DeMar DeRozan and the White Haired Lord Commander - 12/7/18

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After King Lebron James, The Lion, conquered Old 'Ronto for the last time, Lord DeMar DeRozan, The Dragonfly abdicated his position as Warden of the North and took refuge as far away from his old home as possible. He lived a solitary, directionless life in the Flatlands and spent many of his days at the local pub, drinking to his painful memories of falling to King James.

On one such day, he sat alone at the end of the bar table as he always did and paid no mind when an elder lord commander kicked the bar's swinging doors open and surveyed the room. He quickly identified DeRozan and slowly made his way over to him. The Dragonfly did not lift his downward gaze as the thumping and jingling of the white-haired lord's spurred boots grew louder as he approached.

When the mysterious man finally got to DeRozan, he spoke calmly with a gritty but distinguished voice.

"I know who you are, DeMar. I've had my eye on you since you arrived in my town. Are you really just going to sit here and waste away for the rest of your days? "

Without facing the old lord, DeRozan continued to stare downward with his drink in hand and sighed before responding.

"It's too late for me now. There's no point in...anything. Besides, what would you of all people even be able to do against him all the way out east?"

The old lord chuckled and leaned in toward DeRozan.

"I know you've been living under a rock for a while, but he doesn't live in the Eastern Territories anymore..."

DeRozan pulled his head up and sat wide-eyed for a moment as his new friend continued.

"And I know a thing or two about taming The Lion."

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