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"Running from the orcs, are you?" A smile broke out on the face of Phineas, Phineas the Mage, Phineas the Dwarfling, Phineas Philmore ... "I'm on good terms with the orcs," he slyly admitted to the princess. "I have to be, living so close to them as I do." The tentacle-mouthed monster leered down from the top rung of the ladder. "Besides, to tell the truth, Oogle and I are quite fond of the occasional dinner party our friends throw, when some exquisite morsel happens into their lair." Astra was up and at the door before Phineas could finish with a "And you, my dear, look scrumptious," but the door slammed in her face, a fraction of a second after the mage snapped his fingers. Astra turned toward the grinning magical munchkin and his heckling henchman, and as they approached she knew this game of hide-and-seek had come to an end. * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * "AAAchhh!" complained the troll, "we should have diced her up, all nice and fine, and cooked her into a stew." He greedily ripped a mouthful of calf from Astra's left leg. "Roast girl is nice, ya, but this one's a little stringy. And a bit too salty." Hidden beneath the two cups of Astra's bra in the flamelit cavern, the pixies disagreed. "De-lish-us!" exclaimed the first one, with a glutted fat tummy. The second nodded, unable to speak because her mouth was filled by the princess's right big toe. "Shaddup, you'se, and eat," commanded one of the orcs as he picked his teeth with an Aqualarian knuckle-bone. "This here girl was quite nice and tasty, plump in the right places and lean where it counted. No more complaining." Oogle bounced up and down, registering his agreement. Phineas, drunk off a bottle of fine port, raised a toast by the flames: "To the Royalty of Aqualaria: May they continue to sire scrumptious snacklings!" With the Princess of Aqualaria digesting in so many rumbling stomachs, our story turns to ...
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