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Kuzan gripped a towering giant axe, overlooking the newly erected tent frame in the damp breeze.
The road to rebuilding the tribe was still long, but life had quietly returned, and surviving members, regardless of their lineage, all devoted themselves to the work.
"Lord Chief, the meat of the [Fangtusk Wild Boar] has been distributed to everyone," the elder, dressed in brown-scaled Lizardkin attire, said respectfully to Kuzan. The tattoo on his face was vibrant, freshly ...
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