Dungeons Deep

Discussion in 'THREAD ARCHIVES' started by Dusty Trails, Mar 28, 2014.

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  1. ((Before jumping in, read the OOC over here for some info on the setting!))

    Markus stood at the gates of the town, his hand resting on the hilt of his short sword. He was young, barely considered an adult at 19 years. Going out into the wilderness to try to find treasure in monster-infested ruins wasn't exactly his idea of having a good time, though it beat begging in the street. Not by much though. Markus wasn't the cleanest fellow around with specks of dirt on his face and he wasn't exactly the most handsome either with his crooked nose. He was just above average height and rather thin from not eating much, though he still had some muscle on him. His 'armor' (if you could really call it that) was just a padded coat, nothing more than layers of cloth put over each other to provide some protection. Minor protection, but still better than a tunic. Hopefully he could afford leather or something. Or a crossbow so he didn't have to get up close. Or a shield. Or anything, really.

    "So, our first outing," Markus said, turning to his new-found companions with a nervous smile. "Here goes nothing, right?" He looked down at the map in his hand and sighed. They were heading to what was left of a small fort just at the edge of the forest, luckily only half a days travel from town.
  2. "You've been praying for quite some time my child. Surely even the most devout disciple must take a moment of rest." The elder priest gave her shoulder a slight squeeze and Colette's bright blue eyes fluttered open. Yes she had been praying on her knees for some hours but that was only because she had no where else to go. What little money she had in the pouch sewed to her underclothes was reserved for food. She spent her nights sleeping in horse stalls or under porches. The church was warm and quiet and no one had bothered her until now. "O-of course, you're right." She knew the real reason she was being put out was because she frightened some of the richer, better off church patrons who couldn't understand what the filthy (smelly) blonde was doing in their pristine church. Colette said a final word of prayer to her patron god before rising from her knees. They ached but she did not mind the pain, she had felt worse. Plus with her white magic she would be able to heal herself- whenever she had the energy to do so anyways.

    Colette moved to exit from the front door but again the priest grabbed her, steering her towards the back of the church. Hot tears of shame filled her eyes but she willed them away. Was she really so embarrassing that he did not even want her to leave through the front doors? However she proved to be wrong as the priest led her to a kitchen where some of the church workers were baking fresh bread. He bundled up a loaf and a block of sharp cheese for her, pressing it into her hands with a hushing noise as she made to protest his kind gesture. "It's alright my dear, I wish I could do more for you." She could only nod her thanks as she rushed out of the back door, her voice not strong enough to speak. After she had run some ways away, Colette truly did cry. There was still some kindness in the world and she was so very grateful for it. She ate a bit of her bread and cheese before wrapping the rest up and putting it in the pack that held her few worldy possessions. Now that her hunger was satisfied for the moment, Colette needed to find something else to do with herself.

    Which was how she happened upon a group of adventures pondering over a map. Adventurers were good, they usually had gold and were often happy to have a healer along. She approached the group cautiously before addressing them. "Excuse me... I take you lot for adventurers yes? For a few coins I would be happy to accompany you as a white mage."
  3. "It's not going to be all bad, right? Better than prison." The second youth offered a thumbs-up to Markus, the chain around his right wrist jingling softly. It was attached to a single manacle - proof that the young man was a criminal. A thief that got caught picking pockets in the marketplace, and led the guards on a wild chase before getting cornered in an alley and apprehended - he still bore a black eye and a few scratches from the ordeal. A pity - he wasn't half-bad looking. He'd have made a decent con artist with his smooth method of speaking and his half-decent appearance, perhaps.

    His clothes were equally ragged: he had selected to go dungeon-delving to pay off his debt to society rather than rot in prison. At the time, he had considered it a decent choice, but they hadn't bothered even equipping him. His blond hair was almost brown from lack of washing, and he had forced it into a lazy ponytail to keep it out of his eyes. "We've got our wits, if nothing else." He checked what little he managed to scrounge: a chef's knife and his pride-and-joy: a pair of padded boots. Very comfortable, very quiet. He had made them himself after stealing wool and leather from the merchants: it showed. A messenger bag filled with food and his 'trade tools', as well as a single outdated book on wilderness survival.

