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post #1 of 27 (permalink) Old 01-22-13, 10:36 AM Thread Starter
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Default A Smuggler's Tale (Action Thread)

The Flowing Bowl inn of Anvil was quiet that night; Dreyva cared not, for it suited his purpose for being here. Besides, it meant more ale for him and his beloved Arvena…as well as their potential employees. With boredom setting in, the Dunmer‘s hands began to be wreathed in flame as he twaddled his fingers, playing with them as a child would a toy. Dreyva sighed and spoke to Arvena “two more Altmeri wines my dear?” She didn’t need to answer; Dreyva had already paid the Inn Keeper the 50 gold coins for the rare wines…a little discount from their last job. Such was the state of trade within Cyrodiil after the onset of the War with the Aldmeri Dominion; what signalled the death of legitimate trade became the Golden Age for smugglers, and Dreyva and Arvena will be there to exploit it.

The night had dragged on; still no-one had come. “Well my sweet, this may have been a merry waste of time. Azura only knows, I’d thought that there would be plenty of people desperate for a quick Septim these days.” Just as the Mage finished speaking, a ragtag group entered the Flowing Bowl, each asking about the job in the advertisement, “speak of the Daedra” he whispered to his beloved and spoke to the newcomer’s; "come for the job eh? So here's what we have then, tell me
your names and your skills”. Dreyva finished his mead, enjoying its sweet taste, "so let’s get to the introductions then, I have no doubt you know who I am, but what about everyone else? Arvena what do you make of them?"

Note: It's a bit brief but sometiimes that's all you need...plus I was in a rush.

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post #2 of 27 (permalink) Old 01-22-13, 03:15 PM
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DarFurtim had been wandering through anvil roughly for half an hour trying to find the inn, the buildings he passed were all the same the only difference were the faces that watched him through the windows. the night carried on and the only sign of his progression was the occasional drunk puking on the side of the road with mead in hand.there was one male sat at the side of a road with his back up against the wall of a house, he was an argonian with curled hors from the back of his head and a patchwork cloak covering his body to keep him warm.

approaching the homeless reptilian with caution DarFurtim knelt down on his right knee and placing his left hand on the argonian’s shoulder to wake him up he started to ask him of the inns location.

“greetings,do you by any chance know were i can find the inn?”

“excuse me I'm trying to sleep here,”snapped the argonian upon being woken.

“I'm sorry for the inconvenience, how about i make it worth you’re wile.”

“well what you got in mind,”asked the argonian seeming interested suddenly with the idea.

“if you show me the way ill buy you a drink when we get there,”smiled DarFurtim standing back up.

“you sure know a man’s heart,follow me ill lead the way.” laughed the argonian leaping to his feet and rolling up his blanket.

The argonian and Dar walked along the street winding down alleyways until the came at the inn door,the sign out front read “the flowing bowl” and entering through the door walked a group of adventurous souls a strange sight in this town and most likely here for the job to. as the pair entered last DarFurtim walked over to the bartender and ordered the argonian a drink.

“one bottle of cyrodillic brandy for my friend here,keep the change.”said DarFurtim throwing the barman a bag of 100 septims before walking over to the center of the room.

Over in the corner sat two dark elves observing the group approaching them and DarFurtim decided to join in without to much attention.

“Come for the job eh? so heres what we have then, tell me your name and you’re skills.” said the dark elf standing up who Dar could only assume was Dreyva the leader of this band of smugglers.

as the group one by one said they’re names and skills it finally came to DarFurtim being last in the line.

“Dar Furtim of Elseweyre, ex gladiator of the imperial city arena. veteran of blade mastery,stealth and follower of Arkay.” introduced Furtim bowing with his hands clasping the hilts of his twin scimitars.

