The orcs rush towards you and attack. The first throws darts at you that seem
to be poisoned. Your girlfriend takes 2 down, but the thrid is still rushing
towards you. You manage to slide out of the way, and the orc falls into a
conveniently placed spike trap. The minotaur advances menacingly. He looks
angry. So angry in fact, that a gout of flame issues forth from his frothy
maw. The last thought that you have is of your trusty bestiary. You realize
that it must have been a fire minotaur. A particularly nasty breed who "Spitt
Fyre from thine mouth and hath skewrereing hornes."
The Never Ending Quest Home
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