides drug use.

And this doesn't serve us with nerd cliché hopes, there are no spotty expectations, this is the God-liberated, snow-filled reality of being together.

Several priests and prophets are nailed to the walls of the hideout, each one a symbol of old religious values and betrayal of the creatures. They are drying there and are mostly straw-like; one looks fresh, he is from the other bank, a clan from the One God Land.

That ancient ruling world that still tries to call itself to arms, that wants back what the demons have taken from it, sometimes one of the crowd below him waves happily to him.

Mr. White is now hard and that makes him even whiter, but he knows similar things from smaller dives like this one; he is a sin tester for Vandal.

Vandal, it must be said, is a bit of a cunt when it comes to reporting, despite its relative emphasis on facts and the duty to tell the truth, but is nevertheless one of the most important daily newspapers in Freeport.

They don't take themselves quite like that, and are probably more successful for that reason than the somewhat more subtle end-time messenger, whose name nevertheless clearly opposes the prevailing urge to be somewhat snippy about being occupied and dominated.

THE PURPOSE

on the other hand, he has gone the other way and lets the newly hatched ones write about propaganda and confidence in the light columns from their very first day, which at the same time MAKES them more reliable representatives of this philosophy in later stages of life.

The purpose should be considered in view of the situation, if everyone only wallowed in establishments like the hideout, what kind of resistance would that be.

“Resis dance, dance, dance,”

His elf colleague Candyflip likes to joke around, trying to take the interviews to a new level, the new generation of writers that has been emerging since the creatures realized that it can be fun to be occupied and exploited.

IF THAT MEANS YOU NO LONGER HAVE TO FOLLOW THE OLD RULES, BUT MR. WHITE SHOULD NOT THINK ABOUT CANDYFLIP RIGHT NOW, IT WILL ONLY MAKE HIM EVEN HARDER, AND HE'S STANDING CAME BETWEEN THREE OTHER ORCS WHO, DESPITE BEING WITH EACH OTHER, ARE NOT SO keen to feel it, WHICH MAKES HIM THINKING THAT IT WOULD BE A PLEASURE TO BE IN ONE OF THE ROOMS RIGHT NOW.

Not that anyone here in Trubel has problems with mating, no, that's missing, but the narrowness is too simple, yes, everything is simple from the first line, just wait until volume two comes out in Publisch.

Yes, it is simply too narrow, terribly narrow, but at least sometimes it is so cheerful and exuberant, there are stories of orgies that develop quite spontaneously, for example, from the very moment that Mr. White is in.

His awakened genitals are in no way pressed appropriately against those of an orc who has also awakened as he tells a few friends, also orcs, an obviously interesting story with his arms outstretched. Mr. White would actually have preferred to slip under this arm because something like a shortcut has opened up further on.

Well, why are there hardly any orc women? That's exactly what this story is about, and since orcs are usually the ones who are the most ideal fighters but also couples because of their gifts, well, that brings interesting aspects to light in the most natural way.

Also not to be forgotten: mating is also an energy generator, not as strong as the rays from above, but even a little stronger than the dark sky light, which is just enough for the smaller creatures.

"Heaven",

That's also what Mr. White is thinking right now, the two genitals are not in close proximity, they are literally knocking at each other in the most primal and simplest of all languages and are only producing more of the light that illuminated the three-breasted elf.

The storyteller orc is also impressed and irritated and groans in the middle of the sentence, it is a very frivolous situation that doesn't happen to you every orc minute, although you have to admit, orcs have no shortage of offers, interests and greeds, orcs are the best when it comes to celebrating the holy fuck until you can refuel in another way.

One of the greatest gifts, if you will, which the demons involuntarily created was that the beings began to occupy themselves with each other and then to have fun. It is hardly possible to remember how boring the separate culture was, priestly-regulated pairing, as Trash, a friend of Mr. White, rightly says,

“Anyone who has never sucked on a fairy has absolutely no understanding of anything and can eat one just as stupidly as a demon.”

The thing with the

STUPID LIKE A DEMON

is also one of those slogans. The Quadrant, as the gang that owns the hideout calls itself, has a slogan on the top level of the purpose, which also helps the newspaper producers by preparing and writing things for the writers.

Somehow this chaos has already become quite organized, if one assumes that meaning generally clumps together and creates small, sometimes useful islands, even without any regulation or prayer.

But trashy sayings don't help here, and neither does the fact that he is the owner of this funny shop and had the idea of testing it anonymously.
Always these trashy ideas.

Let him go and sparkle with his star mushrooms, Mr. White is close to revising his plans a little, for an everlasting genital friction, and the two muscle packs are currently heaving their pelvises a little harder against each other than the bystanders would notice, and it must be reported quite happily that most of them take in this rhythm almost like a wave.

It's not strong, that's true, but for one magical moment everything seems to be a fantasy and a dream of whores, which of course happens all the time here, but from Mr. White's perspective, only the second time since entering the crowd.

Let go and keep slurping, he doesn't look back, one could undoubtedly make oneself happy here as long as one has the strength to do so.
Mitnand is also a tonic and that is why it is quite easy to use the power. He can always understand why the purpose does not like drugs and mating and deregulated beings.

It is not helpful to hold the fronts and even less to conquer back the world.

“As if anyone really wanted that”

This sentence has always been ringing in his ear; it was written on the first wall that you see when you step from the coast edge onto a narrow path in front of the entrance; it is not easy to swim across the water to Freeport, because who has a boat or a ship these days?

But then you arrive at the lowest of the layers, and that in turn is a bit of a problem only for masters.

The hiding place is actually quite deep, but it is more bathed in a broad, multi-layered layer of “just look” but even if Mr. White goes down the path from above, just out of interest and for a story in the Vandal he sniffed around the other time.