    When a young woman approached, he turned and looked to her. "White magic?" He sounds impressed, actually: "You know magic?" He hops over: the nineteen year old extending his manacled hand, "My name's Toma!"
  4. Markus chuckled. "Yeah, better than prison," he replied to his rather cheery companion. Hopefully his meager belongings in his backpack would be enough. He ran a hand through his messy brown hair and furrowed his brow as he stared at the map. He only had food for three days in his backpack, and that was assuming they rationed it carefully and ate little. Hopefully they could hunt something in the woods, though that might be much more dangerous than it's really worth considering the rumors of what lies deeper within the forest. He made a mental checklist of his gear: Some rope? Check. Tinderbox? Check. Sword or other weapon? Check. As Markus checked his gear, he had the odd feeling that something was missing, but he couldn't really say what. It was probably nothing.

    A voice spoke up not far from Markus and he jumped up, snapping out of his train of thought. A young woman was standing not far from them, offering her services as a healer and white mage, which would be extremely helpful... But for coin. Markus bit his lip and the empty coin pouch on his belt felt even lighter. Though... There'd be coin and treasure to be found at the old fort, right? Just go in, deal with the goblins or whatever other monster has set up, then head out with his pack full of odds and ends to sell back in town. Hopefully nothing too big or nasty.

    "I suppose there's room for another, though we'll have to pay you once we've returned." Markus greeted as Toma leaped forwards to greet her. "My name is Markus, and you are?"
  5. Serei awoke with a start. "Damn nightmares again" she muttered under her breath. She jumped up as she heard a creak outside the room. "Time to go." She ran to the window, unconcerned by being heard now, grabbing her sword from it's position against the wall on the way. "Who's in there?" The voice was loud, but muffled by the oak door. "We didn't rent out this room last night! Show yourself!" The door burst open and a large man entered. He had broad, muscular shoulders and a stern expression on this face. He wore an old, leather blacksmith's apron and his beard was a tangled mess, as if it had been singed off. "Hey, you! I'm taking that sword of yours in compensation for the night's sleep." "I wouldn't be so sure of that." She was incredibly cocky and stubborn for a thief. "I won't ask you again." He waved his hammer menacingly. "Featherfall.." she giggled in a childish manner and leapt dramatically out of the second floor window, noticing what sounded to be a stampede of elephants making it's way across the room she had formerly occupied.

    As she sprinted down the alleyway, she reflected on herself. In summary, she seemed to be a small, relatively fragile-looking girl of 16 years, who was likely a rogueish character. She regretted how she had to end her younger life. It was certainly fun imitating a noble's child. It took them 2 years to notice that. During that time she was trained to swordfight by an elderly gentleman, however the fashion in which it was done was rather obscure nowadays and looked more like a dance than a battle move. "Crap!" She turned her head as she realised she had left her most recent takings in the tavern room. It was too late to retrieve them now. She turned a corner and almost ran into a group of youths. She overheard a fragment of conversation which was enough to conclude they were a novice group of adventurers recruiting a cleric. She interrupted, conscious of time. "I don't suppose you have use for a talented, if broke, jack-of-all-trades?" She didn't care that she was lying.
  6. Colette staggered back slightly, a bit overwhelmed by the energetic Toma as he hurled a series of questions at her. She managed a small smile and nodded, "Yes I do know magic." He seemed genuinely impressed and though Colette was a bit embarrassed by the attention, a part of her reveled in it. "I'm Colette." She introduced herself to the group, reaching out to take Toma's hand before she noticed a manacle hanging from it. "Uhm..." Was it polite to point out she was wary of criminals? She giggled nervously, not entirely sure what to say to him. Thankfully the other male interjected, perhaps the leader of the group. He would be glad to have her along but she wouldn't get paid until after. Colette frowned upon hearing that, worrying that they would cheat her out of her money.
    He had an honest face though. She felt she could trust him. "Well, maybe... Where are you headed?" She made a show of peering at the map he was using but it was only for show for Colette could not read. Everything she had learned had come from watching and listening.
  7. For his part, Toma doesn't seem all that disturbed that she didn't take his hand. Instead, the energetic youth turns, "It must be amazing to use magic. I don't even know how it feels, but still..." He turns, extending his hand to a nearby stump, "Pow! Taste magic, foul abomination!" He jumps, twirling in the air and pointing at a twig, "Zap! Thought you could pull a fast one on me?" He performs a frontflip, announcing "Bam!" in mid-air, "Nothing stands before me!" He turns, grinning widely, "It must be amazing to be you."

