A random lady: On her period

Ken: “2.6 Menstrual Cycle”

2:58AM, a flickering streetlight outside his window. Ken watches the light stutter, blinking in and out, wondering when it, too, will become tired of trying to shine.

Ken is the archetype of gentleman to play with his deck in a children’s park

A new era of Ken comments begins.

Ran into Ken at the grocery store today. He was a pretty chill guy but whenever I looked his cart all he had was a dark blue jug of something called “Dark Elixir” and a bunch of bowling balls made of rocks. He also looked awfully purple and had a massive nose. whenever I left, he said, “buh bye” and proceeded to follow me home and throw said balls at me

Ken is the very sort of man whose mere glance doth enchant the hearts of all who behold him. He walketh as though the very earth were honoured by his tread, and speaketh in tones so silken that even the wind doth pause to listen. When mirth doth strike him, his laughter ringeth like a merry bell, yet when he broods, the heavens themselves seem clouded in his sorrow.

The rain taps softly on the glass,
Ken watches, still and tired.
Each drop falls,
A quiet reminder of things slipping away,
Of trying to hold what keeps slipping through

ken is the sort of bloke who says "evolved ice spirit value" when he stutters

ken would know about a 2.1 mini P

Ken mentions Damage amplification at 4:06,5:11,10:19,10:31,13:05,13:29,14:13 and 18:23

Ken is the kind of individual who would ban people from referencing him using words like: "type" and "guy".

Ken is the version of organism to say evo wizard when an arsonist burns down a building

Kenneth art the kind of human to exist.

In the dim glow of an oil lamp, Ken hunched over a wooden desk, ink-stained fingers gripping a quill. It was 3 AM, the hour when the world slumbered—but not Ken. No, his mind raced with thoughts of perfection, of strategy, of an unbeatable deck.

The projector hums,
flickering light in a darkened room.
Ken watches the film unravel,
frames passing like his thoughts,
too fast to catch, yet too fleeting to hold.

Ken likes his mini pekka surrounded by big pekkas

ken's best impression of flight 18:24

Kenneth Michael is the kind of person to say "There goes my dart goblin" when something bad happens

Ken wakes to silence, dull and deep,
A world that will not let him weep.
He walks unseen, a fading trace,
A ghost within his own embrace.

The stars once shone, now cold and dead,
Dark whispers haunt his weary head.
No voice remains, no hand to hold—
Just endless night, so vast, so cold.

Every night Ken enjoys a few too many pints with his chums.
Orders a bowl of chips to help soak up the alcohol.
Forgets to eat chips.
Runs around the pub throwing chips at bloke's bald spots whilst yelling 'CHIP DAMAGE!!!'.

Gets kicked out.