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207 lines
18 KiB
Plaintext
207 lines
18 KiB
Plaintext
/*
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CKEY: BattlefieldCommander
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CATEGORY: Fiction
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*/
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/// The Chronicles of Margata: Volume I by Molly Highlander
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/obj/item/weapon/book/bundle/custom_library/fiction/chroniclesofmargatavol1
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name = "The Chronicles of Margata: Volume I"
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desc = "A hardbound book titled \"The Chronicles of Margata: Volume I\" by Molly Highlander."
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description_info = "This book is titled \"The Chronicles of Margata: Volume I\" by Molly Highlander. There's a blurb on the back: <br>\
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In this first volume in the series of the Chronicles of Margata, follow a young man's journey to dispel a curse of pure evil."
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title = "The Chronicles of Margata: Volume I"
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icon_state = "chronicles1_battlefieldcommander"
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origkey = "battlefieldcommander"
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author = "Molly Highlander"
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pages = list({"<html>
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<head>
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<style>
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p.font1 {font-family: MS Serif; font-size: 18px; color: #DFD35C;}
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p.font2 {font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: 14px; color: #DFD35C;}
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body {font-family: Times New Roman; background-color: #350D3A; text-align:center;}
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.border1 {font-family: Times New Roman; font-size: 14px; color: #DFD35C; line-height: 1.0; border-style: double; border-color: #DFD35C; border-width: 5px; padding: 15px;}
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.border2 {border-style: solid; border-color: #DFD35C; border-width: 3px; background-color: #56195D;}
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</style>
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</head>
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<body>
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<div class="border1">
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<div class="border2">
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<p class="font2">
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<i>The</i><br>
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</p><p class="font1">
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<b>CHRONICLES</b><br>
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</p><p class="font2">
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<i>of</i><br>
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</p><p class="font1">
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<b>MARGATA</b><br>
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</p>
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<font size="3">VOLUME I</font>
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<br><br><br><br>
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<font size="4">MOLLY<br>HIGHLANDER</font>
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<br><br><br>
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</div>
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</body>
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</html>
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"},
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{"<html>
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<head>
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<style>
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body {font-family: Palatino Linotype; color: #311E12; background-color: #F7F5EA; text-align: center;}
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h1 {font-size: 300%; margin-top: 20px;}
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h2 {margin-top: 100px;}
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</style>
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</head>
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<body>
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<h1>The Chronicles of Margata</h1>
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Volume I: The Wolf and the Blacksmith
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<h2>By Molly Highlander</h2>
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</body>
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</html>
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"},
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{"<html>
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<head>
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<style>
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body {font-family: Palatino Linotype; color: #311E12; background-color: #F7F5EA; text-align: center;}
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p.margin {margin-top: 150px;}
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</style>
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</head>
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<body>
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<p class="margin">
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<em>For Mercurie;<br>in the hopes that you'll be able to come up with<br>better jokes than me when you grow up.</em>
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</p>
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</body>
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</html>
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"},
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{"<html>
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<head>
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<style>
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body {font-family:Palatino Linotype; color: #311E12; font-size: 14px; background-color: #F7F5EA; margin: 15px;}
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div {text-indent: 30px;}
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</style>
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</head>
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<body>
