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Thread: [M] Sanctuary: As Daylight Dies (IC)

  1. #21
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    Crossing her ankles on the table, she took a deep drink of her ale. One would do her. She didn’t like to dim her senses, nor did she like the person she became when drunk. She became…what some could call…pleasant…eugh. Flicking her eyes over the women who sat at the bar like a group of clucking hens, she placed her mug back down on the table.

    Two were drinking, one was easily going to have to be helped home. Sophia wanted to be gone before that happened. More and more of her fellow Templars entered. It seems all bar two had decided to drink their night away. She liked being high up, none would truly come to bother her and she could watch them all. See how they flicked their hair or swiveled their heads around craning for another friend or annoyance.

    As if on cue in came the annoyance. She shook her head softly and could almost hear the chorus of groans from the patrons of the bar. She watched as the man landed flat on his face and raised an eyebrow. Not entirely certain of the man she gave him a wide berth. She couldn’t place him and that annoyed her enough to leave him well alone.

    Another familiar face helped the fool to his feet. Sophia could almost hear the purrs coming from the three women from her seat high above. The women at the bar were not trying to be coy, they were not the type to sit and wait for attention. They demanded, they grabbed it and they near enough always succeeded. It was a type of confidence she was a tinge jealous about.

    Sophia watched the man sit by the fire, her eyes burning into the back of his head before sliding off him to another. Picking her mug up, she sank another gulp of the golden liquid. Kiera left, probably the wisest decision of the night. Sophia swirled the liquid in her glass and promised herself she would leave when the glass was empty. Leaning her head back against the wall, she finally moved her eyes from the others and instead stared into the rafters of the tavern. Sighing deeply as she drummed her fingers against the glass in her hands before humming to herself gently.


  2. #22
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    Seems like everyone--or almost anyway--has come out tonight. Saul thought to himself, taking another drink from his rum. It was a lively bunch, no mistake. Iago the fool, Octavious, Yelena, Sophia; among others. He only barely remembered the names of the Templars in his squad, save for Leo. It was mostly because he didn't share much in common with any of them. They had their beliefs, and he had his own; and he wanted to keep it that way. It wasn't that he didn't enjoy their company--he did. It was just that the difference lay between their faith that kept him from feeling any loyalty to them.

    His gold eyes flicked around the tavern, watching everyone as the night went on. Some could hold their drink, others needed to stop, and some would probably not make it home in the morning. He wasn't sure what he would be classed under--he knew he could drink quite a few before he had to stop, but he also knew that this rum wasn't very strong until you had more than you should. He was on his third glass and was bound to have a fourth and fifth. It just depended now on when the feeling would hit him. He'd at least make it home--Leo would drag him back he was sure.

    He sighed, smiling and laughing a little, before taking another drink. Ah well, after the mission they'd had, he couldn't say he blamed this squad much. Letting loose just a little was nice every once in a moon. Some of them needed this more than he did--some needed it less. Whatever his squad needed is usually what they did.He was glad he could be here with them and smile a little more; he'd make them laugh too, before the night was over.

    He'd gotten so used to this life it was hard to imagine that he'd had another. If not for his scars, he would have thought he'd always been a Templar. But his scars reminded him that he came from a harsher world than most of these others--save maybe a scarce few. It was a world he would return to if he lived through this--because he had a promise to keep.
    Last edited by AngelWing; 08-22-2015 at 03:54 AM.

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  3. #23
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    The Senior Templar marched down the red-carpet hallway, still wearing his battle-armor from the mission. Unlike everyone else, Senior Templar Isaac Hills did not have the time to enjoy the luxury of a nice bath or shower, and was immediately called to debrief with his superior. Sweat, rain water, and mud coated his body, which stood out like a sore thumb in the middle of the regal hallway. Bright lights dazzled around his figure, his footsteps muffled by the expensive red-carpet floor. The hallway itself was adorned with portraits of all past Inquisitors in the history of Sanctuary.

    He was within the Templar Order headquarters, a small-like fortress higher up in the city of Sanctuary. The first floor contained the offices of the Senior Templars, but the second floor is where the Inquisitors resided. He reached the end of his hallway, his face appearing stern. In his left arm, he carried a folder with several documents, and he ensured that they were secured. He raised up his right hand and then knocked on the dark-wooden door once, and awaited for a response.

    “Enter,” a loud, authoritative voice called out from the other side of the room.

    Immediately, the Senior Templar opened the door, marching directly to the desk at the center of the elegant room. Various old books of history and antiques decorated the room, including sculpted figures of the previous members of the Divine Trinity. Isaac stopped himself two paces away from the front of the desk, caging his eyes forward. He was standing in the position of attention; back straight, shoulders back, arms pinned to his side, and carried a powerful aura of confidence about him. He raised up his hand, performing a salute. The tip of his fingers reached the right side of his face, just barely touching the end of his right eyebrow.

    “Inquisitor Bartholomew, Senior Templar Hills reports as ordered.”

    Sitting at the other side of the desk, was the legendary Inquisitor known as Caleb Bartholomew. The master monster-slayer that everybody respects, and one can only aspire to reach his legacy. He, too, wore his heavy plate-mail armor because he didn’t have the time to change. His long dark-brown hair was tied up into a tight ponytail, and his gray eyes observed the Senior Templar’s stature. The Inquisitor nodded in approval, usually he prefers that his subordinates would call him Inquisitor Caleb - by his first name - because he likes to be personal with his companions. However, this was a military procedure and needed to be formal, and the Senior Templar was performing well.

    Inquisitor Caleb raised up his hand, saluting back the Senior Templar before dropping his hand. “Take a seat, and sit at ease,” the Inquisitor stated, which allowed Isaac to promptly drop his salute and take a seat across from him. “We’re going to review the success of the mission briefly, because we have far more important matters to discuss and too little time,” the Inquisitor leaned forward on his chair, placing his elbows on his desk and having his hands clasped together in a relaxed position.

    “The mission was clearly a success, we had very minimal casualties and managed to protect the town efficiently. As usual, you and the rest of your squadron performed remarkably well. My comments about your leadership style has not changed since our last meeting, and so you should know what are your strengths that you should frequently emphasize, while constantly improving upon your weaknesses.”

    The Senior Templar nodded understandingly, but remained quiet and would only speak when asked to.

