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File: peasant.jpg (113 KB, 778x658)
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You are a peasant. You live in a small hamlet with your parents and younger sister. Your older brother ran away from home when you were a toddler and no one knows what exactly became of him. Your father gets angry if anyone mentions his name. Your mother usually just sobs in silence.

Today you are sixteen years old, a day of small celebration because it marks a sort of passage into manhood. You confess that you don't feel much like a man, but it's not often that you get to have a whole piece of sausage all to yourself at supper, and your father even promised to buy you a new pair of boots today, so it's not as if you're altogether indifferent to the tradition. But with the absence of your older brother and with your father getting on years, it seems that the responsibilities of working the land will finally fall to you. The snag is, you've always felt your talents lay elsewhere.

>You're something of a people person. You exude a natural charm that makes people like you almost from the first moment.
>You're very good with your hands. Over the years you've picked up woodcraft and stonecarving and even carpentry almost without effort and certainly without training.
>You're incredibly strong and athletic. You can work longer and faster than any man in the village and already stand a full head taller than your father, himself no milksop
>write-in
>>
>>5360583
>>You're very good with your hands. Over the years you've picked up woodcraft and stonecarving and even carpentry almost without effort and certainly without training.
>>
>>5360583
>>You're very good with your hands. Over the years you've picked up woodcraft and stonecarving and even carpentry almost without effort and certainly without training.
You want a basket weaved? We got that shit on LOCK
>>
>>5360583
>write-in. You have always been interested in trees and forest management and the current Woodward IS getting on in age and looking for an apprentice. Why not you? You can coppice well. Have a good sense of direction. Horses like you too.
>>
>>5360583
>You're very good with your hands. Over the years you've picked up woodcraft and stonecarving and even carpentry almost without effort and certainly without training.

The nobles bow to the carpenter
>>
>>5360583
>You're very good with your hands. Over the years you've picked up woodcraft and stonecarving and even carpentry almost without effort and certainly without training.
You want to break a chair over his head? At least use a quality chair.
>>
>>5360627
>>5360635
>>5360659
>>5361121
>>5361172
You're very good with your hands. Over the years you've picked up woodcraft and stonecarving and even carpentry almost without effort and certainly without training (for you could never afford it). You've even made some pocket money with your talents on occasion, selling icons to the local church or doll furniture for the alderman's many daughters. Larger projects have proved more difficult without the proper tools or a workshop to house them but most household repairs are now relegated to your capable hands.

All in all, you were hoping that with the little money you've saved up you might be able to travel to a town and learn the trade from a master carpenter. Though most apprentices start much earlier, you hoped your talents would carry you through and that after a few years you would be able to return and ply your trade in the village and make an honest living at it. Unfortunately, every time you've brought this up with your father he's dismissed it as the idle whimsy of youth. He doesn't know about the money you've saved. If he did, he might appreciate the seriousness of your ambitions. On the other hand, he might just confiscate the money for the family's use.

>Tell your father about the money and what you want to do with it hope for the best
>Forget these silly dreams and invest the money in the farm and in your family.
>Hide the money for now and escape the village at the first opportunity
>write-in
>>
>>5361212
>Hide the money for now and escape the village at the first opportunity
>>
>Tell your father about the money and what you want to do with it hope for the best
>>
>>5361212
>Tell your father about the money and what you want to do with it hope for the best
Papa plz
>>
>>5361212
>>Tell your father about the money and what you want to do with it hope for the best
>>
>>5361273
This
>>
>>5361234
>>5361269
>>5361273
>>5361287
>>5361216
After a long day's work in the fields you and your father take a moment to rest and wash yourselves before supper. It is then that you broach the subject of the money and your plans for it. You father remains silent, water dripping from his beard and furrowed brow. Your father has never been the kind to yell or make a scene when he gets angry, instead he takes it out on the earth. He reaches now for the spade, but he does not move toward the fields. He tells you, in a thick voice, that it's time for supper and to go inside. Then he begins walking toward the road.

He does not return home until after supper, a little after dark. By then you've run the through gamut of rebellious thoughts and adolescent rage, the unfairness of it all, the stupidity and stubbornness of your father, plans to run away, or bury or destroy the money and elaborate fantasies of retaliation which, when finally exhausted, leave you sleepless, hollow and contrite. In the end, you surrender your savings, not daring to look at your father as you deliver a mumbled apology for having hidden it. You don't know when you finally fall asleep but it seems only a moment later you are being shaken awake. It's your mother.

