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Flanked by a couple of no-necked Dunder bodyguards, a Snivler watches with beady, malevolent eyes. Embellished claws decorated with vulgar jewellery grip a goblet of wine that he does not touch, preferring to observe the ecology of this particular watering hole. A human slave nuzzles his bony thigh under the table and he occasionally pays her heed, if only to slap her or grab her cheek and leer at her. Some know him as the up and coming Pit Master of the stable 'Abbatoir'
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