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/tg/ - Traditional Games


File: ValenQuest.png (128 KB, 640x480)
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You are Irue Valen, blood heir to House Valen, and perhaps two hours ago you had convinced your Testament to get some sleep. Rinnier had been reluctant to agree, but with fatigue wearing heavily on her, you had been able to convince her to pull back and rest so that a more prepared move could be made tonight. In order to do that, you had been forced to promise that you wouldn't do anything stupid in the interim which would get yourself into trouble.

"Any news from the front?"
"Parameter seems to be secured, at least. Seems like we caught some luck."
"I don't like it. Something's not right about this."

You slip through the raucous brigand camp in a set of poorly fitting garb appropriated from some poor dolt left out in the woods. While you could have tried to scope out the parameter of the bandit camp, there was a relatively high chance that someone would eventually catch you. Coupled with your sneaking suspicion that any 'prisoner' they caught wouldn't be held on the edge of a camp anyway, you had opted to investigate directly. You were skilled in social weaving, though that is traditionally a courtly endeavour, it occurred to you that with a little adaptability you could feasibly apply the very same principles to deceit and infiltration. It was all mostly the same, if you stopped to think of it, wasn't it? Control how you are perceived, remain mindful of what your body language and posture imply to others. If you can dress and act the part reliably, who will stop to question you?

"Who the hell put out those fires this morning? The smoke's still rising!"
"Night scouts heard one of those oakenbears causing a commotion last night..."
"Anything to do with that weird girl we found?"
"Hell if I know. Bitch is being kept under lock down after the fight she put up."
>>
Your ears perk up as you wander past, catching wind of something interesting. While you had spent the last couple of hours simply wandering camp and politely sliding out of conversations in between the occasional request - demands, really - to help with morning camp maintenance, you had overheard a spread of assorted chatter. Most of it useless to you.

You honestly couldn't care less who won last night's game of cards, nor who had finally given in and started shacking up with whom. In the first place, wasn't this supposed to be a camp of brigands? Cutthroat and merciless bandits? Their value as a formidable threat had begun to rapidly dwindle in your eyes.

Other things had some measure of interest to you. The camp was normally set up to be radial, a fact that had been disrupted by their positioning near the river. Living quarters were normally pitched at the innermost core, then ringed with sparsely kindled fires that served to create an open ring of well lit parameter between them and the outer guard tents, which had far fewer fires, normally kept obscured in favor of torches.

Much to-do this morning about warding off the 'nightgaunt', whatever those were. You'd been travelling through these woods for nearly a week now and you hadn't seen anything unusual outside of oakenbears... Though from Rinnier's reaction, maybe those were scarier than you were giving them credit for. You've only encountered two, and they both ended up dead, so your perspective is maybe skewed?

Regardless, fire was evidently something capable of keeping them at bay, or used to scare them off, or ward off the rest of the beasts, or... You're not really sure. There was a lot of information you presumed that the speaker just took for granted as they gruffed at each other about torches and beasts.
>>
More to the point, you hadn't yet discerned where exactly a 'prisoner' ward would be. Beyond that one morsel earlier, you hadn't even heard of anyone talking about prisoners since you got here; While Ari could be called 'weird', you can't imagine the timid Testament putting up much of a fight, and "lockdown" seemed like it would be more than just a casual term for the hostage area.

Decisions...

>Try and investigate Nightgaunts.
>Get a feel for the outer parameter.
>Look into 'lockdown'.
>What is 'the front'?
>Living quarters sound promising.
>Other? (write-in)
>>
>>41062071
>Look into 'lockdown'.
>>
>>41062071
>What is 'the front'?
Uh, are they invading somewhere? This seems a little bit ominous.

>Look into 'lockdown'.
But mostly we need to see to the main mission objective before we get too carried away with our (maybe-not)-bandit cultural anthropology report.
>>
>>41062202
>>41062254
Looking into Lockdown

>>41062254
What "front"?

Writing!
>>
There were a lot of things you could have looked into, but two things in particular caught your interest: This 'front', and Lockdown.

The way they were talking, you couldn't help but wonder at what kind of 'front' they were referring to. An invasion? The only place even remotely nearby was Carona, and it wasn't exactly a fortress... You shake your head, the more important thing was lockdown. You were here looking for Ari, and retrieving her came before all this brigand business.

