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Literature Text
There was one female fan in particular that Billy Thatcher, chess master extraordinaire, would always remember. Not that he thought she was pretty, because she wasn't. In fact, the woman had been painfully plain. The prettiest thing about her had been the awe and admiration in her eyes as she extended a black-and-white bundle to him. He loved seeing that worshipful expression on the faces of his fans. He'd been taken off-guard by the bundle, and not pulled away in time to avoid it. He didn't particularly like taking things from peasantry, but the brush of the fabric against his skin made him pause. It was good quality, and very soft. Billy examined it, and discovered that the black and white pattern was chess pieces. "I made it myself," the woman told him, cheeks flushed. "And, um, might I get your autograph?" She held out a picture and a pen. Billy set the bundle aside. Autographs were what he was used to. He signed it for her, and she scurried off, looking a bit overwhelmed. Of course, that was to be expected. He was larger than life, and she'd never met someone as amazing as he. Left alone for a moment, he shoved the cloth into Francis's bag. He'd retrieve it later, and it wasn't like he was going to carry such a ridiculous thing around all day.
Later that night, after a very stressful game that he'd just barely managed to turn into a win, and needed all of his considerable brilliance to pull off, he unfolded the bundle that he'd snuck into his hotel room. It was a blanket, checkered like a chessboard with swirls around the edges. Not much to look at, but it was warm, and the texture was divine. He made doubly sure his door was locked -- it wouldn't do for someone to catch him with this -- and curled up with the blanket and a book in a chair. This once, it wouldn't hurt to keep something a fan had made, just as long as nobody ever found out.
Later that night, after a very stressful game that he'd just barely managed to turn into a win, and needed all of his considerable brilliance to pull off, he unfolded the bundle that he'd snuck into his hotel room. It was a blanket, checkered like a chessboard with swirls around the edges. Not much to look at, but it was warm, and the texture was divine. He made doubly sure his door was locked -- it wouldn't do for someone to catch him with this -- and curled up with the blanket and a book in a chair. This once, it wouldn't hurt to keep something a fan had made, just as long as nobody ever found out.
Species Collector
Protector Spirits, Protectors of the Spirit Masks, they have great protentional, and can grow to be quite powerful they are the protectors of the remains of the one who created everything, not even the gods can stand up to their most powerful clans.
$100/month
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Gwarr, you guys! *blushes furiously*