Odnośniki
- Index
- 3AM Kisses 1 3AM Kisses Addison Moore
- John Ringo Alldenata 05 The Hero (with Williamson, Michael)
- John DeChancie Skyway 00 Red Limit Freeway
- Kulonleges utas John J. Nance
- John W. Campbell The Space Beyond
- John Grisham Wspolnik
- Moore Ulysses Lodowa kraina
- Moore Sean U Conan niezłomny
- J.C. & Barb Hendee D 3 Sister of the Dead (BD) (v1.2)
- Hacking Into Computer Systems Beginners
- zanotowane.pl
- doc.pisz.pl
- pdf.pisz.pl
- numervin.keep.pl
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brighter side, the pain in his ribs was less than the pain in his legs.Which
was less than the pain in his head. "Heroism," he told himself, "consists of
hanging on one minute longer." His father had taught him that, and he was sure
his father had been quoting someone else, perhaps his own father. He never
learned the source of the quote, but he did learn the lesson. Being a
barbarian hero meant more than fighting and drinking and rescuing underdressed
babes and wearing a necklace of wolves' teeth. It meant... it meant... well,
it meant hanging on when you couldn't hang on any longer. It meant fighting
when your arms were too weak to lift a sword. It meant ignoring cold and heat.
It meant going without food or sleep or booze if that's what it took to get
the job done. It meant satisfying an underdressed babe even when you were too
tired not that he'd ever had that problem besides, he'd been drunk.
And it meant taking another step when you couldn't move a muscle. And when
you couldn't take another step, you crawled.
He took another step.
And then another. He'd been taking another step for days now. He'd lost track
of the days, and his vision had gotten pretty dark and it was hard to focus.
Now it was night. There was a full moon out to light his way. How long had it
been night? He didn't remember the sun going away. But there was the moon, and
there were plenty of stars out. And there were lights on the horizon that
weren't stars.Lights of the city. He headed that way.
He was walking on the road. During the day he left the road to shake off his
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pursuers, and at night he got back on. Now it was night, and he was back on
the road, even though he couldn't remember finding it. He didn't like that. He
was Thunk the Barbarian, and he didn't run away from anyone. They ran away
from him. A hero died fighting. His father had died fighting. Granted, he had
been fighting in a tavern over an unpaid bar tab. It was still fighting,
though. But Thunk remembered he had something important to tell the King. That
was all that counted.
The city was ahead. There were taverns in the city. He told himself he'd have
a drink when he got there. And clean up some of this blood. And then he could
sleep. Yes, drink and sleep. Right after he saw the King.
The next time he stopped, he told himself he'd only rest long enough to get
his strength back. But his strength wasn't coming back anymore. It was ebbing
away, and he was running out of time. He knew now that he couldn't stop again,
that the next time he stopped he would stop forever. He'd have to keep
walking.
And then crawl.
He pushed himself away from the tree with both arms and took an unsteady step
forward. And then another.And another. He was walking in the woods again, amid
oak and alder and beech. And lots of other trees he couldn't recognize.Trees
with flowers. When he broke out of the trees he could hear music. And hear
voices. There were bushes, with paths in between. People were walking along
the paths, men, women and children. He realized that he wasn't in a woods, he
was in a garden. Ahead he could see the castle, the large lighted windows, and
the shadows of the people dancing behind them. He aimed himself in that
direction, at the biggest window, with the lights and the music and the
dancing and the people.
And staggered on.
Chapter 2
When a wise old sage tells you not to let a magical talisman fall into the
wrong hands, take him seriously. Do not laugh it off until the object is
stolen and the Forces of Evil are unleashed.
HandbookOf Practical Heroics By Robert Taylor
Prince Kevin stopped at the door of Princess Rebecca's salon, which was
lacquered in a light pink with a seafoam green frame. The brass lock plate was
intricately engraved with flowers and curlicues. It looked very feminine. He
adjusted his lapels and cuffs, and said, "What time is it, Winslow?"
"When we passed the clock above the stairs, sire, it was ten minutes past the
hour."
"We're early," said Kevin. He turned and strode briskly past the door. His
valet followed him to the end of the hall, where the Prince found a mirror in
a gilt frame. He stood there critically inspecting the ruffles in his collar.
"Beg pardon, sire." Winslow was a little out of breath. "Did the lady not say
to be there at eight o'clock and to be prompt?"
"Yes, but girls' time is different from guys' time.If you get there on time,
you catch them when they're still putting on their makeup, and that flusters
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them. Then they think you're stupid for not knowing you're supposed to be
late. Better to give them more time."
"If you say so, sire." Winslow was doubtful. He had served the Prince for
many years, but only recently had His Highness begun dating, and back in
Rassendas, the girls came to him. This was an unfamiliar situation.
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