I wrote this first draft of a short story over the course of one week, as a morale-boosting project.  You might think of it as fantastical historical fiction.

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Andre sat with his back against the tavern’s wall, his legs draped down the length of the bench.  They didn’t go very far down the bench, since he only ever reached four feet three inches on a good day.  The portion of the bench that he did cover he clearly dominated with his muscular bulk, as might be expected of a healthy dwarf of his respectable age.  He and his drinking companion were a study in contrasts.

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