A cold, windy morning, at the desert of Coruscation, under the heavy rain at the home of the Rogogal tribe, white smoke could still be seen from afar from the burnt out large bonfire along torn grounds, fallen wigwams and destroyed branches of trees scattered around the wet desert ground--stood some distance away ‘The Unlucky’ among the greatly flapping wigwams in the strong wind, with all these going on, drenched Peirce quietly stared at the wigwam in front of him. His dripping face seems lost in the void of his own thoughts while the atmosphere around shows every signs of devolvement between the tribesmen and women there, his retreated capturers and the absent of the glowing armoured Inhumanes. He lowered his head; few brooks of water outlined the wet sand. To Peirce, things didn’t worked out for all he hoped; If challenges are what make life interesting, what is interesting about my life being intertwined with great doles? He deduced.Then a groan was loudly heard inside one of th
Last Updated : 2022-12-01 Read more