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The hulking shape moved forward, abandoning its
sheltering darkness. Horgan saw it, felt the ancient racial
hatred that lay so deeply within the dwarven character. An
urge to attack the ogre swept through the dwarf with
frightening intensity. The monster's great mouth dropped
open; the thick gray lips moved grotesquely. Horgan
noticed that the creature had three great teeth jutting from
its lower jaw - an extra tusk near the center of its lower lip.
"Gobasch fight."
The words - crude Common spoken in a deep, guttural
voice - shocked Horgan. He had pictured his opponent as a
dull beast, incapable of communication or articulation. The
dwarf stared at the ogre, too surprised to reply.
The creature loomed over Horgan. The ogre's barrel torso
rested upon legs as thick as gnarled oak roots. The face,
despite its trio of sharp tusks, did not look bestial. Arms,
bulging with straps of sinew, rippled downward to hamlike
fists that swung nearly to the ogre's knees. He wore a jerkin
of stiff, dirty leather and, in his right hand, held a battered
long sword. The ogre's eyes were small but surprisingly
bright, and they glittered at the dwarf with frank appraisal.
Horgan claims that he felt no fear of his opponent's
size
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