Drake frowned hearing Pentre’s threat, and the elf beside him stepped forward, raising a hand in case he needed to defend the orc (which was an amusing idea at best), but Iskra simply raised a hand up.
Iskra stared Pentre down for a moment, then walked calmly up to him and looped her fingers around the necklace she had lent him; with a swift yank she snapped the chain and took it off of him, saying something in her home language that had her bandits laughing behind him, her grin pleased as she shoved the ring into her pocket, “No one vill die for simple misunderstanding, I vould have punched my enemy too if zhey walked into camp claiming vhat I’ve had to.”
She turned and her eyes narrowed at the incoming horse, before a smile lit up her features, and her slate eyes moved to Pentre, “Well, looks like I’ve already gotten one of them back.” She hummed.
Katja spotted her men, and passed the infirmary, obviously more interested in her Knights than her own health (which was what usually got her into such terrible shape). She stared quizzically at this strange Knight in red, wondering if they had picked up a new band, before she recognized the face, and Katja’s eyes narrowed. Bringing the horse to a halt, the woman stepped down, tugging the cloak around her body as she walked towards them.
“Glad to see you are safe, old hag, I zhought you would have keeled over in voods by n—“ Iskra had been trying to be cheerful, but who exactly would be pleasant to someone who held them captive from duty, sick or not. Katja got one good swing on Iskra, the blow enough to take the temporary-Knight to the ground, and stared down at her from where she stood. Katja would’ve gone on to speak, had Drake not rushed forward and pulled the woman into a hug.
“Well look at you, ya old thing!! You survived out there all alone, still got it in ya!” He cheered, the others in the party obviously looking just as thrilled. Meanwhile, Iskra sat with a rather bitter expression, holding snow to her bruised cheek, which throbbed more with pain.
“Forgive me, Lord Knight,” Katja steadied herself when she was placed down, bowing slightly to Pentre; she had more manners than Iskra, that was certain, “It seems this stubborn bandit thought herself to be the best guardian for me, I apologize for my absence in a time of need. Would you direct me to the prince, please? Our friend here,” she gestured to Atoli, “said that he was searching for me, as well as others, so I made certain to return alive.”
Iskra was, by now, staring down Atoli; she hadn’t forgotten her blade, and there was no way she would, not that one. It was valuable, not in just gold but memories, “Oi, Bird. My dagger.” She stood, holding her hand out.
Iskra stared Pentre down for a moment, then walked calmly up to him and looped her fingers around the necklace she had lent him; with a swift yank she snapped the chain and took it off of him, saying something in her home language that had her bandits laughing behind him, her grin pleased as she shoved the ring into her pocket, “No one vill die for simple misunderstanding, I vould have punched my enemy too if zhey walked into camp claiming vhat I’ve had to.”
She turned and her eyes narrowed at the incoming horse, before a smile lit up her features, and her slate eyes moved to Pentre, “Well, looks like I’ve already gotten one of them back.” She hummed.
Katja spotted her men, and passed the infirmary, obviously more interested in her Knights than her own health (which was what usually got her into such terrible shape). She stared quizzically at this strange Knight in red, wondering if they had picked up a new band, before she recognized the face, and Katja’s eyes narrowed. Bringing the horse to a halt, the woman stepped down, tugging the cloak around her body as she walked towards them.
“Glad to see you are safe, old hag, I zhought you would have keeled over in voods by n—“ Iskra had been trying to be cheerful, but who exactly would be pleasant to someone who held them captive from duty, sick or not. Katja got one good swing on Iskra, the blow enough to take the temporary-Knight to the ground, and stared down at her from where she stood. Katja would’ve gone on to speak, had Drake not rushed forward and pulled the woman into a hug.
“Well look at you, ya old thing!! You survived out there all alone, still got it in ya!” He cheered, the others in the party obviously looking just as thrilled. Meanwhile, Iskra sat with a rather bitter expression, holding snow to her bruised cheek, which throbbed more with pain.
“Forgive me, Lord Knight,” Katja steadied herself when she was placed down, bowing slightly to Pentre; she had more manners than Iskra, that was certain, “It seems this stubborn bandit thought herself to be the best guardian for me, I apologize for my absence in a time of need. Would you direct me to the prince, please? Our friend here,” she gestured to Atoli, “said that he was searching for me, as well as others, so I made certain to return alive.”
Iskra was, by now, staring down Atoli; she hadn’t forgotten her blade, and there was no way she would, not that one. It was valuable, not in just gold but memories, “Oi, Bird. My dagger.” She stood, holding her hand out.
Pentre nodded at the formal salutation rather pleased with her manners though he straightened up and looked at Katja at length.
"This... woman... here, has been named the hand of the king. She is our new head knight of the royal armies and the kingdom's governor. Her words and decisions are royal decrees for she speaks in the name of his majesty, king Merthyr, on his behalf.
To strike her or disrespect her in any way is a direct attack against the royal family, against the king himself, and carries a charge of high treason. I strongly recommend those that have already done such a thing, knowingly or otherwise, that they kneel to ask for a royal pardon for lives and deaths rest on her hands at present.
"You and those who have raised hand against her better kneel and beg mercy before I am forced to lessen our numbers according to the laws of the realm" explained and informed Pentre formally looking at Katja meaningfully to comply right away and to do so quickly.
"The king has commended her a royal quest which requires all of us here present to work together under her command in order to succeed.
I need not remind anyone you have a sworn duty to protect our head knight from harm, for as long as she carries the king's insignia's and armor and to obey her every command and wish, no matter how insignificant or foolish.
Refusing given orders is a crime of rebellion and you will get a whipped back at the very least should such happen..." reminded and remarked Pentre aloud for all those present, taking the opportunity to bring them all up to speed.
Pentre then turned his attention to Iskra always leading the men by example.
"The warriors are assembled as your grace commanded, what will your orders be, your majesty?" asked Pentre formally openly placing himself under her command though... his tightened fists were evident proof that he was cringing at having to show such respect, obedience and deference to the worse crook of them all.
"This... woman... here, has been named the hand of the king. She is our new head knight of the royal armies and the kingdom's governor. Her words and decisions are royal decrees for she speaks in the name of his majesty, king Merthyr, on his behalf.
To strike her or disrespect her in any way is a direct attack against the royal family, against the king himself, and carries a charge of high treason. I strongly recommend those that have already done such a thing, knowingly or otherwise, that they kneel to ask for a royal pardon for lives and deaths rest on her hands at present.
