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. A foretaste of the Bloodsea, rendered in the hand
of an adventuring dwarf, nine centuries before the
Cataclysm! Oh, poetry and prescience!)
Wearily, Horgan clumped back across the bridge. He
remembered with a sense of vague detachment the ogre
who had started this fracas.
Here, in his journal, Horgan Oxthrall records that he
reached a point of decision in his life. He was filled with
disgust and loathing for the humans and their arrogant lord.
Considering the ogre, the dwarf found it hard to muster the
same kind of antipathy - despite the racial hatred that was
so much a part of his being. He wondered if the human had
spoken an inadvertent truth in his dying breath. Were
dwarves any better, truly, than ogres? Did they not have
more in common with ogres, in some ways, than they did
with their so-called civilized neighbors in Istar?
He came back to the clearing and found Gobasch
standing before the cave mouth and looking at Horgan with
an expression of bewilderment on his great, three-tusked
face.
"Why you fight for me?" asked the ogre.
Horgan scowled. Why, indeed? So that he would have
the honor, the pleasure, of slaying the ogre for himself?
There had to be a better reason than that, he told himself
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