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Allotted is the bell-ringer to doom,
And Doom now calls us, summoned by his bell.
Night's touch, that welcomes weary traveller home,
Homeward will take one of our folk, I fear,
The home from which no journey does set forth,
While human neck in ruthless twine doth knot,
And if I do depart, recall my name-
Anguirel, he who wished to save his skin.
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Among the friendly dead, being bad at games did not seem to matter
-Il Lupo Fenriso
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