    He nods, "I got caught stealing, so I guess that sort of tells you what sort of skills I'm bringing to the table..." He jests, "-and that I'm not very good at them. After all, I DID get caught... Least it wasn't murder or anything." He turns to look at the other female, offering a happy wave, manacle jingling. "'Lo! Seems our little group's gonna be a little bigger if you end up joining. I'm Toma!" He repeats again, filled with energy. It's hard to believe he's going to be a scout...

    ...Until you remembered the agility he moved when he was making sound effects and being silly, and the height he caught when he jumped. He's not well-equipped, but he's got the athletics and acrobatics down pat. He should've been a catburglar, not a pickpocket.
  8. Markus instinctively started pulling the map towards himself to hide it from the girl, but stopped himself, wondering why he'd do something like that. Maybe being the one with the map made him feel important? He dismissed the thought and responded. "There's this old fort, maybe... Half a day's walk away. The place supposedly hasn't been ransacked, and there should be some loot there. Coins, trinkets, stuff like that. Supposed to have some stash under it." He shrugged. It wasn't exactly the most profitable location, but the only things he'd heard were some goblins seen near the general area so it should be relatively safe.

    Another girl approached, much younger than the others in the party. Toma, of course, was quick to introduce himself. Another one, hoping to get in on whatever they found. Markus thought on it for a bit. Honestly, he wasn't expecting much of a haul from this place, though four people shouldn't be a problem. Though this girl was young. Well, relatively. Could he really bring her along? What if something happened? Well, he was there with his sword and this Colette woman claimed to know healing magics...

    Markus nodded and rolled up the map before reaching over his back to drop it in his backpack. "If you think you're up for it, you're welcome to come along," he said, adjusting his backpack's straps. He wanted to get going, hopefully he was right and they'd reach the fort before nightfall.
  9. "Hello Toma." She was a little bemused by the sheer energy of this character, and she realised she probably wouldn't be getting much quiet time for a while. She turned to the obvious leader, who was holding a map. It wasn't a particularly embellished or detailed map in comparison to the ones she'd seen in the manors, but even then he was being a little secretive about it, as if he thought any of the others might try to steal it. "So where are we going?" She looked over her shoulder briefly, but caught no sign of the angry blacksmith, which meant he had probably given up and claimed her bag instead. She subtly checked what things she had managed to take with her now that she wasn't being threatened by anything, and discovered that she had been left with only her sword, a faded tunic and a half-set of leather armour. She also had a smaller pocket built into the armour which was likely meant to be a quiver. It currently stored some scraps of metal she had taken from a display case in a cathedral. Apparently her spell arsenal was as incomplete as it had ever been.
  10. A quiet man behind Markus and Toma looked on as his companions greeted the two girls. He was 23, older than Markus, and could easily have claimed authority. But he was no leader, and he knew it. He was a simple tailor. Pieter Malcolm, the son of Irem Malcolm, from the village of Vimperton. That was all behind him, though. After the famine, the illness, the loss...so Pieter traveled with these younger fellows.

    Pieter had a good head, a bit of money, better clothes than the others: a leather vest, shoes, and hat with fine wool pants and shirt. Made by himself, of course. And he wasn't bad-looking: brown hair and eyes and a small beard; maybe a bit plain, but not bad. He still carried the tools of his trade in the sack on his back. His knife and purse remained on his belt. Yes, only a knife. Pieter wasn't a fighter, though perhaps the time he had already spent on the road had made him quicker to take action than before.

    The quiet fellow finally spoke when Serei asked where they were going. "Hendrei," he said, "or what's left of it." He nodded in the direction of the old fort, then gave Markus a questioning look, as if to say, "Shouldn't we be going?"
    #10 AAB, Mar 30, 2014
    Last edited: Mar 30, 2014
  11. Trae opened his dark purple eyes, he wasn't use to meditating. He could never seem to stay awake. He quickly checked himself, to make sure no one had robbed him while he was out. After making sure that his belongings were still there, he got up from the tree stump and stretched. As he stretched a small breeze went through his stark white hair, and he couldn't help but smile. The breeze had brought with it the scent of the wilderness. Despite being right outside the city, the air was cleaner than the air in the slums were he used to live.

