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. It worked!
"We won!" Six-Finger Fiske cried with joy. "Don't you see?
It's exhausted, beaten. It's given up the struggle!"
The old man was short of breath. But though weak, his chest
heaving from the battle, he hurriedly began reeling in the monster.
I fell back, watching with glee as he pulled in arm's-length after
arms-length of line. We had really done it. The old man would be
a legend. And when we hauled the beast up onto shore, I would
stand there next to Six-Finger Fiske. People would say, "Look,
Duder Basillart was a thieving dark elf, but see what he did? He
helped that old fisherman catch the Blood Sea Monster."
I leaned over the side of the boat, anxious to see our catch.
After all, I was entitled to two percent. I would remind Six-Finger
of his promise when we neared the shore. There was no doubt in
my mind that two percent of THIS catch would be worth a fortune.
As I stared down into the water, looking for the fish, the sea
began to bubble. And then I heard a roaring sound that seemed to
be coming from underneath the boat. No matter what direction I
looked, I saw the sea beginning to foam and chum.
"What's going on?" I cried.
The old man didn't say a word. He stopped reeling in his line
and just sat there with a look of awe on his face.
The sea started rolling beneath us in a mighty turmoil, and I
knew then with a terrible certainty that it wasn't the old man that
had caught the Blood Sea Monster
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