You can tell that she's been crying, even in the low light of the early dawn. In silence, she passes you a bundle, containing some clothes, food and a little cloth purse filled with money--not only your money, judging by its weight. She tells you to send back word whenever you can and to return home at the first opportunity. On the question of what your father will think of all this, your mother gives a short laugh and reveals a pair of brand new boots. Not ones suited for fieldwork as you had expected, but a lighter pair with thick soles meant for travel. Your father had gone back to the cobbler to negotiate a switch. Your mother also tells you that he had long recognized your talents and it was only for her sake that he had tried to discourage your going away. She had not taken the loss of her first son well and he feared what the loss of a second might do. She assures you (and has assured him) that she will be fine.

Outside, your father, savagely striking the earth with his spade, does not look up when you call him and does not stop his work when you approach and bid him a final farewell. It's not until you're far along on the main road and he is almost a speck in the distance that you see that speck fall to his knees, hands covering face, his spade fallen beside him. You press on, forcing yourself to keep your eyes forward on the road.

>With the extra money, you head for the city, where you're sure to find an apprenticeship
>You head for the nearest town as planned, holding on to the extra money for security and unforeseen expenses
>You head for the coast, from there you'll board a ship to the capital where the best carpenters in the kingdom gather
>write-in
>>
>>5361335
>With the extra money, you head for the city, where you're sure to find an apprenticeship
The capital is way to hard for someone not brought up in the ways of carpentery itself.
>>
>>5361335
>>With the extra money, you head for the city, where you're sure to find an apprenticeship
>>
>>5361335
>You head for the nearest town as planned, holding on to the extra money for security and unforeseen expenses.

Lets stay close to the folks.
>>
>>5361335
>With the extra money, you head for the city, where you're sure to find an apprenticeship

We'll go the extra mile. It's for you, Ma n Pa. We'll make you proud
>>
>>5361343
>>5361399
>>5361663
>>5361756
With the extra money, you head for the city, where you're sure to find an apprenticeship. You arrive there two days later, exhausted from the bumpy ride in the carriage you hired. The walls of the city are a magnificent sight. The confusion of smells and people and noise within them are even more disorienting and it is some time before you can get your bearings. The first order of business is to get some lodgings. You secure a bed at a small inn, have a meal and then set off to look for your new master.

It's not long before you encounter the bad side of the crowded city. Not an hour after you leave the inn, you are robbed. A pickpocket collides into you in the street and makes off with your purse. Luckily, you notice the sudden lightness in your pockets just in time and with the help of some nearby guards you manage to corner the thief at an alley. To your surprise it is a little girl, only a year or two older than your little sister, a starving, shivering waif. The guards are quite ready to haul her to the jail (and one of them has a hungry look in his eye that doesn't bode well), but defer the judgement to you. The laws of the city dictate that you'll have to appear before the court as a witness later, should you let them take her, and since you've gotten your money back they leave it to you to decide on whether to take on that inconvenience.

>You'll let her go, you don't want to bother with the court so soon after arrival
>She can't just get away unpunished, you'll appear before court so that justice can be done
>There's no justice in imprisoning a starving child, let her go and buy her a hot meal while you're at it
>write-in
>>
>There's no justice in imprisoning a starving child, let her go and buy her a hot meal while you're at it
>>
>>5361927
>There's no justice in imprisoning a starving child, let her go and buy her a hot meal while you're at it
>>
>>5361927
Too much trouble.

>There's no justice in imprisoning a starving child.

I'd also like to know what possessed her to try it. Just hunger, or something along with that? I'm not sure what else we could do for her right now, though. We're just a peasant.
>>
>>5361985
>>5362022
>>5362031

There's no justice in imprisoning a starving child. You not only urge the guards to let her go but attempt to buy her a hot meal at the inn. This is met mostly with confusion on her part, mixed with suspicion. In the end, you're only able to convince to take a few of your silver pieces to buy a meal on her own, as she flatly refuses to come with you. She gives you a strange look as she grasps the coins, as though you had sprouted another head, and slips back into the crowd, leaving you to return to the task at hand.

There are dozens of carpenter workshops in the city. Many are looking for apprentices to pass on the trade, and over the course of a week of asking around and investigating, you narrow your choices down to the best one.

