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"Torrance Blood!!?? The giant?" replied Lady Andrea nearly losing her
composure. She recalled the name from a few years back. Her father, in a
fit of rage, wanted a foreign merchant roughed up. He told the assailant
to "tear his arms off." Arms, apparently, do not tear so easily. The
merchant now sits begging with his arms hanging by his side, a burden on
all humanity. "You've heard of him then?" replied Jim, almost eagerly. "Yes," sighed Andrea, "I've heard of him. Maculay, we need to get you out of here." "Oh, if all he's got is a sword, I shant be in need of assistance. And I'm not leaving my plants and herbs! They've taken me so long to gather." "Well," explained Andrea, "I fear this man has not even a sword, and he may come tonight." "I'm NOT leaving," replied the old mage emphatically. "Then that's it," said Andrea, looking at Jim, "we've got to stop him."
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