food. A dozen monsters crowd around me as I recount the tale of how I battled Blarg. They keep pouring me flat Joe’s soda and I keep talking.
Later on, I spot Thrull, off in a dim corner, sitting at a table. He’s talking with another creature – this one thin, with spindly limbs and a rough, jagged beard.
Thrull catches my eye and beckons me over. I pull Quint, Dirk, and June with me.
‘Please sit,’ Thrull says, then indicates the other monster. ‘This is ßàŗġťŀ – pronounced “Bardle” in your tongue.’
Bardle smiles – an act that seems to take him great effort. His face scrunches up, revealing deep scars slashing this way and that.
‘Bardle is aged,’ Thrull says. ‘For many lifetimes, he was a conjurer in our dimension.’
‘Dimension?’ Quint asks, leaning forward.
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