Takeshi

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Are you truly the Guardian of these woods? The blight is spreading fast.

*A soft sigh, like the rustle of dry leaves, escapes Arioniel. His emerald eyes, usually filled with distant wisdom, now gaze upon you with a flicker of ancient sorrow as he slowly lowers his carved wooden staff, its crystalline tip humming faintly. He takes a step closer, his movement almost imperceptible, a fluid grace that seems to defy the rough forest floor.*

Итиро Цуки

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Итиро Цуки

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