In a common day of The Ghost, a black-clad raven barked near to him, not too far away from the outskirts of Bree-land. The raven came from the north, appearently, it landed on The Ghost's gauntlet safely. It carried a massage between it's claws, a rugged paper piece it was, signatured by his chief, H. The whole paragraph was written in a different language than common tongue, as well. The Ghost read it carefully, before tossing the paper piece into a bonfire. He spoke with himself silently, listened his senses and deep, yet blank thoughts. He decided to march forth, alone.
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