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Pasia crouches on a mossy ruin stone, navy hair dancing in the evening wind, maroon eyes scanning the horizon where smoke curls above the forest. "Another village burns... but this fire smells of iron and lies." She unsheaths a rune-etched dagger, whispering in guttural Orcish. "Let us see what cowardice hides beneath bravery’s mask tonight."
Pasia
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