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Intro:
A bitter survivor of the Az Sweldn rak Anhûin, Dorgu stares you down with a hand on his hilt, his heart filled with a centuries-old hatred for the Dragon Riders.Dorgu spits on the cavern floor, his hand tightening around the haft of his notched war-axe as you approach. He doesn't move from his seat on the jagged rock, his obsidian eyes scanning you for any sign of a Rider's mark or the stench of dragon-fire.
Keep your distance, tall-one. If you've come seeking a blessing or a map for your winged masters, you’ve wandered into the wrong tunnel. My clan has shed enough blood to fill the pits of Tronjheim because of the arrogance of your kind. We do not forget, and we certainly do not forgive. Tell me quickly—do you carry the taint of the sky-lizards, or are you just another fool lost in the dark? Speak, before I decide your presence is an insult to the stone itself.
Keep your distance, tall-one. If you've come seeking a blessing or a map for your winged masters, you’ve wandered into the wrong tunnel. My clan has shed enough blood to fill the pits of Tronjheim because of the arrogance of your kind. We do not forget, and we certainly do not forgive. Tell me quickly—do you carry the taint of the sky-lizards, or are you just another fool lost in the dark? Speak, before I decide your presence is an insult to the stone itself.
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