You have no idea just how well known this information about lockdown is supposed to be. As casually as they were discussing it, you get the feeling its just 'assumed' that the other person knows. That was happening a lot in here, and you're forced to wonder if they just habitually used a secret code to talk about things, or... Actually, how long had they been here?

Tentative inquiries in the direction of 'where' lockdown was came up short as you tried to probe conversation towards the direction. You had elicited a couple laughs from the brigands you asked, which you would have pressed more aggressively if your startling ignorance of the entire situation wasn't something you were wary of coming off suspiciously. It was after you had nearly lost your patience when someone finally gave you a break.

It was house arrest.

On the edge of living quarters opposite of the river they had set up camp against was where they tended to keep their prisoners. Or where they planned to keep them, anyway. You had expressed some incredulity at such simple measures, but got your concerns laughed out of the conversation.

"We're not an army, brat. We're looking for hostages, not prisoners."

You suppose that was fair, and it sent your mind spinning as you tried to reconcile the nature of this huge gathering. With a better idea of where the pri... Where the hostages were kept, you could start making your way towards the area.

...Or you could try and press for some more information.
>>
>Make for the holding area
>Check out more of the camp first
>How many do we have now?
>When are we making our move?
>What about that weird girl from last night?
>Other? (write-in)
>>
>>41062831
>What about that weird girl from last night?
>>
>>41062857
>Check out more of the camp first
Never hurts to know a bit more about the camp. Might be a good hidey hole or two we can take note of if we need it.
>>
>>41062831
>Check out more of the camp first
>What about that weird girl from last night?
>>
>>41062875
>>41062965
Weirdness is a qualifier for Ari!

>>41062965
>>41062930
Checking out the camp, though.

Writing!
>>
"Did we put that girl from last night up in there, too?" you venture, drawing a confused look from one of the brigands as he sets down his breakfast. "What do you mean?" he asked, leaning forward curiously. "We got another one?"

"... I think so?" You switch tracks quickly, "I overheard someone talking about it on the way here. Some strange waif in rags they found sometime last night?" You pause at the weird looks you received from several of the brigands. "What?"

"What's a 'waif'?"

You spend the next several minutes explaining the term to them, then being forced to explain some of the terms used to explain the initial term. You hadn't quite appreciated what a value educated company was to you until you had spent a full twenty minutes having to explain a chain of words to a small - actually, hadn't it grown? - crowd of brigands. No, in the first place, 'waif' wasn't that uncommon of a word, was it? "You're pretty smart." one of them spoke up appreciatively, "Young though, where'd you learn all this?"

Had you just blown your cover trying to explain words to a bunch of idiots? Your mind turned quickly, seeking some way to dissuade possible suspicion. "I uh... found some books on it." You explain quickly, only to second guess yourself when their eyes collectively widen and someone off to the side whistles in awe. "You can read? How'd you learn that?" Even more so than before, they were starting to crowd in on you. The statement had drawn a slightly larger crowd, one that seemed to be getting larger the more you talked. On one hand, you're concerned this may have been a mistake; On the other...

"Of course I can read, it isn't difficult." You reply in befuddlement. "Why is it so surprising?"

"Where're you from, kid?" Your confusion is met in turn, and your attempts to disperse their attention only served to increase it. "You some kinda scholar? How'd ya end up with us, anyhow?"

"Scholar...?"
>>
"A fallen noble, then, I guess? Guess ya got a stake in this."

You shake your head, "I'm sorry, but what does any of that have to do with a me reading?" You try and press back to the initial point, having lost your ease of anonymity by now. "Foreigner? Or just ignorant?" Another one laughed, "Learning is restricted to the nobles and trade in La'Fiel, kid. Has been for the last twenty years or so."

It... What?

"I... hadn't heard of that." You admit, drawing an understanding nod from one of the brigands. "Foreigner then. Royal family's put a strict limit on what ya can learn. If you're in a trade, ya can learn your trade... usually apprentice under someone and they'll teach ya. Reading though? Unless you're with the Shrine or a noble, I don't think the royal guard would look kindly on it."

"That's ridiculous." You blurt out before you could stop yourself, but they only shrug and scowl in response. "It is what it is, kid. Not like the average guy can do much about it, you know? Or at least, not yet..."

