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Beware the foul cur named Wolf. Three times cursed was I to have him on my team, and thrice did ruin follow. He knoweth not teamwork, nor honour—only bile and venom.
But lo! His tongue is viler still than his play. In rage, he spat curses so foul, he did wish terminal cancer upon my kin. A blight upon gaming, and shame upon any soul who calleth him comrade.
Yet fate smiled upon me once—I faced him as foe, and crushed him swift and clean. He barked, he bit, and still fell like a wet sack of failure.
He is not a wolf, but a rat in wolf’s hide.
Avoid this beast, lest thy spirit be fouled and thy patience burnt to ash.