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The Soul of Atlas:
For I am him; the old, grey, spirit of the mountain.
A soldier of the past, a man of the present, and a ghost of the future.
My cries can be heard all throughout the valley, echoing, through the wind and the rustling of the trees.
Dark thunder clouds are the only company I know; and even then, the rain cannot wash away my sorrows.
I am, the ghost of the mountain.

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