"You and those who have raised hand against her better kneel and beg mercy before I am forced to lessen our numbers according to the laws of the realm" explained and informed Pentre formally looking at Katja meaningfully to comply right away and to do so quickly.
"The king has commended her a royal quest which requires all of us here present to work together under her command in order to succeed.
I need not remind anyone you have a sworn duty to protect our head knight from harm, for as long as she carries the king's insignia's and armor and to obey her every command and wish, no matter how insignificant or foolish.
Refusing given orders is a crime of rebellion and you will get a whipped back at the very least should such happen..." reminded and remarked Pentre aloud for all those present, taking the opportunity to bring them all up to speed.
Pentre then turned his attention to Iskra always leading the men by example.
"The warriors are assembled as your grace commanded, what will your orders be, your majesty?" asked Pentre formally openly placing himself under her command though... his tightened fists were evident proof that he was cringing at having to show such respect, obedience and deference to the worse crook of them all.
Atoli, still perched atop the horse, watched Katja punch the Bandit King squarely in the face. A bright smile lit up the harpy’s features, looking positively gleeful as she watched the woman fall into the snow. Her enthusiasm faded to a smug smile as Katja mentioned her and she glanced at Pentre, assessing, before looking down to Iskra and her open palm. For a moment Atoli simply stared at her as she inspected the Bandit King’s fancy cloak and armor that they now wore. She wondered what all she missed while she was away fetching Katja.
“Hmm? Dagger?...” Atoli frowned and cocked her head to the side in feigned confusion. She scratched her chin thoughtfully and looked away.
“I might have dropped it along the way, this horse got out of control as we were getting here...” The harpy snuck a glance back down to the woman; and by the look in her steely eyes Atoli could tell she wouldn’t be able to filch this item just yet.
With a sigh she stood, still atop the horse, and patted at her clothes absently. From under her tunic she slid the decorative dagger out. The harpy let it drop to the ground in front of her with little care before saying curtly, “There you are. You’re welcome.”
Her gaze slid to Pentre then and listened as the man prattled on. After a while her nose crinkled in distaste. “The Prince named ‘her’ a knight? Haha!” She crowed out a harsh, scoffing laugh. “Is he handing out insignias and fancy armor like candies then? I should go talk to him and get some too if that’s the case, eh?” She smirked good-naturedly.
She opened her wings in preparation to fly as if she would do just that. Having no intention to follow any orders from Pentre, and especially not from Iskra. She made her deal with the Prince and he assigned her to the Woman-Knight, Tara. Thinking of which… The harpy paused before taking flight and scanned the crowd, not seeing Tara’s face among them.
“Hmm? Dagger?...” Atoli frowned and cocked her head to the side in feigned confusion. She scratched her chin thoughtfully and looked away.
“I might have dropped it along the way, this horse got out of control as we were getting here...” The harpy snuck a glance back down to the woman; and by the look in her steely eyes Atoli could tell she wouldn’t be able to filch this item just yet.
With a sigh she stood, still atop the horse, and patted at her clothes absently. From under her tunic she slid the decorative dagger out. The harpy let it drop to the ground in front of her with little care before saying curtly, “There you are. You’re welcome.”
Her gaze slid to Pentre then and listened as the man prattled on. After a while her nose crinkled in distaste. “The Prince named ‘her’ a knight? Haha!” She crowed out a harsh, scoffing laugh. “Is he handing out insignias and fancy armor like candies then? I should go talk to him and get some too if that’s the case, eh?” She smirked good-naturedly.
She opened her wings in preparation to fly as if she would do just that. Having no intention to follow any orders from Pentre, and especially not from Iskra. She made her deal with the Prince and he assigned her to the Woman-Knight, Tara. Thinking of which… The harpy paused before taking flight and scanned the crowd, not seeing Tara’s face among them.
Despite searching the infirmary over, Lwyncelyne eluded the knight. She wondered idly at her whereabouts but didn't care to spend much more time among the injured. The warrior took her belongings from her cot, checking them briefly to see if anything had been stolen and returned outside. By the time this was done Katja and Atoli had passed and the conversation down the road had already begun. Faolan asked her group if anyone needed specific supplies from the infirmary, then looked around to check for the harpy.
She hadn't anticipated Atoli would've returned, so when she heard the familiar beating of wings she looked up in surprise. The knight waved up at her, looking around for the lady she'd been sent to find. Soon the group was spotted and Tara approached them, calling out, "Katja!" The knight produced some supplies the healer had left her, perhaps hypocritically intending on using them on the other injured lady-knight. For the moment she simply arrived and held them in front of her, nodding at the crowd gathered.
"On my way out to find Taff." she remarked, "Good to see you're in one piece, friend." Sleeplessness had dulled her sentiment but Faolan meant every word; though she and Katja were two different people, fighting alongside the militia gave her only the utmost respect for her and her militia. Even Drake.
_
Kerik shrugged and smirked at Tom's reassurance; the conversations they had were the least of the bandits worries as he'd spent time around the hybrid. He turned his attention as soon as they did onto the guards, similarly curious.
The guard who had moved aside had turned and stepped further down the road before looking back. His expression remained hard but he responded amicably enough. "Most of us aren't. The guards who lived here are almost all dead now." He shook his head. "I used to live here though. Moved to the next town east to marry. There's not much in Aftbide worth seeing, to be honest, unless you're here for the mountain." The man pointed north, towards the peaks which loomed over the village.
"They say those are home to many a creature, as well as ruins of a lost kingdom." To that one of the others scoffed and interjected. "Even if there was, its not worth the climb if you ask me! Just a few stones lying about, covered in blasted snow." The first guard to speak didn't seem to mind this, though, and simply added, "Name's Zsombor, by the way."
_
Grum continued their trek without complaint, hoping that the servant in his body would do similarly. The voices of others gave the chieftain a headache, especially in such unforgiving conditions. Already he reached up to knead his brow, finding his anatomy similar enough to still derive comfort from the gesture. It would be hours before they returned to the village, however. He had made sure of that as he'd walked earlier that day.
As the two went on, so too did the woman and her bear. She didn't seem to pay them much mind anymore and eventually the body-swapped minotaur wondered if she wasn't familiar with the settlement herself. He also wondered what she was planning on doing if someone else saw the bear which followed her so loyally (and how good it would taste if he'd made it into a stew.)
