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Old men whisper of the Dogmen, accursed shades born of sin and shadow that rise when the sun dies. Upright and cruel, these restless hunters roam the earth not for food, but to feed a festering rage that chills the marrow of any traveler caught in their path. Bound by an ancient curse, they tread where light dares not abide, proving that even fire and prayer cannot keep these monsters at bay when the night grows still.
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