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On one particular evening, this crowd was joined by a
kender. Old Pug kept an eye on the little, slight-boned
fellow, for he knew a kender was likely to slip away
without paying his tab. True to form, the kender, dressed in
red leggings and tunic, sat at a table near the door.
But this kender, apparently a bit inebriated, was talking
loudly, and this reassured Pug, who could at least turn his
back and hear him.
"... I tell you," the kender was saying, "Kronin and I
DID kill him!"
"You expect us to believe," said a squat, black-bearded
dwarf sitting at the kender's table, "that two puny kender
killed Toede, a Dragon Highlord?"
"Why, Kronin isn't just ANY kender! He's our leader!"
"Even so," said another patron, a lanky human who was
walking over with his beer stein, "kender are no match for a
hobgoblin lord."
The kender's pointy ears turned red. "Do you think I'm
lying?" he shouted.
"Yes!" came back all the patrons as they gathered
around the boaster's table.
"And how did you two kill Toede?" asked a tall,
willowy elf, a fair eyebrow arched incredulously. "With
that silly what-do-you-call-it you kender carry?"
"The hoopak," said the dwarf, picking up the pronged
stick from under the table for everyone to see
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