The mountain comes to town
#1
The sun shown down on the behemoth, the armor he adorned glinted in the sunlight, his impressive physique wearing his armor well. Sitting high atop his massive war horse Charlemange, the man himself looked to be right out of some god awful battle field. As always his ever present great two handed hammer hung in a strap along his side, tethered to the horse. All said he towered above quite a few of the tents and buildings, as the horse slowly walked along the row of merchants. His blue eyes, slowly scanned along the wolves coming and going. It wasn’t something he cared to really participate in, the stench of weed still stung his nose when he passed several tents, even his own packs tent, and it was a pain in his side as he thought about it.

Again the horse lurched forward as he steered it toward more suitable tents that sold items he actually had some interest in. Truth be told he was enjoying himself, all the different wolves and items had brought a good deal of curiosity and had helped to liven up the so far dull winter. Not that the winter in Ichika was without significant events, but day after day of snow and patrols had worn on him physically and mentally.

The tent his eyes zeroed in on was full of items useful to his trade, if it wasn’t obvious already he was a blacksmith, wearing and using only what he had made with his two hands, paws or whatever noun you could use to describe them. His frame swung off the horse as he dismounted, a deep thud shook the ground as his weight settled. First off, he needed some new sharpening stones and other various little items that never seemed to be easily found.
#2
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(1416 holy fuck)
Controlling Myrika in this thread. Also, Saluce = Ser Gregor Clegane. Um, you know, without the psychopath bit... <___< This post is also the text version of The Mountain that Rides. >___>

Also, uh. The tl;dr version of this post: Ithiel and Myrika come from Inferni, stash their horses in the corral, wander around the tents, Myrika trades, Ithiel spots Saluce in the distance then watches him enter the tent of Rie van den Eliene. SORRY FOR RAMBLING AT YOU BRO, SERIOUSLY ONLY THE LAST 3 PARAGRAPHS HAVE ANY RELEVANCE WHATSOEVER, don't read the rest. X:



Ithiel is by me!

Ithiel had not come to this festival of his own accord. He had not wanted to go; even if he had, the ashen coyote had little enough to trade. The belongings he'd taken from Scintilla were all he had to his name, and Ithiel had no plans to part with them. It was for his cousin's sake the dusky man had traveled to this festival in the woods. Myrika had not insisted on Ithiel's accompaniment; on the contrary, she seemed perplexed at his insistence of accompanying her south, and had argued with him a quarter of the way from Inferni before giving up, realizing Ithiel meant to accompany her for the entirety of this trek.

Ithiel was glad Myrika had shown him the stables and the calmer horses within it. Myrika had gone so far as to offer Ithiel her own mount, though she'd inveighed his use of a sudden jerk of the reins to wheel her in from a trot. Ithiel had endured the sound tongue-lashing by this woman-cousin of his only because of her height in rank and his comparative lowliness. Had Ithiel higher rank within Inferni, the iron-furred man might have protested with yells of his own to accompany Myrika's. It was rare such anger flared within the Praeses, but it had burned surely for Myrika. Strong as it had been then, all traces had vanished from the swarthy man shortly thereafter, for no apparent reason whatsoever -- Ithiel was simply not one to cling to rage, no matter how humiliating its provocation.

Truth be told, the swarthy coyote was glad he'd learned this lesson from his cousin. The dappled horse had reacted rather unlike Lystra; rather than fight harder against the sudden and violent treatment, Eira had stopped immediately, such treatment hitherto unprecedented by her owners. Myrika had to dismount Merab, the silver-hued mare now perhaps showing just the first signs of her pregnancy, in order to comfort her usual mount. Part of Myri's diatribe against Ithiel had included this poor treatment as a likely reason Lystra disliked him so, and these words had stuck within the leaden coyote's mind.