    “Now that we gone over the mission, we need to discuss about the members of your team. Have you collected all of the memorandums?” the Inquisitor inquired.

    Isaac nodded once again, “Yes, sir,” he answered quickly while placing the folder of documents on the desk. He opened the folder, revealing a pile of hand-written memorandum paperwork, all done by the members of the squadron.

    “Excellent,” the Inquisitor stated, reaching forward and lightly grabbing on to the pile of paperwork. He skimmed through them, quickly turning from page to page, and constantly nodding in approval. “Alright, Senior Templar Hills, I would like to hear your evaluation over each Templar warrior in alphabetical order, starting with Adams.”

    The Senior Templar reviewed all of the rankings beforehand, and made his final opinions regarding his squadron members. Some of them did are doing an excellent job, and were highly consistent with their ranks. Others had very mixed reviews, and were often ranked in opposite sides of the spectrum. Overall, some people have done extraordinarily well in the squadron, while others struggle to find a placement in the tough crowd. A few more needed to significantly improve themselves in order to have any hope of surviving out in the wastes.

    Spoiler: Evaluations 


    There was a brief moment of silence, once Senior Templar Isaac Hills reviewed over every single Templar in the squadron. It was a rather timely process, but it was necessary in order to recognize the best of the best, and those that need to improve upon themselves in hopes of surviving out there in the wastes. Isaac picked up the folder of memorandums again, handing them over to the Inquisitor to keep and pass down the information through the chain of command.

    “It seems that your squadron has come a long way, Templar Hills,” Inquisitor Caleb stated, and watched many of these Templars grow into outstanding leaders and superb fighters. “So, if you happened to be promoted as an Inquisitor, who would you choose to be your Senior Templar?”

    Senior Templar Hills was already prepared for this question, it was nothing more than a theoretical idea. In case if something happens to Inquisitor Caleb, Isaac will immediately have to step into the Inquisitor role and appoint a brand new Senior Templar. That was one of the main points of evaluating every single Templar, to understand who would be best suited for vice commander position. The memorandum of rankings helped influenced Isaac’s decision, but overall it was his final choice to decide a viable Senior Templar.

    “Templar Greymir would probably be one of my first choices,” Templar Hills began with his unofficial assistant. “We already have been working with each other closely for the past few years, and it would be the smoothest transition if he was appointed as my Senior Templar. As I stated before, he has an excellent command presence and everybody in the squadron readily obeys his orders.”

    “My next choice might sound surprising, but I would also pick Templar Renakovic as my Senior Templar. Even though we have clashing ideals, she would be the perfect balance for me. I would be focused upon the people and ensuring their safety, while she would be focused upon the success of the mission. I predict that working together will be rough at first, but eventually we will gain the best of both worlds.”

    “Templar Vitraid would also be another excellent candidate as my Senior Templar. I’m not sure if he would readily accept the position at first, since he is not exactly dedicated to the Order. However, he is dedicated to our Templars, and hopefully he will realize that being in this leadership position would be the best option for everyone. Everybody in the squadron thinks very highly of him, and he is a well-rounded soldier. “

    “Finally, even though she is slightly young and inexperienced, Templar Hoefler shows promise to be a great Senior Templar. Her tactical skills and analytic mind are currently unrivaled by anyone else. Despite being young, she has outstanding confidence and is willing to make a decision, and will accept any personal responsibility along with it.”

    Inquisitor Caleb took note of all four possible candidates, nodding with approval over Isaac’s reasoning over each individual. “Great, I’m glad to hear you gave this a lot of thought,” the Inquisitor stated. It seemed that their business was nearly done, as the Inquisitor began to pack up his paperwork. “Now, there is one more matter we must discuss, and I think it would be a pleasant surprise for you,” the Inquisitor began to form a small smile, causing the Senior Templar to slightly frown in confusion.

    “I was just notified by Archon Denaris over this matter, but your promotion is official. You will join the ranks of the Inquisitors in a few short weeks, and the promotion ceremony is already in the works.”

    Senior Templar Isaac Hills was stunned over the news at first, and didn’t understand how to react at first. “B-but, sir, based on my understanding, there are only six squadrons... How can there be a seventh Inquisitor?”

    “Archon Denaris has also approved of the concept of a brand new squadron - a seventh squadron. You will be leading it, along with your own vice commander. More details about this squadron will come out later in the next few weeks, but for now,” the Inquisitor stood up from his desk, holding out a hand for Isaac to shake. “I would like to congratulate you, Senior Templar Hills - or, should I say, Inquisitor Hills.”

    It took a few more seconds to process through overwhelming information, but finally it began to sink into the Senior Templar. A gleeful expression arose on his face, and he nearly jumped from his seat to shake the Inquisitor’s hand. “Thank you, sir! Thank you so much!” he shook firmly and excitedly. Even though the Senior Templar has been working diligently as a Templar for nearly a decade, he never would have expected to join the ranks of the legendary Inquisitors. Truly, God favored those that followed in His path.

    “I won’t let you down, sir, I promise you that,” Templar Hills stated, and couldn’t wait to share this information with his young daughter.



    It seemed that that the rain hasn’t slowed down at all since the morning they arrived, and the heavy rang clanged loudly against Senior Templar Hill’s armor. He walked through the muddy streets of Sanctuary, walking quickly and heading directly towards his home. His own house wasn’t too far from the Templar Headquarters, he only needed to take a few turns in the upcoming intersections. Fortunately, it wasn’t too crowded outside, considering everybody was staying indoors and avoiding from the dreadful weather.

    He took a quick turn, passing by a small shopping district. He noticed a few of his squadron Templars approaching from the distance. They were probably searching for a place to dine in, because Isaac knew that the both of them tended to avoid the loud Jacob’s tavern, which was quite understandable .

    “Good evening, Templars,” Isaac smiled and nodded his head with the greeting. Fortunately, the two Templars weren’t in uniform, and it wasn’t necessary to salute Isaac despite him being in his battle-armor. He passed by the two because he really couldn’t afford to waste any time with chit-chat. He wanted to see his six-year old daughter right away.

    He finally reached the front door of his home, opening the entrance and stepping inside, and was immediately greeted with a loud squeal.

    “DADDY!”