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post #3 of 27 (permalink) Old 01-22-13, 07:09 PM
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Gelebros stalked down the main street of Anvil, walking through the main gates of the city nervously - he didn’t like staying in cities as a matter of course, having grown up deep in the forests of Valenwood. However, needs must, and he needed septims. The last of what he had taken as a guerilla fighting the Dominion had long since vanished, and he lived only by his own capabilities - but he knew he couldn’t live like that forever, day to day with no direction or purpose beyond surviving. He must have looked suspicious, because a guard accosted him - with his armour covered with a deep, hooded cloak, he could have been anyone.

“Oi, what’re you doing skulking about? We don’t want anymore riff-raff on our streets!”

Turning towards him, the Bosmer gracefully pulled his hood down to reveal his tanned skin, high cheekbones and emerald eyes, and his chocolate coloured hair spilled from beneath the material of his cloak. “I am not ‘skulking’, my good sir,” he replied with a mocking smile on his face, “I am actually looking for work here in this ... Charming city.” The last two words were pointed, and apparently made the guard a bit uncomfortable, because he looked away briefly, and couldn’t seem to meet the elves’ eyes again.

‘Clearly he thought I was an Imperial beggar,’ he told himself with a smile, shaking his head.

“Well, yes, then, a-hem, carry on. Welcome to Anvil ...” But Gelebros had already started walking away, looking around with interest; it still seemed incredible to him how all of the cities of Cyrodiil were so completely different - Leyawin and Bruma, Bravil and Chorrol, Skingrad and Anvil. The streets had more people than he was used to, and whilst nervous he attempted to try and fit in, moving easily around the crowds. His eyes alighted upon a specific building and he smiled. ‘The Fighter’s Guild,’ he muttered, smiling, ‘Surely they’ll have work?’ he asked himself quietly.

He was, however, to be disappointed. As soon as he entered the building, he was confronted by a gruff man, who was talking to a slender, powerful looking woman. They turned at the sound of the door opening, and looked at him with hard faces. “Work?” the man asked bluntly, at which Gelebros only nodded mutely.

“There is none. Try the Flowing Bowl. On the docks. Barkeep usually has a few leads.” With that, he turned back to his conversation, only stopping when the woman gestured at the Bosmer who had failed to move. She turned to face him front on, frowning slightly.

“You can go now, Elf. There is no work!” The sound of her voice caused Gelebros to start, and she smirked. “Maybe you aren’t looking for the right kind of work, now I look at you.”

Then it was the elf’s turn to frown, marring his handsome face. [b]“I was just wondering what such a beautiful woman was doing with a troll - it took me a second to recognise the Nordic heritage. I do sincerely apologise.”[b] The man growled, and the Bosmer’s frown turned into a smile as he spun on his heel. Slowly, he made his way down the short street to the Dock Gate’s of Anvil and took a breath of the sea air, chocking slightly on the sudden onslaught of unexpectedly salty air. As he grew accustomed to it, he started to look around the ships bobbing further out in the sea, awaiting their chance to dock. He grimaced. So far, his time in Anvil hadn’t been the most fortuitous, but he decided that the Flowing Bowl was as good as anywhere - at least he could have a drink there, and maybe rent a room. ‘Although the ground might be more comfortable,’ he thought, thinking back to past experiences in inns. ‘Not that the bed was the main attraction!’ A grin crossed his face, and with that delicious thought in mind he walked down the docks to the door of the inn; not the fanciest he’d ever seen, but serviceable enough. Pushing on the door, he grimaced again, before shrugging and walking to the bar. The man serving looked at him pointedly. “Drink?”

“Why yes, I’d love one. Wine, I think.” The innkeep turned to grab a grimy bottle. “But ... Not swill! I refuse to drink human wines; they make me feel ill. A bosmer wine, if you have it. Brandy if not, I think ...”

With a snort, the innkeep turned further and grabbed another bottle from further back, and passed it over the bar. Gelebros started to turn and walk away when a hand grabbed the back of his cloak. “You owe me. It costs ten drakes.”

