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. He dropped
his hand to the carvings of the dark pine forests below the
crest, admiring the precise bladework that had marked each
tree in individual relief on the wall.
With a large, shuddering sigh, Flint took his heavy, well-
worn leather boots from under a bench by the door and
jammed them onto his thick feet. There was nothing to be
done about it - he'd put off this errand as long as he could.
The massive vallenwood front door creaked as Flint
opened it, causing the shutters on his windows to bang in
the chill breeze, their hinges sagging like an old woman's
stockings. They ought to be repaired - there were many
such tasks to be done before the first snow fell.
Flint's home was one of the few in Solace at ground level,
since he was one only of a handful of non-humans living in
the town, including dwarves. While the view from up in the
trees was quite lovely, Flint had no interest in living in a
drafty, swaying house. Wooden walkways suspended by
strong cords attached to high branches were the sidewalks
of Solace. Probably they had provided a useful means of de-
fense against the bandit armies that had once ranged across
the plains of Abanasinia in the wake of the Cataclysm
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