She hadn't anticipated Atoli would've returned, so when she heard the familiar beating of wings she looked up in surprise. The knight waved up at her, looking around for the lady she'd been sent to find. Soon the group was spotted and Tara approached them, calling out, "Katja!" The knight produced some supplies the healer had left her, perhaps hypocritically intending on using them on the other injured lady-knight. For the moment she simply arrived and held them in front of her, nodding at the crowd gathered.
"On my way out to find Taff." she remarked, "Good to see you're in one piece, friend." Sleeplessness had dulled her sentiment but Faolan meant every word; though she and Katja were two different people, fighting alongside the militia gave her only the utmost respect for her and her militia. Even Drake.
_
Kerik shrugged and smirked at Tom's reassurance; the conversations they had were the least of the bandits worries as he'd spent time around the hybrid. He turned his attention as soon as they did onto the guards, similarly curious.
The guard who had moved aside had turned and stepped further down the road before looking back. His expression remained hard but he responded amicably enough. "Most of us aren't. The guards who lived here are almost all dead now." He shook his head. "I used to live here though. Moved to the next town east to marry. There's not much in Aftbide worth seeing, to be honest, unless you're here for the mountain." The man pointed north, towards the peaks which loomed over the village.
"They say those are home to many a creature, as well as ruins of a lost kingdom." To that one of the others scoffed and interjected. "Even if there was, its not worth the climb if you ask me! Just a few stones lying about, covered in blasted snow." The first guard to speak didn't seem to mind this, though, and simply added, "Name's Zsombor, by the way."
_
Grum continued their trek without complaint, hoping that the servant in his body would do similarly. The voices of others gave the chieftain a headache, especially in such unforgiving conditions. Already he reached up to knead his brow, finding his anatomy similar enough to still derive comfort from the gesture. It would be hours before they returned to the village, however. He had made sure of that as he'd walked earlier that day.
As the two went on, so too did the woman and her bear. She didn't seem to pay them much mind anymore and eventually the body-swapped minotaur wondered if she wasn't familiar with the settlement herself. He also wondered what she was planning on doing if someone else saw the bear which followed her so loyally (and how good it would taste if he'd made it into a stew.)
"How far to Aftbide?" asked Taff not liking to be followed and Grum would certainly know Taff felt creeped up by the woman and the bear.
"I can't for the life of me concentrate even one hour to give you your body, I just can't... she is watching and she is following and so is that beast" muttered Taff following after his own body as if his muscular one could shield and hide behind the skinnier form now sported by Grum.
He opened his eyes wide and gasped alarmed at the serious thought that Grum was brewing.
"Don't even think about it! To wish that bear turns into stew can actually unleash the uncontrolled magic within my body and make it happen. Imagine her disgust if she was to find her precious pet turned into a cauldron" scolded Taff clearly reading and listening Grum's thoughts.
"I can't for the life of me concentrate even one hour to give you your body, I just can't... she is watching and she is following and so is that beast" muttered Taff following after his own body as if his muscular one could shield and hide behind the skinnier form now sported by Grum.
He opened his eyes wide and gasped alarmed at the serious thought that Grum was brewing.
"Don't even think about it! To wish that bear turns into stew can actually unleash the uncontrolled magic within my body and make it happen. Imagine her disgust if she was to find her precious pet turned into a cauldron" scolded Taff clearly reading and listening Grum's thoughts.
Katja seemed surprised. Honestly, she thought there had never been a worse idea. Iskra? A Knight? It was laughable, if he hadn’t been being so serious. The Lady Knight didn’t like what this was leading up to, but if Merthyr had chosen Iskra...she had no choice. She knelt in front of Iskra, the bandit’s expression going blank, “Forgive me for stricking you, Sir. I meant no disrespect...”
Iskra stared, before silently picking up her dagger, securing it on her waist without a word, “Just...get up. And don’t do...zhat,” she gestured to the Knight kneeling before her, “again. I don’t like it.” Again, the weight of the situation had hit Iskra, and the woman seemed to reign her temper in. Her eyes communicated what her words would not- she wanted that harpy dead on the ground, but her lips remained tightly sealed until Pentre adressed her.
“Ah...I suppose ve spilt up. It is best vay to cover long distances vithout vasting too much time...” She looked towards the mountains, “I vill take there. If my men linger in mountains, I am least likely to be shot and killed...Pentre, can take half of zhe royal guard and head vest, towards hills. Zhere is thick forest zhere, so search carefully...” She paused again, as if thinking. Iskra had never worked with such a large group, so she was really going off the top of her head, “Zhere is slaving town east, if Grum has taken Taff by force ve may find zhem over zhere...Tara, if you could take royal guard and head over zhere...”
“Katja. Vhen you have spoke to prince, get properly dressed and head south. Most bandits move south for vinter, pillages in snowstorms are dangerous...zhey may be on road.” Katja nodded and Iskra stood there for a moment, looking anxious to say the least. The bandit ran her fingers through her hair, sighing, “Vell...I guess ve should move out.”
Katja’s smile had warmed once she saw Tara, and she nodded faintly, “Can’t go dying while there’s still work to be done. There’s something out in those woods...something foul, I’m certain.” While her statement was rather general, the way her eyes moved to Pentre proved it was a warning. He was headed towards the trees, and though Katja had been unable to find what had given her those ominous premonitions, she couldn’t help but feel wary. With a short nod, the woman separated from the group, heading into the Tavern to inform Merthyr of her return.
Iskra stared, before silently picking up her dagger, securing it on her waist without a word, “Just...get up. And don’t do...zhat,” she gestured to the Knight kneeling before her, “again. I don’t like it.” Again, the weight of the situation had hit Iskra, and the woman seemed to reign her temper in. Her eyes communicated what her words would not- she wanted that harpy dead on the ground, but her lips remained tightly sealed until Pentre adressed her.
“Ah...I suppose ve spilt up. It is best vay to cover long distances vithout vasting too much time...” She looked towards the mountains, “I vill take there. If my men linger in mountains, I am least likely to be shot and killed...Pentre, can take half of zhe royal guard and head vest, towards hills. Zhere is thick forest zhere, so search carefully...” She paused again, as if thinking. Iskra had never worked with such a large group, so she was really going off the top of her head, “Zhere is slaving town east, if Grum has taken Taff by force ve may find zhem over zhere...Tara, if you could take royal guard and head over zhere...”
