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An ancient mound squats swollen amongst the stinking fens of Bloodwater Marsh, where the dark rich earth climbs eastward towards the sagging, sinuous branches called the Fingers of the Devourer. It is an old place, of written stone, sunken skulls and interred ashes. The archaic boneyard of a nameless human sept, long broken beneath the heel of the Buruk Tepel, now seeded with fresh dead; heroes slain in the conquest of the Sarangrave...