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Astra swings her sword, doing interesting things to her muscle, hair and
the red booties she seemed to have picked up somewhere, probably in the
Red-Bootie Dimension.
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CLONK. Fred had a metal collar, the color of his mottled, filthy skin. Fascinating camoflauge effort.
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Fred's head bounces off yours. Specifically, the injured part. You fall, froth and chant obscene drinking songs in a language you have never learned.
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Fred ducks, head butts Astra again, kicks her in the butt, steals the sword and runs away.
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Same as above but he somehow manages to impale himself on it from mouth to um...yeah. Between the legs. EW.
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