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The rampage continues; the Shreken is bulldozed, the Aryn is silted up,
the Frozen Waste is warmed over while the Calamari is cooled down. But
even as Lots42 is ready to do a little slice-and-dice on a certain
Padishah who just happened to be the father of the now deceased Alicia, a
rain of bolts (not the lightning kind, but those shot from crossbows) cuts
down the mighty-and-yet-insane madman. His body is left to rot on this
western desert's sands.
The remaining members of the House of the Padishah look about them with disgust, with disdain, with dire thoughts within their distressed minds. When Alicia was turned into little bits of muscle and flesh, ground into a paste that not even the mutant syphills-pig would munch, the Family knew that she was dead. With their desert magics they concentrated all their will in building a mystical defense. Obviously they didn't have a clue as to whom they were fighting. Lucky for them, a rather small fellow by the name of Fa'oud bin'mofest D'smal Mit'n'bitte suggested that they simply give every sietch-dweller a well-built crossbow and plenty of bolts (not the lightning kind, but those fired from the aforementioned crossbows). Lucky for them, the Padishah decided to go with the crossbows. Not so lucky for Lots42.
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11/19/2002 6:47:49 PM
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