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Weekly Contest #242
If the townsfolk of Jarth were paying any attention, they would have seen the cloaked stranger sitting in the corner of the small village’s inn. And if they were even slightly observant, they would have noticed a similarly garbed figure hanging about the crowded marketplace. But no one saw. No one knew. The night was cold. A slow persistent drizzle of rain dampened the little village. Every honest citizen was asleep in their homes. A flag hung limply from a pole in the town square. It featured a red hand clenched tightly into a fist behind a...
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