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At the market stall in town
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| Zounds! This stall is bereft of a merchant! Archer, art thou sure we can procure supplies here? | |
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| Methinks I shall take my leave and... Wait...What a fine set of red platemail! | |
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And, as if by magic... PING!
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| Aah, Gadzooks! I hath besmirched my breeches! | |
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