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Drawn to the dying, the soul trapper stalks the front lines with both eagerness and desperation. Its arms continually wrest souls of the recently departed from the air, limbs darting here and there like the workings of a manic threshing machine. It crams its stolen harvest into prepared chambers akin to soul cages within its body, where they await transference to other, mightier entities. It is said the screams of the souls transferred through the creation’s chest can be heard echoing from its ribcage long after they have gone, though few mortals have ever gotten close enough to hear.
