first of all, welcome to da wood!! you be a hommie now..hehe...okay never mind, a tad too much ice cream today. secondly, upload more!! I loved that first story you have up! You possess an amazing amount of talent, keep it up

i am just saying hi. ^^ i have to welcome you buddy! i will read your story later on, and you will get some REAL comments. until then! *waves*

Wow, you've got a very unique style! Good luck with your novel, I don't think you'll have too many problems.

*Just realized that he never welcomed you to elfwood* Welcome to the woods my friend=D *Sits down and starts reading*

Proven your great work, to me, you've already have. You write stories greatly and with such feeling the reader gets entranced and woven into the saga, talented and gifted thou art.

Well, do you ever put me to shame. It'll take me many years still to achieve the greatness that so easily oozes from every pore in your body. Now I have no fear for the storyline of Confluence, only that of Fantasy Realms, which--try as I might--will never be a peer to your excellence.

Your descriptive abilities are... how should I put this? Yummy? Scremptacular? One of those big, flashy adjectives meaning "marvelous," only bigger. My biggest complaints are, however, that your stuff is soul-rendingly depressing, and you don't have anything about people mutating.

I just noticed you got a comment from waaay back... my old niegrow days! o_O;; Well, here goes another comment: You rock! XD Your style is so descriptive and filled with emotion... you're indeed a very talented writer!

My father was a relentlessly self-improving boulangerie owner from Belgium with low-grade narcolepsy and a penchant for buggery. My mother was a 15 year old French prostitute named Chloe with webbed feet. My father would womanize, he would drink, he would make outrageous claims, like he invented the question mark. Sometimes, he would accuse chestnuts of being lazy - the sort of general malaise that only the genius possess and the insane lament. My childhood was typical: summers in Rangoon, luge lessons. In the spring, we'd make meat helmets. When I was insolent, I was placed in a burlap bag and beaten with reeds. Pretty standard, really.