“Katja. Vhen you have spoke to prince, get properly dressed and head south. Most bandits move south for vinter, pillages in snowstorms are dangerous...zhey may be on road.” Katja nodded and Iskra stood there for a moment, looking anxious to say the least. The bandit ran her fingers through her hair, sighing, “Vell...I guess ve should move out.”
Katja’s smile had warmed once she saw Tara, and she nodded faintly, “Can’t go dying while there’s still work to be done. There’s something out in those woods...something foul, I’m certain.” While her statement was rather general, the way her eyes moved to Pentre proved it was a warning. He was headed towards the trees, and though Katja had been unable to find what had given her those ominous premonitions, she couldn’t help but feel wary. With a short nod, the woman separated from the group, heading into the Tavern to inform Merthyr of her return.
Tron the Terrible waited for the instructions as to where he was expected to go. He found it absurd the king would risk an entire army and give these thugs the opportunity to officially to usurp power for their own purposes and the possibility to go on the run afterwards but it seem he had underestimated the king's affections for the scrawny weakling of a manservant. Had he only guessed, he would have had the servant chained hand and feet to the king's bed posts and he had every intention on making good on that now that the king was making them all run ragged, beneath a woman's command, under the most infamous bandit's thumb all because of Taff.
Sweet revenge would have to wait to later, for now Tron Pentre forced a polite and respectful smile, more than happy to part ways and lead the way to the forest far from the bandits, having had to exercise much restrain to stem the urge to have them all caught, chained, whipped and hanged and backhand Iskra back in return.
"Your wish is my command" saluted Tron Pentre waving the men to come forward and follow him.
"Men... two formations... sir Radcliff you will lead the cavalry, heading east to the forest with me" ordered Pentre
"Certainly my liege" accepted Radcliff far more willing to take orders from Tron than Iskra of all people, foreign, bandit, woman.
"Mount and march, we head out at once" barked Radcliff weaponry to hand in case they found foes.
Tron Pentre then looked at Prodius
"You will lead the guards, on foot, under the command of Sir Tara and take the healer Lwyncelyne with you" commanded Pentre watching Lwyncelyne in armour, coming to join the ranks
"Yes, lord knight... right away" accepted Prodius turning his attentions to Tara and waiting for the woman to return and take command of the travelling party.
Merthyr left the library, having collected various parchments, maps and old books and brought the large pile back to the tavern.
He took up an empty table by the window, ordering a hot drink and sitting down to study the parchments, avidly focusing on trying to locate all less known shelters, refuges, dens, former barracks and holding cells, hidden paths, disused barns or abandoned villages that had been confined to forgetfulness with the passing of time, anything that could pin point the possible whereabouts of the boy.
His eyes growing wider at the drawing of the forgotten kingdom whose ruins lay on that rarely accessed mountain. What if... Taff had been taken there? With such cold, the boy could easily fall ill, what if they were making him toil in the ice with his bare hands? Those thoughts alone made him shudder.
Merthyr read up more upon that location and its whereabouts all the same.
Sweet revenge would have to wait to later, for now Tron Pentre forced a polite and respectful smile, more than happy to part ways and lead the way to the forest far from the bandits, having had to exercise much restrain to stem the urge to have them all caught, chained, whipped and hanged and backhand Iskra back in return.
"Your wish is my command" saluted Tron Pentre waving the men to come forward and follow him.
"Men... two formations... sir Radcliff you will lead the cavalry, heading east to the forest with me" ordered Pentre
"Certainly my liege" accepted Radcliff far more willing to take orders from Tron than Iskra of all people, foreign, bandit, woman.
"Mount and march, we head out at once" barked Radcliff weaponry to hand in case they found foes.
Tron Pentre then looked at Prodius
"You will lead the guards, on foot, under the command of Sir Tara and take the healer Lwyncelyne with you" commanded Pentre watching Lwyncelyne in armour, coming to join the ranks
"Yes, lord knight... right away" accepted Prodius turning his attentions to Tara and waiting for the woman to return and take command of the travelling party.
Merthyr left the library, having collected various parchments, maps and old books and brought the large pile back to the tavern.
He took up an empty table by the window, ordering a hot drink and sitting down to study the parchments, avidly focusing on trying to locate all less known shelters, refuges, dens, former barracks and holding cells, hidden paths, disused barns or abandoned villages that had been confined to forgetfulness with the passing of time, anything that could pin point the possible whereabouts of the boy.
His eyes growing wider at the drawing of the forgotten kingdom whose ruins lay on that rarely accessed mountain. What if... Taff had been taken there? With such cold, the boy could easily fall ill, what if they were making him toil in the ice with his bare hands? Those thoughts alone made him shudder.
Merthyr read up more upon that location and its whereabouts all the same.
Suddenly before the journey around Aftbide had even truly begun, Tom and Zafira were in agreement that it had been entirely worth it. The single bit of information that caused this mental decision to be made was the talk of the mountain, of the snow covered ruins of a lost kingdom. Just waiting to be uncovered, by them. Outwardly the entire mental process was only seen as the two shivered gently, for they had grown up and indeed were dressed for warmer climates. Something snow certainly didn't bring.
"Dead? what happen here?" The broken tongue with which the hybrid currently spoke blasted outwards suddenly, shock clearly visible over their features. Of course, while they knew the reason behind the deaths and had infact stolen several after the battle it wouldn't do to allow a comment like they to not be registered. Something like that they felt would raise suspicion.
For the moment a conclusion was reached by the entwined souls, they would simply explore what they could of the town and hopefully extract as much information about the mountain as they could. All the while they would attempt to tap into their mental connection with their creations back at the camp. Something they hadn't ever really practiced doing, which could fail at any time.
"Dead? what happen here?" The broken tongue with which the hybrid currently spoke blasted outwards suddenly, shock clearly visible over their features. Of course, while they knew the reason behind the deaths and had infact stolen several after the battle it wouldn't do to allow a comment like they to not be registered. Something like that they felt would raise suspicion.
For the moment a conclusion was reached by the entwined souls, they would simply explore what they could of the town and hopefully extract as much information about the mountain as they could. All the while they would attempt to tap into their mental connection with their creations back at the camp. Something they hadn't ever really practiced doing, which could fail at any time.
Despite Taff's protest, Grum found himself staring at the bear again. After a few seconds it seemed the beast noticed, for it turned to stare back at him with dark, beady eyes. They locked gazes for a total of five seconds before the bear snorted and growled, turning to pad after the woman.
