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He glances at you with a stare brimming with apathy towards your situation. He shrugs. "I'll take your word for it" He fold his sword and places it back inside his jacket.
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[b]The dogs tackles him[/b] [b]"F[/b][b]uck![/b][b]"[/b] "GET IT OFF!"
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"Rom, gehen wir!" The food dog retreats. Zhackie slings his bag back to his back and starts walking away.
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[b]He slowly gets up, the meter in his back less than 50%[/b]