“But you offered me a drink ...” the elf protested, smiling. He reached into a pocket and pulled out a coin bag, and took a handful. Sliding nine septims over the bar, he flicked the last up into the close air, taking the opportunity to move back slightly when the man let go of his cape. “Oh, and I was ... Referred here, by some Nordic brute at the Guild. Said you could point me to work?”

“Yeah, I can,” was the reply, and a pointed look at the purse still held in his hand. Three more coins passed over the worn wooden surface, and a nod was given in the direction of Dreyva. Gesturing for the elf to come closer, the barkeep muttered, “That’s Dreyva. Smuggler. Looking for a crew. Best going, from what I hear.” And that was that. The man turned and wiped glasses, serving other customers. ‘So much for courtesy,’ he smiled to himself, shaking his head. Uncorking the bottle, he took a swig and looked at the Dunmer and his drinking companion. He waited for some others to gather and then joined them.

"Come for the job, eh? So here's what we have then, tell me your names and your skills. So, let’s get to the introductions then, I have no doubt you know who I am, but what about everyone else? Arvena what do you make of them?" One of Gelebros’ eyebrows raised at this point; the Dunmer was far too arrogant for his own good. ‘That will be the death of him,’ he thought wryly, and shook his head, a miniature smile pulling at his lips. He stepped forward and answered first.

“My name is Gelebros, called ‘Greenwood’. I am skilled in stealth and archery - I’d best any of the others present, I have no doubt. I can hit a sparrow at five hundred yards, using just my ears to guide me. I can become invisible to those I wish not to see me; if I so wanted, I could be less than a foot away, aiming an arrow at your eyes and you wouldn’t even know I was there. And that is who I am. I am also pretty deft with my hands; picking pockets is second nature. A ... Natural gift, say.”

Malochai von Carstein; Terror of Hunger Wood, Lord of Lichenhof Tower

Roleplay Characters
The Darkness - Conquest: Kerin-Curan
Darkness - Traditional: Glaïmbar Bokkadsson
Age of Dragons: Endras Amlugon

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post #4 of 27 (permalink) Old 01-23-13, 02:28 PM
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Jenna walked silently through the streets of Anvil, completely unnoticed by those she preyed upon. First, a wealthy merchant lost a diamond bracelet. Next came a small sack of gold from a local tax collector. She was about to take the gold from a young soldier, a general by the looks of him, but she saw that he was entering local tavern and decided to have a little fun with this one.

She entered the Flowing bowl inn confidently, like she owned the place. She sat next to the soldier and ordered a drink, turned and smiled at him sweetly. The bartender returned with the drink and she reached for her purse, but this soldier was faster. He pulled out two septims and forked them over, giving her a rather smug grin. She smiled back, thanking him very politely. She got a good look at him, seeing that he was an Imperial of about fourty years, clearly experienced, and she noticed that he was married but clearly wasn’t particularly faithful. The two made polite conversation, ranging from, "How long've you lived here?" "Oh, about five years now." to "What's it like, killing a man?" "It was hard at first, but as I got used to it I came to enjoy it, fighting on the front lines." "You're so brave." With this last she snuggled into him, seemingly looking for comfort from this big, strong, self-important man. He whispered softly, "I have to go back, I'm on duty for the next couple of hours - Meet me at this address at around midnight." She laughed to herself at his horrible lie (he was clearly off to visit his wife and get her out of the house), and she whisked away his purse as she pulled away, at this point pretending to be completely in his power. "Ill see you then." With that, he left, and she sighed, put up her hood, and enjoyed her beer.

She noticed a dark elf sitting with another, clearly a girl but the race was undistinguishable due to her hood. She considered going over, but they were clearly waiting for someone and she might not be welcome. She sat for a while, mulling over her haul for that day - it felt to be around 600 septims, and the bracelet was probably at least that much on its own. The door opened, and an elf walked in confidently, ordered a drink, and asked for information. She was very interested in this part, as she was getting rather bored just picking pockets all day. She couldn't here the bartenders response, but didn’t miss the discreet nod he shot towards the dark elf. She saw the elf walk over, and followed him. She saw a rather fine knife and decided to take it just to see what would happen.