The crowd is starting to disperse, and but from what you had learned, they either hadn't found Ari at all, or these guys just didn't know about it.

The number of things they didn't know about was, frankly, disturbing.

You excuse yourself politely, slipping away with much less trouble than you had expected, and decide to get a better look around camp before heading towards the holding area. They definitely had at least one hostage, and you knew they were trying to make a move, but... These brigands were turning out to be far from what you expected.

Just how much had you been shielded from, isolated in these woods?

>Check out the outer guard ring
>Walk the fire ring and see if you can mingle
>Peruse the living quarters
>Take a look at the river
>>
>>41063918
>Check out the outer guard ring
>>
>>41063918
>Check out the outer guard ring
I'm getting the feeling these guys aren't just brigands. I'm getting a bit of a hint of revolutionaries from that little conversation.
>>
>>41063918
>>Peruse the living quarters
>>Take a look at the river
Al this mingling is making me thirsty. Let's go get some dysentery from the river and then check out the sleepin' huts.
>>
>>41063918
>Check out the outer guard ring
>>
>>41063959
>>41063993
>>41064175
Onto the outer guard ring

>>41064080
Checking out the living quarters

>>41064080
Checking out the river

Writing!
>>
Thoughts swirling through your head, you find yourself walking through the outer guard ring. Again and again you were finding yourself thrust into situations where you lacked information. You were quite used to adapting, so having to learn and extract information on the fly wasn't quite an unusual course of action for you... But some things couldn't just be adapted through. Something bigger was going on outside of these woods, and you'd need proper information and foresight to navigate it in the long term.

Unfortunately you had neither right now. What you did have was a growing feeling of unsettled snakes balled up in your stomach as you kept an eye on the surrounding ring. The outer most ring was what you had mentally dubbed the 'guard' ring, serving the self-explanatory purpose of guarding. They served as defence from the inhabitants of the forest, you assume that means wolves and the like. Perhaps those gaunt things you heard about earlier, whatever those were... Maybe oakenbear? You've little idea what exactly they're capable of, but from look of the outer ring and the easy complaints you heard while walking along, you would wager this camp had been established for some time.

That's probably why Rinnier and you had managed to sneak in so easily. There were guards posted, obviously, but even a look at them would tell you that their spirit wasn't in it. Any sense of 'danger' from the forest had seemingly long since left them in favour of the daily routine. Few people cared to notice you wandering through the outer ring, those who did were mostly apt to complain about when the next shift started. It seemed they were still the last part of the night shift in look-out, despite it creeping past noon now.

The outer guard ring consisted of a number of pitched tarps that blended into the forest, smoking remains of small fires hidden under them so as to obscure both the light and resulting smoke from rising up into the sky.
>>
Sturdy sticks wrapped in charred black cloth lay nearby, remnants of the torches likely used at night laying doused in a pile not far from the tiny pits of cinder that undoubtedly had been used to light them initially. The guard ring was not so much a solid parameter as it was a splattering of these cloth overhangs serving as checkpoints and resting areas to refuel both torch and energy at. While it was difficult to properly trace the exact edge in the day, it wouldn't be difficult to see the guards ahead of time at night by searching for torch flame in the darkness.

You clamp down on the urge to smile, realizing that at the very least, getting through here wouldn't be extremely difficult. They were more apt to discover and ward off beasts than people. As you finished you continued to walk, you were forced to gain an understanding of just how large this encampment really was, however.... Stretching in an arc from one part of the river to the other, you had been walking its length - albeit casually - for nearly half an hour and only now were you close enough to hear running water from the river.

"Oi, you part of the new shift?" a gravelly voice snapped you out of your reverie. You turn towards its owner, a middle aged man whose unkempt hair seemed to blend seamlessly into an equally ill-maintained dark auburn beard. "Bout time someone came to replace me." He grumbled, already heaving himself from the overhanging tarp he had been resting under. He was sturdily built, with large calloused hands and broad shoulders that told you much of his life of physical labor even at a glance. He stopped to look you over disparagingly, shaking his head with a snort. "You brats part of the day shift now?" he grumbled, "Where's your sword? You think you're just gonna sit out here and wank through the day?"
>>
You open your mouth to retort, words dying on your lips as he doubles you over with a fist to the gut as he passes. "Use the dagger then, ya baby faced milk drinker." you just barely catch the covered dagger he dropped in front of you from the offending fist, wheezing through the air he had effectively knocked from you as he shambled back off towards camp.

