day's work. He spent a great deal of time in similar situations, seeking gold or demons or distressed virgins and relieving them respectively of their owners, their lives and at least one cause of their distress.
Observe Hrun, as he leaps cat-footed across a suspicious tunnel mouth. Even in this violet light his skin gleams coppery. There is much gold about his person, in the form of anklets and wristlets, but otherwise he is naked except for a leopardskin loincloth. He took that in the steaming forests of Howondaland, after killing its owner with his teeth.
In his was much bigger than it looked, or he was now on some wide underground level without having gone down any steps, or - as he was beginning to suspect - the inner dimensions of the place disobeyed a fairly basic rule of architecture right hand he carried the magical black sword Kring, which was forged from a thunderbolt and had a soul but suffers no scabbard. Hrun had stolen it only three days before from the impregnable palace of the Archmandrite of B'Ituni, and he was already regretting it. It was beginning to get on his nerves."I tell you it went down that last passage on the right," hissed Kring in a voice like the scrape of a blade over stone."Be silent!""All I said was-""Shut up!" And Twoflower...He was lost, he knew that. Either the building
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