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Deer Country Mod ([personal profile] reddosmod) wrote in [community profile] countryclub2022-09-25 09:57 pm
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SEPTEMBER TEST DRIVE MEME!

SEPTEMBER 2022 TDM
Another month, another test drive meme! Our test drive memes are open to anyone interested - regardless of whether or not you join our game!

All Test Drive Memes are game canon. Players can choose to keep their TDM threads canon or not. TDM threads can be used for AC and can be used as your writing sample for your application.

Our TDMs serve as a way to build into the actual lore and worldbuilding of Deer Country and we strongly encourage everyone to enjoy and participate! Current players are always welcome to pull prompts from the TDM to reference on the Network or bring into logs as well as tag out to new characters top-leveling on the TDM itself.

Characters will always be able to actively die during TDMs as this is an extremely dangerous world. You can still have this be game canon! Check out how character death in Deer Country works here.

If you have any questions about the TDM, please ask down below!

IMAGE DESCRIPTORS IN ORDER OF APPEARANCE

Prompt One
[Image One: Bread Cornucopia filled with fruits and veggies]
[Image Two: Creepy glass eye embedded in sand]

Prompt Two
[Image One: A Lone Lighthouse by night]
[Image Two: Ghost Ship in dilapidated condition]

Prompt Three
[Image One: Wasps, Wasp Nest made from human Mask screaming terror, swirling eddies in wasp Nest]
[Image Two: Horribly mutilated Cenobite in Latex gear with exposed teeth]

STANDARD ARRIVAL
WHEN: First Week of September
WHERE: The Farther Shores/The Boardwalk, Koz's Orphanage
CONTENT WARNINGS: Creepy Prosthetics buried in the sand


On some level, you are one of the fortunate ones. The storms of August are now a distant memory. It is the waning of the Blood Moon and the tempestuous state of the Beast Moon this year is fading finally while the harvest is being collected. Sleepers arriving find no particular difficulty in actually reaching the shores for the most part, and transformations back into their natural state of being are relatively easy. They are met by happy Trenchies and fellow Sleepers with robes of white and their bags as normal, and motioned towards the waiting tents set up along the

What is strange, however, is that when Sleepers arrive, they may find their eyes drawn to something disturbing amongst the sand. Water washes with the waves and tide, and reveals a body part! They are always prosthetics of some variety, and many are glass eyes that eerily stare at the person. They can be retrieved with some ease, though they're in bad need of cleaning. Perhaps they belong to someone in town? If not, however, asking around will get a suggestion to bring those to Koz's Orphange in Crenshaw. They have a Lost and Found there, and it is the season of finding what and who is lost. If they do, they might catch a glimpse of Koz floating mournfully through the area, and one of the children will gratefully take the item, saying that they will add it to the rest of the Lost and Found, before coming back with a photo in hand. "Here, I found this, and I think it might be yours?" The photo is, indeed, of the giver and someone from their past. Perhaps it is an actual photo taken, or one they cannot remember having been taken. Regardless, it is offered to them in a cheap wooden frame. How it got there, the orphan does not know. It was probably there when they arrived.

SEASONAL DETAILS ON THE BOARDWALK

The Boardwalk is quite the spectacle this time of year, and those who were here the prior year will remember many of the decorations and festivities. Pumpkins have been stacked on spikes lining the Boardwalk with grotesquely realistic carvings of faces decorated on them. Massive white linen has been hung in the air to look like ghosts floating back and forth against the ocean wind.

Delicious smells waft from the Boardwalk as fresh donuts, candied apples, and hot apple cider are sold at every other booth, along with complementary cornucopias given to each new Sleeper made out of bread that has fruits of all varieties but always seems to have a small jar of the favorite fruit, seed, vegetable (or even meat) of the person receiving it. If asked where it is from, the Sleepers shrug and say "The Orphans took up a collection to give a welcoming gift to new arrivals." If what is in the jar is eaten by the person given it, it will help to ease their mind and give them a calm that can last up to a week as they acclimate.

