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All should have its place in the way of things. Men. Beasts. Fiends. Even gods. All form a great natural cycle, all part of a balance beyond comprehension. But what lies beyond that, beyond both death and reason, these things have no place. They tear at the world's seams, rotting its heart as they claw and scrabble for a place to control and corrupt.

It is the oath of the Realmswarden to ensure they never find one, to hunt that which has no place, no check, that which was never meant to be.

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