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<div>In the land of Margata, nothing is ever as it seems. There have been many verifiable cases of local bakers having a secret double life as DJs. The correlation between exposure to bread and wanting to scratch out some sick beats has never been quantified, quite possibly to science being illegal in the region. That didn't happen to be the case of a young boy named Gadroc, who was neither a baker nor a DJ. In fact, his story happens to have nothing to do with either of the two. Poor Gadroc was afflicted with a terrible curse. It had been that way ever since he was born, because a witch had cursed his mother for saying "Keep the change," when there was only one cent of change left. Gadroc<6F>s curse was horrible, one that no human being should suffer through: he couldn<64>t look at butts. Whenever someone showed him a full moon, he transformed into a horrible beast with astoundingly fresh breath. Whenever this happened, he would always run to the nearest cornfield and begin uncontrollably eating corn. Why corn? Because magic, that<61>s why. That's just how it fucking works. Don't you know anything?</div>
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<div>After coming home with corn stuck in his teeth for three days straight, and only having one more pair of pants that weren<65>t destroyed, Gadroc knew that he needed to do something about his curse. He went to the first person he could think of for help.</div>
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<div>Carne was the town<77>s blacksmith. He wasn<73>t very wise, but he always spoke as though he was. It was for this reason that Gadroc often came to Carne for help, despite the fact that he could probably go to basically anyone else. The town beggar, who was constantly sitting in a puddle of his own pee, gave better advice than the blacksmith. Carne was the only one who knew about Gadroc<6F>s affliction. No one else knew who was ravaging the town<77>s corn population, and riots had already broken out over the severe deficit in cornbread supply.</div>
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<div>"Carne, you have to help me!" Gadroc shouted as he burst through the doors of the smithy. Carne was in the middle of forging a pair of iron gauntlets, and had his back turned to Gadroc. He did not turn around.</div>
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<div>"Do you need my help? Or do you need my help to help yourself?" Carne said, spouting his signature wisdom.</div>
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<div>"Yes. No. What? Did you get that from a fortune cookie?" replied Gadroc.</div>
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<div>"Yes, actually." Carne turned around. He was loudly crunching on some fortune cookie and inexplicably wearing the gauntlets he was working on, still glowing red hot. He held up the fortune, but Gadroc didn<64>t have time to read it, as it immediately caught fire and fell into a pile of ashes on the floor.</div>
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<div>Gadroc was concerned. "Doesn<73>t that... you know... hurt?"</div>
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<div>"Oh yes, extremely," Carne said with a smile. They both stared at each other for a moment.</div>
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</body>
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</html>
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"},
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{"<html>
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<head>
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<style>
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body {font-family:Palatino Linotype; color: #311E12; font-size: 14px; background-color: #F7F5EA; margin: 15px;}
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div {text-indent: 30pt;}
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</style>
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</head>
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<body>
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<div>"<strong>AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!</strong>" screamed Carne. He flailed his arms around wildly until the gauntlets flew off. One of them flew across the room and hit a painting hanging on the wall. The painting was of our lord and president, Orcbama, and the gauntlet punched him in the face. The painting had a large scorch mark in the same place where the gauntlet had hit, indicating that this was a common occurrence.</div>
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<div>"Anyways," Carne said casually, hands blistered and burnt, "What do you need to help me with?"</div>
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<div>"That<61>s not what I... you know what, nevermind. Listen. I am sick and tired of this stupid werewolf bullshit! Corn used to be my favorite, and now I can<61>t stand it! I miss the days when I enjoyed cornbread..."</div>
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<div>"Yeah, so do the townsfolk," the blacksmith replied.</div>
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<div>"That's not helpful," Gadroc said, but Carne went on.</div>
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<div>"I've always been more of a corn casserole kind of guy myself. Easier on the old gut. Y'know, when I was a boy-"</div>
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<div>"Would you shut up and listen? We need to do something about this!"</div>
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<div>"Right... What<61>s the problem again?" Gadroc smacked his forehead. He pointed to his own butt.</div>
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<div>"Listen, son, if that's the way you're swingin', you don't have to play charades about it. Old Carne won't judge," Carne said.</div>
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<div>"No, the werewolf problem!" Gadroc screamed. He fell to his knees, tears welling up in his eyes. He sniffed. "I just want to be able to look at butts. That<61>s all I want."</div>
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<div>Carne walked up and put his gross, burnt hand on Gadroc<6F>s shoulder. "It<49>s alright. I<>ll help you with your problem."</div>
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<div>Gadroc sniffed again. "Really?"</div>
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<div>"Yes. Even if it means I<>m helping myself to help you help me-"</div>
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<div>"Carne, you<6F>re not helping again."</div>
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</br>
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<div>CUT TO: Gadroc and Carne, scaling a mountain. Both men were equipped with the finest blades from Carne<6E>s smithy. Gadroc was feeling a little indignant, considering Carne had only given him a foam sword. Carne had taken the only finished blade in the smithy.</div>
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<div>"You see that up there?" Carne said to Gadroc as they climbed. "That<61>s the ancient temple whose name is really hard to pronounce."</div>