Apparently nothing.

She watched as he blustered about, talking about archery, stealth, and pickpocketing - well, he was obviously good at archery, he was a bosmer - but in stealth, and definitely in pickpocketing, she was more than his equal. She pushed her way past him, laughing loudly. "A Pickpocket? You? Are you quite sure?" With that she pulled out his dagger and flipped it over to him, laughing at the astounded look on his face. "My name's Jenna. I grew up in the streets and survived on my own from the age of seven. I stole to survive, but at this point it's just play. You need something done quietly let me know, it'll be done. Anyone bothering you, my knife is ready."

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post #5 of 27 (permalink) Old 01-23-13, 07:09 PM
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Eyeing the newcomer appraisingly, and his right eyebrow was raised. 'This will be interesting ...' he told himself. Despite the fact that she had just stolen his knife, Gelebros smiled brightly after recovering himself. He managed to catch the blade easily, and put it back on his belt, hidden by his cloak.

"Ahha, thank your for that ... Jenna. I might have to repay the favour later," was his reply, with an amused glint in his eye, and a quick wink, whilst trying to figure out how the Nordic woman had managed to liberate his knife so easily. "But yes, I can assure you that my skills at picking pockets are un ... Well, were unmatched by any I'd come across. I shall be happy to pit my skills against your own ... When we have the time?" After a quick glance at Dreyva, he refocused on the woman. "Actually, the septims would be welcome ... After so long surviving off my own skills in the heart of Cyrodiil, I could use some money. I'm afraid the wine nearly wiped me out - I haven't been near a semblance of civilisation for nearly a year, and money has little value against the creatures we share the land with, I'm afraid!
"Oh, and I would ask - politely this time - that my knife stays where it is. I won't be so polite next time!"


With that, the Bosmer pulled up a chair from the next table and sank into it, placing his feet on another, and drank deeply from the bottle of wine he still held in his hand, and with his left he stroked Aetwar gently, the feel of his bow comforting. Without a word, he offered the drink to the Nord, wondering whether she would have the palette for wines - 'Fine is not quite the right word,' - and shook his head. 'She is clearly more a mead and beer kind of girl.'

Malochai von Carstein; Terror of Hunger Wood, Lord of Lichenhof Tower

Roleplay Characters
The Darkness - Conquest: Kerin-Curan
Darkness - Traditional: Glaïmbar Bokkadsson
Age of Dragons: Endras Amlugon
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post #6 of 27 (permalink) Old 01-23-13, 09:59 PM
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She saw the interested peaking in the bosmer's face, though his facial control was impressive, to say the least. He thanked her with a wink and a smile, which she then returned in kind. She laughed at his little challenge, knowing that he would be an impressive foe - still though, he couldn't match her. Not in that.

"You've got it, big boy. It's a date. Oh, and I'm sorry about your precious little knife, I just couldn't help myself. I'll try to, well, restrain myself in the future." He sat down, outwardly calm but inwardly seething. She watched him stroke his bow with delight, realizing that she wasn't the only one who wasn't entirely at home in the company of others. She very well might make a friend here. It had been far too long since she'd had one of those...

Jenna was startled by his offer of wine. She accepted it without a word, mulling over the taste in her mouth. "Not bad. This is from your people, correct? I'd heard good things, but I still prefer a good Nordic Ale to this any day." At his obvious confusion, she explained, "I was born to a merchant family originally - they made sure I knew my wines."

She settled in comfortably, daring to believe that at last she just might have found someone truly... nice, at least.

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post #7 of 27 (permalink) Old 01-24-13, 03:47 PM
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“Anvil is a disgusting place. Full of truths, full of thieves. How I hate thieves.”

Tullahvul was standing in a corner of the Flowing Bowl, wreathed in shadows. He subtly manipulated the light sources around the room to miss him completely, leaving his corner black as night and invisible unless looked for. He had been standing there for hours, having arrived the previous day, listening to the conversations and sizing up the various people. The innkeeper was an honest man, quite subservient to his clients. The Dunmer male and female were talking, as they had been for hours, some plot between them. The female appeared attracted to the male, but there was a lesser affection returning. An interesting pair. Worth watching.

