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The Diary of Jayne


The Burning of Calen

The sun had been hot that day, hotter than was usual in Calen. Located in Dunfalas, on the banks of the Duin River, the small town of a few dozen families had little to distinguish it from other small towns that litter the continent. Besides a fine tavern that drew some from nearby towns there was the watchtower. Built before anyone in the town could remember, it is estimated to be a thousand years old to watch the countryside for unwelcome guests, or in worse cases black orcs raiding parties which had plagued the area in the days before the Orc Wars.

The tall stone tower rose over the surrounding buildings and could see far over the flat farmland that surrounds the town. To man the watchtower was my job, as it was my father’s job, and his father’s before him. The white stone stood in stark contrast to the greens and browns of the fields and houses below and was a source of much pride for the town.

Since the ending of the Orc Wars there hadn’t been a single sighting of black orcs, orcs, or any other dark creature. As a result the town had slowly cut funding to the town watch of which I as the keeper of the watchtower was captain. This seemed like an understandable policy to keep taxes low in a relatively quiet time for the town.

Then came the day that would forever change my life.

The day started with a bar brawl. I entered the tavern to find two locals unconscious behind an overturned table and four more men were piled on top of another man. A tall man stood leaning on the bar watching the melee as the beset man rose up throwing the four assailants all across the room. This imposing beast of a man towered even over the man at the bar. The giant turned to face the bartender and picking up a large club leaned against the bar he spoke in a deep voice.
“Mead now or I smashie!”
The other man spoke.
“Az, we don’t threaten the man, ask politely.”
“But I have smashie, why should I be polite?”
“Because it’s the right thing to do.”
*sigh* “Mead please.”

The bartender appeared to be scared stiff, his eyes the size of saucers at the man who had just cleared out his bar. Seeing that the bartender couldn’t fulfill his duty I stepped behind the bar and began to pour the mead out of the barrel into a flagon and placed it in front of the man Az. The other man placed some coins on the bar and smiled apologetically.
“Thank you sir, don’t worry about my brother. He’s harmless unless provoked.”
Down to business then, “So what happened here then?”
“We came in, sat down when those men,” he pointed to the two behind the overturned table “insinuated that our mother was an Orc.” He shrugged, “That injustice my brother and I could not abide.”
“Well I don’t think you gentlemen will have any more problems while you’re in town, word of this will spread pretty quickly.”
“Who’s the guy trying to call gentle?” The large man slammed his now empty mug onto the bar.
“It was a complement Az, calm down.”
“Oh, ok you have a good day then guard man.”

I decided this would be a good time to leave these two men to their beverages and return to the tower.

Last edited by TheManTheyCallJayne, 2/14/2011, 7:19 pm


---
Lugh Jayne the King of Belegaria
The Fury of the Called
Fighter of Eryndor, Mourner
I shall not forget; I shall not forgive
12/6/2009, 1:27 am Link to this post Send Email to TheManTheyCallJayne   Send PM to TheManTheyCallJayne
 
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Re: The Diary of Jayne (Yeah I said it)


Relieving my lieutenant from the tower I began the evening watch. As the sun set in the west it seemed to be more brilliant than normal, but as it sank below the horizon I could see fires. At first they appeared one and two at a time, then by fives, and then by dozens they came over the rolling hills in the distance. They were coming towards the town, towards the tower. The black orcs were coming.

It couldn’t be, not since my father manned the tower . . . there hadn’t been any sightings of black orcs, and even in the days of my grandfather they only came in a dozen or so. Not this many, my eyes must be playing tricks on me, but they were not.

I ran to the wall and grabbed my sword and a spear, the quickly bolted down the steps to the small garrison where I lived just in time to catch my lieutenant. “Round up any man you can find who can carry a sword and arm them.” He looked at me befuddled and slightly dumbfounded. “Black orcs are coming.”
“Black orcs, no you must be mistaken”
“Probably near a hundred torches”
“A hundred?”
“Yes, now go quickly we’ve got perhaps ten minutes, fifteen if we are lucky.”