Both Eira and Merab were left in the public corral so Ithiel and Myrika might traverse the festival afoot. The first tent had interested Ithiel and Myrika both, and they'd stood at the tent's entrance a moment, watching a massive timberwolf conduct others with fighting experience. Ithiel was not so physically impressed by his size, but when the big man grinned broadly toward her, Myrika turned away and smiled, clearly uncomfortable despite the man's friendliness. Ithiel offered neither apology nor explanation to the tent, which held only a few Luperci, some of whom now seemed curious at them. Ithiel thought this was a lovely way to make a good impression of Inferni.

While their clan had offered no activity for this festival, their Aquila and his half-brother -- Ithiel could now think of Ezekiel as such without his stomach rolling in his ribcage, though the same certainly could not be said of Alder -- had not forbidden Infernian's attendance. Myrika had therefore chosen to go of her own accord, bearing her usual wares. Ithiel had noted her proficiency for leather and peltwork, and thought she would fetch good trade for them. This was proven true in the tends to the southernmost end of the festival, which seemed the trader's tents. Ithiel was glad to be among strangers rather than attending the officially sanctioned activities of wolf packs. He held out hope for a coyote trader, but as they passed tent after tent, he was sorely disappointed. The smell of marijuana was strong in the air, and Ithiel had frowned strongly at Myrika when she'd bent to partake in one of their tents.

Ithiel's thought regarding Myrika's peltwork was proven true in a quiet tent. Ithiel smelled a thick scent of incense wafting from the tent, but the man inside, quiet as he was, did not seem to sell incense -- rather, the brownish-hued wolf, introducing himself as Kaskae and speaking little else than his name -- had a vast array of utterly useless trinkets. Ithiel viewed them with disdain that was not in the least betrayed on his face, finding nothing of value amongst these items. His own "trinkets" had deep meaning -- the cross around his neck was a gift from his mother, after all, and the earrings -- well, he did not think about the girl who'd given him the earrings.

Ithiel stood by idly while Myrika made her trade, taking trinkets Ithiel looked upon without curiosity or disdain; he did not educe joy from such things as these, but neither would he risk offending the shopkeeper. His stoic countenance betrayed nothing of his feelings toward the baubles for which Myrika had exchanged her hard labor. She made a similar trade in the next tent for viscid-looking stuff that clung to the side of its jar -- which had, of course, been included in the price, as it was glass and screw-top, the rigid metal top only slightly bent. After this, they passed again outside.

Some Luperci were horsed, despite the corral to the edge of the festival they'd passed upon arriving. Ithiel was glad he decided against bringing Lystra, happy to have his calmer mount. His she-devil of a mare might have broken loose in her fury and torn the entire festival down, then Ithiel would truly be a pariah -- not just amongst Inferni, where he still felt disparate, but amongst all of these packs. The coyote noticed one, seemingly taller than the rest, and enshrined in metallic armor. Ithiel appraised the armor with a sharp eye and saw it was finely made, suited to fit the man's massive form. His horse was tall, as well, and this was perhaps what led Ithiel to notice him. The man appeared to be a warrior, and Ithiel readied himself of instinct rather than conscious effort.

Myrika was, however, interested in the wares of the next tent. This was surprising to Ithiel, who ducked into the tent with her, shadowing her closer now that the big wolf had set him on edge. Myrika had noticed something that excited her, and she spoke in tones faintly irritating to Ithiel's dark ears to the procurer, who seemed as calculating a warrior in the realm of business as Ithiel thought the large man on the horse must be in true combat. The granite-hued coyote was not a green weakling himself, but Ithiel held no illusions regarding his ability to best such a mountain of a wolf. His arrows would bounce uselessly off of such armor as he wore, and Ithiel would be lucky beyond luck to strike a vital point. His claws and teeth would also be disadvantaged. If a wolf such as this sought to make trouble, Ithiel thought their only option was to retreat, and to do so quickly.

