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Ozlo The Slow
Meet Ozlo

Meet Ozlo

Do you ever feel like maybe, just maybe you're a complete and utter moron? No? Just me then? Maybe that's why I'm so prone to finding myself in such unfavorable situations. 

So there I lay, ass burning like a forge and somehow as cold and wet as a fish, flopping around on the bank just waiting to die, or perhaps hoping to. But I'm getting a bit ahead of myself. Let's start back at the beginning. Well, not all the way at the beginning. How about we start at my re-awakening? Where I took the first steps to being slightly less of a dumbass and began my little journey here.

Not that it seemed to help much. How many smart people do you know that find themselves with a backside burnt like a biscuit left in the oven too long? I'm guessing the answer is "zero", or at least I hope it is.

It all began on my fifteenth birthday. Or well, as close to my fifteenth birthday as I can approximate. I'm an orphan after all. When I was a few years old the church found me living on the streets and took me in. How did I get there? What was I doing to survive up until this point? Who would abandon a small child to the elements?

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Well, your guess was as good as mine, and the church certainly didn't say. Mother Patricia, that's the nun in charge of the orphans here, says I was probably abandoned because I was stupid and useless. Maybe she's right. Anyway, back to what's relevant. 

At the age of fifteen all humans become eligible to receive a card. Their soul has properly formed and has reached the stage where they can now slot a card. The church, in their generosity, has seen it fit to give every orphan they take in a card and a trade to support themselves. Provided that person gives them ten percent of their weekly wages until it's paid off, with a fair bit of interest on top of that. Generous, I know.

Anyway, you know me. Uh, wait, you don't. My name is Ozlo and this is my story. I can't believe I forgot to give you my name... See. Told you I was stupid.

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