Preparations are in order for this year's Black Parade. An annual celebration, it is promoted among the excited locals as something that people can participate in. Face Painting booths and costumes are available to those who wish them, with the statement by the Trenchies, "We do it to disguise ourselves from roaming spirits and hungry beasts."
A FADED MEMORY
WHEN: Mid October
WHERE: In Swimming distance (Barely) of the Farther Shores
CONTENT WARNINGS: Ghostly Ship & Lighthouse, Threat of Corruption, Remains of Ghastly Murder and Dismembered Corpse


It is by accident that your eyes chance to look towards the Farther Shores. There, you happen to see a lighthouse, but you know for certain that it cannot be the lighthouse that is normally there and manned by the fishermen. You can't usually see that from this angle. The moment that you see it, a feeling of mounting dread falls upon you, and you realize that there is no light in the lighthouse. Though the compulsion to investigate can be resisted, there is an almost overwhelming urge to go, to investigate, to re-ignite the flame before it is too late!

The question is getting out there. The fishermen, when the lighthouse is mentioned, will make warding gestures and look terrified. All will resolutely refuse to sail out, muttering incomprehensible curses and lashing their boats securely to the shore. There will be no fishing tonight. The lighthouse, from the docks and shores, is out in the water on a rocky outcrop that nobody remembers being there, though any Trenchy asked will pale at the mention. The only way to get out there is to swim. It is a hard, dangerous swim, but the tide is coming in, rather than going out, so the riptide is not pulling down. It can be done, or a raft can be hastily made. When clambering up the stone steps to the lone lighthouse, it is apparent its door is ajar. And within? Horror awaits.

The insides of the tower are caked in viscuous, green blood. The Lighthouse itself is barely standing. It looks as if a thunderous, colossal fist has battered it repeatedly, the building nearly collapsing at every step. It does not actually break apart, but those who ascend the steps find themselves fighting not to slip on old, caked and thick blood that smells of roses. The contact with the blood isn't doing anything good to the person's sanity and hallucinations of the screams of the dying can be heard, along with shrieks of "What is it?" at the top of someone's voice. An increase in corruption is possible here, though not required. The more one contacts the blood, the greater the risk is. In the top of the lighthouse, dismembered, skeletal remains lay in gobs of what may once have been flesh. One of them holds desperately a torch in their hand, and there is a lighter present. One look out into the night will see a great vessel approaching, broken, its sails tattered and ruined. there is little time, and hopefully the lighter works!

The moment the torch lights the lamp in the lighthouse, the ship veers away from a collision course that would have destroyed the lighthouse and likely the flimsy rock outcropping on which it stood. Shades of dead sailors stare in horror at those who man the lighthouse today, the ship sailing away into the night. All are pointing beyond, and if you look over your shoulder, you can barely see a collosal figure in shadow walking into the town beyond, seemingly confused and wailing. Nothing further happens, and when the people in the lighthouse reach shore again, they will find upon turning back that it is gone, as is the outcropping, though a close inspection does see the remains of a shallow of stone there where the island once stood.

Note: The Ghost ship cannot be interacted with. If someone has the ability to reach it, they will pass through it only to realize it is nothing more than a memory in the land. Fragments of rotted wood and broken masonry can be found in the water below, covered in countless barnacles. Nothing within them shows any proof of what once transpired. There is a risk of corruption from blood exposure, though this is very much up to the players if they wish to incorporate it.

No Trenchy will willingly speak of what transpired, though a careful investigation at the Pale Sanctuary may find a tome among the sacred texts associated with Cloverfield. Reading from it, one might find a forgotten marking that the first sighting of Cloverfield, long ago, saw the collapse of the original lighthouse. No Disciple recalls the incident, and none will speak of it.

FRIEND OR FOE
WHEN: Anytime in October
WHERE: At the frindges of the main districts
CONTENT WARNINGS: demonic bugs, Bug Horror, Grotesque death, Self mutilation, Bug Infestation


The first thing that alerts you to the danger is the screams. They are agonizing, gut-wrenching and full of naked horror. When traveling near the edge of any of the districts, particularly the Crenshaw district, it is possible at times to witness a truly horrifying sight. The screams, if investigated, come upon the grisly attack of a horde of not exactly wasps but closer to demonic insects swarming over a person. They shriek, their whole form shrouded by the terrible creatures as they're being stun and the things seem to be extruding some sort of substance to cocoon them while still alive to one of the trees. There is no cry for help, as the person is clearly unaware of who is there, but do you reach out to save them?