The ash-colored Praeses, however, thought they'd avoid any true issue for two reasons: the first being the setting, one of mirth, merriment, and general feel-good bullshit Ithiel could not be bothered with. A pack wolf permitted to attend such a festival must surely be even of temperament, otherwise his alpha would bar his attendance. Of this Ithiel was sure -- such a diverse festival involved tiptoeing and tension, however far they buried it beneath the feel-good revelry. The second reason was far simpler: they'd ducked into a tent and were now trading. Or, at least -- Myrika was. Ithiel stood by her side, his dingy-furred shoulder nearly touching hers bronze-colored one, surveying the Luperci occupants of the tent. This tent was similarly occupied to the first they'd passed with the first big wolf he'd seen, though the first was dwarfed in comparison to the man outside.

Just then, Ithiel felt a faint shake of the ground, and looked to the open mouth of the tent to see a fantastic glint of metal. The day was clear enough to provide patches of sunlight, though the perpetually overcast skies of Nova Scotia had blessed them with clouds, as per their usual course. The dust colored male watched as the big wolf entered the tent, the crimson eyes of his stoic face furtively seeking the countenance of the other warrior to see whether it held friendliness or hostility.

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#3
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WC:You sploded all over me, now I have to clean up this sticky mess sie... Sheesh didn't know you where this excited and on a hair trigger Tongue *smirks*

His mission or rather what he was seeking would hopefully be easily found. Blues wandered around the shop with a mission in mind. First off he needed new sharpening stones, and for now he was just checking around on the prices, and quality. He wasn’t about to trade for a few just to have them fall apart on him after the festival left. But he found himself in competition with others for the owner of the tents attention. Especially a younger lady who was currently yapping his ear off. Blues watched the exchange before he felt eyes on him. Slowly blues moved in the direction of a younger male, quite a bit shorter than him, but again he was quite used to being taller or bigger than most anyone else.


But it wasn’t his form that drew his eyes, the man was staring right at him, specifically his eyes. Saluce didn’t ever recall meeting him before, nor did he understand what his gaze was really supposed to be doing… Intimidate? It was laughable but commendable if he was acting in such a way, but his fiery blues answered the stare, the power of his soul lighting them. While Saluce may have been in a good mood, more questioning looks and probing stares would certainly go very far to wipe away what was left of his mood. The look he gave was one simply of power and challenge, but not one reflecting ill will.


“Problem?” he stated plainly, bringing it out into the open rather brashly.


Image courtesy of Frau Böb@Flickr; table by the Mentors!

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#4
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(504)



Ithiel is by me!

Myrika had yet to notice the stranger; her attention was consumed with the tent's proctor for the moment, and Ithiel could just barely hear the intonations of a conversation dealing with books. There was but one book Ithiel read, and in his eyes, but one book anyone needed to read. The conversation had been unimportant before, but it dwindled to little more than background noise as Ithiel watched the stranger, awaiting his move. He did not expect trouble, but he was readied for it nevertheless, carmine-hued eyes watching the stranger's countenance, which betrayed nothing more than curiosity. Ithiel relaxed a hair at this; however, he was not so foolish as to relinquish all his tension, and so he remained at his post, jostled a bit as his just slightly shorter cousin moved back and laughed, apparently amused with the conversation. Ithiel moved with her, and their shoulders barely brushed one another before he was out of her way, having never moved his gaze from the stranger.

The dusky man perceived the moment the stranger noticed him, and the faint change in the tall wolf's face. Ithiel's face, on the other hand, hardly shifted; the man's stoic visage retained its look of indifference, even as the man called his challenge. Ithiel did not read it as particularly aggressive, and, lacking his usual pause in response, shook his head firmly. The verbal response was a few beats later, the dust-colored coyote's customary pause between question and response far shorter than it normally was. His own voice was one of evenness, and nothing in Ithiel possessed any hint of aggression. With the nearly imperceptible change in the tent's atmosphere, Myrika had finally turned around, sensing this change, but she did not seem to perceive any trouble -- or at least, if she did, she was quick to swing back around to face Rie again, continuing her animated conversation with even more fervor.

