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... bastard," He muttered... "Who prayed for *your* intervention? ...It wasn't me, that's for damn certain."

Quietly... calmly... but with rage barely contained, Tycon checked his personal effects.

Weaponry. Magic jewelry. Articles of clothing. All was as it should be.

"Hero... the thought's as appealing as a steaming pile of shite... as if I'd accept something like that."

He sensed that the Dark Iron Wolf-Hammer, Tres Leches, was nearby.

He retrieved it and ...

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