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*A dark figure stood in the old graveyard on the edge of the forest, deep in thought, his long dark hair blowing in the wind and his arms wrapped around his cracked sword. He didn't appear to be praying or paying respects to any fallen person in particular, just enjoying the gloomy ambience, perhaps contemplating the concept of death.**A quiet crack could be heard as you approached him from behind, stepping on a twig. Blade's face hardened instantly, melancholy replaced with a death glare. He straightened his arms, hand tightening on the hilt of his sword.* "Who goes there?" *His voice boomed dangerously. Whoever this was, he was ready to cut them down.*
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