    Trae had been born, and left to die in the slums sixteen years ago. But lucky for him, someone found and took pity on the Drow baby. The man who found Trae was a monk who lived in the poorest part of town. The man raised him to be a monk, and while they often went at least one day a week without food, they were often the first to offer help to others. Eventually Trae left to continue his training outside the safety of the town.

    Trae saw the small group gathering in front of the gates, and realizing this was his chance, grabbed his wooden staff and jogged up to the group. "Hello, names Trae, I was wondering if you guys could use another companion. I don't eat much and I'll work for free" he said jokingly.
  12. Emma smiled, she was content; not happy, but content. She couldn't remember the last time she was actually happy. It must have been years ago. At a shout coming from an upper room, her smile disappeared. Instinct took over. Grabbing her sword and her meager belongings, Emma bolted out the door. Her father, drunk as ever, entered the room right as the front door slammed. "Emma!!! Get back here you little piece of crap!" he bellowed. Not likely, dearie. she thought. She ran and ran until she found a group of adventurers. An impulse hit her, she could leave this life behind. Finally slowing to a walk, she approached the rag-tag group. "You have room for a good swordfighter?" she asked softly.

    Emma was 17 years old. Growing up, she had a family. They were happy together, the fact that they were dirt poor meant nothing to them. For them, it was just the fact that they were together that mattered. Then her mama died. Disease had struck, and she had died of the fever. Ever since then Emma's father had turned to drinking to numb the pain. He spent every last penny they had to buy a drink. Their happiness ended with Emma's mothers death. Emma had cried herself to sleep for months upon months. She was still grief stricken, but was good at hiding it. She plastered on a smile for the group, awaiting their answer.
  13. Markus nodded to the older man. "Let's head out then," he said, turning towards the massive gates that controlled access into and out of the city. Two voice spoke up behind him and Markus spun back around to face the other two. The first was another girl, armed with a sword. The second... Markus stepped back, his mouth opening in shock the slightest bit. They... A drow? In the city? Markus pulled himself together, but it was too late. Markus coughed into his hand and gave a weak smile. "I, uh, sorry. Just... Surprised." He scanned the two, then his group. The drow was... Worrying. All the stories he'd heard of their underground cities were filled with the the terrible things they did. Still, would guards have let a drow into the City of he was a sadistic murderer?

    "I think we could fit... A couple more." He said slowly. Did they have enough supplies? Hopefully the others had more supplies for the road, because if they were stuck there without enough food... That'd be bad. Markus turned back around and approached the guards at the gate and presented them with the map while he explained their intentions. The guards exchanged looks of amusement before opening the gates, revealing the grassy plains outside the walls of the city. A single dirt road went off into the distance.

    "Here goes nothing," he mumbled, stepping past the gate and looking back expectantly.
  14. Pieter followed after Markus. The road was dusty. The drought didn't seem as bad here as where Pieter had come from, but this road at least hadn't seen rain in quite some time. Ahead was yellowed grass, with pieces of green scattered about to show there was indeed life out there.

    Eventually, Pieter turned his head to look at the others. A couple of fighters, a criminal, a healer, himself, and a drow...they made up an odd group. Pieter had seen the way Markus had looked at the drow. He too had heard stories of these beings, mostly when he was a kid, about how the dark elves would come out of the ground during the night and snatch up bad boys.

    There would be more mouths to feed now. What did drows eat? People? Potatoes or some other kind of root? Pieter recalled that Trae had said he didn't eat much. Perhaps that was to reassure the others that they wouldn't be on the menu.