The chieftain looked sharply then back to Taff, grinning. "I can also give 'em the common cold, right?" He snickered mischievously, walking alongside the servant.
_
Zsombor and the other guards walked further up the road. The mansion wasn't far; looming over the other buildings just beyond them. He didn't turn to face them as they asked what happened but responded without missing a beat. "Bandits happened. And one of them brought something straight from hell with him. The ruffians killed the local guard... and the thing killed a small portion of the king's army before it was banished."
The other guards were uncomfortable to hear of the creature again. One of them mumbled. "Saw it with my own two eyes, I did." To which another guard chortled. "We all did, loser."
_
Tara looked over the soldiers she brought as well as those Pentre assigned to follow her, feeling rather impressed that such trust was already placed in her. Of course, it came with quite a bit of anxiety, but nervousness was the last thing she needed to show to those present. She gave a nod to Lwyncelyne and Prodius, echoing Iskra's command:
"No time to lose, then. We march east!" The knight turned, beginning the trek to the town in the east. As the group started to follow their footfalls started to rumble, leaving packed snow and dark slush behind them.
((Sorry for the shortness of the post.))
The chieftain looked sharply then back to Taff, grinning. "I can also give 'em the common cold, right?" He snickered mischievously, walking alongside the servant.
_
Zsombor and the other guards walked further up the road. The mansion wasn't far; looming over the other buildings just beyond them. He didn't turn to face them as they asked what happened but responded without missing a beat. "Bandits happened. And one of them brought something straight from hell with him. The ruffians killed the local guard... and the thing killed a small portion of the king's army before it was banished."
The other guards were uncomfortable to hear of the creature again. One of them mumbled. "Saw it with my own two eyes, I did." To which another guard chortled. "We all did, loser."
_
Tara looked over the soldiers she brought as well as those Pentre assigned to follow her, feeling rather impressed that such trust was already placed in her. Of course, it came with quite a bit of anxiety, but nervousness was the last thing she needed to show to those present. She gave a nod to Lwyncelyne and Prodius, echoing Iskra's command:
"No time to lose, then. We march east!" The knight turned, beginning the trek to the town in the east. As the group started to follow their footfalls started to rumble, leaving packed snow and dark slush behind them.
((Sorry for the shortness of the post.))
Katja had slid quietly into the tavern, quickly fixing her hair and dusting the snow off her shoulders in an attempt to make herself more presentable in front of the young King. She approached his table slowly, dropping to a knee, "Your highness, I apologize for my absence in this time of need." She kept her head bowed low, and though she knew it wasn't really her fault she had been held captive by Iskra, she would take responsibility, knowing Iskra most certainly wouldn't, "I was told to come see you and depart after I had updated you on my safe arrival. Sir Iskra has asked I venture south with my men, to see if the bandits have taken Taff towards warmer climates..."
She paused, still kneeling, "...I am not sure what compelled you to place Iskra at the head of this mission...but I assure you, no matter what Lord Knight Pentre has said...it is a good decision. She's cruel but...deep down Iskra has the sense of justice you would expect of a woman of her history...." She laughed slightly as she stood; Katja's smile was warm, and it seemed the Knight knew quite a bit about the bandit King she chased after frequently.
Iskra bit her lip and then sighed, watching the groups move out before she whistled for her men to follow her, advancing towards the frigid mountains to the north.
So Marcello's day hadn't been going well at all.
Burning his breakfast in the morning left him hungry, and the harsh cold of the day meant he was going to have difficulty finding more food, what with the heavy snow leaving little to no scent trails to follow. And just a few moments ago he had narrowly escaped a group of hunters, coming after him for what he could only assume was his organs and limbs, an idea that made him shudder (though perhaps it was simply the cold). The half-demon sat against a tree, running his fingers across the staff he kept, breathing heavily as he listened to the silence, before letting out a puff of air. Had it not been for his heavy wool cloak, green as it was, the pale young man would've blended right into the snow.
His pointed ears twitched at the sound of hoofs in the snow, and he stood quickly, listening to the nearing sounds. They were approaching from the opposite direction of the bounty hunters, so there was a possibility he was not in danger, but there were many of them, and if there happened to be a problem, he would not take the blame.
Marcello pulled his hood up and sniffed the air... though the snow hindered his abilities, there was no mistaking the faint scent of oak and, after a few more seconds, a musty, metallic scent- humans, and ones wearing armor at that. He swallowed nervously, and without hesitation the cambion took off deeper into the forest.
His escape probably would've gone better, if he wasn't so distracted by his fear and had remembered to use his staff to navigate. But instead, he hadn't, and he hardly got very far before the blind man smashed himself full-force into a large pine tree, staggering backwards before falling into the snow.
No, today was not his day at all.
She paused, still kneeling, "...I am not sure what compelled you to place Iskra at the head of this mission...but I assure you, no matter what Lord Knight Pentre has said...it is a good decision. She's cruel but...deep down Iskra has the sense of justice you would expect of a woman of her history...." She laughed slightly as she stood; Katja's smile was warm, and it seemed the Knight knew quite a bit about the bandit King she chased after frequently.
Iskra bit her lip and then sighed, watching the groups move out before she whistled for her men to follow her, advancing towards the frigid mountains to the north.
So Marcello's day hadn't been going well at all.
Burning his breakfast in the morning left him hungry, and the harsh cold of the day meant he was going to have difficulty finding more food, what with the heavy snow leaving little to no scent trails to follow. And just a few moments ago he had narrowly escaped a group of hunters, coming after him for what he could only assume was his organs and limbs, an idea that made him shudder (though perhaps it was simply the cold). The half-demon sat against a tree, running his fingers across the staff he kept, breathing heavily as he listened to the silence, before letting out a puff of air. Had it not been for his heavy wool cloak, green as it was, the pale young man would've blended right into the snow.
His pointed ears twitched at the sound of hoofs in the snow, and he stood quickly, listening to the nearing sounds. They were approaching from the opposite direction of the bounty hunters, so there was a possibility he was not in danger, but there were many of them, and if there happened to be a problem, he would not take the blame.
Marcello pulled his hood up and sniffed the air... though the snow hindered his abilities, there was no mistaking the faint scent of oak and, after a few more seconds, a musty, metallic scent- humans, and ones wearing armor at that. He swallowed nervously, and without hesitation the cambion took off deeper into the forest.
