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Chaos Warhounds
They were not bred. They were broken. Once flesh, once loyal, now twisted into snarling engines of ruin, their hides split with warp-scorched veins and iron biting deep into bone. The warhounds do not charge… they are unleashed. Every snarl is a prayer to something that should not answer. Paint them not as beasts, but as the last thing their masters ever saw.
Posted: 2 months ago
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