    Pieter looked ahead and felt his purse, then took another glance about the others. They all looked like refugees...but then, that's what Pieter was. There didn't seem to be any bows in hand; these didn't seem to be hunters. It was possible there was a forager amongst them, but Pieter wasn't counting on it. At least some of them would be collapsing from starvation in the coming days.
  15. Emma followed the man through the gates. Despite her past, Emma was content. She was leaving her father behind. A little pang of guilt passed through her, she was leaving her father behind, to fend for himself. He probably wouldn't last a week without her. Slowly, her contentedness disappeared, and was replaced with worry. But she pushed the worry back, and put on a smile. Her father didn't deserve her. If he was going to be a drunk, and abuse her, he deserved to fend for his self. "I'm Emma, what are all of your names?" she asked to distract herself from her thoughts.
  16. Colette cracked a smile at Toma's antics but it faded at his last remark. She was scrawny, uneducated, filthy, her bones ached and she was so very hungry.
    No, it was not very amazing to be her at all.
    She did not say this, instead choosing a bland remark of "It's ok." before falling back to observe the rest of their group. More people had come up to them, three others to be exact. It worried her because now they would have to further split their earnings. Which meant she would probably just barely have enough to eat for a few day if she was lucky. Colette sigh inwardly but had nothing but a small smile for the new comers. She could tell Markus was a bit hesitant at expanding the group size and hoped he would reconsider allowing the new people to join. After all, they didn't really need more swordsmen, or women, did they? And there was a drow. She wasn't sure what to make of him though she had always heard they were awful creatures. He seemed friendly enough and Colette was willing to give him a chance. Plus she knew how to defend herself if she had to.
    But now they were ready to depart and the group trudged forward, heading out of the city gates. Colette was glad for her bread and cheese but knew it would not last too long. Maybe one of the others had some hunting skill and could help feed the group.
    She looked over to the girl, Emma who seemed only a few years younger then herself. So young and already putting herself in danger... Colette wondered what had happened to her. "I'm Colette." She introduced herself again, for Emma and the newer members of the group.
  17. Emma smiled at Colette. "Pretty name." she said, offering her hand. "Nice to meet ya. Where we headed anyway?" she added, a slight bounce in her step. Suddenly, Emma stopped briefly. She heard something. A crunch of a leaf, not from the group, but from behind. Looking behind them she saw nothing. She sniffed, she smelled....oh no. No no no no no no, please don't have followed me, not this time. I won't protect you here.....she thought, but it was in vain for her father pushed through the bushes and hollered. "You aren't taking her from me! She's the only thing I have!! EMMA!!!!!!! Get behind me, they can't hurt you." Even from this distance, she could smell the alcohol on his breath. "Go home, father. I can take care of myself." she said, a warning and a plea in her tone. Her farther literally growled at them. A guttural sound, sounding unhuman. "Emma! Get over here this instant, before I whoop your butt until it's blue!" he hissed. Emma closed her eyes. She wouldn't. Not this time. It was time for them to part ways, possibly forever. A tear slipped down her cheek, but that was the only tear she allowed herself. When she opened her eyes, they were cold as stone, she had to be clear, even if it would break his heart. "No. I won't. I don't need you. Heck I don't even want you.You think I want to live with a drunk? You aren't even the father I loved. I don't want you. Go home." she said, her voice hard, even though inside she was breaking down. Her heart breaks for the man he used to be, for the man she loved, but this wasn't him. She watched his face change to one of hurt, he was heart broken, but didn't know how to deal with it. "Emma-" he said, his voice soft, like he was begging. Her heart ached, but she forced it. "Go. Home. Don't let me see you again." she snarled. With that, she walked away past the group that had stopped during this encounter. She had to get out of here. Couldn't deal with this. She heard her father's agonizing scream, and held her own in. He couldn't hear her weakness, her need for him. He would only persist.

    When she was a good distance away, she fell to her knees, sobs wrenching her body. She couldn't control it. She missed her father. The sober one. The one who would tuck her in at night when she was little. A groan escaped her. So much for being strong. She was weak, but this journey would help her with that. She struggled to get herself under control, and slowly the sobs subsided and she got to her feet. She had to push on.
  18. Pieter looked up as Emma spoke. Colette introduced herself, and moments later a brutish man burst through the sparse foliage, threatening Emma. Pieter took a small step toward the girl, ready to step in front of her if things got violent. When he realized they were family, he turned away uncomfortably, not wanting to involve himself in family affairs but not wanting to be too obvious about it.

    After the man left, Pieter turned back to the girls and said, "My name is Pieter Malcolm. I'm a tailor." He looked to Emma like he wanted to say more, but he didn't. It was still the most he'd said that morning.