His escape probably would've gone better, if he wasn't so distracted by his fear and had remembered to use his staff to navigate. But instead, he hadn't, and he hardly got very far before the blind man smashed himself full-force into a large pine tree, staggering backwards before falling into the snow.
No, today was not his day at all.
Pentre had seen the figure try to run and slam onto the tree and wasted no time in giving chase, assuming the figure to be part of the bandits that kidnapped Taff.
Upon approaching closer he put his foot on the fallen man's chest, pressing the tip of the sword for better measure.
"Bandit... I am placing you under arrest, charged with royal theft and kidnapping of the king's manservant among other lesser crimes like attempting to evade justice. As the lord of these lands I am immediately finding you guilty and sentencing you to slavery and hard labour until said manservant is found.
After all, only criminals, outlaws and culprits would dare run away and hide from the lord knight's presence, so cowardly as you have done.
Arise slowly and then present wrists forward that you may be shackled forthwith, any defiance will be met with harsh reprimand" assured Pentre in a serious authoritative tone
"After that start gathering wood and make a camp fire and prepare food" waved Pentre putting the new captive at his personal service right away
Upon approaching closer he put his foot on the fallen man's chest, pressing the tip of the sword for better measure.
"Bandit... I am placing you under arrest, charged with royal theft and kidnapping of the king's manservant among other lesser crimes like attempting to evade justice. As the lord of these lands I am immediately finding you guilty and sentencing you to slavery and hard labour until said manservant is found.
After all, only criminals, outlaws and culprits would dare run away and hide from the lord knight's presence, so cowardly as you have done.
Arise slowly and then present wrists forward that you may be shackled forthwith, any defiance will be met with harsh reprimand" assured Pentre in a serious authoritative tone
"After that start gathering wood and make a camp fire and prepare food" waved Pentre putting the new captive at his personal service right away
The mention of the thing and the way the guards shared looks intrigued the linked souls of Lich and man, it had stringently avoided the being out of an acute sense of self-preservation and so had very little information on such a being. Information that they very much would like to obtain. Putting on the best face of childish innocent curiosity they turned to fully face the guards ignoring the building for the time being.
"Soo ... mister guard ... this creature ... thing, was big? Scary?" Mentally they cursed themselves at their outlandish appearance and the need for the broken speech that came from it. It made extracting information far more difficult than it should have been.
"Soo ... mister guard ... this creature ... thing, was big? Scary?" Mentally they cursed themselves at their outlandish appearance and the need for the broken speech that came from it. It made extracting information far more difficult than it should have been.
Zsombor glanced the newcomer's way passively as the shadow of the mansion loomed over them. He squinted a bit at them while they formulated their broken question but answered respectfully. "Big? I'd say... it was bigger than any man, by about a foot? And it wasn't a thing of flesh; it was made of armor, rusted, black as night. Had a bit of a habit of floating." The guards grew silent as he explained and subsequently knocked on the door. One of the others snorted.
Kerik shivered a bit. His time spent with the lich and their minions helped him to normalize the presence of lesser undead but it did little to ease his nervousness regarding greater unholy beings. He quietly thanked the gods for being abducted and lost in the woods, something the ex-bandit never thought he would do.
((Tus, am I remembering correctly that Merthyr's staying in the mansion for his stay in Aftbide? I know he was in the tavern last.))
Kerik shivered a bit. His time spent with the lich and their minions helped him to normalize the presence of lesser undead but it did little to ease his nervousness regarding greater unholy beings. He quietly thanked the gods for being abducted and lost in the woods, something the ex-bandit never thought he would do.
((Tus, am I remembering correctly that Merthyr's staying in the mansion for his stay in Aftbide? I know he was in the tavern last.))
Marcello wasn’t a fan of boots to the chest, nor was he a fan of swords pointed at him; this was not to say he wasn’t very much used to this state. He swallowed carefully, and the blind man offered a nervous smile; his red eyes gleamed, and suddenly a change was felt in the air. Marcello has never tried to charm a large group of people, and it certainly wouldn’t be good if his charm worked too well, but he only needed to gain their trust, or at the very least their interest. And at the very, very least, the interest of this man with the boot and sword and nasty attitude.
So he extended a slender finger up, to press against the blade and attempt to direct it away, “You seem to be mistaken... Allow me to introduce myself, I am Marcello ....I’ve uh. Actually been running from these bandits in the woods...” he laughed nervously, and offered a smile, “And I’m not going to be very good at cooking or collecting much of anything, if you can’t tell, I’m a little blind. Well. A lot blind. Totally actually.”
—————
It had only been a few hours since Iskra’s Party left for the mountains, when they made their return- at least, a portion of them did. Mostly from the Knights, only a few of her bandits remained, looking ragged and cold, and her second in command, Alexei, spearheaded the group.
But the Bandit King and temporary-Lord Knight was nowhere to be seen.
So he extended a slender finger up, to press against the blade and attempt to direct it away, “You seem to be mistaken... Allow me to introduce myself, I am Marcello ....I’ve uh. Actually been running from these bandits in the woods...” he laughed nervously, and offered a smile, “And I’m not going to be very good at cooking or collecting much of anything, if you can’t tell, I’m a little blind. Well. A lot blind. Totally actually.”
—————
It had only been a few hours since Iskra’s Party left for the mountains, when they made their return- at least, a portion of them did. Mostly from the Knights, only a few of her bandits remained, looking ragged and cold, and her second in command, Alexei, spearheaded the group.
But the Bandit King and temporary-Lord Knight was nowhere to be seen.
When Tara arrived, Merthyr looked up relieved to see Sir Tara Faloan was mostly alive, unmaimed and ready to serve. He crossed his fingers and looked on attentive and serious, listening to her words carefully and, at the end, he drew a friendly smile until she was out of sight returning to study the piles of books, parchments, half broken diaries, old moth eaten maps he had found half concealed, discarded and forgotten in the back of the dusty old library. The bartender had left a few grapes and apples at hand that Merthyr bit into whilst he studied shelters and paths, trying to find a logical path Taff may have followed.
Hours had gone by and days even and all it had brought up were a thousand more possible hideouts and locations he didn't even know ever existed, many connected to the discarded ruins that had been consigned to forgetfulness after his forefathers extended dominion over the entire kingdom and banned magic, displacing local lords and older if smaller royal houses in the process.
