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The Plaguebearer stood over the adventurers. His laughter echoed through the cavernous sewers as they lay there, drained by the virulent poisons coursing through their blood.

In a sudden burst of determination, the armored woman—herself near the gates of death—reached down and suffused her companion with a holy glow. As color returned to her companion's face, she leapt towards the fiend: her palm now shining with that same divine light.

In an instant, the Plaguebearer felt his own disease—its virulent strain unique to the alchemical horrors of his workshop—begin to stream through his body.

His eyes flicked open and shut, focusing on the sensation, before eventually collapsing. With a final breath, as darkness overtook him, he let loose a quiet whisper.

"It's...beautiful."

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