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<div>"Really?" Gadroc asked. "What's it called?"</div>
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<div>"I<>d tell you, but it<69>s really hard to pronounce," explained the smith. He continued. "From what I understand, there<72>s a mystical artifact that can cure any curse. We<57>re going to use it to cure your werewolf problem."</div>
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<div>"Why didn<64>t you tell me any of this on the way here? I<>ve been following you up this mountain for hours with no idea of what we<77>re doing."</div>
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<div>"We took that part out in post. It was a really long and not very funny bit that didn't get much of a reaction out of anyone the first time this story was read out loud. It's a little trick the boys back home call 'the Director's Cut.'"</div>
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<div>"Ah. That makes a lot of sense."</div>
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<div>"Right?" The two laughed at that, looked at the camera for a moment, then back to each other. A laugh track played during this. It lasted for an uncomfortable amount of time. It was the kind of laughter that you think is about to die down, but then it kicks right back up again. There<72>s also that one lady who<68>s cackling like a hyena having a tea party with a witch. You try to unhear her, but you just keep noticing her. Why do sitcoms think laugh tracks add anything to the show? It doesn't. That shit just doesn<73>t sit right with me.</div>
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</body>
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</html>
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"},
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{"<html>
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<head>
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<style>
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body {font-family:Palatino Linotype; color: #311E12; font-size: 14px; background-color: #F7F5EA; margin: 15px;}
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div {text-indent: 30pt;}
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</style>
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</head>
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<body>
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<div>They continued to hike up the mountain. After a little while, they reached the temple. The door was guarded by two dog-men holding spears.</div>
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<div>"Who are these guys?" Gadroc asked.</div>
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<div>"Let me handle this," assured Carne. "How<6F>s it going gentlemen?" The dog-men stepped closer and crossed their spears across the door.</div>
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<div>"Listen boys, there<72>s no need for the attitude," said the smith. The dog-men began to growl at him.</div>
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<div>Carne frowned. "Hey now, that<61>s just rude." The dog-men responded to this by shoulder-checking Carne, knocking him to the ground. Gadroc sighed and walked up to the armored, bipedal golden retriever.</div>
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<div>"Who<68>s a good boy?" Gadroc said as he began to scratch the dog behind his cutie ears. The dog-man turned his head into Gadroc<6F>s hand and began to pant.</div>
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<div>Gadroc continued. "You are! You<6F>re a good boy! Oh it<69>s you!" The dog barked as if to say, "YES IT IS ME, I AM THE GOOD BOY." The dog-man eventually got down on all fours, stomped around in a circle a bit, and promptly fell asleep. The other guard whimpered. He had felt that he had been a good boy too, and that he deserved scratchies just as much as his partner, if not more. He conveyed this to Gadroc in a single bark. Gadroc turned to him.</div>
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<div>"Oh I know! You<6F>ve been a good boy too!" He pet the guard for a little bit, then pulled an ear of corn out of his pocket.</div>
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<div>"You want a treat boy?" Gadroc asked, as he held up the corn. The dog nodded violently and made a couple of attempts to nibble on the corn, but Gadroc pulled it away before he could.</div>
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<div>"Go get it!" shouted Gadroc as he threw the corn down the mountain. The dog guard threw his spear to the side as he bounded after the corn bouncing down the path. Certain the guard had made it out of sight, Gadroc went to help Carne up.</div>
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<div>"Where did you learn to deal with Canine-sapiens like that?" Carne asked.</div>
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<div>"Well, if you think about it, werewolves are technically part dog. Plus, I just know a good boy when I see one."</div>
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<div>The two stepped through the doors of the temple. At the end of the long, church-like room was a marble altar on a platform, with a set of stairs leading up to it. On the altar sat a small, simple wooden box. From above, a light fell gently on the box, giving it a soft, almost holy glow. The stained glass windows at the back of the room were arranged in such a way that they almost seemed to be pointing at the box. Many different flowers were arranged on either side of the box and at the foot of the altar.</div>
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<div>"Call it a hunch," Carne said slowly, "but I think those flowers might be important somehow. I just get that feeling, I couldn<64>t tell you why."</div>
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<div>"It<49>s the box that<61>s important, or whatever's in it," Gadroc said dryly. "The only thing that could make it more obvious is if a huge, luminescent sign dropped down with blinking arrows that read, <20>There<72>s probably a magic artifact in this box.<2E>" Just then, a huge luminescent sign with blinking arrows that read, "There<72>s probably a magic artifact in this box." dropped down. Gadroc pinched the bridge of his nose.</div>
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<div>"Do you think there might be a secret compartment in the altar? I bet that<61>s where the artifact is," pondered the smith.</div>
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</body>
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</html>
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"},
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{"<html>
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<head>
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<style>
