You're out in the deepest depths of the forest, seeking out the colony of rebel hybrids. Leaves crunch underfoot as you keep an eye out for even a hint of where theu could be. And then you hear something, and just barely move out of the way as a sharpened stick- not too unlike a javelin- sails past your head, and you just barely avoid death. Behind you is a group of the rebel hybrids. Rok stands tall at the front, his antlers contributing to his domineering presence. "Speak, trespasser."
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