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... or it woof…”
The Blackwell Gnolls, who were lined up for their meal, scattered.
Some dove into the Blackwell Mine, others ran up the surrounding slopes, stuffing delicacies into their mouths as they fled; buffaloes were hard to come by on their tables.
Only four did not run.
More precisely, two humans, a Goblin, and a Gnoll.
That Gnoll was none other than Gos, with his trembling legs a clear sign of the fear he felt for the imposing figure before him.
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