    Kaitlyn heard the front door open, and rushed from the kitchen and towards the entrance. Her upper lips were adorably smeared with fudge, and she raced through the indoors of the home and towards her father. She immediately jumped up, and Isaac joyfully picked her up in her arms and held her tight.

    "Daddy, you're home!" Kaitlyn held on to her father, never wanting to let go again. He has been gone in longer trips before, but nevertheless she was always joyful to see her father again. She was not detracted at all by the mud and rain water covering Isaac's Templar armor, which was partially ruining the little white dress she wore.

    "I missed you, too, sweetheart," Isaac chuckled, before glancing up at the young Sophia Taylor, who is Kaitlyn's babysitter while Isaac is out during his Templar missions. Sophia, a young woman in her late-teens and actually just became a Priestess. She has been more than happy to watch over the little girl, and Isaac usually paid her in kind with a hefty salary. That is one of the perks for Isaac being noble-born, as he inherited his parent's entire estate once they both passed away.

    "She has been a good little girl," Sophia giggled, approaching the two of them before patting the top of Kaitlyn's head. "She's right now enjoying some sweets that Kiera dropped off earlier, she's a very darling woman, Isaac."

    Isaac nodded in agreement, ever since Elena passed away, Kiera tried to step up a little and help take care of Kaitlyn. It was a very welcomed support, since Isaac struggled at first to find the strength to continue without his beloved. He finally lowered Kaitlyn to the ground, allowing Sophia to wipe the chocolate from the little girl's face with a napkin.

    "I like her a lot," Kaitlyn mentioned aloud and referenced to Kiera, while enjoying another piece of chocolate handed over from Sophia. "Don't you, daddy?"

    "Yes, she's a very nice lady, you little rascal," Isaac chuckled, slightly ruffling his daughter's hair. He had a small feeling that Kaitlyn was trying to ship both Kiera and Isaac together, and even though he does admit that Templar Sanford is an attractive woman, he couldn't afford forming any more relationships in the squadron. Also, he still isn't quite ready to move forward from Elena, despite it being quite a few years since her death.

    "Well, I best be off, Mr. Hills, my parents are probably worrying about me..." Sophia said lightheartedly.

    "Thanks again, Sophia, I truly appreciate your help," Isaac nodded in thanks to her. "I will pay you right away tomorrow morning," he stated, and he is a man of his word.

    Sophia slightly waved her hand in a dismissive manner, "Oh, do not worry, Mr. Hills, I am more than happy to help," she stated with a small giggle. She picked an umbrella, and approached the door just as it knocked. All three of them turned towards the entrance, wondering who it was. Sophia opened the door, revealing the stoic Greymir standing outside.

    "Oh, good evening, Sir Greymir," Sophia blushed slightly, completely off-guard by the striking young man. "Please come in," she beckoned the Templar to come inside and away from the dreadful weather.

    Isaac was slightly surprised to see his assistant, but really shouldn't be considering that Greymir was always active and on the move about Templar matters. Even though Isaac understood Jerris's reasoning and knew that the Scourge are never at rest, the father was slightly frustrated about the interruption. He really wanted to spend quality time with his family and take advantage of every second in the company of his little girl.

    "Good evening, Templar Greymir," Isaac nodded at Jerris, forming a small smile as a greeting and banishing away any frustrations. This is the life of a Senior Templar, and his life would only become more busy as an Inquisitor. He would have to get used to spontaneous meetings regardless. Isaac turned his head to the teenager, "Sophia, I apologize, but can you please look over Kaitlyn for a few more minutes while Jerris and I have a meeting in my office?"

    Sophia was slightly taken aback, but understood quickly and nodded her head. "Yes, that's no problem at all," she put down the umbrella at the nearby table. "Let's go, Kaitlyn, before I eat all of the cookies myself," she teased the little girl, who immediately raced off to the kitchen to consume more of the bakery goods.

    Isaac turned to face his companion, beckoning him to follow. "Come, would you like any drinks, Jerris?" Isaac questioned, as they headed down the hallway before taking a left turn. They entered a medium sized room, which was slightly messy and cluttered. Isaac never really had the time to clean up after himself, but it was organized chaos since he was always able to find any important paperwork.

    "And how can I help you?" he questioned, after closing the door behind him.
    Last edited by RedKayne; 08-22-2015 at 01:49 PM.

  4. #24
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    Images of Amittay running various tests on a beast that tried to attack him any chance it got flashed across her mind causing her to shudder. She couldn't imagine being in the same room as one of those things, with no escape…so close to another. Selenada’s heart raced and she feared for her life enough when she faced those creators on the battle field.

    She was relieved when Amittay changed the subject, she didn't like to dwell on such dark topics after returning from a mission. “I wish we could've gone earlier, before everyone else arrived, the soup there is just delightful. No matter, I can whip us up something here!” She heard the familiar jingle of her cats collar causing a faint smile to cross her lips. That little ball of fluff brought her so much happiness she wondered why she didn't get one sooner. She found Raavi hiding underneath some rotted wood in a rain storm, she couldn't just leave the little thing laying there so she took her in and instantly bonded with her.

    “Raavi, my sweet, you really are an attention hog,” Selenada chuckled as she watched the kitten snuggle up to Amittay right away, meowing happily at the attention.

    “So, dinner…what sounds good?” She asked as she poured her friend a glass of wine and slid it towards him.

    “Anything, Seleneda. I just don’t want to be the guinea pig for another one of your cooking experiments,” A shudder crossed his features upon recollecting the last experiment—some amalgam of two food choices that prophets mentioned in the Requiem may have eaten.

    The sky ripped open, releasing a fresh din of thunder and lightning that knocked, hard, against the alchemy room. Although the rain was worse than thunder, the latter was not good either. It made Amittay shiver, though the alchemy room was not cold. He took the wine Seleneda had offered him, pressed the contours of the glass to his bottom lip, and took a sip. Before he could take another, the candles that had illumined the room were snuffed out.

    Darkness, emboldened by the sudden eradication of the light, seeped forth from its corners, and engulfed the entire architecture. No light came through, as if forms had been swallowed by this impregnable void. Instinctively, Amittay took Seleneda’s hand. “Don’t be afraid,” he was afraid, though his timbre was steady. “Wind just snuffed the candles out. Why don’t we just go out and wait for the lights return. No need for candlelight then, right?”