No, came Ithiel's response, no trace of smile or frown showing upon his dust-colored countenance. I see you came here either prepared for them or seeking to make them, and I wish to make certain it is not this latter thing you wish to do. The response was honest and as blunt as the man's inquiry, and Ithiel's face remained smooth, betraying nothing of his readied thoughts. One who so directly dealt with challenges, however little Ithiel sought to make them, could go either way, and he was still uncertain, though his uncertainty was well-hidden. He might have challenged the man's wolfishness, but for now, he was content to recline and allow the armored stranger to make his move rather than strike himself. Such was Ithiel's custom -- he rarely, if ever, struck first, and he was certainly not prone to acts of sheer impulsivity. He was calculated and controlled, and even in the depths of rage -- which he certainly experienced -- Ithiel did not tend to make a fool of himself.

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#5
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WC:Btw, I totally think of him as Gregor Clegane, except with Eddard Stark's temperment

While Saluce was certainly calm and in no real bad mood it could turn sour quickly. With so many wolves and coyotes around he had prepared for any type of trouble, which was in of itself why he dressed in his armor. If for nothing it made a lot of people behave rather respectfully, which made his day go by that much easier. But the young coyote looking wolf or whatever his ancestry was the first real annoyance he had encountered. If he had to have guessed he could have made the jump as to what pack this certain individual hailed from. But be that as it was, the man didn’t seem to want any trouble. And his eyes left the man to look upon the woman who seemed to be enjoying herself In spite of the young man and then back to him. Well he supposed if this woman meant anything to him he probably would have reacted in much the same way.


“No one can ever know anything for certain, but if I had wished harm on the two of you, I would have already done so. But rather with so many different ideologies and pack make ups in such close quarters I’d rather be ready for anything than expecting a peaceful hippie conclave.” All in one remark he had revealed a lot as to his intentions, and also his disdain for hippies. It wasn’t because he considered them bad people, just that they were hippies. Blues looked away and then back toward the objects he had originally intended to be looking for instead of explaining the reasoning why he had been wearing his armor. But again he had to pause and wait while his former conversation partner’s company took up the time of the shop keeper. A long sigh escaped his lips as he debated on going on and finding another shop or to wait.


Image courtesy of Frau Böb@Flickr; table by the Mentors!

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#6
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(334)
Trolololo started re-reading ASOIAF on a whim. >_> My friend was like, "oh hey bro, can we listen to those audiobooks?" and... yeah, that's a wrap. Re-reading is like reading an entirely new book: encountering characters you now know a lot more about now is awesomeee. ANYWAY blah blah blah



Ithiel is by me!

Ithiel had not been terribly fond of Myrika upon first encountering her, nor vice versa. The dusky coyote, however, saw the usefulness in befriending one more well-cemented in the pack and of rank as high as Myrika. His intent was not malicious in this -- rather, he simply sought self-improvement, as any self-respecting creature did. It also helped Myrika was capable of things Ithiel found impossible: taming Lystra, for one example; sewing clothing, for another. The dust-colored coyote therefore sought to reciprocate her talent in the only way he knew: protecting her where he felt she needed it. Myrika knew nothing of fighting; he could see this plainly enough, though the pair had never discussed combat before.

The dark man listened with the same stone-faced look as the man continued. A canine of strong caprice or less evenness might have laughed or taken the man's words as a challenge, but Ithiel simply nodded, acknowledging their truthfulness without admitting his own weakness. He did not know the meaning of the word "hippies," and the strangeness of it provoked a rare expression of confusion, passing briefly over the ash-colored man's face.

You speak true. I expected the same, coming here -- though I do not know what hippie is, the man confessed. He saw the man's agitation and nudged Myrika with an elbow, not speaking to her but motioning to the taller wolf with his muzzle. The russet-hued woman did not turn around; instead, she concluded her conversation with the shopkeeper and sidled away from the counter, though she seemed intent upon looking through the man's other wares before moving on. Ithiel stepped away from the procurer with her, still keeping himself between her and the rest of the tent's populace. Though the big wolf had spoken no intent to cause trouble, the same might not be said of all the other patrons of the festival, and Ithiel did not intend to let his guard slip.

