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A door opens, and a tired-looking regular to the tavern walks in. Humbly dressed in brown scholar's robes and with rapidly greying hair and more of a gut than he would hope to have, he sits down and prompty orders bread and butter, fingering his favourite spellbook and turning to a page in some obscure yet mildly interesting tome on the ancient history of the western Tamriellic provinces.
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Kain watches the dremora's head flop to the floor, leaving a bloody smear and then flickering into a pile of dust. the decapitated body follows in this manner. Kain smiles wickedly at Erionia, then looks back at the powerful nord befoer him. "Well?" he askes again, though somewhat more politely this time.
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