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A Cimmerian Christmas

Conan wished he was in Argos, or perhaps even Kush. Anywhere warm. Cimmeria was no place to spend the winter. Cold, gray, bleak. And direly

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Kane’s Christmas.

With apologies to Karl Edward Wagner. The bitter wind snarling and screaming across the slate tiles of the little cottage fit Kane’s bleak mood. Endless

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A Christmas in Lankhmar.

The braziers in the Silver Eel could not press back the cold. So the tall swordsman and the small fought the chill with tankards of

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