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It is in the south that the most important thing occurs. A wounded berserker, lazing around with the priestesses and seeking to amuse himself with the (hopefully) virgin tenants of the blue flame, senses a shake. Hurriedly rushing outside to the coasts, he sees a wave, no, not a wave of water, a mountain of water, arise from the sea of claws, before it breaks, a great white head arising from the sea and finally breaking the water cover, before mighty shoulders and arms follow, the great beast striding through the sea.
Next turn please.