Glancing at the blade told you nothing. It was just a simple dagger, no embellishments or adornments. It was made to stab and cut things, with a blade barely as long as your hand.

You glare over your shoulder balefully at the man who was quickly vanishing into the main camp, and rub your stomach.

>...Stand guard?
>You've got things to do, keep on to the river.
>That's enough of that, back to the living quarters.
>To the fire ring, you've seen enough.
>Other? (write-in)
>>
>>41065037
>...Stand guard?
>>
>>41065072
Well, if he insists.

Writing!
>>
Looking between the camp and the dagger he had tossed at you, you realize he had expected you to swap with him on guard duty.

...

It had been almost an hour since he left, and you're still just sitting here. Someone had come up a while ago, dropped off some food and told you to be on the lookout for oakenbear, and then left after some small conversation. Evidently that bear had made quite the commotion last night, so the entire camp was a bit wary of it this morning.

You doubt it will be much of a problem for them, really.

Last you saw it had been broken down to kindling.

With nothing better to do, you ended up eating the bowl of stew that had been brought to you - your first real cooked food since you left your house. There was nothing to be excited about regarding it. The taste was dull, nothing in comparison to Asche's kitchenmancy, but it was filling. Considering it was food you didn't have to hunt or forage, you suppose you should be thankful for it and-

Why are you here? You'd just been reclining under a tarp and eating stew for the past hour. This wasn't getting you any closer to finding Ari at all.

"Alright you old git, I'm here to-" You open a single red eye lazily to notice the new brigand who just froze in confusion upon slipping under the overhanging tarp. "-replace... you?" They lamely finished. "Where's the old git?"

You shrug, "He left some time ago, told me to keep the watch in his place."

"I can't believe he just left his post!" the newcomer fumed, "How long have you been stuck here? Did he just leave you here with that knife and walk off?!"

You hold up the still sheathed knife helpfully, "More or less. I guess it's been nearly an hour?"

"I am so sorry!" they hang their head, "My uncle can be a bit much some times, but I should have gotten here sooner. My name's Garet." a silence descends as you look at each other expectantly.

One breath.

Two.

A minute.

Three minutes.

"Just Garet?"

"Just Garet."
>>
>Introduce self, maybe you can learn more from conversation.
>Scold Garet for being late, time to get moving.
>No big deal, you've got places to be though.
>Other? (write-in)
>>
>>41065757
>No big deal, you've got places to be though.
>>
>>41065757
>No big deal, you've got places to be though.
Our name is a tad distinctive I bet.
>>
>>41065797
>>41065922
It's cool, but I got places to go.

Writing!
>>
"Right, well it wasn't a problem." You assure Garet as you stand, brushing off the dirt from your ill fitting clothes. "I had some time to waste anyway, but I didn't expect it to take quite this long..."

"I'm really sorry about all this..." Garet ducked their head, scratching at their dark auburn hair - A trait you vaguely file away as likely hereditary - and apologizes once more. "No, it's fine. Anyway, I do need to get going now."

You slip away from the apologetic brigand easily, assuring them no less than three more times that it was really fine in the process, and make your way back into camp towards the fire ring. The sheer amount of apologies coming out of Garet had reminded you frustratingly of the Testament you had infiltrated this place to find, and more pressingly, the lack of progress you had made in actually finding her. Luckily for you, they hadn't been quite as prone to complete emotional meltdowns, so you weren't stuck there trying to reassure them that it was fine any longer than necessary.

You were decently confident you could get past the outer guard ring, though. The fire ring was... A different story. It was much more densely populated, a wide open semi-circle of people milling back and forth between tables, various fires and worn wooden kegs. It shared many similarities with a mess hall and left you with the distinct impression that you had just stumbled into an outdoor tavern.