If you do not, the scene is horrific and grisly beyond reckoning. The wasps trap the hapless victim against a tree, grafting the extruded paper all over their screaming visage to form a new wasp nest before they ultimately begin crawling inside of them, devouring them from the inside out and implanting their eggs in the new 'home' created for them. It is at this time that the palpable danger may dawn upon you. The infernal bugs have not yet seen you, but they seem to be aware that there is other life around. Do you take this moment to try and beat a hasty retreat, or do you fight it out with the bugs? They can be destroyed, but only by means of abilities and powers that destroy multiples at once, such as great gouts of flame. Hopefully you have a coldblood present! Fleeing them is easier, but can you leave this person to their fate? Still, if instead you observe and take no action, eventually the bugs seem to notice you, and though they swarm near, as long as they are not attacked, they seem to do nothing.

Strange.

If, however, you try to save the victim, a very different scene plays out. The same rules apply to fight the swarm, and if you stop them short of killing their victim, you will see just who it is that you have saved. There, mutilated through self scarification and brutally altered in horrible ways that seem almost fetishistic, is one of the blood crazed zealots. Despite being weakened and badly injured, they lash out at you, their defender. The power that they wield with their blood is incredible, and they demonstrate an ability to wield it that is well documented. The only note is that no Cold-blooded Zealots are present, and so their powers are not represented this time. However, they are drained and though they pose a threat to your life, they can be killed here with a bit of care, can be resisted with great difficulty and certainly be escaped. Either way, there is no true reward for having killed them other than knowing that you have done so. Why are they here? Alone?

It is almost as if they were an advance scout, and the wasps were someone's defense against them, someone's early warning.

CODING
necrolord: <user name="thebutt"> (i can feel it on my tongue)

[personal profile] necrolord 2022-10-03 03:15 pm (UTC)(link)
[ At the crash and clatter— at the raising of her voice— John turns away from his place in the hot cider line. He has the slightly beleaguered look of a man who expects fistfights to break out when his back is turned, and finds them only a little inconvenient; he steps up beside the two of them with his hands splayed in the universal gesture of easy, easy. ]

Are we making friends already? [ Ha ha. ] Sorry about that. She has some strong opinions on arcane theory, you know, very academic stuff. You want a cider?
necrolord: <user name="thebutt"> (drawing lines in the sand)

[personal profile] necrolord 2022-10-03 03:42 pm (UTC)(link)
[ Even as he approaches, the change in John is immediately evident: he seems awake in a way he hadn't, before. There is a new, brighter energy to the way he carries himself, the way he takes in the beach and the sky and the people. He walks in her orbit, and she his, as though they are binary stars. When she veers towards some scrap of glass or metal, he follows; when he leads her, she goes. It is apparent to anyone looking that he loves her.

Of course this guy's here to ruin the honeymoon.

Lazarus approaches, and the real telling change is that John's expression does not ice over; it only closes a bit, with low-banked irritation. John takes Annabel's hand in his, smooths a thumb over the bumps of her knuckles, as though he could leash her by it. Or anchor himself. ]


We'd all hate to assume. [ As though Lazarus doesn't have a better idea than nearly anyone living; as though presumption isn't what John killed him for. ] Lazarus, meet Annabel. Properly, this time.
necrolord: <user name="thebutt"> (laying borders as tall as towers)

[personal profile] necrolord 2022-10-03 04:45 pm (UTC)(link)
[ He immediately splays his palms, hands out in the hurried gesture of wait, wait. God reels back a little like he's been struck, like he doesn't know what to do— he looks, for a moment, horribly lost and a little afraid. Despair builds ever closer within him, like stormclouds. ]

Sorry, sorry. You— you reminded me of someone.

[ He cracks the world's worst and most uncertain smile, his eyes still desperate as a frightened animal's. ]

I'll walk you there. Where's home?
necrolord: =- (the words fall flat)

[personal profile] necrolord 2022-10-03 04:51 pm (UTC)(link)
[ She crams his sand castle into her mouth, and John shuts his eyes. He exhales a breath. He could laugh or cry, again; they really blur together, in moments like this.

He does not want to know if the ocean dreams. ]


I was coming to bed in a minute. [ Muttered, like a joke. ] It turned out to be a long minute.