    Selenada blushed deeply when he mentioned one of her experimental dishes, sometimes they turned out amazingly but most of the time they turned out to be disasters. “Oh, come on, they aren't that bad,” she chuckled and gave him an apologetic smile. “My little Guinea pig,”

    The clap of thunder was followed by a yelp from Selenada, her cheeks reddened and she giggled nervously. She hated thunder. They were suddenly engulfed in darkness and she gasped, she forgot just how dark this old church could get. She usually kept candles lit at all times so she never got to see it in its true darkness, it was actually pretty creepy. She was glad Amittay took her hand it made her feel safe and the warmth of his hand was nice.

    “Running around lighting candles doesn't sound fun, I've been fighting with the wind all night. When I get more time I'm redoing the roof and replacing all the windows and doors! Where would you like to go?” Selenada’s eyes were starting to adjust to darkness, the outlines of the alchemy room were taking shape and slowly she could see bottles on the shelves and the details of her friends face again.

    “Anywhere is better than the dark,”

    Amittay did not respond at once. If you listened closely you could hear the gears in his brain shifting, like a machine that has been well-oiled. He then smiled, mischievously—though he did not know this—and tightened his grip on Seleneda’s hand; not enough to hurt of course, just tight enough to remind her that he had not left her side.

    “To be honest Selenada, I don’t mind the dark too much. It helps me think, to be honest. Let’s stay here, just for a while and once the storm breaks we can go.” He interlaced his fingers with hers, and would have continued if not for the knock on the lower level. Amittay started at the sudden sound that did not belong to either of them. At first he thought he was only hearing things—that wasn’t too uncommon in Sanctuary—but then the knock came again. And then a third time.

    Without a doubt it came from the lower level. Someone was knocking just outside the church and then, a shout came: “Is anyone in there? I would like some shelter. Please!”

    Selenada probably would not have seen this in the dark, but Amittay looked towards her for an answer to this question: “Should we let this person in?”

    “I suppose we could stay, we can drink our wine here or go sit in my bedroom. I just got this new couch and it feels like a cloud!” She wasn't too keen on staying in her old dark church, she was still getting used to all the creepy noises it made at night. It whined when the wind blew too hard, it protested when you stepped on certain spaces and it was always making weird noises as it settled into the lot. Selenada was also convinced there were some lurking spirits in her home that liked to cause a ruckus in the night.

    The first knock went unnoticed by the spiritual blonde, she just assumed it was the storm trying to make its way inside. The second knock caught her attention, but she didn't full acknowledge until there was a third knock followed by a faint voice.

    “Of course! It's probably another poor victim of the pilgrimage. Did you hear about that?” She asked over her shoulder as she quickly fled down the stairs to greet their new guest.

    Selenada reached the nave and pulled open the massive doors, not bothering to look at who it was before saying, “Do come in! I'm so sorry, I would've come sooner but I thought your knocks were caused by the storm!” She quickly, but gently urges the person inside and out of the cold rain.

    He was a large man and his torso had an incongruous shape as though he had just eaten a fridge and it was having difficulties digesting. He did not seem to notice Seleneda at first, as though the storm had blown out any attention he had. His jowls rested on his collar bone—an unfortunate feature shared among all the obese—and his eyes were set deep within his forehead, like a bear. He wore a sleeveless, black shirt, which accurately delineated the rolls of fat, which ran up and down his arms.

    Passing Seleneda, the man walked towards the front of the church, and went knee bound. When Amittay followed after Seleneda, the man was still on his knees, mumbling what was more than likely a pray although you couldn’t quite hear the words he was saying.

    “Letting strangers into the house again?” Amittay stepped abreast Seleneda, suddenly weary. “Who’s your new friend?” He could just see the man’s back. The rain had made his shirt see-through so that one could also pinpoint the hair growing from his flesh—there was so much that you could make a fur coat with it.

    The man drew to his haunches, and then rose to his full height. He then looked in Amittay and Seleneda’s direction, and his face broke. Amittay shuddered, but the realised that the man’s face was intact. He had only grinned. “Sorry for the intrusion. My name is Tyler. I was walking from the slums of Sancturary when I had a sudden craving to kill a Templar and I heard a rumour that there was a little Templar girl living in this abandoned church over here,” Tyler scratched his head, and he looked a bit embarrassed all of a sudden. “I didn’t know that she had a boyfriend over. Like I said, I hate intruding, but I cannot reschedule. I just finished praying to God and so I cannot back out now—I just can’t. You know how it is, don’t you?”

    The moved his eyes from Seleneda to Amittay and then back to Seleneda. Amittay shuddered, suddenly wishing that he had not left his bow and arrows at home. He didn’t even have the pistol which his father had given him all those years ago. “You’re sick,” he said. “Please. Let us help you.”

    A laugh—boisterous, but true. “Of course I’m sick!” From his pocket he produced a pistol and brandished it, like a knight withdrawing his sword. “I’m sick of you Templars just doing whatever shit you want to do—it pisses me off.” A vein traced a line on his forehead. His breath came quickly. “I have to kill you one at a time, see? First the girl and then you, and then the rest of your squad.” The man’s voice was smooth. He sounded like a business person trying to coerce his customers into a deal: If you act now I’ll throw in a 2-for-1 deal on murder just for you!

    To tell the truth, Amittay was not as worried as he should have been. Somehow, after fighting large, grotesque monsters for so long, disarming a human with a pistol did not seem so bad. Further still, he knew Seleneda could handle herself in a brawl. She was tougher than she looked.

    “We can’t hurt him,” Amittay said. “If we do then we’re just as bad as he says we are.” He looked sidelong at Seleneda. “What do you think?”

    Selenada smiled as she watched the man quickly run to the front of the church and drop to his knees, he needed comfort from his God and she was happy he chose to come to her church to find that comfort. Just as she was about to go fetch him some dry clothes and try to make some soup in the dark Amittay appeared teasing her as always.

    "Of course I am, some people run to their loved ones when in need, others..." She gestured to the man who was praying, “others find that coming to a church and praying and hearing the word of God is more comforting than anything.”