He sprinted off running down the street yelling. I went over to the arms locker and unlocked it with my key. It had always seemed to be overstocked to me, fifteen swords and ten spears is a lot when the town had never had more than seven guards in its history. Now it seemed decidedly underwhelming.

When I returned my lieutenant arrived with the two other guards, the two large mercenaries from who had been at the tavern, and the local tramp. “This is all who would come?”
“The rest refuse to believe that black orcs are coming, and told me to shove off.”
“Can’t they see the fires?”
“That’s what I told them”
“Well they shall know the truth soon enough, grab what you can and we must try and buy the ones that run time to escape.”

By now fires had gotten brighter, and it was easy to tell they weren’t just from the torches; the farms on the outskirts of town were being lit. No screams yet, that wouldn’t last long. The town had no wall or palisade so the seven of us stood at the westernmost edge of the town as that would be the fastest route for them to take. A tactical nightmare, we would be outmaneuvered, there was no question to that, but there was no way of knowing how they would come at us.
“They’ve never come with more than ten before”
“I know.”
“But why would they all come at us now, why with so many.”
“How could I possibly know that?”
“But it makes no sense!”
“If it made sense they wouldn’t be black orcs, and we would have seen this coming”

More fires now, they were burning the houses closer to the town now, we could faintly make out the sight of the farmers and their families being mobbed by the horde of black orcs. You could hear the screams now; there was no denying what had come. The people in the village who had disregarded the claims were now panicking. Scrambling to collect treasures and keepsakes and whatever they could carry and run off. The fools were taking gold, when they would be needing food and water much sooner. Those that could piled into trade carts and rode off down the north road, others simply ran east, directly away from the advancing army.

Last edited by TheManTheyCallJayne, 9/12/2010, 4:51 pm


---
Lugh Jayne the King of Belegaria
The Fury of the Called
Fighter of Eryndor, Mourner
I shall not forget; I shall not forgive
12/6/2009, 1:28 am Link to this post Send Email to TheManTheyCallJayne   Send PM to TheManTheyCallJayne
 
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Re: The Diary of Jayne (Yeah I said it)


I love this dude. I laughed for a solid minute at "who are you calling gentle"

---
oi.
12/6/2009, 1:32 am Link to this post Send Email to Toland   Send PM to Toland
 
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Re: The Diary of Jayne (Yeah I said it)


They were coming across the short garden that led up to the town now, nearly upon us. It seems their frenzied state and utter lack of resistance thus far had put no faith in us, they were just going to charge into the town. Then their ranks hit us.

There were likely twenty in that first wave, all wielding their cruelly curves short swords, at first the spears could keep them at bay, stabbing and slicing at their thin armor, but soon they were too many. We kept backing up as they pressed onward, finally the spears began to fail us, some were wrestled out of the hands of the bearer by three or four black orcs, while shafts of the rest snapped in the hacking of black orcs short swords and the remains of their fallen. Shouting above the calamity I called for them to retreat back to the centre of town, when I noticed there were only six of us, one of the guardsmen had fallen under the onslaught. We broke from our separated battles and ran for the tower and tavern when the other guards caught a black orcs arrow in the throat.

Running through the buildings of the town I noticed the mercenary Thurston get tackled by a group of three black orcs, and they fell through a window into a burning building. Letting out a yell that shook many of our foes and caused them to stop for a few seconds Az swung his great club and brought the door to the building down and a good section of the wall. They both disappeared for a few minutes, then simultaneously leapt out of two second story windows behind the main ranks of the enemy.

Things began looking ever bleaker as I entered the square. We had been outmaneuvered, there seemed to be two score coming from both north and south down the main road. The only way out was east and that exit was closing fast. The town was already glowing red as the buildings were torched and it seemed that a portal to Hell itself had opened up. As my lieutenant caught up I opened my flask and poured the whiskey inside through the open door of the tower and out onto the walk in front.

“Sir what are you doing?”
“They are coming for the tower; I can’t let them take it. Now throw me that lamp!”

Reaching up to the lamppost my lieutenant tossed the lamp to me and I smashed it in the puddle of whiskey. It flickered then ignited. “Run!”

