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... skills, they drop a boulder on your friend’s leg."
***
Another moan answered Petra’s question. Deeper. Edged with pain that made Rhys’s stomach clench.
He followed the sound deeper into their pocket of survival. Past a scatter of goblin weapons. Past the remains of Petra’s mana-light orb, now nothing more than cracked crystal and dead magic.
The torch picked out details as he moved.
A handprint in blood on the wall.
A chunk of Jorik’s hammer-crate ...
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