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The Literal Dark is its home, yet its glibbery feed carried it far away from this place of stillness and dusk. Now it is a nameless wanderer roaming the endless depths beneath Falbheim - lone but not lost. Although it has no mouth to speak, it knows how to convey its emotions and thoughts. Blessed with a highly complex set of muscles, it shapes its forehead to its will: be it an eldritch smile, a grimace of anger and grief, or even an alien mark resembling the letters used by the surface dwellers.

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