[You find yourself at a Japanese graveyard, an old-fashioned lantern in hand as mist starts to roll through the stones during the new moon. The only sounds you hear are those of your own breathing, the rustle of cloth, perhaps a scream or two of the pair ahead. A path filled with scares behind every corner, ghosts and demons waiting to frighten you
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The hell. This godforsaken armor is too fucking heavy. [Pushing the helmet up.]
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He pauses when he hears a dog barking in the distance.]
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I'm hoping that's not a feral dog or wolf.
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It's probably just this place making fun of us. [You with your sheep and him with his half-cat-ness.]
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--What.
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Tch. [Giving up and just scowling at Allen.] Whatever.
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