    Selenada sighed happily, more and more people had been coming to her church and it made her heart swell with pride. She noticed the man was getting up and about to addresses the two of them, she stepped towards him with a warm, but shy, smile. “Good evening! Would you like some warm clothes? Something to eat?” His response was not what she was expecting. Frowning she looked to Amittay to judge his reaction, he seemed less than interested with the present situation.

    “Sir, please, I think you are placing a blanket judgement on the Templars. Yes, there are crooked people within our ranks, but I assure you there are people, like Amittay and myself, that are good, honest people. God would not want you passing judgement on people like this and deciding who is granted life or death,” her voice was slow, steady and very gentle.

    “I don't want to fight him if we don't have to. He needs help.” Her eyes wore true worry for the man and her voice sounded hurt, like one of her own children just said a bad word for the first time.

    “Tyler,” Selenada’s voice turned more stern as she watched him whip out his gun. “Let's talk. Put away your weapon and let us both talk before God and work out your problems.” Selenada prayed the man would listen to her words, fighting in a church seemed so dirty.

    The man tsked and Amittay wondered where he had seen this gesture before. “Can’t do that, sister. I really wish I could but I can’t. I thought you could understand that, but I guess I was wrong. I heard you guys just came from Jericho. I have a sister there. A cute little girl, perhaps you know her.”

    Then it came back to Amittay. “You’re Sarah’s older brother,” the room became colder and the storm outside lulled into silence. He knew he was right before the man confirmed his hypothesis. Sarah had ‘tsked’ a lot when she did not agree with what someone had said.

    “Bingo to the white-haired lad,” the man laughed again. “And I heard all about your little trip there and back. Next thing I know you let my sister get bit by one of the Scourge Beasts and she’s who knows where?” He pulled the trigger of his pistol, aiming it skyward. A strident bang emanated from the barrel, filling the church, like a prayer. Amittay winced, but other than that, looked utterly unperturbed. On the other hand, the man looked worse off than he had when he entered.

    He was crying.

    “Do you have any idea what it’s fucking like to lose a sibling? Do you?”

    Amittay thought of his own younger sister and how she had been killed by his father. For the first time in weeks he remembered that he was wearing her medical bracelet around his wrist. Engraved on it was her name: Judith Caesar. Looking up now, “I do understand. I lost a sister myself; she was very beautiful, too. Just like Sarah.” He smiled, softly, but the smile did not reach his eyes. “I’m sorry for what happened Tyler. Really I am.”

    Tyler softened slightly, as if Amittay hugged his troubled soul with his words. Tyler went to shout back words filled with hate, fueled by his desperate need for revenge but Selenada beat him to it.

    “Tyler, we've all experienced harsh loss in the times we live in. We all handle it differently and I respect your wish to get vengeance on your sister. But, Sarah sounded like a sweet, amazing young woman. Do you think she'd want you to taint her name with the spilled blood of the wrong people?” She took a deep breath and moved forward, took his hand and gave it a gentle squeeze. Tyler flinched and pointed the gun at her as she moved towards him, but he didn't feel the need to pull the trigger.

    “Come, let's go get some dry clothes and hot soup. We can talk about what happened for as long as you want,” Selenada smiled up at the troubled man, “and I promise you, your sister will not parish in vain. Amittay,” she gestured to her friend, “is working on a way to reverse the effects of the bite.”

    Selenada didn't have to say another word. The man dropped his weapon, Amittay quickly gathered it, and sobbed into his dirty hands. Muffled apologies, cursing and praying could be heard as Tyler broke down. Selenada understood where his rage came from, even though it was misdirected.

    “Amittay, why don't you talk to Tyler about your work while I fetch clothes and food?” Selenada pulled Tyler up onto the pew and kissed the top of his forehead, like a mother would a child. Amittay silently nodded and took a space next to Tyler and began to explain everything as best he could.
    Last edited by The Texan Queen; 08-22-2015 at 04:30 AM.



  5. #25
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    Before Kiera had left the tavern, she did get a good look at Octavius and would comment on the assets that make almost any living, breathing woman take a second glance. It would be understandable that Sophia may believe the Paladin was a shameless flirt with a desirous need for attention. But, if one was truly paying attention, Kiera did not command, nor grab or lay a hand on, or ever even try to succeed in claiming any of the men in their squadron for the night. She also didn't pursue any other man in those very walls for that matter. To do so would be completely out of character. Sure, there may be jokes or teasing banter; but, no one would be able to truthfully say she'd ever had romantic ties with anyone as anything having to do with her personal dealings was always done privately.

    Within the hour, she'd be right back in the bar waving to those she knew who were still present. However, she didn't return to talk shop or ogle all the sexy males. Her reason for returning? Kiera never left without playing at least one game with old, man George. By gosh, she'd had a complete and total brain fart and forgotten to keep her word. "I'm so sorry. Do you still have time for a quick game of dominoes?"

    He'd tap the tip of his cane three times on the floor, let out a little laugh and nod. "Sure..my night isn't finished until I've kicked your ass. What happened? Pretty boy over there turn your brain to mush."

    "Oh, ha ha ha! I'll have you know, I plan to beat you this time." Pulling up a seat across from the round table. Her face blanched when even a half, blind elderly man thought she was gaga over someone. "Yes, I blew you off to stare at someone I see almost everyday." said in a deadpan voice. "We gonna do this or what? Let's play down from twelve or we'll be here til morning."

    He'd cast her a toothless smile while shuffling the dominoes. "Plan all you want. It never works. ..aright, aright, don't rush the decrepit!" The game beginning in earnest as each took their pieces and squared off in a battle of wits and cunning.

    Thirty intense minutes passed,low and behold, George won. He always won. She let him claim the victory because it made an old man happy when there was often little in his world to be happy about. "Damn it, George. How do you do that?" Pushing her remaining dominoes away in mock disgust.

    "Honey, I'm just that good." He'd have both of them sitting there laughing.

  6. #26
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    Octavius felt the eyes of his comrades on him still, even as he sat peering into the flame. His silver eyes shifted to his right as he felt movement within the earth and noticed that Kiera was getting ready to leave the Tavern. He smirked at her remark to him, and bowed slightly before turning back to the fire and shivering ever so slightly at the cold touch of the shirt against his bare skin.