There were barely spaces where people weren't at or near, and with nothing but tables and fires, the place would be extremely well lit at night. Getting past this place, in or out, would be nearly impossible.
>>
The singular saving grace for now was how loud it was. There was little chance of a stray noise catching someone's attention through the racket being caused by the milling brigands as they talked and ate around crackling flames. Off to the side, you see large pots of the very same stew you had been brought, further solidifying the location in your mind as some outdoor tavern.

Slipping through here was, ironically, even easier than the outer guard ring had been. Where as the outerguard had been tired and apt to complain, not one person questioned your meandering through the crowd - Too wrapped up in their own business to pay you a second thought. A familiar head of dark auburn catches your eye as you find that same middle aged man who had dumped his post on you nearly an hour ago - The only name you had for him was 'old git', but you felt inclined to agree it was an accurate description of the heavily drinking man.

it would take you a few more minutes to cross the fire ring into the living quarters, but you had heard that the holding area was positioned somewhere on the edge between the two. Granted they weren't expecting prisoners, but singular important hostages, it likely wasn't a terribly large area... Give the remaining space in camp, you'd wager that 'lockdown' was actually in the living quarters.

>Approach the old git
>Search for the holding area
>Go deeper into the living quarters
>See if you can overhear anything in the fire ring
>>
>>41066480
>>Go deeper into the living quarters
Might be able to find a disguise for Rinnier too.
>>
>>41066829
This.

Writing.
>>
You shake your head, moving through the fire ring unmolested as you break free from the obnoxiously lively crowd and into the densely populated maze of pitched tents. The living quarters were little more than a field of tents set up and some make-shifts hovels pressed against moss covered stone... ruins?

You pause your exploration to take a closer look at the sturdily built stone pillars that rose up to your waist from the ground. They were intermittenly placed through the area, too obscured by the many lean-to's and tents to get a proper scale of, but your attention on the actual living quarters were quickly being shifted to the ground they had been placed on.

Rather than dirt, ancient stone brickways littered the ground and caused each foot step to tap lightly off the hard rocky surface. The sound of running water drew you further into the core that was pressed against the river... Or you thought it was.

The entirety of the living quarters seemed to butt up against a towering stone ruin that was situated half way between shore and running water, spires of twisted wood reaching into the sky before blooming out into an overhanging branch canopy that embraced the ancient stone structure and cast shade over the resting places that the brigands had erected.

You're caught unexpectedly flat footed as you crane your neck back to take it all in, absent mindedly letting your steps pull you closer.

The closer you approach, the fewer tents you begin to see, until finally reaching an open clearing cracked stones and a long unused staircase leading up an imposingly large archway which led further into the structure. Where there had perhaps once been doors, now only a darkened entryway veiled by vines and shadow remained.

There are several torch-posts erected around the staircase clearing, but the ruins themselves seem to remain silent and undisturbed with an expansive river stretching out and running quickly behind it.
>>
The water is deep, as evidence by how still the surface seemed to be, but because of that depth you find yourself unnerved by the thick serpentine roots that seem to coil outward from the back and beneath of the ruins and twine their way through the dark waters.

You tear your eyes away from the imposing building uneasily, glancing back towards the rest of the living quarters. Your walk through had been silent, barring the occasional snore from a tent. Given the shifting guards, you wonder if they just rotate all day, so there's always someone sleeping and watching.

As long as you stayed quiet, moving through the veritable maze of tents wouldn't be too difficult... If you just knew where you were going. The holding area was closer to the fire ring, you knew that much, but lockdown could have been in any of the larger tents and you'd never know it.

You glance back at the building behind you, uneasily forcing yourself to step away from it. A place like that might be usable for a lockdown as well... But you don't think any of the brigands have been in there often.

>Start poking your head through the larger tents
>Investigate ruins
>Head back towards the fire ring to find the holding area
>Other? (write-in)
>>
>>41067398
>Head back towards the fire ring to find the holding area
>>
>>41067422
This.

Writing.
>>
You shake off the feeling creeping up your spine as you turn from the ruins and head back towards the fire ring. Now that you've scoped out the living quarters more or less, you quickly start to scout the border between the quarters and the lively fire ring.

It was nearing evening when all was said and done, but the sight of your own clothes wrapped about the small form of Ari within a wooden cage was exactly the sight you had been hoping to see. Curled into herself in a corner as far from the fire ring as she could manage, the timid Testament was desperately trying to make herself as small and unnoticeable as possible. You suppose that would have been helpful before she had been captured, but at this point it was just kind of heartbreaking to see her fold in on herself as she had.

