The bolt of magical force that Alumnet expected to emanate from the wand never came. As a result all the goblin received was a spray of spittle that mingled with its own fetid sweat of rage. The wizard could have spent time thinking about whether she got the command word correct, but the rusty sword coming down at her head shortened her available window for thought. She thrust the wand forward, through the goblin’s eye, and into its brain.
There’s a certain merchant in Harramantown that owes me an explanation.
“Pendleton! The goblins are here!”
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