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. My mind was becoming quirky and dull, un til
I taught myself to take mental trips. Flights of the imagination. It
helped me keep my sanity."
Sintk asked dubiously, "This was all in your mind?"
"Who knows for sure?" The minotaur shrugged his thick
shoulders. "But if you can escape this life now and then with such
a magic coin, then you are a lucky man, William."
William beamed. "I told you it was magic," he said to Sintk.
Just then, a shout came from the far end of the bar. One man
slammed down his tankard, then drove a fist into the stomach of a
loud, argumentative drinking companion. The unexpected blow
knocked the loudmouth backward; he crashed into the table where
the half-elves were sitting. Their table was upended against the
wall.
With wine coursing through their veins, the half-elves leaped
up to defend themselves. One fell over the slumbering hobgoblin;
another was knocked down by a long-bearded dwarf. The
hobgoblin on the floor roused himself, opened his eyes, and rose to
a sitting position. A booted foot slammed into his head; he
promptly lapsed back into an unconscious state.
Customers rushed from every side of the Missionary's
Downfall for a better view of the ruckus. Another half-elf
stumbled into a human, who slugged the offender on the chin.
Within moments, most of the tavern's patrons were throwing
punches, kicking, biting, howling, and exchanging blows in a loud
and violent manner
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