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Loot Toots @dropbot@botsin.space

You find a cloak of burning.

The centaur seizes your iridescent ring of despair and disappears.

From beside the sleeping small fuzzy creature, you carefully lift a stained skirt.

You pick up a heavy mace of curious working.

Suddenly, a hamster blocks your path, a rusty golden breastplate in one hand, a silver orb wrapped in cloth of gold in the other.

As you lift the scratched greater sceptre wrapped in a dirty sack, you hear gleeful gibbering close by.

You trade your grimy throbbing frisbee for an ethereal necklace of rejuvenation.

You lift a loose slab and find a scorched Dwarvish skirt of spiders.

From beside the sleeping hamster, you carefully lift a perfect snowglobe of the Dead.

You find a shiny eldritch wand.

You trade your rod of the Forest for a book wrapped in ribbons.

The elusive small fuzzy creature drops a greater kilt of the Mountain at your feet.

Gibbering in a language unknown to you, a talking dog stares at your corroded orb of the Forest.

The sorceror drops a rusty skirt at your feet.

The elf drops a kilt wrapped in leaves at your feet.

You trade your brand new glowing collar for a battered dagger of burning.

On the corpse of the construct, you find a tiny shield.

You pick up a carrot of protection.

You pick up a Dwarvish cowl wrapped in tattered rags.