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. The ground rippled like water, shaking stones
loose from the brewery walls, knocking Flint and every
dwarf in view off of their feet. Many of the wooden build-
ings began to fall like matchstick shelters.
Wisps of the black smoke trailed through the town,
touching off fires where they struck the dry timbers of
buildings whole, or ruined. In moments the flames roared
upward, and Hillhome became a nightmare of hungry,
crackling blazes.
The dwarves in the courtyard of the brewery scattered in
fear, trampling each other to get through the gate first. The
Theiwar were the first out of town, running through the
wreckage for the hills. Not a living one of the derro re-
mained to face the rage of the vengeful hill dwarves.
The earth shook again, a convulsive tremor that wracked
the town from one end to the other. Great cracks appeared
in the ground, exploding outward from the white fire of axe
and amulet. Flint watched, still stunned to immobilty, as
these fissures erupted to either side of him. He saw hill and
gully dwarves disappear into the cracks, and he could not
move to help them
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