Even for Leuchter, the one idea is not an easy thing to overcome the lowest layers, and not only because everything that is used up or unusable or what has accumulated and fallen away is simply passed on to the bottom, so something very, very dynamic arises, there is a bustle on the ten or is it twenty, it always depends on the point of view how you count, yes, the bustle is quite gabble.

This may sound a bit awkward in terms of purpose, but actually, I'm just saying, zooming away and constantly mating until you finally get eaten isn't something every elf, orc, dwarf, goblin, gnome or fury wants to do.

MOLDY

By the way, the further down you go, the more likely you are to find that there are no star mushrooms, but decaying mushrooms, and they are a real problem in the truest sense of the word. Remember, everything goes to the bottom.

And beings that were originally able to feed on light alone - there isn't much talk about it now, maybe even the freest slaves are a bit shy when it comes to THAT, but suddenly being dual digesters does something to you, the younger ones don't know.

But our world hasn't smelled that good for a long time, and as awesome as the secretion that came out of the three-breasted elf was, the demons may be the ultimate exploitative evil, but they make sure their elves are as clean as they were back then. What came of it, what Mr. White kicked off, is something even the most depraved of them would hardly touch.
Except for one particularly sick idea.

At this point it should be said that young readers should please be denied access, even if it is hardly possible to really prevent this, as a certain level of immaturity is required to allow the depth of the information to sink in, the widespread ignition of the mindfuck that practically forces you to open your wallet, and then also the thirst to do the same as the figures you meet.

Well, all this may be a satirical option in times of vandalism and propaganda, even if we only hint at what may come, Master Teaser Dortheim is involved!!!,

HAVE MERCY PUNK

Have mercy on you, keyboard wankers, this is a real wonderland.

Everything is still really wrist-shaking, and proudly emerging from the editor-free cocktail of Kindle publishing, Mr. White is like an alter ego, but that is beside the point, he is just slipping down the alley that has formed, and the slow motion of the pleasure that his genitalia seemed to produce, there are only eight times as many partygoers and then the bar is almost close.

And it is probably the report itself, even if he probably only wrote it in a few days, it proves once again that it is better to send liars in some situations, but they are rare and so endangered, croaks and terrors, well, yes, we are talking about nobler things.

When Mr. White conferred with his first demon, also in the context of his journal work, he understood some differences for the first time and actually the scales even fell off his orc skin; the lack of understanding made him very, very depressed for a long time.

It is no coincidence that he remembers it here in his hiding place, in this undulating vault, as his host said, not only here, even back then, but in a somewhat more epochal sense.

“Have a nice day, Mr. White.”

That's how he got his name. Or nickname like demon Wankelzwang explained at dinner. How he explained so many things or was asked about them.

With the gentle request not to publish everything, even if publishing is very limited in a world without permanent resources and the resulting possibility of archiving. The walls and rocks are described wherever creatures are, as are many of the creatures; one tries to preserve a little of the old and the present, not to let mouth be the only propaganda.

Vandal, for example, has enough writers but a circulation problem. The number of copies collected is of course shrinking noticeably despite the greatest care, which actually contradicts a free paper and we all know what free papers are often used for, which in turn fits in with the story with the layers. After all, I know the loops well, Master Chris?

Wankelzwang spoons his raw young elf with an elegance that reminds us of the orc who was not yet called Mr. White, or rather, for the first time, but was mostly known as Hängherum, which is why the purpose would make perfect sense.

We are gourmets in everything we do, my pale green friend. They are not actually green at all, but terribly delightfully white.

OH, THAT I CAN EXPERIENCE THIS, HE SEEMS REALLY EXCITED, THIS DEMON, HE IS COMPLETELY DIFFERENT TO WHAT I EXPECTED WHEN HE WAS GIVEN THE CHANCE FOR THIS PORTRAIT AND VISIT, PRECISELY BECAUSE HE WAS STILL INNOCENT WHEN IT COMES TO DEMONS.

But in the course of a Vandal's career, it is rare for this naivety to arise, the lack of archiving, however, leads to a huge amount of metropolitan legends being created, it is estimated that of all the refugees in all the generations and situations, no visitor to the hiding place has ever had any demon contact or demonic situations at best two or three of these per year, as I said, it is all a little different than it seems.

Charisma and trash, as well as of course many in the first two or three layers, but down there, and that is the majority, no, that is rare.

Wankelzwang was almost a bit too wise. At this point he wasn't enjoying Candyflip and was mostly among orcs or goblins, dwarves, and he noticed dwarves in particular.

It is a strange thing to arrive from top to bottom in Freeport. It actually becomes more and more adventurous and wonderful at first, only to be dark, horrific and worrying in the end.

And then Ork sits at the table for dinner, Wankelzwang is a loner demon who seems to be seeking attention, he seems to spend most of his time preparing the creatures from his stable, but Hängherum is no worse off than realizing that this is not necessarily typical.

Even if wankelzwang compulsively tries to create this impression.

“Shall I show you the stable after dinner, Mr. White?”

Even today, when he's already completely exhausted, he wishes he'd said no back then; the memory of it finally makes his genitals shrink and somehow, somehow, he suddenly finds himself at the bar.

Ekket has been waiting for him for a long time, the story is damn well organized, with all the great tools from the writing garden of our guild.

EKKET IS A CHEF, BUT YOU SHOULD ALSO UNDERSTAND THAT NO ONE HAS A CHANCE OF SURVIVAL WITH ONLY ONE SPECIALIZATION, THAT YOU HAVE TO BE UNIVERSAL WHEN THINGS GET OUT OF CONTROL.