The trail of whiskey lit and began setting the interior woodwork of the tower ablaze. As we ran I watched over my shoulder and the black orcs began to pour into the tower, just as the wooden interior, and long dry, burst into flames. The tower rumbled and shook, the fire belched out of the windows.

The mercenaries and the tramp had long since disappeared either run off or fighting elsewhere so my lieutenant and I headed east. As we ran the black orcs gave chase, now seeming more than happy to use us as target practice for their archers as we ran across the fields. While none of them appeared to be overly skilled the sheer number of arrows caused no small amount of damage among us, I was grazed in the neck and my lieutenant was pierced through the chest. Not wishing to leave him there I picked him up and continued running till we reached the river. There, out of the black orcs range and willingness to pursue us I placed him down on the bank. The spark had gone out of his eyes, and he had breathed his last. There, I buried my friend, and was forced to watch a blood red sunrise as the last of the Tower Guard, the last there would ever be.


Last edited by TheManTheyCallJayne, 9/12/2010, 4:52 pm


---
Lugh Jayne the King of Belegaria
The Fury of the Called
Fighter of Eryndor, Mourner
I shall not forget; I shall not forgive
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Re: The Diary of Jayne (Yeah I said it)


That was the last I saw of the tower, or the town of Calen. I have pledged my life to the fighting of black orcs and other creatures of darkness. I headed north to where rumor had it a wicked spell had fallen over the land and evil forces were gathering. It was there I heard of the Eryndor Crusade I traveled east to join up with them.

As I traveled I wondered what I would find, who would be drawn to fight the evil in the land. Surely there would be the bloodthirsty and those in it purely for the sport. Then there would be the mercenaries and head hunters in it only for the loot or for glory. There would be the elves and the paladins who fight for right and good. How many, I wondered would be looking for revenge, looking to tally notches on their shields and make the dark forces pay for what they had taken.

The trek to meet the crusade was wrought with danger and peril. Several close calls and your expected packs of ruffians and criminals scattered the landscape till finally they started to become more and more scares, slowly being replaced with bodies.

Then I met along the way another group of travelers off to help protect the realm, a motley assortment of veterans, loners, and even some Vikings. I knew this would be the a group where destiny, fate, or whatever you chose to believe in would play out.

Last edited by TheManTheyCallJayne, 9/12/2010, 4:53 pm


---
Lugh Jayne the King of Belegaria
The Fury of the Called
Fighter of Eryndor, Mourner
I shall not forget; I shall not forgive
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Re: The Diary of Jayne (Yeah I said it)


I awoke with a start, bleary eyed and in a daze reminiscent of the blows I've taken to the head by the haft of Caboose's spear as he speared wildly at an oncoming enemy. The sounds I could hear outside my tent made it seem that it must be around three in the morning as only the Vikings, and those caught in their wake, seemed to be awake.

Why does it feel as if I haven't slept at all? My hands felt wet and cold, and as my trip wire at the opening to my tent hasn't been set off I know it's not Mav's vomit again. I light a candle and see four pieces of parchment lying at the foot of my bedroll. My hands appeared to be covered in blood, blood which shone out from the pages. This is what they read.

Memento Mori
The wind ripped at my cloak
Torn and tattered it pulls at my neck
Memento Mori
The gale spat in my face, icy fierce
Hail thudded off armor, and helm
Memento Mori
The gate creaked and swung agape
Rusted hinges failed and it collapses to the ground
Memento Mori
Lightning illuminates two hundred beady eyes
Thunder now drowned out by growls and yelps
Memento Mori
No step could I take back
A climb of a thousand yards fell off behind
Memento Mori
Step by step, slowly going forward
Each step harder, more tired, more slick
Memento Mori
Eyes begin to close with each step
Must move forward, nothing remains behind
Memento Mori
Only halfway across the courtyard
Voices scream and shake, yet I know
Memento Mori
They crash, collide, and break in turn
Their threats and terrors rise, but they don’t see
Memento Mori