[ More solidly, he says: ] Everyone's very interested in dreams, here. They dreamed the world into what it is. I think I can relate... I think mine are just as bad. But I can't say it's much fun living in someone else's.

If I'm going to be stuck in somebody's nightmare, better the devil you know, right?
acidjail: rights to use paid by me; do not take (08)

[personal profile] acidjail 2022-10-03 04:54 pm (UTC)(link)
I'm sorry.

[ The idea makes her a little sad. Everyone should be able to go home, if they want to. ]

Do you want to find somewhere to go? I could help you.

[ It would be the right thing to do. It's...chivalrous. ]
necroprince: (6)

iii

[personal profile] necroprince 2022-10-03 04:55 pm (UTC)(link)
From what I hear, it's probably haunted.

[She says, casually, as way of making conversation. The lighthouse pulls her in too, but she can recognize a foreign desire in her own head. Ianthe's wants are all perfectly clear in her own head, thank you.]

And cursed of course. Why? Do you feel like going out there and being a hero?
the_obedient_servant: (NpdTrR2)

cw for severe dysphoria

[personal profile] the_obedient_servant 2022-10-03 05:04 pm (UTC)(link)
I can. And I am.

[They can tell. They feel it under their own skin, this ugly face and body and limbs. The way their hair is perfectly tended to, the way their cheeks flush pink. They're a toy. A doll. A servant.

When they were alive, they hated their body for all it's human weakness. The pale skin like paper, the way their bones cracked and bruised and broke. The way it fell apart so feebly and yet their soul was impossibly powerful.

Empathy. That's what this feeling is, surely. Like staring into a funhouse mirror, they see a revenant, defined and malformed by what it has lost. They see a body and a name that doesn't belong to the spirit within.]


Do you forgive?
slayerskiss: (pic#15643265)

2

[personal profile] slayerskiss 2022-10-03 05:19 pm (UTC)(link)
[Faith watches this spectacle with mild amusement, turning into a laugh when Ryouma looks at her. She remembers when she first arrived, how hungrily she'd devoured anything that Willow got for her, even when Willow warned her she might get sick (she did get sick).]

Yeah, man. Go for it.
entreats: (it sort of sounds like you leaving)

[personal profile] entreats 2022-10-03 05:48 pm (UTC)(link)
She nods, sucking in a breath.

"I'm sure."

She wouldn't mistake him. Even though it's been such a while since the last time she's seen Martin, he looks the same. Sounds the same. There's no way it's just someone else who just happens to be called Martin too - especially since it's not even the first case of someone having appeared in Trench who was in Deerington before, but not remembering the dream at all.

"I mean, I could tell you something about you that a stranger wouldn't know, but I figure that'd be awkward."

After all, he knows nothing about her.

(Nothing, Ange thinks, feeling like someone dropped a huge block of ice right into the pit of her stomach.)

And here she knows relatively intimate details about him. It's got to be awkward on both sides, not just on hers.

"But I-- I guess it doesn't mean anything." She shakes her head.

Even though it does mean something to her. But what else is she supposed to say here?

"Since you.. or.. this "you" doesn't know me anyway."

It's not meant in a dismissive way towards Martin either. If anything, it's Ange trying to make things lighter for him, not wanting him to be pressured by something he can't even help. It's easier for Ange to bear the pain by herself, to shove it down into some dark corner where it won't bother anyone but her.
acidjail: rights to use paid by me; do not take (03)

cw: insects, gore

[personal profile] acidjail 2022-10-03 05:48 pm (UTC)(link)
This Zerg may be a towering monstrosity that reminds her far too much of certain other insectile horrors, and it may have just popped another insectile horror into its mouth like a caramel popcorn, but it has proved to at least be marginally intelligent. That counts for something.

"They go passive after the hive is complete," she informs it, tilting her head at the burrowing creatures. The body inside the casing is still very technically alive, but it won't be for much longer, and thanergy spikes off of it in a useful wave. Her eyes flutter as she drinks it in, but she doesn't lose herself to the sensation.

"At least until they're disturbed. Then they're quite difficult to work with...I recommend immediately disabling them all at once, if you can manage it." Collegiality with a monster; it isn't as if it's the first time. "What's your first impression?"
kaientai: (238)

[personal profile] kaientai 2022-10-03 06:26 pm (UTC)(link)
"'Gongzi'?"

