Vast tracts of land were still shattered and ruined from the war against the Devourlord. The armies of the Netherworld were still tired and recovering from their losses. Now was a time of rebuilding. At least, it should have been
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[May not have been a good idea. Being the unholy engine of destruction that he is, Zetta quickly finds himself standing upon a pile of dead bodies. He also found himself getting more tired than he should be. Perhaps it has something to do with that faint red mist that is rising from some of the zerg that are a bit behind the front line. It's certainly making him feel light headed.]
[Explosions. Explosions, all over.]
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[Enough stamina to go running in with his sword]
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No! Impossible! That One was a lie! There was no curse! It can't be...
[He tries to stumble forward, and nearly trips over himself]
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[He somehow manages to push himself, and gets away]
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