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RAGE OF A DEMON KING 5II TWENTY-THREE Retreat I Erik shouted. . . It was a mindless howl of agony and fatigue, serving only to focus the rage he needed to continue the struggle.
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Shoot. Loose. Fire. Now. He was another ten or so strides behind UrLeyn. He took a few slow steps to the right, along the bottom edge of the earth bank, widening the angle he could see between UrLeyn and the ort.
You see it? No. It's mid-fibula. See it? A thin black line. That's a fracture, just above the epiphysis. That little black line there?
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Except, my God, getting a fresh glimpse of the range the Others move in, live in. To watch a system of worlds get born surely then to watch them evolve and flourish and finally die for that, they opened this gateway.
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The rejections coming in the mail, one close upon the posting of the next. She'd sold a couple of short stories to magazines that paid in copies and criticism, two or three magazine articles for three-figure paybacks, and one lamentable concept for a slasher film that never got beyond the talking stage.
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Quiddity's somehow behind the world, isnt it? And the Art lets the you step through, so you can be there any time you like. The Finger in the Pie. Huh?
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I'll have it on... Friday,' he lied, starting to feel hot again. They were using the microwaves on him even now, even here! He had one of his hands behind his back, the fingers crossed because he was telling lies.
The tribe itself was safe, wasn't it? Safe, yes - until the brief alliance of a handful of Wamphyri Lords had fallen apart, until they had quarrelled and split up, and each faction of the former alliance determined to build up its individual forces, refill its storehouses, define once more its old territorial boundaries and become strong again in the former Wamphyri traditions!