The missing 3/4 of the SC5 story mode

They make ideal lumberjacks. Fygul's gotta eat.

They see a tree, they yell "Squirm!"
Then they hit it shouting "Scream!"
Then when it falls without putting up a fight "Disgusting!"

Perfect training for golems.
 
Zwei continued running from the assassin's of Graf Dumas. Being a hunted man, He decide to lay low in a small town near a forest. Unfortunately for him, Dumas' Assassin's looked through the city for him. The group of assassin's made their way to a seer. A young woman with silver hair and red eyes. "We are looking a werewolf, He apparently summons a mysterious beast to fight by his side. Would you happen to know where he is?" The Assassin inquired. With a unsure thoughts about their motives, the woman gave her response in a simple riddle.
"Another sense should be used other than sight. Your eye's only face one direction. If you can put this sense to use, only then will you hear him out." She said. "Ah...riddles. Thank you very much" on their way out, one of the assassin grabbed daggers and hurled them towards ZWEI. Zwei, being unaware wasnt hit instead EINS repelled them. "What?! EINS what are you doing?!" Zwei was exposed to the enemy. "Only dogs can run for so long...Prepare to meet your end werewolf."
ZWEI summoned EINS. "Alright show em who's boss." They both unleashed Barrages of attacks. The woman hearing the commotion going on decided to step out and look, One of the assassin's were punched and launched back into the woman, Knocking her unconscious to a small wooden stand that sold Silks, and stones. The woman was covered in the debris (most likely suffocating)
After ZWEI finished with the enemies ZWEI summoned EINS and managed to pull her out of the Debris. Hours later the woman had awakened with no knowledge of what had happened.
:sc5vio1:"Who are you? Did you help me?" She said.
:sc5zwe1:"Don't thank me, Thank EINS." Zwei had his back turned away from her. "What's your name?" He asked.
:sc5vio1: She had prompted to answer. "I dont...remember. But (Glances at orb)...until then, You can refer to me as Viola." She said.
:sc5zwe1: "Fair enough."
 
A bunch of the boys were whooping it up in the Italian saloon;
The kid that handles the music-box was hitting a rag-time tune;
Back of the bar, in a solo game, sat a man that nobody knew,
And watching his luck was his light-o'-love, the boy that’s known as Bangoo.

When out of the night, which was fifty below, and into the din and glare,
There stumbled a miner fresh from the creeks, dog-dirty, and loaded for bear.
He looked like a man with a foot in the grave and scarcely the strength of a louse,
Yet he tilted a poke of dust on the bar, and he called for drinks for the house.
There was none could place the stranger’s face, though we searched ourselves for a clue;
But we drank his health, and the last to drink was the man that nobody knew.

There’s men that somehow just grip your eyes, and hold them hard like a spell;
And such was he, and he looked to me like a man who had lived in hell;
With a face most hair, and the dreary stare of a dog whose day is done,
As he watered the green stuff in his glass, and the drops fell one by one.
Then I got to figgering who he was, and wondering what he'd do,
And I turned my head — and there he cried, "Bangooo".

His eyes went rubbering round the room, and he seemed in a kind of daze,
Till at last that old piano fell in the way of his wandering gaze.
The rag-time kid was having a drink; there was no one else on the stool,
So the stranger stumbles across the room, and flops down there like a fool.
In a buckskin shirt that was glazed with dirt he sat, and I saw him sway,
Then he clutched the keys with his talon hands — my God! but that man could play.

Were you ever out in the Great Alone, when the moon was awful clear,
And the icy mountains hemmed you in with a silence you most could hear;
With only the howl of a timber wolf, and you camped there in the cold,
A helf-dead thing in a stark, dead world, clean mad for the muck called gold;
While high overhead, green, yellow, and red, the North Lights swept in bars? —
Then you've a hunch what the music meant . . . hunger and might and the stars.

And hunger not of the belly kind, that’s banished with bacon and beans,
But the gnawing hunger of lonely men for a home and all that it means;
For a fireside far from the cares that are, four walls and a roof above;
But oh! so cramful of cosy joy, and crowded with Bangoo’s love —
A boy dearer than all the world, and true as Heaven is true —
(God! how ghastly he looks through his rouge, — the boy that’s known as Bangoo.)

Then on a sudden the music changed, so soft that you scarce could hear;
But you felt that your life had been looted clean of all that it once held dear;
That someone had stolen the boy you loved; that his love was a devil’s lie;
That your guts were gone, and the best for you was to crawl away and die.
'Twas the crowning cry of a heart’s despair, and it thrilled you through and through —
"I guess I'll make it a spread misere," said the man nobody knew.

The music almost dies away . . . then it burst like a pent-up flood;
And it seemed to say, "Repay, repay," and my eyes were blind with blood.
The thought came back of an ancient wrong, and it stung like a frozen lash,
And the lust awoke to kill, to kill . . . then the music stopped with a crash,
And the stranger turned, and his eyes they burned in a most peculiar way;

In a buckskin shirt that was glazed with dirt he sat, and I saw him sway;
Then his lips went in in a kind of grin, and he spoke, and his voice was calm,
And "Boys," says he, "you don't know me, and none of you care a damn;
But I want to state, and my words are straight, and I'll bet my poke they're true,
That one of you is a hound of hell . . . and that one is LeBello."

Then I ducked my head and the lights went out, and the great axe blazed blazed in the dark;
And a woman screamed, and the lights went up, and two men lay stiff and stark.
Pitched on his head, which was cracked with an axe, was LeBello,
While the man from the creeks lay clutched to the breast of the boy that’s known as Bangoo.

These are the simple facts of the case, and I guess I ought to know.
They say that the stranger was crazed with "evil seed," and I'm not denying it’s so.
I'm not so wise as the lawyer guys, but strictly between us two —
The boy that kissed him — and pinched his poke — was the boy known as Bangoo.

The rider attached is that despite LeBello seeming dispatched, nobody could find the fellow.
A cracked steel band in a ruined top hat was the only sign of LeBello.
He knew when to fold when the action grew old, and retreated to fields more mellow.
 
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