Merthyr slammed his fist onto the table at the futile effort of trying to track down the whereabouts of his missing helpless servant. Efforts wasted and countless hours spent attempting to find a possible direction they might have taken Taff towards or to, was to no avail of any kind. Never before had he come to understand just how large and grand his entire kingdom was, never mind the surrounding boundaries and adjacent realms. They could have gone anywhere, buried Taff anywhere.
Perhaps... perhaps he would have to turn to sorcery, the ever forbidden dark sorcery to see into past and future as to find out with certainty the fate of his terribly missed clumsy manservant and closest friend.
Tron would have entirely disapproved but... the lord knight was not there to talk him out of this with his higher law abiding and honourable morals... and Merthyr, having lived between the line of right and evil, had no qualms turning to darker side and forces to achieve that which he sought, even if there was ... a price to pay. His friend was worth it for what would his own life be worth, or his honour, if he had forsaken his closest and neediest friend in his most dire hour of need. The bounties, ever so increasing, were clearly not working, more drastic measures were needed to ensure success even if they came with certain losses.
The greatest difficulty would be to do so with minimum witnesses so that Tron may not be told of this and what better place than Tron's impenetrable castle, or its even less accessible dungeons to conduct such dubious affairs.
More crucially was finding a sorcerer powerful enough to make such conjurations, given the purging that had taken place for the last few centuries.
But Aftbide had to have such black onyx diamond among dirt, Merthyr himself had seen the creature of dark that had risen in Aftbide during the battle, all but a few months ago.
Such creature of the dark had been summoned in this very village thus someone... in Aftbide or close enough held such extraordinary power as to serve his purpose and cause.
What better man might know of this .... now sought after mage... than the ever so knowing and gossiping bartender. This was the reason why the ruins up the mountain were ruins, magic had been outlawed and the royals or lords there were keen and learned dabblers of magic, dark magic... this town, under its boundaries a long time past... was still oozing the same creepy darkness. The most outcast corner of the realm because of its reluctance to forsake magic and stubborn persistance in sheltering those who wielded it.
Merthyr snapped all books shut and rolled up parchments and displayed a broad toothy grin of satisfaction and resolve at the new direction he had every intention to take given how slow news were trickling from guards and messengers and knights and aware that Taff could only go on for so long. He came over to the worktop rapping his knuckled to get the bartender's attention, pearly teeth in clear display at his broad grin.
He was the king, existing laws banning sorcery would not be held or stand against him. Merthyr would easily exempt himself and others through a royal pardon or simply reverse or halt them for the greater good of the kingdom, if he deemed it necessary and now, it seems, he had indeed deemed it necessary in order to shed some light into this ongoing unsettling silence.
"Bartender.... if you are not too busy... we need to talk... in the utmost privacy about a sorcerer here... in Aftbide...." informed Merthyr drumming the tips of the fingers together impatiently.
Taff followed his scrawny body, hastily walking forth to get away from the bear and the odd woman, and reach Aftbide quicker, along the way trying to strike some conversation with Grum and get to know and understand him better.
"So... how far are we from Aftbide exactly... feels as though we have been travelling for ages..." muttered Taff rubbing the back of his neck uncomfortably.
Lwyncelyne and Prodius followed Tara Faloan through the woods towards the eastern town of slaves and slavers. If Taff had been taken there and sold on, he would be found and bought back and returned to the king.
As they progressed through the forest though the eery feeling of dangers grew all the more intense, these guards and warriors however neither felt any of it nor were they bothered about it, well used to facing war and imminent danger never mind concealed one that was out of sight.
Lwyncelyne, however, in her elven nature could sense this darker power and darker creatures that threatened to close in on them even if they made it to the slavers town.
"Open your eyes, have your sword ready. Stand by knight Tara, her wounds are still serious and she is in no position to fight and defend herself well enough... besides... darkness... is here, lurking close by, I can sense it..." warned Lwyncelyne in all seriousness.
Prodius was used to accepting that elven senses and powers were far ahead than human limitations and nodded, giving orders for the men to march close to one another and surround lady Tara and Lwynecelyne for better measure, marching forward at a much faster pace to get to the slaver's town quicker.
If an attack had to take place, they had better chances of survival amidst a human town with houses and more weapons nearby than in the wilderness of the forest, on open field.
Pentre rubbed his eyes briefly and shook his head confused at the bewildering thoughts that his mind was presenting as acceptable and appealing which were, in fact, entirely against any knightly honour and better judgement.
Still, Tron Pentre couldn't deny a sudden strange attraction towards this helpless one. Those thin lips that drew an alluring smile, those red pleading eyes held sway over him with a strange inviting sparkle in them, followed by the seductive soft voice... a voice that was messing around with his head by stirring feelings and undoing his resolve.
In his mind, the lad had provided a very convincing and reasonable confession made as to why this traveller was there and his bewitched mind screamed at him to hold onto this creature, this helpless creature in need of protection.
Pentre distractedly half listened to the explanation, sheathing the sword again and lowering down, hand stretched forward to take the unusal step of personally offering the blind youth help to rise up, rather than have a lesser guard do so. Never before would Tron the Terrible openly allow contact with an unknown peasant. This action alone caused gawking and gaping mouths among knights and guards alike, upon anyone who dared look at the scene.
The proximity to this strange creature was stirring Pentre's bewildering thoughts some more. Something he had clearly never experienced before for he was clueless about the cambion's nature, existance and spells.
Pentre stood upright, afterwards, and drew a pleased smile on his lips, inadvertently confirming that the spell was working very well against this otherwise ruthless and shrewd lord knight
"Well then.... in that case... I shall ... make you mine... I mean... take you at my personal services... and protection, of course..." declared Pentre immediately revoking the earlier sentence of slavery and hard labour, leaving the guards and knights baffled if weary, at this unusual and sudden overturn of the earlier sentence
Pentre rubbed the back of the neck briefly as he stared at the raised eyebrows and inquisitive looks and tried to offer an explanation for his change of heart that would reassure the men without loosing credibility or authority, and somehow ease the awkward situation.
"We can't have the bandits taking yet another helpless vassal to themselves...." half mumbled Pentre struggling to find an explanation even to himself that justified this embarrassing attraction or sudden change of behaviour
As they progressed through the forest though the eery feeling of dangers grew all the more intense, these guards and warriors however neither felt any of it nor were they bothered about it, well used to facing war and imminent danger never mind concealed one that was out of sight.
Lwyncelyne, however, in her elven nature could sense this darker power and darker creatures that threatened to close in on them even if they made it to the slavers town.
