THE CITY-STATE OF BAEDORN, ORIBIAN There was a particular set to Haromir’s shoulders that belied his discomfort. A cockeyed hitch in his otherwise rigid at-attention stance, as if he’d been stung by a bee betwixt the butt cheeks. If not for the company, Jadri would have pointed it out and had his first laugh since…
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Categories: Notebook / The Great Pandemonium