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... d no bite. My crew and I waged war and raised hell against his equally sizeable but otherwise underserved men. Our claws and teeth were no match for outdated sabers.

Blood and iron arced as we fought. My claws ripped into Brutus’ flesh and his blood splashed against my fur. He screamed and swung a blade that ended up sailing over my head as I ducked.

He was not a skilled fighter, but rather a bar brawler. He was built for beer-fueled battles, screaming matches, and bullying those ...

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