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		<title><![CDATA[Court of the Fallen - The Last Word]]></title>
		<link>https://cotf-rpg.com/</link>
		<description><![CDATA[Court of the Fallen - https://cotf-rpg.com]]></description>
		<pubDate>Sun, 19 Jul 2026 08:00:07 +0000</pubDate>
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			<title><![CDATA[they laughing at the top like they can't see the bottom]]></title>
			<link>https://cotf-rpg.com/showthread.php?tid=12990</link>
			<pubDate>Tue, 07 Jul 2026 07:52:21 -0600</pubDate>
			<dc:creator><![CDATA[<a href="https://cotf-rpg.com/member.php?action=profile&uid=498">Mateo</a>]]></dc:creator>
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			<description><![CDATA[Rain hammers against the glass window-wall of The Last Word, creating quiet music and blurring the world outside into something grey and smudged and uninteresting to most. But Mateo finds himself gazing at it for longer than he intends - there's something about the quiet misery of the weather today that reminds him of Stormbreak, and he's still unsure whether that's a good or a bad thing for him. Tearing his eyes away at last, he settles back in the booth he's taken up residence within, sipping at his drink (an obnoxious margarita with a pink salt rim) and then setting it aside to get back to work.<br />
<br />
Well. 'Work' is a generous term for what he's doing. Before him sit a few seedlings on the table that he's transplanting into larger pots that he'll use to decorate his sister's new bar; The Hanged Man had contained a wide variety of specimens he'd grown, from the gorgeous to the innocuous to the downright dangerous, and this place deserves a slice of that. Besides, it isn't as though he has anything better to do.<br />
<br />
It's just past midday though you wouldn't know it from the world outside, and around him a few regulars have been drinking since well before he'd arrived. It's quiet though, currently, without the bump and grind of whatever chaos will likely spill over as the sun starts to set, though perhaps the rain will keep people home today. Mateo rather hopes not - he quite enjoys a bit of bumping and grinding himself.]]></description>
			<content:encoded><![CDATA[Rain hammers against the glass window-wall of The Last Word, creating quiet music and blurring the world outside into something grey and smudged and uninteresting to most. But Mateo finds himself gazing at it for longer than he intends - there's something about the quiet misery of the weather today that reminds him of Stormbreak, and he's still unsure whether that's a good or a bad thing for him. Tearing his eyes away at last, he settles back in the booth he's taken up residence within, sipping at his drink (an obnoxious margarita with a pink salt rim) and then setting it aside to get back to work.<br />
<br />
Well. 'Work' is a generous term for what he's doing. Before him sit a few seedlings on the table that he's transplanting into larger pots that he'll use to decorate his sister's new bar; The Hanged Man had contained a wide variety of specimens he'd grown, from the gorgeous to the innocuous to the downright dangerous, and this place deserves a slice of that. Besides, it isn't as though he has anything better to do.<br />
<br />
It's just past midday though you wouldn't know it from the world outside, and around him a few regulars have been drinking since well before he'd arrived. It's quiet though, currently, without the bump and grind of whatever chaos will likely spill over as the sun starts to set, though perhaps the rain will keep people home today. Mateo rather hopes not - he quite enjoys a bit of bumping and grinding himself.]]></content:encoded>
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