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You whirl around to view your assailants - a trio of figures stepping out from behind the standing stones to confront you.

  • The obvious leader of the lot is an imposing centaur mare, perhaps seven feet tall from hoof to head, fingering a longbow in her hands. Lazily, she nocks another arrow and grins, this time taking aim for you.

“I don’t know. This one looks like we might have to hurt him anyway.”

  • The second speaker - a goat-morph with an assortment of potions and bombs at his belt - steps forward, cutting off any easy avenue of escape. Whistling, he pulls out a fragile-looking flask from his belt and looks around, scowling.

“Hey! Where are you? Get on out or -”

  • The final member of the trio, a diminutive catboy mage dressed in baggy robes and pants, waves his hands. “I-I’m here. I’ve been here for a while.”