Aim, Loose

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Screenshot: General screen

Garbold and Chadley 

Chadley saw the youth as he ran headlong to attempt a tackle, and dispassionately loosed the waiting bolt into the young man's chest, preparing to be tackled with—perhaps literally—dead weight.

The Price of Safety

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The sun had just set when Arra led the small band of hooded and masked figures through the Bree-Fields. Just ahead the dirt path met a small wooden bridge which went over the stream which flanked a nearby farmhouse. The windows were bright. "Someone's home," Arra said from beneath her hideous mask, carved into the shape of an orc's face. Some might call it an improvement.

The Weasel's Grip

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Round the corner, round the corner.

Here, there has to be an escape here!

The sun is hot. The sun is hot.

Dead end. Start over.

Bandobras's hairy arse! Where...?

Fence. Boxes. Climb over.

Freedom! Freedom!

Almost there.


The knee is scraped.

Run! Run!

They can't follow.

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