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body {font-family:Palatino Linotype; color: #311E12; font-size: 14px; background-color: #F7F5EA; margin: 15px;}
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div {text-indent: 30pt;}
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</style>
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</head>
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<body>
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<div>"Welcome to the temple of Ivyechneyoveen Kah<61>al, my children," came a voice.</div>
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<div>"Who said that?" Gadroc asked. "So that<61>s how it<69>s pronounced," mused Carne. A figure stepped out from behind a pillar. It was a robed dog-woman, an ancient St. Bernard.</div>
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<div>The dog lady spoke again. "Have you come to give your thanks to Orcville?"</div>
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<div>"I<>m sorry, who?" Gadroc asked, confused.</div>
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<div>"Yes, Orcville Redenbacher. He blessed the world with his glorious popcorn and saved our souls."</div>
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<div>"Wait," interrupted Carne. "Then why is it called the temple of Itchyville Cable?"</div>
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<div>"Ivyechneyoveen Kah<61>al," corrected the priestess with a polite smile.</div>
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<div>"Yeah, that<61>s what I said."</div>
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<div>"I<>d be glad to enlighten you, my child. It all started when..." The priestess lengthy explanation on the history and fine points of the religion of the dog people. It didn<64>t make the slightest bit of sense, though Carne did have a bit of a chuckle at the part where Orcville defeated the demon lord who wouldn't stop pretending to throw a ball to go fetch and then never actually throw the ball. Gadroc nearly fell asleep on his feet. He decided not to take part in the theological discussion and turned his attention back to the box. He walked up to the altar platform and climbed the steps. Carefully he opened the two small, wooden doors on the front of the box. Words could not describe his excitement. Inside the box was...</div>
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<div>"A hot dog?" Gadroc asked aloud. He was thoroughly baffled. Inside the box was a golden hot dog that sparkled in the light. He couldn<64>t tell whether or not it had ketchup, mustard, or even relish on it; it was all gold.</div>
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<div>"What are you doing with our sacred artifact?" shouted the dog priestess. Gadroc jumped, startled. He was too busy thinking about what gold tasted like.</div>
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<div>"Uh... I need it... for... a friend," Gadroc lied, incredibly convincingly.</div>
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<div>"You<6F>d better not eat that because that<61>s totally not how a magic artifact shaped like a hot dog would work!" screeched the priestess.</div>
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<div>Gadroc looked again at the supposed cure to all his problems. It was right there in his hands! "You<6F>re not my mom!" he shouted, and promptly shoved the entire hot dog in his mouth and made a break for the door. Carne seemed impressed.</div>
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<div>"Damn," he said. "Wish I could run that fast after stuffing an entire hot dog in my mouth. Last time I did that I got a hernia." He turned to the dog priestess.</div>
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<div>"So, uh... wanna go grab some popcorn later?" The priestess slapped him across the face. "Right. I'll get goin', then. Sorry about the hot dog. We'll make you a new one." Carne began to head in Gadroc's direction.</div>
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</body>
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</html>
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"},
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{"<html>
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<head>
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<style>
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body {font-family:Palatino Linotype; color: #311E12; font-size: 14px; background-color: #F7F5EA; margin: 15px;}
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h1 {font-family:Palatino Linotype; color: #311E12; font-size: 17px; text-align: center;}
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div {text-indent: 30pt;}
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</style>
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</head>
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<body>
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<div>"Gadroc, where are you?" Carne shouted. "You can come out now, she didn<64>t follow us." Gadroc looked around and slowly stepped out from behind a tree that didn't even come close to consealing him whatsoever.</div>
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<div>"I... I don<6F>t know if it worked, Carne," the boy said nervously.</div>
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<div>"Here," said the smith. He handed Gadroc a small, folded up piece of paper. Almost the exact moment Gadroc<6F>s fingers touched it, Carne leapt like an orc-lympic death hurdle sprinter and combat rolled to take cover behind a nearby fallen tree. Gadroc unfolded the paper, hands trembling. On it was a pin up of a real buff orc dude. His shirtless body was ripped and glistening with sweat. He held a wrench and his jeans were not tight around his waist. Another shot showed him crouched down in front of a sink, which was confusing because plumbing was not very popular yet. The orc<72>s loose jeans were sagging down his pants, and they revealed the glowing, firm cheeks of his fine behind. A single tear rolled down Gadroc<6F>s face.</div>
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<div>"Carne," he sniffed. "It worked." Carne came out from behind the log and wiped the sweat from his brow with a "Phew!"</div>
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<div>"It<49>s beautiful, Carne," Gadroc went on.</div>
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<div>"Keep it, kid," the blacksmith said with a smile. "You need it more than I do. Let<65>s go home."</div>
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<div>Gadroc had gold poop for a week.</div>
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<br>
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<br>
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<h1><b>Fin.</b></h1>
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</body>
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</html>
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"}) |