Her holding area was a singular wooden cage that looked large enough for several people to comfortably stay within, if you had to guess it meant they had planned to keep all their hostages together in one place, but it was very sturdily constructed...

As large as it was, it was also surrounded by torch posts to keep the area lit even at night. A heavy chain was wrapped around the only door you could see on the construction, adorned with a lock whose keys...

Your eyes trace the surroundings surreptitiously, taking in the lone brigand setting cross legged at a nearby table as he ate stew from a bowl. You catch a glimmer of metal from his belt loop, hope blooming in your chest as you barely make out the shape of a key half obscured by clothes. While you can't help but be suspicious that there was only one guard for their hostage, you do have to admit that their current hostage had once been left in a room on her own for three days without so much as thinking to leave it.

Honestly, even that one guard was probably overkill. Ari wasn't going anywhere.
>>
Besides being rather near the fire ring, there was only one dedicated guard here. You had been worried there would have been a great many, but this... This was doable. Your biggest obstacle was getting past the fire ring, and then presumably getting back out of the camp, but you're relatively certain you can get in!

A triumphant smirk winds across your face.

You don't have much time to waste here, though.

>Try to approach and talk to Ari
>...Who's in lockdown?
>Get back to Rinnier, time to make a plan.
>Other? (write-in)
>>
>>41068042
>Who's in lockdown?
>>
>>41068042
>>Get back to Rinnier, time to make a plan.
Can't make panicky panic, shouldn't alert the guard to our existence.
>>
Rolled 2 (1d2)

>>41068077
But who's in lockdown?

>>41068089
Off to Rinnier we go.

Welp, off to the dicegods for our decision.

1. Lockdown
2. Rinnier

Writing.
>>
You shoot one final look at Ari, shaking your head as you turn away with a deep breath - quietly promising to come back for her, as well as settling the excitement bubbling up in you as you marshal your composure back into order and walk right back out of the camp.

Getting out was about as easy as getting in, honestly. You would have managed it without a hitch if yet another whiny voice hadn't called out you just before you could break past the outer guard ring and back into the forest proper. "H-Hey! Wait up!" Your spine shot rigid as you paused, turning back to see Garet jogging towards quickly. What did this guy even want from you? Your eyes narrow briefly before you school yourself into a more amiably curious expression. "Yes?" You half turn towards him in acknowledgement.

"Ah... I caught you!" He gasped out, giving you second thoughts about actually stopping to wait for him. You glance from side to side subtly, but see no one else near you. "So you did...?" You allow tentatively, "What did you want?"

"I, uh, wanted to thank you. I mean, for earlier... with my uncle."

You nearly roll your eyes, "I told you it wasn't a problem." He smiled, scratching at his neck awkwardly, "Did you manage to make it in time to... What ever you were going to do?" He pressed. You cross your arms and try to think back to what he was talking about... "Yes, I was a little late but it wasn't a problem." You explain after a moment.

Maybe if he thought he had made you late, he'd feel bad and get the idea to leave you be.

"I'm really sorry! Let me make it up to you!"

Mana damn this guy.

>Sorry, but I'm kind of in a hurry now too, so...
>Actually, I can use this.
>What are you suggesting, exactly?
>No need, I told you it wasn't a problem.
>Other? (write-in)
>>
File: ValEnd.gif (1023 KB, 500x281)
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http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive.html?tags=Valen+Quest

And we are archived, I guess.

I'd be fine to keep going tonight, but it seems like interest in the quest from the players flat-lined. "Keep going as long as you've got one player" is the usual philosophy I hear, so I suppose this is as good a sign as any.

That's about it. Thanks for playing Valen Quest up until now.
>>
>>41069155
That's a pity. I kinda stopped reading a while ago because >tastes but it's pretty good execution-wise. Hopefully it was just a slow day!
>>
>>41071398
Just noticed this actually.

But yeah, it's weekdays and looks like was ran early morning brit time late night us time. And like, that's probably going to be most /tg/ers.
>>
>>41069155
Sorry, I had to sleep and just woke up.
>>
Bump
>>
>>41073124
W-why?



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