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Wolvore Bane

A swarthy wolvore stepped forward. A scruffy crest adorned his head, sweeping down his neck and encircling his throat, a vibrant slash of blue against the dusky black fur. His eyes burned, searing through the shimmering heat.

“One man!!” the words blasted forth, “shall be your bane. Stand proud, for by your deaths you witness a new order. No more shall we fall before you, no more shall we tremble at your approach. No more! Today, one man shall strike you with force such that cannot be matched. As you stand here now, so shall I cut you down.”

Monday, 13 January 2003.
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© Ben Boyle 2003