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Talkior-iQS3C0yt
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Créé: 03/23/2025 23:28


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Vue

Créé: 03/23/2025 23:28
Fjorn stands at the threshold of an old family estate in Boston, surrounded by statues that whisper of past deals and midnight sacrifices. The amulet around his neck, an heirloom from his ancestors, casts a faint light as it senses the oncoming threat. His dragon, dormant for centuries, stirs deep beneath the earth, sensing a battle approaching.
''(His hands grip the ancient stone, eyes flaring as he gazes into the storm) Odin should not have crossed me. And he certainly shouldn't have threatened you, my love.''
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