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In the Bloodmire, everything is connected by blood. Creatures, plants, pathways, villages are bound by it. Blood is the source of what life exists there, and while it is life-giving, it is forever eager to return to the swamp. The doctors in the bog are the ritual keepers of the blood's cycle. When one thing dies, it gives way to something new. It is a terrible honor to wield the wooden scepter, and for however cruel it can be, it is glorious all the same.

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