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#7
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WC:410I figured "HEY" everyone picks on wolves for being bad tempered, why not have a yote npc not behaving himself

The great mountain watched the exchange between the two below him and he gave the male a polite nod of thanks. His own hands took the opportunity as soon as the woman released her grip on the shop keeper and he didn’t hesitate. The exchange started out simply enough, inquiring about the sharpening stones and other various items. But the shop keeper wasn’t exactly keen on answering questions directly. Which began to frustrate him. A direct question, a backhanded answer, aggravating…


“Just for once tell me what you’d like to get for these items. I really don’t have all day to sit and guess” he blasted out. The shop seemingly going quiet as if he had said something wrong. But he paid no mind, blues looking at the man and noticing his quickly disappearing arrogance and his shaking hands. Saluce hadn’t meant to scare him but he had when his voice had climbed up the decibel level. The behemoth crossed his arms, the clanking of steel audible as he rambled off what all he was looking for.


“How about any weapons? You seem to have the items necessary for such things but not the items themselves? I have many that are of decent quality that I’m sure would be of value for the trade.”He stated clearly, interrupting him as he rambled. Everything seemed to carry on in this fashion for a few moments as things seemed to be cleared up.


He was absolutely oblivious to anything transpiring outside of the conversation, oblivious to the eyes boring into the back of his head. It started as a trickle, rather a feeling of being watched, before a physical response to this started to make itself apparent upon his form. The fur along his neck slowly started to prick outwards, his tail becoming straight as an arrow, before blues finally followed his swiftly turning head to spy the unnamed customer.


Ferocious blues spied the man, his cloak hiding much about him, except for his slim muzzle and lanky appearance. While the two other coyotes beside him had been a pleasant break from the normal stipulations between wolves and coyotes this man’s eyes bore straight at him. Already the behemoth felt defensive, the look upon the strangers eyes damning him already. This stranger deffinantly had a problem and a slow grin spread across Saluce’s face, he hadn’t really wanted trouble but if trouble came looking for him, he was more than happy to oblige it.



Image courtesy of Frau Böb@Flickr; table by the Mentors!

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#8
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(301)



Ithiel is by Kitty!

Although Ithiel was eager to move along and leave the festival, the same could not be said for Myrika. His rusty-hued cousin continued to browse over the seller's wares, and Ithiel moved with her through the crowd, wanting nothing more than to mount up on their horses and head back to Inferni. Ithiel had never been one for crowds or gatherings, and though it didn't seem Myrika was much more comfortable with them, she was at least a sight greater than Ithiel, who purposely wished to separate himself from the social realm.

The dust-colored coyote stood beside his cousin, doing his best to appear languid and disinterested, and doing a terrible job of it -- while Ithiel's face rarely showed emotion and this provided an advantage in some arenas, it was also a disadvantage. He could no more forcibly contort his countenance to any particular emotion than he could change his species, and so, his face remained primarily stoic. He watched as a new canine approached, however -- this one was garbed in a heavy and hooded cloak, disguising most of his features. Ithiel thought the man smelled rather like a coyote, and he watched the newcomer curiously, regarding him with the same sharpness he had the big wolf.

There was not nearly so much anxiety within Ithiel now, however, and the dusky Vigiles was content to allow his species-kin to make however large a fool of himself as he pleased. Done yet? the newcomer said, his voice yapping and impatient. There was a peculiar haughtiness about the coyote, and Ithiel considered him curiously, thankful such a presence was not representative of Inferni. He shuffled a little closer to Myrika and his cherrywood gaze flickered to the armored wolf, figuring there would be some repercussion for impatience.

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#9
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Sorry for teh suck. 335 words maaaaannnn

The shop keeper for his part tried to cool things down, knowing the situation could rapidly spiral out of control. But it didn’t matter as Saluce turned fully and addressed the new comer with nothing but his sheer size and impressive physique. While the previous Coyote had only been guilty of providing a protective sphere around one of his pack mates, this one carried no such noble cause around him.


