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The magistrate’s office is but a stone’s throw down the quaggy lane that
serves this hamlet as a main thoroughfare of sorts. Begrimed peasants
of all shapes and sizes huddle together outside of their hovels. They gaze at
Fred with wonder in their eyes as he sloshes confidently through the muck.
Fred, being the noble knight that he is, smiles in return and even tosses a
few of the more lucky sods a gold coin or two. “Ah, here we are,” he proclaims. A sign outside the quaint stone structure reads ‘Village of Mudspot Office of the Magistrate & Tax Collection Bureau - Please wipe your feet at the door’ A scrawny, freckled lad decked out in rusty armor and wielding a flimsy spear stops him. “Uh...please state the nature of your business, sire,” he says in an uneasy, cracking voice. From the look in his eyes it’s obvious he can tell that Fred is a person of some import, and isn’t quite sure how to deal with the situation.Fred clears his throat. “Um, yes. My name is Lord Frederigo D’Honaire and I demand an audience with the town magistrate!” The lad’s eyes widen. “THE Lord Fred!” he gasps. “Slayer of Kuzamr the Kold and defeater of the Goblin Horde of the East!? Oh, my! This is the happiest day of my life!”Fred, ego sufficiently inflated, puffs his chest out a little. “The one and the same,” he answers with a wide, dramatic sweep of his arm. “Always glad to meet a fan. You can add to that list of exploits ‘Dragon Slayer’, as well. Although I haven’t technically slain the scaly beast as of yet.” The lad bows in an appropriate fashion and looks up adoringly at his hero. “Well slather me in horse grease and call me a dingy doorman!” he declares. “To think that our little stinking, diseased village would be graced with the presence of someone of YOUR stature. Pellgar-on-the-Rayne would have been the obvious choice. A fine city it is, with streets paved with onyx (save those whereon the horses and camels and elephants trod, which are paved with granite)and high, mountain-quarried marble walls. Its just down the way, really. But no, you chose THIS festering stinkhole. We truly are lucky. Um...I’m afraid I can’t let you enter with those swords, though.” He smiles uneasily, indicating Fred’s original sword and his new enchanted blade. “You’re going to have to check them at the door.”“Don’t be silly,” Fred chuckles. “My sword(s) goes anywhere I go. Now let me through, I say!” The lad’s brow furrows and he lowers his spear. “I’m afraid you’re going to have to check them at the door,” he reiterates. “Also, you’re going to need to wipe your feet on the mat.”This is all too much for Fred. The audacity of this stinking commoner! His rage mounting, Fred must decide on a course of action.
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8/13/2008 6:58:54 PM
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