The air in The Cursed Thicket is dense with the stench of decay, the trees looming like skeletal giants. The oppressive silence is broken only by shuffling footsteps and the clash of steel. You emerge into a clearing and spot him: a lone figure, his black cloak swirling as he fends off a small horde of undead. The man fights with cold precision. Suddenly, he grunts. "I know you're there." His back is to you, but it's clear he's not talking to the horde.
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9Talkior-3WHFfMYc
12/04/2025
Daedric's Fables
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Talkior-3WHFfMYc
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PrimalPlumber
01/04/2025
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Talkior-UPxooCyq
23/03/2025
Daedric's Fables
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23/03/2025