Columns and tapestries, old and worn
Pouring out of passages that time nearly forgot
Memento Mori
Weary now breathing is becoming labored
First thoughts of failure begin, but
Memento Mori
Yes, I must continue tired and sore
Swarming in and out but it must be
Memento Mori
Sinews and flesh cleaved from bone
My armor begins to weigh heavy on shoulders
Memento Mori
Like a dozen walls they block my path
But no one will aid them, no relief will come
Memento Mori
Fire and flame, and wind and rain
Their monstrous gods try to turn me away
Memento Mori
The narrow hall keeps my swaying head
Not much room to move, no way but fore
Memento Mori
Blood stains, cloak gone, spears shattered
From the walls, ceiling and before me they come
Memento Mori
Time has gone to chaos, both fast and slow
I can’t recall if I have been here forever, or a moment
Memento Mori

The fodder long gone new eyes await
Shadows shift and fly, angels and demons
Memento Mori
Their ire and hatred rage, snarls and yells
Mine has been raised long before, far deeper
Memento Mori
No steps taken back, no quarter given
Their captains and leaders press on
Memento Mori
Bones crushed under foot, ground wet and sharp
Each step forward, for each step they pay
Memento Mori
Swords chipped and warn, shields long abandoned
Each step forward, for each step I pay
Memento Mori
Their champion emerges, their ranks recede
Steel meets iron, bronze crushed under blows
Memento Mori
I scream out, ankle rolls, knee gives out
He screams out, arm hanging by a thread
Memento Mori
The monster’s head rolled back to them
They cringe and cry in rage or fear
Memento Mori
They rush, they charge, they fall
Strokes become frantic, now they hear
Memento Mori
Numbers dwindle, fighting for fear
To no avail, I must let none escape
Memento Mori

The great door opens wide
At last he is there on his throne
Memento Mori
His great crown of bones, armor as black as night
Even at his short height, he is imposing
Memento Mori
Little strength remains, but enough
Four eyes burn with fury, the distance close
Memento Mori
Slowly, quietly the cadence begins
The percussion and chorus of death rises
Memento Mori
He is enraged, his muscles fresh
I feel more calm, the world spins and tilts
Memento Mori
Blows begin to strike true and deep
The dark gods will not protect him
Memento Mori
A miracle that I’m here, to face this foe
All those dead who lead to this death
Memento Mori
Breath becomes stale, gasping, wheezing
I begin to gulp air and cry
Memento Mori
Valkyries swing low, but not just yet
One more blow must yet be struck
Memento Mori

---
Lugh Jayne the King of Belegaria
The Fury of the Called
Fighter of Eryndor, Mourner
I shall not forget; I shall not forgive
12/13/2009, 2:57 am Link to this post Send Email to TheManTheyCallJayne   Send PM to TheManTheyCallJayne
 
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Re: The Diary of Jayne (Yeah I said it)


Let's Be Good Guys

The fires slowly smoked and the sun was not yet rising as I left the camp to do my morning prayers. Walking through the woods I came to a dell and kneeling I closed my eyes.
Bird songs and the rustling of the wind through the trees and tall grass was calming and the moments of peace to be found in this land were few and far between. The sun began to peak over the horizon and cast a yellow glow over the morning dew.
The oddness of the situation was not lost upon me. Surrounded by some of the deepest dregs of humanity, people who if not for the Orc hoards roaming the country side would be more likely to be villains than heroes, here I find myself.
I return to the camp site as the early risers were up getting ready for the day’s activity. Brinya and Mo could be seen making their breakfast over a rekindled fire. Major Toland was at the center of the camp with a large map spread out with Atalan and Thurston looking at the day’s route.
Walking past Leos and Agreus' tent I stop and rouse Leos by kicking at his sleeping form.
“Time to get up, that’s what you get for drinking with the Tehvikings my young apprentice.”
The only reply either can manage is a moan, then Agreus rolls over and vomits all over Leos.
“Son of a . . . “
“Hahahahaha”
“Agreus you jackass”
“Blerg, ulllg.”

I continue my way to my tent as Leos heads to the river to wash off and Agreus smartly goes to a different section of the river to clean up.