    He noticed Marcella and Orfiel across the way talking among themselves. They were his roommates and he couldn't ask for better people to live with, but he felt as though they had formed a bond between one another that would prevent any others from really being a part of that duo. He didn't blame them though, they were similar souls, and in that they found a lasting friendship that could grow into more - or at least in his eyes, it had the potential to grow to something more.

    It was as Templar Renakovic's words reached his ears that he turned his eyes of moonlight to her and one would see a mischievous smile dance across his features before he answered, "I doubt the tale is as magnificent as the scar may appear to others, Lady Yelena. But, if you so wish, I shall share the tale with you one day."

    There was something in his words that caused the light to fade in his eyes and pools of moonlight hardened to solid silver as though he were remembering a darker time; which, in fact, he was. He would not forget the day that he received his scar, it was a day that he learned never to underestimate the cunning of the Scourge Beasts.

    He had to grow up quick when he lost his parents, only having remained in Hirod because of the generosity of the survivors the night his parents were killed. The village had taken pity on him and had allowed him to live in his home for a meager rent, that he was able to pay by working in Hirod's mine.

    Shaking his head slightly, as if shaking the memories from his mind, and it seemed to have worked as the light that usually danced in his eyes returned and the smile that had so briefly graced his features crept back. He looked directly to Yelena, waiting to see if she would want him to share the tale with her now rather than later.

    He'd spoken true when he told her that the tale wasn't as daring, or grand, as the scar itself appeared to be. It was a rather short tale that was a product of his own youthful arrogance and hatred at the time. Of course, that had changed when he discovered the path of Gadriel. He had devoted his self to the kindness that was exhibited to him in Hirod, and as such, he had had to let go of his hatred and arrogance.

    Granted he hadn't gotten rid of it entirely, as was evident whenever he met a Lycan in battle, but he has been trying to let it all go. Humanity wasn't perfect and neither was he, nor did he ever claim to be. So, he would take it one day at a time, carefully nursing his long-ago injured pride, until the day that he could truly let go of his hatred for the Scourge Beasts.
    Last edited by Aureyon; 08-23-2015 at 05:44 PM.
    Set by Naraness
    Spoiler: Extra Information 

  7. #27
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    Explaining scientific research to a vagrant whose greatest educational achievement was a PhD in Pauperism was not a simple task. Fumbling over word, backtracking, simplifying, Amittay found himself traversing from one topic to the next with little preamble and yet, excitement galloped through his veins.

    Where the soon-to-be murdered had been, there was now only a student—Amittay’s student. Tyler; and although neither were perfect at their new professions, they both did their best; the one to teach, and the other to be taught. When Amittay finished, he wasn’t sure whether or not Tyler understood most of what he had said, but what he extrapolated was easy to discern: There was a chance for his sister to, once again, become his sister. With this news in mind, a smile crossed his face, lifted his eyes. He rose, and without saying anything, left in that same inscrutability he cloaked himself in in order to enter.

    Watching him leave, Amittay was certain that this was how a prophet must have felt when he had just encountered some example of God’s divine intervention. For the second time that night, he could, palatably, feel the cold steel of his own sister’s medical bracelet touch his wrist, squeeze it, as though trying to preclude any blood from reaching Amittay’s fingers. It was a comforting squeeze, though, because it reminded the wearer of how his sister used to squeeze his arm.

    He thought: I miss you.

    He thought: You’re gone. Forever.

    The storm was not as terrible as it had been prior to Tyler’s unannounced entrance. The thunder was quieter, the rain hit the earth more softly, as though taking mercy on the ground it had, before, pillaged. Amittay rubbed his eyes, realized that he had been crying, but unsure whether these were tears of joy, anguish, melancholy, or some twisted amalgam of the three, he wiped them away, grabbed the cloak he had left on his pew, and folded it over his arm.

    He sniffled, and looked down at the cloak, undecided, immobile, and irresolute.

    He thought: Forever.

    He thought: I haven’t slept in two nights.

    He was tired, exhausted, and drained. He felt like a spectre losing its tether on the world. His body was weak and so was his mind.

  8. #28
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    Matthew Tannhauser's Formal Progress Report


    Matthew enters the headquarters, dressed in his finest suit, brightly dyed and elegantly stitched, truly looking like the noble he was - with the Tannhauser family crest large on his lapel, and noticeably, not his Templar badge. He was to report in to his commander, likely because he was to receive yet another commendation. It would have been long enough, as he had not yet received one since he transferred from his previous Senior Templar.

    He walked past the portraits of the past Senior Templars, quite a few of which were related to him, and some directly. Finally, he got to Hills's office, knocked, went directly in and stated, "Senior Templar Hills, Templar Tannhauser reporting as ordered." While standing at attention and saluting, then he would drop his salute when it was returned.

    Isaac looked up from his paperwork as soon as Templar Tannhauser entered the office, reporting in and saluting. While the Templar held his salute, his superior observed his stature. The man held an aura of confidence about him, over-confidence to be specific. He appeared formally dressed for this reporting in procedure, but more than likely, Isaac would assume that the man dressed for one of the noble extravaganzas occurring later on that day.

    Finally, Isaac saluted back to him, allowing the both of them to promptly drop their salutes. "Take a seat, Templar Tannhauser, and sit at ease," Isaac beckoned him to take sit at the chair directly across from him.

    Isaac took out a folder from his desk, which held all of the details regarding to Templar Tannhauser's performance within the squadron. "I'm sure you are familiar with this procedure," he stated aloud, skimming through the paperwork to refresh on some key points in this process. "We will be doing a progress report based upon your current work, which include details about your overall ranking from the memorandum assigned earlier. And may you please remind me how long you have been in the Templar Order?"

    "16 years," Matthew Tannhauser began. "16 highly decorated years, I might add. You see that five years ago, I was awarded the Golden Cross (Templar VC equivalent), for clearing out a massive hive of Arachne that was threatening Sanctuary. But now's not the time for that."

    After Matthew answered his first question, Isaac would quickly close the folder, before glancing back up at the seated Templar. "I would like to begin by asking a few more questions. What do you believe is your greatest strength? And what do you believe is your greatest weakness? You may take some time to give these answers some thought, if you wish."