    With one more glance to Emma to be sure she was okay, then a glance to Colette in case she had seen the glance, Pieter turned and again followed after Markus, keeping his eyes on the road in front of him.
  19. Trae ignored the remarks about his race, he had been hearing them his whole life after all. When the gates opened he couldn't help but let an ecstatic smile dawn upon his face "Can you guys feel it, it feels like an adventure" he asked out loud. After a few seconds of silence he heard the girl, who arrived around the same time as him, introduce herself. He listened to the introductions, and began to memorize the faces and their names; after Colette's introduction, trae opened his mouth to introduce himself when all of a sudden a man, reeking of alcohol, burst out of no where. He seemed to need something from Emma. After watching the fiasco, Trae couldn't help but wonder if he had any real family left. Not wanting to dwell on the thought, he decided to introduce himself, "Names Trae, and I'm a monk."
  20. ((Sorry about this guys. Finish your scene before this. I was just trying to get my OP our for my charrie while she was fresh on my mind. This is happening further down the road. So, your charries might hear some commotion, but they don't quite see anything just yet. Besides, they're busy right now with things as is.))

    ~*~*~Further down the road a short distance away...~*~*~


    "Don't you dare touch her!"

    "Get your hands off of me, you thief!"

    "Aww, but I'm loving what I'm feeling over 'ere. I dont' wanna stop!"

    The distorted voices of several people echoed in the distance, mixes of fear and teasing banter. As the group moved forward down the trail, they soon come upon a wild sight.

    Six raiders surround a single carriage with one driver and passenger, along with a horseman on the side. The three victims: a young man of about 17 years, the horseman who showed more age through his short, graying beard and a beautiful young noblewoman of around twenty two years or so; were visibly roughened up with dirt and scars from their struggles for freedom.

    The young driver was the worse off with his injuries, hunching over as he held a bloody hand over a gut wound. He was stabbed when he tried to stop the raiders from taking the carriage. The horseman was injured as he fought blade to blade to keep the others away, but two against six is not a suitable match or a victorious one. The raiders were able to force the woman from the safety of the carriage for it to be inspected for salable treasures. But the leader of the bandits felt it fit to assess the woman's worth as well, to see if she was good for gold or time.

    Her appearance was beautiful and her attire was humble which did not match her strong stance. What caught the raider's attention was her eyes, sparkling in an ethereal brilliance that hinted on her unique lineage. She cut the scoundrels through with those piercing topaz eyes, making them reconsider their actions that day. Unfortunately, such graces also proved that she was a challenge to subdue, or one to enjoy. All in all, as the grubby assailants worked through the small entourage's things, the leader kept the noblewoman in his arresting grasp as if he was the one protecting her from the bandits rather than the horseman who was charged with her safety.

    Vivian cringed slightly at the sensations of the grubby bandit's hands running down her dress, fiddling through her cloak in attempts to find hidden pockets of treasures. But, her sickened emotions did not soil her features. Instead of succeeding in invoking dread within her, the leader only saw the emotions of rage and wicked intent. At first, the leader stood unnerved at her deadly stare, but as soon as he saw the magic spark in her eyes, he began to cautiously chuckle lightly in her face before continuing with his search.

    "So, you've got mana in your veins, eh? That's good for trade." His team laughed eagerly, happy to hear that they've hit the jack pot with this raid. The leader looked over his shoulder at his team before refocusing on the woman. He sneered, "I'm not afraid of you, Witch!"

    Vivian gave a small, demented smile, "Oh, you should be..."

    Suddenly, four of the men guarding her friends and going through their things started backing away, cringing in fear of some imaginary monster before them. One of them flew down the road unannounced, while the others fell to their knees, almost in tears, as they fought against their personal beast. Their leader turned around, shouting at his men to no avail.

    "What the hell is up with you? Restrain them!" They did not hear them. All they heard were the sounds of their own flesh ripping and bones shattering.

    The horseman, seeing an opportunity to save his charge, rushed towards the leader, but the sixth man, not alarmed by imaginary demons, stood before him to clash steel.

    The leader angrily turned back to Vivian, "Damn you, Illusionist!" His meaty backfist crossed her face, harshly throwing her to the ground and disconnecting her concentration from the other men crying in pain. When their demons flew and the pain stopped, the men slowly stood to their feet trying to regain reality.

    The leader's arm raised again, this time with a large iron mace, "The best way to deal with an Illusionist - is to smash her head in!"
    #20 Phi Chisym, Apr 12, 2014
    Last edited: Apr 21, 2014
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