A Nordic female and a Bosmer male were making conversation as well, some level of distrust anchoring the conversation, flirtatious and suspicious throughout. The Bosmer was utterly surprised when the Nord presented his weapon to him, relieved and confused emotions flickering across his face.
A pair of pirates milled about, drinking rum as they do. Not much could be discerned abnormal from them – pirates are always similar. Two Cathay-Raht were present also, one a rebellious thief and the other a more protctive soul, one with a good merchant background. One of them was doggedly searching for some work; the barkeep directed him to the two Dunmer. This may be the lead he was searching for.

Eventually, he had found enough out about the party. Their personalities were known to him while they didn’t even know he existed. He could feel his master smiling on his efforts. He had travelled here by his command, to seek what others would see only as opportunity for coin. He didn’t see it like that. He knew the plan, he knew what he was going to do.

He stepped out of his corner, yet still none noticed him. Casting invisibility is always a useful skill. He crept purposefully towards the Dunmer couple and began to speak. “You do not see me, correct? How useful would it be to have one who could simply-” He clicked fire to his right index to dispel his invisibility. “Disappear? I am Altmeri, I am powerful, and you need me. You need not know my name, and I already know yours. Pleased to meet you.”
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post #8 of 27 (permalink) Old 01-24-13, 06:50 PM
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The settlement of Anvil sat near the edge of the ever shrinking Imperial border, and a number of different peoples could be seen within its walls without a batted eyelid from the inhabitants. As such, Jo’Ravar earned little in the way of acknowledgment or interest from those whom he passed as he walked through the town. He could remember the last time he had set foot within its walls, a memory somewhat faded by time but still recognisable – a young Khajiit trying to make sense of a strange and alien world which he found himself thrown into. Many would argue that it was not the same man who now made his way through the twisting streets. Jo’Ravar had grown since those days, both physically as well as mentally: some would say he had become bitter, but he would say that he had simply become experienced; others might add that he has become detached; he would say that he is now more professional, when once Jo’Ravar walked the streets of Cyrodil with caution and ignorance, he now strode with the confidence and purpose of one who has lived in the land for longer than many of the Imperials themselves. The Khajiit carried all he owned over his shoulder and liked it that way, it suited how he worked and allowed him some of his own personal freedom, something that not even the Thalmor can take away from him. Admittedly, he’d seen better days; Jo’Ravar was running low on both coin and supplies, the last of his painkillers used up weeks ago and his supply of liquor running on fumes. Of course that was the reason why now found himself where he was- Anvil was a place where those with the right qualifications can always find employment, and it had helped get Jo’Ravar on his feet before.

The Flowing Bowl inn hadn’t changed much over the years, the establishment had catered to the shadowy types and backroom deals for many years before Jo’Ravar had even set foot in Cyrodil and undoubtedly would continue to do so after he eventually leaves it.
“I’ll take a glass of Ale.” The bartender simply nodded and provided the requested beverage, which Jo’Ravar quickly took in hand. “That’ll be 5 Septims.” The Khajiit grunted at the extortionate rate, but placed the coin on the bar – there was a war going on. The hours slipped by as Jo’Ravar bided his time, going through enough ale to stop the inn keeper from throwing him out, until he caught his lucky break. The unmistakeable thud of a heavy bag of coin striking wood caught Jo’Ravar’s attention, and he was taken aback to see a Cathay-Raht throwing aside 100 Septims like it was so much dead weight. He turned back to his ale, but Jo’Ravar’s interest was piqued and his eyebrow rose when he saw the Raht walk straight for a pair of Dunmer sitting to the side of the room.