>You'll work for Master Alphonse, a rich and famous carpenter with an enormous workshop employing over a dozen apprentices.
>You'll work for Master Vincenzo, a demanding foreigner with a small workshop he manages with his son, specializing in musical instruments
>You'll work for Master Sylvannus, a mysterious cripple reduced to begging for his bread who is willing to teach you his secrets for nothing
>write-in
>>
>>5363003
>You'll work for Master Sylvannus, a mysterious cripple reduced to begging for his bread who is willing to teach you his secrets for nothing
This man appears to be the most invested in our success
>>
>>5363003
>You'll work for Master Belamunde, a quiet, but imposing foreign man who uses a secret, wood-preserving salve from his homeland that only he knows the recipe to. Vincenzo has a one-sided rivalry with him.

Just to try since write-ins are allowed.
>>
>>5363003
>You'll work for Master Sylvannus, a mysterious cripple reduced to begging for his bread who is willing to teach you his secrets for nothing
Crippled hands, I imagine.
Poor guy, all that skill wasted.
We will obviously share our work earnings with him so he doesn't have to beg for food, right?
The only problem may be the lack of tools, unless he kept those despite his problems.
>>
>>5363097
this sounds v cool
>>
>>5363003
>>You'll work for Master Sylvannus, a mysterious cripple reduced to begging for his bread who is willing to teach you his secrets for nothing
>>
>>
>>5363003
>>You'll work for Master Sylvannus, a mysterious cripple reduced to begging for his bread who is willing to teach you his secrets for nothing
>>
>>5363003
>>You'll work for Master Sylvannus, a mysterious cripple reduced to begging for his bread who is willing to teach you his secrets for nothing
>>fuck captcha
>>
>>5363030
>>5363097
>>5363658
>>5363698
>>5363759
>>5363762
>>5363685

Of all the masters you've met with so far the one that intrigues you the most is Master Sylvannus. You met him on the street outside the workshops, begging for scraps of food. He claims he was once one of the greatest craftsman in the kingdom, making furniture for the royal family before an accident resulted in the amputation of his right arm. There is only a stump now ending a little past the elbow which he keeps covered with a soiled cloth. In exchange for "being his hands" he promises to teach you all he knows. Perhaps it's a bit ridiculous to put your lot in with an impoverished cripple but Master Sylvannus quickly proves more resourceful than he appears. Although he does not have a workshop of his own he does seem to have a personal connection with the wealthiest craftsman in the city, Master Alphonse, who lets him use his workshop free of charge. It is there that you begin your lessons.

Master Sylvannus is an unusually cheerful man, seemingly unaffected by his disability and poverty. Though he says that woodcraft was his life's one true passion, other than a slight wistfulness, he doesn't seem particularly bothered that he can never do it again. But when it comes to teaching the craft he is a strict and exacting master. The other journeymen in the workshop that work for Master Alphonse are short of temper and will yell at or even strike their apprentices for even the slightest error but Master Sylvannus remains always soft-spoken and composed. His praise is rare and his critique frequent, but never given in vain.

His tutoring is very much contrary to the other journeymen. You begin at the crack of dawn, a few hours before the others even arrive at the workshop. All morning you prepare wood for the workshop's general use, measuring, chopping, sawing, planing. It's grunt work that your master says is only necessary to pay back Master Alphonse for the use of his workshop. Master Alphonse himself protested to this but your Master insisted. "I might be a beggar," he had said, "but never my apprentice." And yet it's these morning chores that get the most attention and critique. The rest of the day is spent on more technical tasks: observing the other journeymen work, examining pieces in various stages of completion, sketching diagrams, occasionally working on the discarded remains of the other apprentice's failed furniture. All this makes you something of a laughingstock among the other apprentices, many of whom are already starting to make finished pieces.

The most talented apprentice in the group, George Carpenter, the only son of Master Alphonse, seems to take a special delight in deriding you. With each passing day George grows more and more bold, until one day he progresses to making wisecracks about your Master.