Ryouma repeats the word, but there's a good chance he's botched the pronunciation. His eyes widen a little with obvious interest when the sword just jumps into Jim Guangyao's hand.

"Oho! I dunno, looks like you're doing pretty good from where I'm standing."

He means it sincerely, and even though he's currently covering his usual accent, he still has a sort of simple honesty about him that's probably even more pronounced next to Jin Guangyao's polite manner. He's just a lowborn ronin from the country, after all.

When it comes to introducing himself, though, he has a moment's hesitation. As a Servant, it's habit to hide his True Name, but he's been born anew here, hasn't he? Those old concerns just don't seem to matter anymore.

"I'm Sakamoto Ryouma," he says, with a different sort of bow. "And I'm definitely curious, yeah. Noticed you were asking around and not getting any bites. That should probably tell me something, but I like seeing things for myself."
towards_okeanos: (bwahaha)

II Arrival

[personal profile] towards_okeanos 2022-10-03 06:41 pm (UTC)(link)
Iskandar has made a habit out of going out to look for the new arrivals. More out of genuine curiosity than expectation to see a familiar face. Though the other reason is still there, somewhere in the background. There aren't all that many children in Trench. It's dangerous place. So the one he sees in front of a candied fruit booth surely stands out.

"Hello, little one. What has stolen your attention so fiercely?"
kaientai: (004)

[personal profile] kaientai 2022-10-03 09:02 pm (UTC)(link)
Almost seems like a shame to eat it at the same time. Somebody put a lot of effort into it!

[ or, so he assumes. ]

I tried baking something once. It was—... [ he thinks about it. ] ...like, if sadness were edible..?

[ ryouma reaches in and plucks a few grapes off their stem and is pleased to find it's unexpectedly good food for a place called trench. how that works with what he's seen of this place so far is something he's not going to think about too hard. just enjoy it. ]

You don't have the fancy bread thing, so I'm guessing this sorta thing is old news for you?
dynatox: (terry // 130)

[personal profile] dynatox 2022-10-03 09:20 pm (UTC)(link)
I don't think so. [ But it looks like his. Smells like his. He feels like he could just dissolve into the mess any second now.

He shakes his head, gathering his wits about him again. ]
No, that's impossible, you're right.

[ He stands up, bracing himself against the bloody wall. ]

I'm not hurt. This place just brought up some bad memories, is all.

[ He doesn't expect Trench to treat him gentler than it does anyone else just because of his PTSD. Life isn't fair like that. But damn if it didn't make some things difficult. ]
dynatox: (terry // 100)

[personal profile] dynatox 2022-10-03 09:21 pm (UTC)(link)
So it seems. My time away has let it catch me off guard.

[ He sighs, pulling up the corner of his shirt. Blood is pooling up around his old tattoo - a fist closed around a hissing cobra - but it doesn't seem to be infected or bleeding so profusely as to pose him any danger.

The fact that he removed that tattoo decades ago doesn't seem to concern him right now. ]


I'll clean it up later. I can push through, for now.
dynatox: (terry // 020)

[personal profile] dynatox 2022-10-03 09:21 pm (UTC)(link)
[ It's a good thing he's a vileblood, too, because wearing a gas mask might bring up even more unpleasant memories of stalking around the jungle at night. ]

Very useful. You young'uns pick these things up faster than old guys like me. I still haven't sorted mine out.

[ Not that he's completely ignorant to the abilities he's been given, but he'll play it like he is until he needs to show his hand. Although he doesn't currently see Tory as a threat, if she turns on him he knows what he has to watch out for.

He continues upward until they reach the top of the lighthouse. ]
necroprince: (4)

[personal profile] necroprince 2022-10-03 09:39 pm (UTC)(link)
Home is the people you surround yourself with.

[It's said with the slightest mocking twinge but Nona will be able tell that the irony is half-hearted and false. It's entirely how Ianthe thinks of home. Home is Coronabeth. She might never go home again.]

Do other people live with you? What are they like?
dynatox: (terry // 117)

[personal profile] dynatox 2022-10-03 09:49 pm (UTC)(link)
You sent your dogs after me. Lawrence and Toguchi.

