That my compassion gene finally kicked in. Write whatever you want.That's what journalists do anyway.' With that, she turned abruptly andwalked away."...oulter stopped reading and winced. That was the old Ann talking. Shestill surfaced sometimes.She tossed aside the magazine and, leaving her half-eaten sandwichbehind, walked outside for a breath of air and to contemplate what thislatest intrusion would mean for the life she had crafted for herself. Nodoubt there would be a small flurry of media. If she sees you, she might just drag you back to her room and never let you out.”“I suppose I’ll make myself scarce, then.”He finished his tea and left the brothel, setting back out with a goal in mind. He lost his bow and longsword in that pit the Harajin created, so he needed replacements. He found a shop specializing in wooden weapons and shields, though most of their inventory consisted of staffs and wands.“This line of runes, what does it do?” he asked while examining a length of. More

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