>You strike him to defend your Master's honor
>You endure it to keep in the good graces of his father
>You insult him and his father
>write-in
>>
>>5365382

>You endure it because "The best works take time and diligence." He keeps drilling that phrase into you, no reason to not use it in other aspects of your life.
>>
>>5365382
>He claims he was once one of the greatest craftsman in the kingdom, making furniture for the royal family
Score.
>wealthiest craftsman in the city, Master Alphonse, lets him use his workshop free of charge
Double score.
>All morning you prepare wood for the workshop's general use, measuring, chopping, sawing, planing.
>And yet it's these morning chores that get the most attention and critique.
Very important, the basics of basics, a protofoundation, getting to know your wood inside and out.
>working on the discarded remains of the other apprentice's failed furniture
Waste not, want not, work with what you're given.

>George Carpenter, the only son of Master Alphonse, making wisecracks about your Master

>Big words coming from mouth of an apprentice.
>I wonder what his father would say if he heard him right now.
>>
>>5365393
+1
>>
>>5365382
>We identify some wood that he needs and that we're tasked with preparing, and somehow sabotage it to make a mockery of him.
>>
>>5365393
>>5365408
>>5365439
>>5365500

Your Master is a strange man. When you tell him about George's cutting remarks, they mostly amuse him. It is instead your own feelings of indignation that he reprimands, citing a lack of trust in his methods and jealousy of George's talent as their true source. He ends his reproof with a question: "How long does it take to make a masterpiece, son?" When you reply that you don't know but that George is surely closer to making one than you are, he merely shakes his head. "The best works take time and diligence. For a skilled carpenter to make a good table takes about two weeks; to make a masterpiece takes his whole life. Two weeks to make the table; a lifetime to make the carpenter. It's not the table that's the masterpiece, son, it's the life of the carpenter." He concludes by advising you to endure and to remain focused on your work.

A few days later your patience pays off when George's father Master Alphonse pays a visit to the workshop and catches him in the act of insulting your Master. Master Alphonse, without saying a single word, walks up to his son and strikes him with such force that he's sent sprawling to the ground. Much to your surprise, it is your own master that moves first to young George's aid, helping him to his feet only to get brushed off by George. George's father simply watches on with cold dispassion and leaves without a word. George never mentions you or your master after that. He attacks his work with gusto and begins avoiding idle chatter with the other apprentices. Without his lead, the others soon lose steam as well and you are mostly left alone.

The weeks go by swiftly with the aid of routine. Six months pass before your master finally lets you start some actual projects. These are real furnishings, not things for practice: pews for the local church, chairs and tables for the local inn, a mirror stand for the local tailor. The work keeps you busy but it doesn't make you any money. Your master gives everything away for free, citing that your works are not yet up to his standard for being sold. Along with this, there is a competition being held among the apprentice carpenters in the city. All the apprentices in the workshop are participating. The winner gets a substantial prize along with the glory of being the best. When you bring it up to your master he flatly refuses your particpation.

>Disobey your master and participate anyway
>Sell your entry to another apprentice but don't participate directly
>Obey your master and don't participate
>write-in
>>
>>5365602
>Ask again, not for glory, but to send the reward back to our family. They are poor off, and gave quite a bit to allow us to come here in the first place. Offer to enter anonymously and not receive any glory.
>If he still says no, accept it.
>>
>>5365606
Supporting.
>>
>>5365606
Basically this.
>>
>>5365606
this is spot on. say that this money would put to rest any worries our parents might have for us. explain our sibling to our master so he might know the source of our parents worries.
>>
>>5365606
+1
>>
>>5365606
Supporting
Also I find it funny that the MC of “peasant quest” stopped being a peasant 6 posts into the quest. To be clear, I’m all for it
>>
>>5365606
>>5365608
>>5365612
>>5365692
>>5366252
>>5366723

You decide to persist, explaining to your master the reason you want the money. It's not for yourself, you're perfectly happy going on the way you have been so far, it's not much different from the life you led at home but you do have a family. Winter is coming and your parents and sister could use the coin to stock up on supplies. Your master at last relents, but he imposes a few conditions.

First, you will not be competing directly, rather you'll work with or work for another apprentice. That apprentice will take the glory while you take home the gold. Second, your master will choose and arrange for the other apprentice. You must work with him or the deal is off. Not seeing any immediate issues, you agree to this arrangement. It's only after that you realize what your master had in mind. He wants you to work for George Carpenter and has somehow convinced him (possibly through his father) to agree to the whole thing, even to relinquish the gold.

