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... arlet canopy. Stryga winced at the incessant noise. The damn birds had kept her up all night. She had tried hunting them down but they seemed to sense her approach and flew away whenever she got too close.

Then the screeching would start all over again as if taunting her. It was her armour, it had to be. The blue plates shifted and creaked with her every step.

“When we get back I’m going to have the blacksmith adjust the enchants on my damn suit of armour,” Stryga growled.

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