    "My greatest strength would be my cool head under pressure," Templar Tannhauser immediately stated. "Being able to strategically coordinate my fellow team members during missions. My years of experience in high-risk missions allows me to easily prioritize targets, especially when I can get up high and snipe targets from afar, or keep flying vampires away from my team. My main weakness, however, is that I feel I fail to impress upon my current teammates that what I am telling them is the proper course of action. They feel that since they took on their Templar Heraldry, they no longer have to listen to those of higher social standing, which is wrong. The High-Born have always commanded the low, it is the way of the world. Are there any other questions, Senior Templar?"

    The Senior Templar listened carefully, nodding in agreement to certain parts of his strengths and weaknesses.
    "I do agree that you are an excellent fighter, Templar Tannhauser," he glanced down at the papers. "However, you should be mindful that there are many other warriors who are also superb fighters," he commented. Based upon the ranking memorandums, Isaac asked the Templars to rank each other based upon leadership skills, follower skills, and warrior ethos. Templar Tannhauser does have great warrior ethos and is a very effective fighter, but many others also are on par with his skills. The Senior Templar will begin to mention Matthew's skills on leadership and follower-ship a little later.

    "And also, when you mentioned you're weakness, you're making it sound like its everyone else's fault, but yours..." this time, Isaac cast him a sharp glance. Isaac had little to no tolerance for petty excuses, and it seems that Tannhauser views that he has no faults - which is typical for a pompous and spoiled nobleman. "And I believe that there are exceptions to this rule - that you mentioned - about how the High-born always command the low-born."

    "Should I remind you that our current Divine King was born as a farmer in the town of Levi? He was not a noble or high-born in any sense of the word, yet he nearly single-handily brought us victory at the end of the Third Plague." That is one prime example how a man's destiny is not shaped by his birthplace or origins, and Isaac intended to teach this lesson to the Templar before him. "I myself am a noble-born," Isaac stated, even though he barely considered himself one. "Yet I do not share that same belief system. A person's performance is not determined how wealthy he is, or how expensive is the fabric of his dresses, or how many parties one is invited to."

    Senior Templars Hills leaned back, his facial expression slightly stern. "Unfortunately, your own performance as a Templar has been less than sub-par, Tannhauser. You are ranked 14th out of the 15 squadron Templars, you are placed in the bottom two." He now would await for the Templar's reaction, waiting for the information to sink in. More than likely, the corrupt nobleman would not be ecstatic about this.

    "The Divine King is king because God himself chose him. That overrides our human way of life." At his mention of ranking, his eye twitches. "I see... I'd like copies of those memorandums. Slander is a crime, after all, and make no mistake, I will be bringing charges. And you mentioned parties... are you aware that my family gives more than fifty thousand gold coins annually to the poor, the downtrodden? Do you know how we raise that money? We hold social functions, and we get donations from other nobles, from merchants. People would starve, if that dried up."

    He leans forward. "You think my life is all easy, all fun and games? Do you know, I rarely ever get free time to myself? That's why, when I do, I go wild. I work my ass off, day in and day out, not only to improve myself as a Templar, but to also ensure that people less fortunate than me can eat. I guarantee you, my 'squad mates' think that nobles get to just sit back all day. I deserve command. While they were still shitting in their hands and rubbing it on their faces, I was getting my ass beat for twelve hours a day, seven days a week, not only in combat, but in strategy, in academics. I have earned my right to command. Now, I do, in fact, have a function to go to. In fact, I am a special guest of the Divine Lady, and I gather you'd not leave her waiting. Now, good day to you, Senior Templar." With that, he stands up and begins to storms out, almost reaching the door.

    "Templar Tannahauser," Isaac rose from his seat, nearly jumped out of it. His voice began to raise, before he quickly shouted, "You stay in my office right NOW!!" Isaac ordered and slammed his left hand against the desk loudly, angry veins bulging from his neck. He raised up his right hand, pointing - nearly jamming his finger - towards the departing Templar. Isaac's face became completely red with anger, and this was completely unexpected of him. He rarely loses his calm or cool demeanor to anyone, but when he does, one knows he means business. If would be wise for Templar Tannhauser to listen to his vice-commander, otherwise, that would be considered insubordination and his career as a Templar warrior would be over. "Get back over here, and sit at attention!"

    Matthew resists the sudden urge to cold cock the Senior Templar, such an act would be quite scandalous. He does as he is told, and he sits at attention in the front six inches of his chair - quite an uncomfortable seating position. He is firm, rigid, with his eyes facing forward. If he is feeling any emotions, they are not showing on his face. It is almost as if he was carved out of stone. If the Senior Templar was trying to intimidate him... it was not working. He is the perfect image of discipline. It was as if he knew this would happen. He might not like Hills, in fact, he did not. But he was given a direct order by his commander. Even if said commander is an incompetent simpleton, since no one's life is in danger, he had no reason to refuse, and every reason to acquiesce.

    The Senior Templar glared at the man as he returned to his seat. Templar Tannhauser followed his orders and obeyed his commands, as he rightly should. Isaac very rarely has to raise his voice to any of his squadron members, but in the occasion that he does, he displays that he is not messing around. Being in the position of leadership required personality shifts. He had to be very coaxing and relaxed around Templar Volkov to ensure that she does not break down, and so that she can come out as a stronger woman from the meeting session. However, in this situation, Isaac recognized he needed to be stern, blunt, and to-the-point with Templar Tannhauser.

    "Now, Templar Tannhauser, we are here about your performance as a Templar, and how you can improve. I am not interested in discussing religion, your noble lifestyle, or how hard you work. To be frank, I simply don't have the time with you to discuss these matters." To be honest, Isaac found it ridiculous if Tannhauser considered himself a religious man, but that was not his place to say as of right now. "We are here to discuss about your performance," he reemphasized, trying to get his message across. Despite Tannhauser's perfect form of discipline, Isaac immediately recognized that he was a much more sensitive man than he appeared - hence the outburst from earlier.

    Isaac sighed heavily, speaking to people like Tannhauser can be quite draining. He glanced back up at the Templar, whom was still sitting at the position of attention. "Believe or not, Templar Tannhauser," his voice began to soften slightly. "I am here to help you. I am here because I want you to succeed as a Templar. I want you to improve yourself to be a better man. And I think it would be wise to listen to my advice, otherwise, you will never have any hopes of becoming an Inquisitor - or even a Senior Templar. At this point, you will not live up to your family legacy."