You and George are about as compatible as water and oil. You seem to be unable to agree on anything, from the piece to submit to the kind of wood it should be made from. Though George has agreed to let you work with him, he refuses to surrender any kind of creative control over the project. He relegates the most tedious tasks to you while he does the actually interesting work. Your master offers no help, rather even encouraging you to quit if you can't take it.

>Quit, nothing is worth getting your pride trampled on like this
>Endure it, what matters is the money for your family, not your pride
>Challenge George to a competition between the two of you, winner submits his piece
>write-in
>>
>>5367310
Gee, its almost like were working for a rich, stuck-up client that just needs to have it all his way!
We better get used to that feeling.
>Endure it, what matters is the money for your family, not your pride
>Still give your input when Georges ideas begin to be detrimental to the piece you work on
Lets just keep him grounded. Whether its spruce chair, mahogany table or cedar bed doesn't matter, as long as its a solid and working piece of furniture.
>>
>>5367310
>>Endure it, what matters is the money for your family, not your pride
Family first
>>
>Endure it, what matters is the money for your family, not your pride

First name Vin
Last name Diesel
>>
>>5367310
>>Endure it, what matters is the money for your family, not your pride

If we were worried about pride and glory, we would have entered ourselves. Besides, it's gonna be hilarious when he gets made into a big shot, but then people realize they got sold a false bill of goods by him later on when nothing's quite up to par.
>>
>>5367441
>>5367491
>>5367559
>>5367578
It all seems rather unfair. But such is the life of the humble peasant. You've known unfairness your whole life. Your brother tried to escape it, you suppose, but he was, as far as you know, unsuccessful. Probably rotting in an unmarked grave with other insigficants.

A peasant has no use for pride; there is nothing to swallow. A peasant endures. You do all that George asks of you, you meekly suffer his censure, advise him when he is receptive to advice, stay out of his way when he is not. Your self-control seems to irk him somehow and at first he falls back to old habits, trying to goad you into having a violent reaction. When it doesn't work, he resigns himself to cooperation and, you also think, a kind of reluctant admiration. He even listens to your advice on keeping the entry practical, something that people can use, rather than some ambitious piece of nonfunctional art. He finds out that the judge and patron of the competition, a merchant named Timothy Trader, recently had a child. To that end, the two of you work on making a rocking chair. Unlike the other apprentices, you forgo all the intricate detail work and any pretense at art and focus all your efforts on making the chair as simple and as comfortable as possible.

The chair doesn't win. Timothy Trader was not the only judge of the competition, nor its only patron, some of whom were more interested in frill rather than function. But the chair was the only piece of furniture in the competition that was actually had a buyer. Timothy Trader bought the chair for almost twice the prize money and while technically George was within his rights to keep the money, since it was not the prize from the competition, he relinquishes every penny of it to you. He received something far greater in its place, the thing he had entered the competition for in the first place, the thing for which he had agreed to this absurd arrangement--a look of silent approval from his father. Not because the chair was sold, but because of the craftsmanship of the chair itself. For that, George was not only willing to relinquish the coin, but to shake your hand and thank you for your help.

Your master of course is indifferent to the whole result, as if he knew it would turn out like this all along. All that remains is what to do with the money. You have more than what you promised your family.

>Spend the extra on some better accommodations for yourself
>Spend it on some presents for your family, a surprise for the holidays
>Save it for some future occasion or opportunity
>Write-in
>>
>>5367649
>>Save it for some future occasion or opportunity

Generally what I'd do.
>>
>>5367649
>Save half of the extra for a rainy day, send home the rest.
>>
>>5367649
>Save half of the extra for a rainy day, send home the rest.
>>
>>5367698
+1
With a message that we are fine
>>
>>5367649
>Send it all to your family, as promised.
>>
>>5367654
>>5367698
>>5367801
>>5367878
>>5367952

You could simply keep the bonus coin--and you do, just not all of it. Your family needs the money more than you do and the more of it you send, the more justified you are in your decision to have left. It is ultimately a poor consolation. You feel it when you tell the courier to let your parents know that you are well and not to worry about you. You do not mention that you miss them. Or that you sometimes weep at night for all the things you've left behind, for the image of your father bowed to the earth, your mother's held back tears, and even for the simple pleasures of the pasture and the plow, the rooster's call and the stars.

