• October 15, 2009
    By Shaula Clark

    "The MK," by José Emroca Flores

    The weather beaten trail wound ahead into the dust racked climes of the baren [sic] land which dominates large portions of the Norgolian empire. Age worn hoof prints smothered by the sifting sands of time shone dully against the dust splattered crust of earth. The tireless sun cast its parching rays of incandescense [sic] from overhead, half way through its daily revolution.

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