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<span class="mu-i">. . . a man in a mask stained with twisted wood and stranger deeds comes barreling down the low road at a sprint, a long blunt training tool for the fine arts of poking holes in other people clenched in their hand, and the crowd is rather distracted on account of the vast amounts of violence that follow.
The surprised Slicerat guard throws up his arms in a deft defense and takes the initial flurry right dead-end.
No slouch this pack-leader, squaring off and glaring at the new arrival... </span>
