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After years on the trail of a legendary Eldwurm, the skilled dragon-slayer found himself facing a disappointing foe: the dreaded Slyrak had grown ancient and frail, its wings tattered, its few remaining scales stricken with scale-rot, its fangs ground to nubs, and its fire-gouts no more threatening than a pack of wet matchsticks. Seeing no honor to be gained in dragon-murder, the young knight prepared to turn away and leave his old foe to die in peace. But a voice crept into his thoughts, and Slyrak gave a