    Hopefully, the Templar can realize how severe of a situation he was in. Matthew made it clear that his ultimate ambition is to become a respectable commander - one of the highly elite Inquisitors.

    "You may sit at ease, now," the Senior Templar stated. "Do not..." he began, his voice becoming slightly stern again while his eyes hardened. "Make me regret this decision." If there are any further outbursts, Isaac will not resort to simply demanding him to sit at attention. No, the matters will be handled up the chain-of-command, and Inquisitor Caleb Bartholomew will be a lot less tolerant of Matthew's ill-behavior.

    Matthew sits at what would be considered 'attention at ease'. He's technically at ease, but his mind has not switched back to the 'at ease' mentality. It was as if he was in the field, his body seemly relaxed, yet tensed and ready. His face still was as if it was set in stone. Almost as if he was afraid to be completely at ease. The difference was now he was sweating, though it was not hot. What Hills would notice now, was his eyes, and the thousand-yard-stare he would see in them. "What must I do, Senior Templar?" He questions, in a dull monotone voice.

    Isaac observes the man when he switches his sitting position, but could tell that his mind seemed really off. However, Isaac was pleased to hear that the man was still willing to listen to him. This shows promise.

    "Alright, as I stated before, you are a superb fighter. You have great warrior ethos, and can handle your own against the Scourge Beasts. However, what you need to work on is leadership and being a follower. Right now, your largest hindrance is your own personality," Senior Templar Hills began to explain. "You lack the charisma to command others, because you demand attention and respect. You don't just get respect because you ask for it, you must earn it. Right now, you haven't earned it from anyone in the squadron, and that is where your leadership skills suffer. If your fellow Templars can't respect you as a leader, if they cannot trust you as a leader, how can you expect them to readily obey your - or even listen to you on that matter?"

    "Now, moving on to being a follower, you seem to have issues listening to those that are not high-born, or those that you believe to be incompetent. Unfortunately, in your eyes, it seems like nearly everyone falls into one of these two categories. As I stated before, you need to start respecting your fellow Templars. It they have a good idea, it may be wise to actually listen to them, instead of concentrating on how it makes yourself look good."

    Isaac sat there quietly for a minute, observing and always evaluating the Templar before him. "I understand that fixing your personality can be a rather difficult task, and that you can't easily change how you are as a human being. Right now, focus on giving respect to others - genuine respect. People can easily tell if its fake. That will be the first step in the process of improving yourself as a Templar warrior. And I believe that you can achieve this, if you have the willpower and heart to do so."

    "I see.." He says, droning. "I shall take this to heart. Is there anything else that you require or may I go?"

    Isaac slightly frowned at the man, unsure whether he is truly taking this information to heart. However, Isaac will accept that he has done everything he can for the man, and it is up to him to make that change happen.

    "That will be all," the Senior Templar stated with finality. Hopefully, something positive came out of this scenario.

    Matthew blinks a few times and Senior Templar Hills can see his eyes refocus. He stands up, steps back, salutes and says "Good afternoon, Senior Templar Hills." He then leaves.

    Spoiler: Things I like 

  9. #29
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    Selenada made sure to keep out of Amittay's and Tyler's conversation. She knew Amittay's words would be more helpful than what Selenada could say to him and if she was needed the men would call on her. She fetched some soup and some dry clothes for Tyler so he could be more comfortable in her church.

    "If you need anything I'll be in my alchemy lab," Selenada patted Tyler on the back and gave Amittay's head a quick peck before she disappeared up the stairs. She wanted to work on her idea for a new potion, if it worked right it would allow the person that took it to turn invisible for a few seconds. Well, not invisible, more like camouflage. The person could change their skin tone and texture to blend in with their surroundings, kind of like she can do.

    This time Selenada would add some of her blood, but she wasn't sure if it would pick up on the right strand of DNA. What if the potion made the user spit webs? She shuddered at the thought, it was so disgusting but it came in handy when she was forced to use it. Cranking up her burners she grabbed herbs, various mixes of liquids and other potions she had already made. Hopefully she would reach some sort of breakthrough tonight but she wasn't too sure she would. Creating knew potions was a long and tasking process, you had to get every little detail to be exact, everything had to balance and everything had to have a reason for being in the mixture. It usually took her months to create a new potion, it was a frustrating process but the end result was so worth it.

    --------

    The loud slam of the church doors snapped Selenada out of her concentration and she poured too much of one mixture into her potion causing it to boil over. She let out a frustrated groan and quickly cleaned up the mess and put away everything she was working on. Selenada couldn't concentrate so she decided to go down and see how Amittay was after the long conversation he had with Tyler.

    "Amittay?" Selenada called out as she entered the dark worship room. "How'd things go with Tyler?"
    Last edited by The Texan Queen; 08-25-2015 at 09:43 PM.



  10. #30
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    Yelena kept her attention firmly set on Octavius, blatantly ignoring the irksome voice of Iago behind her, asking how everyone was doing before choking and sputtering on his lager. That he was no fool, that he was in fact quite clever and had her fooled, never occurred to the proud woman. In her mind, he was but a pest, and one that would meet a very quick and grisly end due to his own stupidity. The tricks, the clumsiness, the goofy appearance and disingenuous behavior: these were his tools, his weapons of deceit, and he wielded them well. He had his fellow Templar utterly duped.

    Thus it was that she did not give him a second glance or moment’s consideration, to her own detriment. If she were to look closely enough, perhaps she would see through that meticulous guise.

    But she would not.

    Octavius’s pale eyes met hers as he responded to her question, and though a smile played at his lips, that gaze turned distant, that grin faltered. What, she wondered, plagued his thoughts? But as quick as that look had come, it vanished with a light shaking of the head, and Octavius was once again master of his emotions.

    “Oh, I doubt that,” Yelena replied to his modest answer with an impish look, lifting her hand and gingerly tracing the scar with a finger. Too thick to be a blade, too curved for a bullet. This, she determined, almost certainly came from a beast, and such tales were exciting indeed. “And you most certainly will need to regale me with the story someday soon. But for now, drink with me, darling, and celebrate our safe return from a successful mission.”

    And with that, she downed another shot of whiskey, ignoring the warning buzzing deep within her head.
    Set by the masterful Karma

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