Order Ovate, Night

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RAVEN: Truly my voice is sweeter than the song of the stone, the swan, the storm...

(Enter a MESSENGER beribboned with RAGS of CLOUD.)

RAVEN: (in haste) ...yet no sweeter than yours, great master. I acknowledge it so.

MESSENGER: O blackness, o blackness, wherefore should I sing? When all of my songs are seared on my skin?

(Exeunt.)

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Effects when equipped in Hat slot:


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