“…you could point me to work?” the Bosmer had approached unnoticed by the Khajiit, who had been fixated on the events occurring behind him, “That’s Dreyva. Smuggler. Looking for a crew. Best going from what I hear.” Smuggler. Well, that explained that mystery. The declaration of war must’ve been a god-send for those on the wrong side of the law, and this Dunmer seemed to be keen to take advantage of the fact. Jo’Ravar was not surprised when the Bosmer went to join the Cathay-Raht and the two Dunmer, it seemed as if things were getting more and more interesting; the appearance of the Nordic girl, and her arrogant display of her abilities was evidence enough that this was to be no amateur group. The Khajiit paid his dues to the server and got up from his seat, his mind made up; the Nord and the Bosmer seemed to be simultaneously flirting and hurling veiled threats at one another. "Not bad. This is from your people, correct? I'd heard good things, but I still prefer a good Nordic Ale to this any day." Jo’ravar rolled his eyes, the girl was arrogant and overconfident, fantastic, “ I was born to a merchant family originally - they made sure I knew my wines."

“ Knowledge of liquor is not exactly the kind of skills I believe our friend is looking for girl.” Jo’Ravar pulled out a chair and sat down at the table. “I am Jo’Ravar of Torval. I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation; I’m a Doctor.”

OOC: I treated it as if Tullahvul hadn't arrived yet. If it's an issue I can change the post round a bit. :D

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post #9 of 27 (permalink) Old 01-24-13, 07:13 PM
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At Jenna’s response, the Bosmer’s eyes glinted in amusement; ‘This one will be fun to work with,’ he thought happily.

“Aye, a wine of my people. Not as good as those of the Altmer ... But serviceable in a place like this. The true Aldmeri wines would out my ... Limited funds. And yes ... Restrain yourself, before someone else has to!” Gelebros returned, not surprised the woman had hidden depths. It was with a mocking smile he turned to face the Khajiit - he actually had huge respect for the race, and had thoroughly enjoyed the company of all he’d met.

“I think you will find, Jo’Ravar of Torval, that a knowledge of liquors and drinks can be especially useful ... Be it for smuggling the best - knowing when you can overcharge - or just to get drunk on, and have some fun.” He said this while throwing a quick wink in Jenna’s direction, smiling widely. He casually leant forwards and retrieved the bottle from the Nord’s hands, and took a deep draught. Savouring the taste for only a second, he swallowed it and felt it slide into his stomach comfortably. The warm feeling of the alcohol was spreading throughout his limbs, and a slight smile had alighted upon his face.

“Now, Dreyva, if you don’t mind ...” he began again, and then continued without waiting for an answer, “When you say doctor ... I’m assuming you mean accomplished in the School of Restoration? Or a doctor of more ... Mundane means?”

Malochai von Carstein; Terror of Hunger Wood, Lord of Lichenhof Tower

Roleplay Characters
The Darkness - Conquest: Kerin-Curan
Darkness - Traditional: Glaïmbar Bokkadsson
Age of Dragons: Endras Amlugon
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post #10 of 27 (permalink) Old 01-24-13, 07:29 PM
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the group was amusing he would give them that,two thieves flirting and a fellow khajiit sat at a table exchanging pleasantries. DarFurtim after introducing himself to the two dark elves ordered himself a mead from the bar with the change from the brandy,as the bottle was laid on the counter Furtim picked it up and sat at the table with the others pulling a chair over.

"so a fellow khajit,a bosmer and a nord not a common sight to see walking through the door of the flowing bowl i assume. your stories if you would be willing and whoever just nicked that bag of coins from my pocket if you would be so kind as to return it"

Quote:
Originally Posted by Tawa View Post
If an immovable object is struck by an unstoppable force, how many potatoes will fit in the jelly mould?
Renegades 9:flesh is weak
https://www.heresy-online.net/forums/...d.php?t=122389

Eldrad Ulthran:
"He who sees his own doom can better avoid its path. He who sees the doom of others can deliver it."

inquisitor czevak:
"Ask not the Eldar a question, for they will give you three answers, all of which are true and terrifying to know."
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