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150. The Six of Iron
In the cold moonlight, the plundered village looked desaturated. With the embers of the bonfire out, the glowing forest around the settlement was the only source of warm color.

Lysandra and Saelia stood back to back, their eyes darting between the six figures emerging from the surrounding buildings.

I glanced nervously to my left and saw a smirking orc built like a bulldozer come to a stop about twenty feet away. Muscles bulging beneath his clay-gray skin, he held a double-sided ax, casually resting the haft against his broad shoulder.

A few feet from him stood a petite woman with violet skin and reverse jointed legs. Clad in leather armor and with a quiver of arrows slung between her delicate dragonfly wings, she wielded a bow almost as tall as she was.

To my right about half a basketball court away was a narrow-shouldered human with a pretty face and long, glossy hair. Not a thread of the crimson cloak covering her body moved as she stared at me through flat, glassy eyes the
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