But these are fleeting moments of melancholy, quietly banished by the relentless routine of work. When your master said that he wanted you to be his hands, he seemed to have spoken literally. The result of the competition and your more recent works have convinced him that you have acquired the rudiments of the craft and he has begun teaching the deeper variations. Jointing, planing, sawing, gluing, sanding, finishing, for each of these there are a dozen methods, with as many tools to master. So begins the relentless grind, practicing each one until the blisters, cuts, splinters cover your hands, until the woodshavings become a part of your hair, until you can no longer get rid of the smell of varnish from your clothes. Your master pays no mind to your sufferings. He calls it "the trade entering the body" and seems even to take joy in it, a kind of sadistic nostalgia. There is no doubt that your skills are improving, however. What took many tries to accomplish before, much wasted materials and even more wasted hours, is now done perfectly, almost effortlessly, the first time around. This makes you efficient. It gives you confidence. For the first time in your life, you experience the heady sensation of satisfiable ambition, the sublime feeling that one's reach no longer exceeds one's grasp.
The work, any work, no longer seems tedious. Far from it. It's as if you can't get enough, never enough of the moments in which there is no noise, no interference, no time. Perhaps that's what your master meant by making one's life a masterpiece, a life stitched together from those moments, or even one without the seams.

In short, your newfound passion leads you to seek out more work; secret projects done without the supervision of your master.

>An orphanage in the town was burnt down last year and has finally been rebuilt. You decide to volunteer to help furnish the building.
>George Carpenter has been overwhelmed with (lucrative) work ever since Timothy Trader spread word of his rocking chair. You decide to accept his request for help.
>Dollhouses were with the assistance (or insistence) of your sister, how you got into woodworking in the first place. You decide to make something special for her upcoming birthday.
>Write-in
>>
>>5368044
>Do nothing in secret to our master. Ask for permission if you may assist George Carpenter in his work.
>>
>>5368044
>You try to go beyond the current threshold of your abilities and make a wooden prosthetic for your master's missing arm.
>>
>>5368044
>George Carpenter has been overwhelmed with (lucrative) work ever since Timothy Trader spread word of his rocking chair. You decide to accept his request for help.
>>
>>5368044
>You try to go beyond the current threshold of your abilities and make a wooden prosthetic for your master's missing arm
>>
>>5368044
>>5368110
>Do nothing in secret to our master.
>>
>>5368110
Based. Master Sylvannus may be a bit stuffy, but he's wise, fair and invested in our work and well being.
>>
>>5369343
>>5369569
Addendum: this being an actual secret project
>>
>>5368044
>Dollhouses were with the assistance (or insistence) of your sister, how you got into woodworking in the first place. You decide to make something special for her upcoming birthday.

Precisely because they're family, they'll love it anyway.
>>
>>Dollhouses were with the assistance (or insistence) of your sister, how you got into woodworking in the first place. You decide to make something special for her upcoming birthday.
>>
>>5368044
>Dollhouses were with the assistance (or insistence) of your sister, how you got into woodworking in the first place. You decide to make something special for her upcoming birthday.
>>
>>5368110
>>5368136
>>5368855
>>5369343
>>5369437
>>5369569
>>5369570
>>5369728
>>5369775
>>5369864

Dollhouses were, with the assistance (or insistence) of your sister, how you got into woodworking in the first place. You decide to make something special for her upcoming birthday. She'll be turning eleven this year and has perhaps now outgrown playing with dolls but you suspect she'll appreciate the present all the same. When last you left her she had already begun taking on some of the duties of your mother, keeping the house clean, tending to the chickens, even cooking the occasional meal. It was the joy in her eyes at your (you now feel crude) first attempts that encouraged you to continue in the craft. You suppose that this a way of thanking her, a way of preserving the memory of her childhood, for she will likely have become a woman by the time you see her again. But it is also a way to challenge yourself, to see for yourself how far you've come.

The question then remains, what kind of dollhouse will you make?

>A meticulous replica of Master Alphonse's house, the only rich quarters in the city you have access to.
>A reproduction one of your older works, but utilizing all your newfound knowledge to greatly improve it.
>A completely new and original work, starting from scratch, taxing your imagination.
>Write-in
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>>5369933
>Our home, but with some improvements. Some things a family would appreciate, like an extra bedroom for little ones or a guest.
>>
The siscons banded together at the final hour, hilarious.
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>>5369978
+1
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>>5369978
>>5369933

>Our home, but with some improvements. Some things a family would appreciate, like an extra bedroom for little ones or a guest.

I like it.



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