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Summary
A group of archivists held a rather handsome high elf by the scruff of his neck, his hands bound by a swarm of vines, his vampire teeth bared ready to bite, his red piercing eyes alert and darting about the room looking for any opportunity to escape.
Entertained by the being before him, in his slow methodical cadence, Haarlep asked, “Well, well — what do we have here?”