"Open your eyes, have your sword ready. Stand by knight Tara, her wounds are still serious and she is in no position to fight and defend herself well enough... besides... darkness... is here, lurking close by, I can sense it..." warned Lwyncelyne in all seriousness.
Prodius was used to accepting that elven senses and powers were far ahead than human limitations and nodded, giving orders for the men to march close to one another and surround lady Tara and Lwynecelyne for better measure, marching forward at a much faster pace to get to the slaver's town quicker.
If an attack had to take place, they had better chances of survival amidst a human town with houses and more weapons nearby than in the wilderness of the forest, on open field.
Pentre rubbed his eyes briefly and shook his head confused at the bewildering thoughts that his mind was presenting as acceptable and appealing which were, in fact, entirely against any knightly honour and better judgement.
Still, Tron Pentre couldn't deny a sudden strange attraction towards this helpless one. Those thin lips that drew an alluring smile, those red pleading eyes held sway over him with a strange inviting sparkle in them, followed by the seductive soft voice... a voice that was messing around with his head by stirring feelings and undoing his resolve.
In his mind, the lad had provided a very convincing and reasonable confession made as to why this traveller was there and his bewitched mind screamed at him to hold onto this creature, this helpless creature in need of protection.
Pentre distractedly half listened to the explanation, sheathing the sword again and lowering down, hand stretched forward to take the unusal step of personally offering the blind youth help to rise up, rather than have a lesser guard do so. Never before would Tron the Terrible openly allow contact with an unknown peasant. This action alone caused gawking and gaping mouths among knights and guards alike, upon anyone who dared look at the scene.
The proximity to this strange creature was stirring Pentre's bewildering thoughts some more. Something he had clearly never experienced before for he was clueless about the cambion's nature, existance and spells.
Pentre stood upright, afterwards, and drew a pleased smile on his lips, inadvertently confirming that the spell was working very well against this otherwise ruthless and shrewd lord knight
"Well then.... in that case... I shall ... make you mine... I mean... take you at my personal services... and protection, of course..." declared Pentre immediately revoking the earlier sentence of slavery and hard labour, leaving the guards and knights baffled if weary, at this unusual and sudden overturn of the earlier sentence
Pentre rubbed the back of the neck briefly as he stared at the raised eyebrows and inquisitive looks and tried to offer an explanation for his change of heart that would reassure the men without loosing credibility or authority, and somehow ease the awkward situation.
"We can't have the bandits taking yet another helpless vassal to themselves...." half mumbled Pentre struggling to find an explanation even to himself that justified this embarrassing attraction or sudden change of behaviour
Once Merthyr's business with Iskra, Tron and the others was concluded he'd find Otso idly cleaning a mug with a table cloth, humming to himself. Upon addressing him the man looked up, respectful and still somewhat mirthful despite the bandit king's earlier presence. "Aye...?" He started. "Well, my king, I'd be glad to talk with you. Upstairs?" Otso left the mug and cloth on the counter, casting about the crowd before meandering around the counter, towards the stairs. He beckoned the king while beginning to ascend them.
_
Grum snorted. "Well, to be blunt..." He tapered off, glancing somewhere off into the woods. His suspicions dwindled before he continued. "...We aren't far. I had to take indirect paths to avoid being caught. Truth is, these paths are not very good for quick travel. Just well hidden." He brought his hands together to crack his knuckles, surprising himself with just how frail his 'new' body seemed; he grimaced after cracking a few and kept walking.
"How do you humans live like this? Everything is freezing." The chieftain grumbled. Despite Taff's best attempts, avoiding the strange woman and her bear seemed impossible. If anything, they were leading the trail back to Aftbide, though the minotaur didn't seem to need their help.
_
Tara frowned when her injuries were brought to her entourage's attention; it wasn't exactly loyalty-inspiring to be noted as a wounded woman, needing protection. Still, this was the hand she was dealt, and so she'd have to do her best with it. And Lwyncelyne's warning regarding darkness in the woods was not to be overlooked.
The knight decided to focus less on herself, then, and more on her surroundings. She listened and watched carefully, alert to noises beyond the crunching of snow, mud and leaves beneath their feet. She watched for shapes between the trees, whether humanoid or otherwise, as she kept up with the others.
For a few moments the forest remained relatively normal. Faolan had faith in the elf's ability to detect the unnatural, but she did wonder if the threat hadn't passed them by in the time they increased their pace. Seconds later, she saw something; a silhouette in the distance to their left, watching them from behind an old oak. Discreetly as a jogging warrior could she pointed them out. "Forward left, someone's watching."
Then she saw a similar figure further along. "Two, now." She said. A zephyr passed them by, breaking the familiar scent of the forest with a twinge of something rotten.
_
Grum snorted. "Well, to be blunt..." He tapered off, glancing somewhere off into the woods. His suspicions dwindled before he continued. "...We aren't far. I had to take indirect paths to avoid being caught. Truth is, these paths are not very good for quick travel. Just well hidden." He brought his hands together to crack his knuckles, surprising himself with just how frail his 'new' body seemed; he grimaced after cracking a few and kept walking.
"How do you humans live like this? Everything is freezing." The chieftain grumbled. Despite Taff's best attempts, avoiding the strange woman and her bear seemed impossible. If anything, they were leading the trail back to Aftbide, though the minotaur didn't seem to need their help.
_
Tara frowned when her injuries were brought to her entourage's attention; it wasn't exactly loyalty-inspiring to be noted as a wounded woman, needing protection. Still, this was the hand she was dealt, and so she'd have to do her best with it. And Lwyncelyne's warning regarding darkness in the woods was not to be overlooked.
The knight decided to focus less on herself, then, and more on her surroundings. She listened and watched carefully, alert to noises beyond the crunching of snow, mud and leaves beneath their feet. She watched for shapes between the trees, whether humanoid or otherwise, as she kept up with the others.
For a few moments the forest remained relatively normal. Faolan had faith in the elf's ability to detect the unnatural, but she did wonder if the threat hadn't passed them by in the time they increased their pace. Seconds later, she saw something; a silhouette in the distance to their left, watching them from behind an old oak. Discreetly as a jogging warrior could she pointed them out. "Forward left, someone's watching."
Then she saw a similar figure further along. "Two, now." She said. A zephyr passed them by, breaking the familiar scent of the forest with a twinge of something rotten.
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