the Rift


[OPEN] Journey to the Past

Yael Posts: 186
World's Edge Seer atk: 7.5 | def: 11 | dam: 2.5
Mare :: Pegasus :: 14.2 :: 39 - appears 8 HP: 63.5 | Buff: NOVICE
Zani :: Serval :: None Astor
#1
like a jar, you housed infinite tenderness
and infinite tenderness shattered you
For better or worse, Yael is a little oblivious to the cogs of the Edge as they churn and chug, moving frantically all over Helovia in order to get the multiple pieces for the Herd Quest. No, she has her own tasks to fulfill, and there is a very important place she still has yet to visit (mostly because the desert-born mare steadfastly avoids anything that takes her further north), but the time to do so is quickly drawing to a close. While the air is still warm, the air currents higher up hold a chill, their winds strong and vicious. A quick glance tells her all she needs to know; these mountains are not made for flying over, even if she wanted to. Which she doesn’t because that would be trespassing.

The little gold and silver mare has some of the worst timing too, considering the persistent visits of her herdmates and the asking of favors. Well, she can always plead ignorance - and then plead to Tiamat, if it comes to that. While navigating the unfamiliar air patterns, her mind drifts to the two Basiners she’s met: Tiamat and Rikyn, and hopes they’ll be kind enough to vouch for her. Are there others she knows here? Seen, at least, at various events across Xelovia? You see, the Basin and its residents are entirely unknown to Yael: an enigma wrapped in a thick layer of ice that she is willing to hold a hair dryer to in order to discover what’s been frozen in time, even if she has to stand there for a good day and a half and run up the electricity bill.

Two giant metal unicorns come into view, guarding a passage, and she assumes they mark the edge of the herdlands. Circling in wide curly-q’s she is sure to be easily seen by anyone nearby, the strong summer sun glinting off her silver-white hair and gilded wings. She is a visitor who announces herself way ahead of time, to avoid any misunderstandings. When dainty hooves touch the ground, she fluffs her wings about her and sets to studying the giant guardians, a slightly bemused expression on her face. Well. That will surely be one of the first stories she seeks out. But for now, all the Philosopher asks for is permission to come and go when the weather is warm, to serve as a record keeper for all of Xelovia.

As old as that mind is, it is still a steel trap.



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@Weaver  
@Beloved

BOO!

Please only tag in starter posts, or if the thread is getting dusty
Force and magic allowed, no death please

Weaver Posts: 149
Aurora Basin Corporal atk: 8.0 | def: 10.0 | dam: 3.0
Mare :: Hybrid :: 15.1 :: 3 years HP: 61 | Buff: Novice
Raven :: Australian Raven :: Terrorize Kyra
#2

i don't rise from the ashes, i make them.

She’s pretty damn sure the Basin is just going to reek of trees if the Edglings don’t stop coming here. Maybe they should just keep one of them hostage for a while to make a point. Not that she thinks Tia would be game for that idea, though she can see Rikyn at least entertaining the idea. It’s a terrible idea for keeping up relations and all that, but still, the idea amuses her. And it certainly helps make her less bitter as she makes her way to the entrance of the Basin yet again to greet yet another visitor. To be fair, she does not yet know for sure this mare is from the Edge, because so far, all she knows is Raven found something. She doesn’t even know it’s a someone, yet. But she will soon enough, so the thoughts are warranted.

Not that she cares about warranted. She just likes to amuse herself.

She’s actually a horse today, not a raven, and she makes her way over to the newest visitor on foot. But the mare hadn’t been hard to spot, circling around in the sky like a damn fool because no one told her the dirty little secret here. Can’t blame her, but still, the thoughts roll around in Weaver’s head, because her head has never been full of kind thoughts. At least sometimes her words are less terrible than the running inner monologue.

There are some snotty remarks on her lips as she approaches, but they all die when the little gold mare comes into view. She’s seen the mare around Helovia, recently when that stupid fire cheetah tried to burn the place down. Weaver’s still got some lovely burn patches from that, though the cool glowy magic had faded away. But she hadn’t been paying much attention in those particular gatherings, because you know, fire cheetah, shapeshifting fake baby otter, etc. But now, she’s actually looking.

There are a few things different. She’s not literally gold, and the black tips on the wings are different. But Weaver is also different; the seven horns on her head a new addition, though her wings and the mark of death on her chest are familiar. Weaver just stares for a moment, openly. Raven comes to rest on her back, looking at the visitor, a question running through their bond that he doesn’t have the words for yet. But she’s pretty sure he’s thinking exactly what she’s thinking (even though he can’t be, really, he’s new Raven after all).

“You…” she starts, stopping again, disbelief coloring the one word. “No. Definitely no.” This is something of a mutter, and she shakes her head, like she’s clearing away the nonsense and just starting over. When she speaks again, it could be because she is completely convinced this is in fact exactly who she thinks it is, or it could just be the way she greets most of the strangers who come to the Basin. “What do you want?”

