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Название книги: The Mister Trophy
Автор(ы): Frank Tuttle
Жанр: Боевая фантастика
Адрес книги: http://www.6lib.ru/books/The-Mister-Trophy-185392.html
Chapter One
Eddie the barkeep stared at the Troll and then at the “Dead Troll Tavern” emblem carved into the bar-top and then back at the Troll. The Troll grinned. Forty-eight finger-long incisors popped out, sharper and shinier than anything Eddie might have hidden behind the bar and dripping with poisonous Troll saliva to boot.
Eddie deftly dropped his drying rag on the Dead Troll carving, wiped his grubby hands on his equally grubby apron and donned a shaky tough-guy scowl. “Yeah?” he said to the Troll. “You want something?”
The Troll boomed something back. A second later, Kingdom words rang out in a flat male human voice. “I come for the finder Markhat.”
I choked on my beer. The Troll’s neckless head swiveled, owl-fashion, to face me. It gargled more words in Troll, and its translator spell spoke again. “You are the finder named Markhat.”
“Nope,” I said quickly. “Not me. Not Markhat. Never met the gent.”
The Troll glided over, flashing me that mouthful
Название книги: The Mister Trophy
Автор(ы): Frank Tuttle
Жанр: Боевая фантастика
Адрес книги: http://www.6lib.ru/books/The-Mister-Trophy-185392.html
Chapter One
Eddie the barkeep stared at the Troll and then at the “Dead Troll Tavern” emblem carved into the bar-top and then back at the Troll. The Troll grinned. Forty-eight finger-long incisors popped out, sharper and shinier than anything Eddie might have hidden behind the bar and dripping with poisonous Troll saliva to boot.
Eddie deftly dropped his drying rag on the Dead Troll carving, wiped his grubby hands on his equally grubby apron and donned a shaky tough-guy scowl. “Yeah?” he said to the Troll. “You want something?”
The Troll boomed something back. A second later, Kingdom words rang out in a flat male human voice. “I come for the finder Markhat.”
I choked on my beer. The Troll’s neckless head swiveled, owl-fashion, to face me. It gargled more words in Troll, and its translator spell spoke again. “You are the finder named Markhat.”
“Nope,” I said quickly. “Not me. Not Markhat. Never met the gent.”
The Troll glided over, flashing me that mouthful
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