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Suddenly, from out of nowhere, a pteradon swooped down and ate the little
man wide in berth and short in stature! Fred ran from that blood-curdling
scene as fast as his pooped legs could carry him (which isn't fast at all
really) and lucky for him the flying beast did not come after him (for,
you see, pteradons of this Continent are swoopers and gliders, not at all
flyers and flappers... they also eat sparingly, not at all like birds that
eat almost constantly... and so, tired and full, the beast hitched a ride
upon a thermal air-current back up to its perch upon the nearby cliffside,
regurgitated that unlucky staff-wielding ranger so that its cluck of
beastlings could feed, and then snoozed off for a few hours).
Needless to say Fred also wanted to snooze for a few hours, as would you if you had entered the Southern Caves carved into the Shreken Mountains of Havnheim only to find yourself bespelled and hexed by some mysterious and cursed treasure chest, awaken upon a beach only to find a rune-carved skeleton with a vexing riddle, encounter an oliphant, run into the shortest, fattest man (let alone Ranger) that you had ever seen, barely miss being on the lunch menu for a winged lizard (distaff cousin to the damned wyrms, no doubt!) and still not know where you are nor how to get back home (whew!). Suffice it to say, Fred was TIRED. And so, training or no, he found that once his adrenelin returned to normal levels and his muscles stopped their involuntary twitching, his eyes began to close of their own accord. He looked for a "safe" place to rest, and found a hollow within a tree - a good enough hiding place, he thought - and was soon in the warm embrace of Lady Dream.
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2/5/2003 10:05:26 PM
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