“Not yet” he stated flatly as the coyote moved closer, oh so close as to be an idiot. Lips curled back exposing teeth at the gesture, for all his abilities he still held back from openly attacking the man. But the motions where there, his arms uncrossed and big paws unfurled into an open palms that hung to either side of him. A low growl seemed to effortlessly escape his lips as another warning that such actions wouldn’t be tolerated.


But all his displays seemed to be worth nothing as the man continued his silent gaze and neared closer. Blues burned and when the coyote opened his mouth to speak again reflexes shifted, millions of tiny nerve endings flashed with electrical signals, muscles twitched and the end result being a massive arm striking forward, hand out stretched and digits trained. The hand swiftly encircled the flesh of his neck, claws digging in and his forearm flexing as his immense strength was brought to bare . His face remained unchanged and the man obviously struggled for a moment before recognizing his mistake.


But Saluce wasn’t quite done, his leg pushed and with a shove the stranger was thrown across the floor and promptly on his ass. The act served as message, while he wouldn’t take much bullshit, he wasn’t going to go about strangling a man to death. But he hoped for now that he’d at least be able to trade and be done with today’s drama. His hand visible shook like wiping something unclean off of it before turning and resuming his deliberations with the shop keeper.




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#10
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(345)



Ithiel is by Kitty!

The dark man hung back to the edges of the tent, content to watch the display with his impassive red eyes. They gleamed brightly at his species-kin, though Ithiel made no move to stop the silly man. It was not his job. Though he knew coyotes to be superior on the whole, there were bad apples of every bunch, and Ithiel hadn't been elected savior of the foolish coyotes in the world. He therefore simply stood by Myrika's side as she passed over the wares of the room, though even she turned to watch with him as the tension increased.

Ithiel's gaze narrowed as the coyote opened his mouth to speak, but his eyes were not on the coyote's mouth or eyes. Ithiel saw the flash of steel and his eyes widened again, incredulous at the foolishness of his species-kin. What hope did he have against an armored foe with a little knife? There were weak points to every piece of armor, certainly, but those were difficult to catch, and as the coyote had already learned, made more difficult still by the fact that there was a live wolf defending himself.

Rie, the shopkeeper, chattered angrily from behind his counter, lapsing into a language Ithiel could not begin to understand. The sounds of the angry Dutchman filled the tent, and Ithiel, paying no mind to the coyote on the floor a few feet behind him, spoke in a loud voice. He showed steel, the coyote explained, and Rie fell silent, though the flustered look did not fade from his face. He did not know if the big wolf had seen the flash of steel. If he hadn't, Ithiel was right to suspect him as a troublemaker, but his species-kin had provoked, as well. The shopkeeper, rattled as he was, shouted something in Dutch at the coyote on the floor. Though the language was unintelligible to Ithiel and perhaps the coyote on the floor, the message was clear, accentuated by the extended finger pointing toward the tent entrance.

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#11
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WC:200-I'm ready to close this thread, since I don't have any muse left to put into it.

Saluce watched the commotion unfold and the shopkeepers slur of words and maddeningly upset expressions. It seemed to not affect him at all, he simply stood there watching the man whom was now dusting his ass off. There wasn’t much that seemed to take place in the moments afterwards, except the other coyote’s vocalization and justification of his actions.


Saluce simply turned from them all, passively dismissed himself form the shopkeepers shop and started his trek outside. There was not much else to do other than remove himself from the situation, and nothing much else to consider. While he would mark this down as a rather odd occurrence it wouldn’t hang about him like a cloud. The little man had picked the wrong wolf to try and best, and hopefully his failing today would teach him a valuable lesson. Sometimes it was better to let a sleeping dog lie.


Massive shoulders reached up and grabbed ahold of the horse while it bent down slightly to allow him to step up and swing a long leg over. Getting supplies for his blacksmith shop would have to wait for another day. For now he was intent on finding his mate and see just how successful she had been.


Image courtesy of Frau Böb@Flickr; table by the Mentors!

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