[ The fact that he knows about Chozen is enough to make him look legit, he hopes. He refrains from mentioning Mike Barnes for now, because Terry's not even sure how the fuck those two got on better terms again other than that Barnes became soft after one loss. ]

You're alright - well, physically anyway - but them? [ He shakes his head. ] Anything that happened after they broke into my house was self-defense.

[ He leans in even closer, still grinning wildly. ]

Of course, you know that. You're the expert on defense, aren't you Danny boy?
dynatox: (terry // 134)

[personal profile] dynatox 2022-10-03 09:50 pm (UTC)(link)
That's right. You haven't even learned your defense yet.

[ Johnny is a formidable fighter, even without defense, but Terry plays dirty. He's exactly the sort of fighter you need defense to beat. Something that will hopefully sink into Johnny's head eventually.

He blocks just as easily as he did the first time, scoffing. This is your champion, John? ]


You're like a little dog with his belly up. [ He attempts to deliver a spin kick to Johnny's chest. ]
dynatox: (terry // 053)

[personal profile] dynatox 2022-10-03 09:52 pm (UTC)(link)
Are you sure?

[ It's probably in his best interests to go back to the boardwalk and let the boy handle this one, but he's still conscious of his image enough that he doesn't want to look like a coward. ]

I can help, if there's danger.
broodofone: (Default)

cw: something vaguely in the vicinity of emeto, weird slime, insects

[personal profile] broodofone 2022-10-03 10:28 pm (UTC)(link)
Abathur considers the sample, slowly filtering out the burning taste. "Poisonous. Unfamiliar mechanism. Unclear if endogenous or accumulated through environment. Interfering with behavioral regulation." There was a growing desire to hunt.

He has limited means to take samples now. Especially small ones--this would normally be the work of other organisms. But his internal store of creep can be drawn upon.

He unceremoniously disgorges a lump of purple-grey slime, stretching it between his four hands into a thin membrane, entrapping the hive and its circling swarm. Mandibles immediately begin to bite at the creep. The few that escaped buzz toward him. He catches some out of the air, as his stingers arch down to pierce the entombed hive. Those that he catches are simply placed on the surface of the creep, stuck to the living trap.

"Samples subdued." His mouth gapes wide to taste the air again.

And he finds his target. This is a compulsion, and he is aware of this. But it is a fascinating one. "Insectoid toxin, redirects aggression." He rounds on the terran, coiling for a lunge. "Protects hive. Perhaps nurtures it."
sanguinarydelight: (Big mistake)

[personal profile] sanguinarydelight 2022-10-03 10:29 pm (UTC)(link)
Not that she didn't appreciate the deference; it was, after all, her due as one of the four lords. But nothing quite grated on the nerves like empty flattery when all you want is some damn answers.

And a drink.


...And maybe a cigarette. That would be nice.

"Lady Dimitrescu," she answers, as though it were obvious. "And mind not laying it on so thick; no one likes a sycophant."
icanhearscreams: (eh?)

[personal profile] icanhearscreams 2022-10-04 12:00 am (UTC)(link)
1. I'm not a graphic designer, or I'd fix that for you.
2. Whatever. Weirdo.
3. Yeah, but you don't know how this place works, do you? This place is probably pretty different than what you're used to.
iaiafhtagn: (Default)

[personal profile] iaiafhtagn 2022-10-04 12:19 am (UTC)(link)
"!?"

Whoa, speaking of dangerous, hello big Alex! Not the small, cute Alex, but the big, burly one. The one with the scruffy beard and red hair and big smile! That one. Geez, talk about standing out. Abby naturally goes silent for a few moments. Processing this, was he the one she knew from Chaldea? Or another?

Abigail always became a little confused when dealing with other servants and figuring them out. Confusion that usually faded away like the setting sun.

"Ah- that's..."

Mumbles, mumbles. How would you like it if a giant, strange guy just started speaking to you!? Not a stranger, however. Probably. She was going err on the side of caution here!

"...Mm...candied apples.

Mumbles....
Edited 2022-10-04 00:21 (UTC)
iaiafhtagn: (Existential Crises...pancakes)

IV - Text / un; Abigail Williams

[personal profile] iaiafhtagn 2022-10-04 12:30 am (UTC)(link)
I do hope it doesn't happen again!

However, from my own readings that is what we are now? I am not certain if I understand it too terribly much. Having only arrived a short while ago myself.

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