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The dragon snaps four fingers. Strangely, not against each other, but
against bare air. The two of them are on a cement floor. Light comes lamps high above. Fog makes a twenty foot radius of sight. Out from the mist comes a guard, dressed in orange and green leather. He presents Fred with a decent sword, Paladin style, with a thrice-folded sheen and twelve good-luck rows. Fred takes the sword and decapitates the guard. The dragon's eyes widen. "I promised to fight fair with you." said Fred. The dragon smiles.
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2/9/2006 2:42:56 PM
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