
A pathetic-looking figure, limping along, hunched over and clothed in rags pushed a rickety cart loaded with wasteland scavengings past the gates of Refugee Camp 16, nearly unnoticed by the bored-looking Occupational Police. They were lost in heated discussions. Their attentions were focused on better places, the more exciting frontiers making news in the Guild now, on the tales of great battles spreading throughout the Empire.…
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