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... d, striking faces, lashing coats, and sliding over abyssium steel. The wind howled across the hills, and every step in the powder crunched like a sinister warning. Before us, the enemy horde advanced, a crash of hooves, screams, and cuirasses, mixed with the smell of sulfur and frozen blood. The enemy Drakzors, their nightmarish mounts, let out guttural howls while their riders drove them on, frantic and disorderly.
I stood at the center of the line, the loudspeaker in my hands, my eyes ...
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