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Fending off light cavalry, cutting through archers in the back lines or hitting supply baggages whilst the glory goes to the knights that crush the enemy under their hooves in the battle proper is hardly the stuff of legend, but it does not seem to phase the Azir that these less honourable roles typically fall to them. Their obedience to the Blood Pact, Chimchala winces as he signs the word, is absolute. When your last ineffectual offensive again flounders against the foreign warrior’s defensive play, his counter-attack mops up your disparate pieces swiftly and efficiently.
<span class="mu-i">“Ah, we’ll that’s game then.”</span> You struggle to sign the Battle Cant equivalent of ‘Well fought’, and Chimchala corrects you in his typical mild-mannered way. <span class="mu-i">“I must apologise if my nattering distracted from the game.”</span>
<span class="mu-i">“I do not mind.”</span> Chimchala speaks slowly, but a mild smile slips through as he signs ‘Again tomorrow’ <span class="mu-i">“It was a good conversation.”</span>
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