Back at my tent I start getting my kit together for the day’s activities. I grab my shield and sling my claymore over my back, then slide my ax into its notch in the back of my shield, and finally grabbed my short spear, leaving the halberd to be packed up with the tent and loaded onto the wagons. Then came the search for large rocks to fill my rock pouch when Toland approached me.
“Jayne, how many weapons you plan on bringing? You only got the two arms?”
“I just get excitable as to choice, like to have my options open.”
“I don’t plan on much action taking place during this job.”
“Well what you plan and what takes place hasn’t ever exactly been similar.”
“No rocks.”
“Wha . . .”
“NO ROCKS.”

Abandoning my search I join Atalan at the map.
“What’s the plan today my bearded friend?”
“Headed out to recon the Orc movements, they’ve got the crown so we have to know where they are.”
“Just observation, quiet like?
“That’s the plan.”
“So we leave the Vikings and Az here then?”
He smiles “That’s the plan.”

An hour later the scout party leaves camp, Agreus, Seigh, Atalan, Erlend, myself and Major Toland set out to find the enemy army’s movements and hopefully appraise their destination and strength.
Moving through the sparse woods meant the going was easy and signs of the Orc hoard were not hard to find. It wasn’t long before we sighted a group of five Orcs rummaging through what was probably a hunter’s blind. As quietly as possible we moved to surround the enemy, then at a nod from Toland we closed quickly to dispatch our foes.
Agreus swiftly arrived first leaping through the air and driving both of his daggers into his foes back. The other four grunted with shock as they jumped up to face this impetuous foe. Before they could move on him though one was run through on Atalan’s spear, one was quickly decapitated by Seigh, one Erlend bashed into a tree with his shield then stabbed it through so violently his sword got stuck into the tree, and the last one I chopped in half with my claymore. Toland indicated for us all to be silent to hear if we had aroused any other nearby forces. No sounds left the forest, both a good and bad sign.

We followed the Orc tracks back to where a multitude of the creatures had clearly been congregated atop a great hill. Dangerous and littered with large rocks there was only one path up to the top. Thousands, if not tens of thousands, had been at this place. Just as we were preparing to move on a roar of rage resounded from behind us. Ten Orcs stood at the top of the pathway, clearly not expecting to find humans at their campsite they charged us. Agreus let out a cry of dismay and took off as fast as his feet could carry him. Though outnumbered the foes were only equipped with swords and poor armor, making Atalan and Toland’s spears invaluable. Three fell quickly before Seigh received a cut to her arm and dropped her sword. Diving over to protect her Erland dispatched the Orc that had hurt her while my short spear took two more that had been too busy worrying about Atalan and Toland. Seigh reclaimed her sword and killed an eighth Orc. I turned to see the two remaining Orcs barreling down on me when they both stop dead in their tracks, then tumble forward to reveal Agreus standing behind them.
“Agreus wins!” he exclaims as he performs a little dance.
“AGREUS SHUT UP!” Seigh yelled.
Atalan ran to the edge of the pathway and peered out. “This mission is about to get interesting.”
Toland tilted his head, “Define “interesting”.”
“Oh God, Oh God, we’re all going to die?”
It soon became apparent why it was not yet the time for celebration as the rumbling sound of feet could be heard getting closer. More Orcs were on their way.
 “How far are we away from camp?”
“Far enough Jayne.”
“Regardless I’m going to blow the horn, there has to be at least fifty of them coming and there is no way we can handle that many.” I said as I grabbed the shofar from my belt and sounded a long blast.
“Let us hope the fury hears it and not more Orcs.”
“Yes Atalan, let us sincerely hope that.”
I handed Agreus my short spear as his daggers would do us no good defending the path and we lined up so that Erland and I would take the brunt of the force as we had shields and hopefully allow Atalan and Toland to kill many with their spears while Seigh and Reggie killed any that got past them.
They charged up the hill, an angry black wave spurred on by a dark and evil power. I gave one last blast on the horn, which fazed them just enough for the spears to begin to do their deadly work. Cleaving through steel, flesh, and bone I came down and again with my ax mentally tallying each fallen. Then a flash of pain and half my world went black. I had been cut on the left side of my face and could no longer see out of my left eye. Toland pushed up and stood next to me, between myself and Erland, and stabbed several more foes while I tried to regain my composure.
I shouted above the din at him, “Boy, it sure would be nice if we had some rocks right now, don’t you think?”
“You would choose now to make a joke wouldn’t you?”
“Ay, indeed I would.”
Then it came like the sound of an angel, a loud blast of a horn and from behind the Orcs came the Fury. Azhara came roaring out of the trees and smashed two Orcs with his great hammer and the Tehvikings ran screaming into the fray, killing many though they will claim to have killed five times that tonight. Leos and Atari ran around the turning and surprised Orcs lashing out with sword and shield, and doing as much damage with one as the other. Caboose ran in, tripped, but managed to stab one of the Orcs in the crotch causing to release a cry of pain and rage I had never heard the likes of before. Fox, Mo, Adia, and Herugrim fired arrows into the middle of the now outflanked and panicking hoard. It was not long before the last of the Orcs had been slain and we began taking stock of injuries and damaged weapons.
I looked over at Atalan with my one good eye, “So much for “quiet like””
He just smiled and went to see to the chainmail that needed repairing, and I sat down to carve todays notches into my shield.

