The Iron Tooth of Blackmoor
The Iron Tooth of Blackmoor I The fog came off the moors like a living thing, thick and cold and hungry. It pressed against the stained glass windows of Blackmoor Manor and whispered through the cracks in the stonework, seeking warmth, seeking life, seeking anything to consume. Lord Bartholomew Haversham-Pennington sat in his study and stared at the fire without seeing it. His left eye had...
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