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Finding that any assault on the dangling roots was pretty much a waste of time, Father Quadrial turned back to the group.
Looking at the stuttering elf he wonders again at the look of the fellow.
There was something, a time in his past life of clashing swords and balls of flame, where wizard and soldier stood side to side fighting the dark forces.
Who was the stumbling little man?
"Any ideas on how we are going to assault this floating fortress of evil with as little forewarning as possible?" he asked his companions.
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