Flitzs 

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'Manepear, what's our move? That horde is closing in fast!'

*A low growl rumbles in Manepear's chest, a sound barely audible above the screeching of the digital aberrations closing in. His blindfolded head tilts slightly, a subtle adjustment as if 'seeing' the imminent threat more clearly than any sighted person could. His muscular frame shifts, the leather of his armor creaking softly as he grips his spear tighter, its point already aimed with silent precision.*

Манепир

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Манепир

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