Last edited by TheManTheyCallJayne, 5/4/2010, 1:19 am


---
Lugh Jayne the King of Belegaria
The Fury of the Called
Fighter of Eryndor, Mourner
I shall not forget; I shall not forgive
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Re: The Diary of Jayne (Yeah I said it)


literally that makes me soo happy it hurts

---
what goblin army....i dont see a goblin army

Reggie
Prettiest Gooblin in Eryndor
Knight of the Holy Order of the Janky Pommel
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Re: The Diary of Jayne (Yeah I said it)


(clap clap clap clap clap clap clap)

Nuff said.

---
___________________________
"Spartans, lay down your weapons.
King Leonidas: Persians! Come and get them!"
-The Battle of Thermophile.
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Re: The Diary of Jayne (Yeah I said it)


Sinners and Saints Part 1


“I’m beginning to worry that the line between good and evil is rapidly disappearing out here.”
“How do you mean?” Thurston cocked his head and gazed at me across the fire.
“Though it seems like decades it really wasn’t long ago it was my job to arrest people, and it wasn’t long ago it was many of my new companion’s job to fill prisons.”
“HAHAHA, you would have never had the chance to put me in a cell” Azhara barked.
“Had I ever tried I know one way or another you would not have ended up in a cell”
“You saying Thurston would have talked you out of it?” Velano inquired.
“No I’m saying one, or both, of us would’ve been dead.”
“A thought for another time, for as of now we fight together.”
“Perhaps you are right Thurston.” I replied, still half lost in thought.
“Let us not forget, Jayne, you have your own prejudices and failings.”
“If you are referring to that sub-sentient piece of !@#$ that Eldgirm somehow is allowed to keep around here…”
“You raised that argument and already lost it Jayne, bringing it up again will do you no good.” Erland quipped from the far side of the fire.

I rose from the fire, now too preoccupied and moody to keep Dugan company. I circled the camp seeing people clustered around fires. It was unsettling to see this mismatched conglomerate of Angels and Daemons, though perhaps Angels were a rarity. There were mercenaries, minstrels, barkeeps, assassins, and wild-men all together in one place.

I stopped over at the central yurt of the camp and gazed at the maps spread out there. Towns and cities were prominently displayed but smaller things had been added like bandit camps, goblin slums, and thief hideaways. All marked so as to have a complete understanding of the surrounding terrain. I stared intently at the nearest of the camps and mentally pictured the location and with purpose took my leave of the tent.

“Why do you need a sword to sleep?” a voice called out from behind me as I was equipping myself outside my tent.
I spun around to see Finn, half smiling but also half concerned.
“I have business out in the wood.”
“None that could lead to any good.”
“Good is a rare commodity in these days.”
“And evil in abundance, still the fact remains that you think you will strike out at this time of night.”
“Finn, you are the smartest of your kin. I would advise that it is indeed prudent that you use the wits you have been graced with by The Divine and pretend you have not seen me this night.”
“I will do so, but unwillingly.”

Sword gripped tightly in hand I strode out into the darkness.

---
Lugh Jayne the King of Belegaria
The Fury of the Called
Fighter of Eryndor, Mourner
I shall not forget; I shall not forgive
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