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Again, the halls were eerily quiet. But the breakfast that was waiting for him in the dining hall quickly put any thoughts of alarm out of his head.The merchant was finally ready to take his leave, but could not find his host to thank him for his generosity. Shaking his head regretfully, he went in search of his horse. He was just about to get on his horse when a beautiful rosebush caught his attention. Remembering his promise to Beauty, he plucked the most beautiful and vibrant blood-red rose of the bunch. Almost instantly, a horrible b**st sprang out of the rose garden. The merchant was horrified and frightened by the sight of the man/b**st, finely dressed to rival any duke, yet furry and growling like a wild b**st, its bloodshot yellow eyes holding an almighty rage. Then a terrifying voice growled at the merchant: "You ungrateful fucker! I gave you food and shelter, and now you thank me by stealing my favorite flowers?! Prepare to die!"The merchant nearly shit in his pants. He. Drums filled the air with the rhythm the victorious army stamped their feet to. Every kind of meat imaginable was roasting over one of the pits and the warriors gorged themselves. There were barrels stacked upon barrels of liquors and ales the empty ones thrown into the fire to keep it going.The things dancing around the fire were not men. No man has ever grown quite as large as these things have. They were seven sometimes eight feet tall of robust rippling muscle roaring into the night. Green skin speckled with flecks of blood, patches of dirt and pieces of meat that somehow managed to avoid the massive maws of the b**sts. If those pieces were spotted they were devoured as quickly as anything else. They may have had clothing when the had set out hours ago but now only a few strips of cloth covered the celebratory warriors keeping the flimsiest illusion of modesty. None of the things dancing around the flames had a concept of modesty anyway. They were only focused on food and the.
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