In truth, she just needs to hear the other mare speak. Because then she will know, beyond a shadow of a doubt.

I'm the whole fucking fire.

- weaver -

image credit | quote by erin van vuren


@Yael

Please tag in all posts
Magic use/power playing is okay, but check before serious injury/death
Image by AmoretteRose

Beloved Posts: 121
Aurora Basin Soldier atk: 8.5 | def: 10 | dam: 3
Mare :: Unicorn :: 14.3 :: Appears 6 HP: 62 | Buff: NOVICE
Orphan :: Ragdoll Cat :: None Bunnie
#3
The peculiar, almost dreamlike visage of Beloved’s golden mouse flutters down from the heavens, and the white witch narrows her eyes at the sight, pondering, while she thinks of all other things, if it is even true, or a mirage projected by her twisted third eye. Dragon! her crazed mind balks, the dozens of voices shrilly commanding it be slain, or avoided, or cried aloft to the sky, so that the bladed denizens of this realm, armed with leather and steel, would rise to crush her down; yet she is silent (but for that tittering, ceaseless laughter), her horn an arrow that points towards the bronze beasts which once guarded them at the will of a dark pelted man, stained with marks the color of his robotic children’s atoms, where the pale maned thing which had evaded, attacked, forced her away the last they met, had come gently weaving down.

The other one she suspects to be eternal as stone walks towards those gate guardians, and Beloved spies her only after the dragon-mare has slipped beyond the far rise, and she can follow her downward trajectory no longer. Appearing as if summoned in the witch’s field of vision before the pale one, Yr’s Weaver is soon followed by the ivory ghost, babbling laughter as if she were a brook of mirth, Beloved wondering if, perhaps, with two, the wench will be easier to strike down.

Yet, when she arrives, there is a cold hesitation to her acquaintance’s step and posture which draws, too, that same pause to the white one’s step. Narrowing her eyes with an insidious cackle upon the gold pegasus as Weaver’s query cuts the air like a knife, the demoness strides nearer her painted companion and Raven, stopping beside her with a laughter accompanied stare.

"Hello again," she croons, lips hungrily wetted by a pink tongue at the closing of her words, that aged fear which had first risen, had bloomed in her breast at the audacious mare’s transformation the last they’d met still fluttering beneath the overtly ostentatious rise of her crown and arc of her brow she now displays in the face of her twice escaped prize.




Beloved
rust every place that I touch

@Yael
Tag Beloved, please!

Feel free to attack her with physical or magical violence at your own risk. ;D

Yael Posts: 186
World's Edge Seer atk: 7.5 | def: 11 | dam: 2.5
Mare :: Pegasus :: 14.2 :: 39 - appears 8 HP: 63.5 | Buff: NOVICE
Zani :: Serval :: None Astor
#4
like a jar, you housed infinite tenderness
and infinite tenderness shattered you
Yael is a woman of well thought out notions, of sitting and thinking as long as she can before choosing a path of action - history tells her time and time again that her rash actions bring about death and destruction for those she loves. Look at Chantale and Aviva, look at the Desert, look at Rhy and Vanquish. She is at her worst when impulsive, because that is when the hate finds its way through and burns insidious little holes in the blanket of love she’s chosen to weave. Her flashy descent was only intended to let them know they had a visitor, to get her single question over and done with, so that both parties could get back to whatever plan they had for the day. It was not intended to be some magical portal to her past indiscretions. Beloved by herself is enough for her to handle - but this? Which asshole deity thought Weaver would be a fun prank to play on the sweet little foreign girl?

A lifetime flashes before her eyes, a chronological fall from grace that culminated in dragons and fire and holding little fillies in her life-crushing jaws. Hurled words. Magic. Spiteful children and false memories. Freedom and peace. All of it - a lifetime and a world ago, and miles and miles from this reality. Her heart jolts, skipping a beat or two as her breath is sucked from her lungs when a vague familiarity becomes concrete and real and utterly undeniable. A thousand questions flip across her tongue as Yael’s eyes go wide and her mouth actually falls open, unable to turn those spring-loaded questions into actual words. How they’d never recognized each other before is… almost unfathomable now that Weaver stands before her, in the very flesh.

You… and more, and she can’t tell if it’s accusation or disbelief - or both? The only biting thing thta comes to mind is that yes, of course Weaver lives here, in this godforsaken kingdom of ice (her disdain for the Basin is only brought about by its climate - she has nothing against those that live here. Except for Beloved), in the very last place she’d ever want to go. That is a blessing in disguise, but all she can manage right now is “Veaver? Xow deed you… ?”

What hasn’t registered yet is that a return B’kanna might not be a pipe dream after all.

The white witch’s approach, however, ignites a fire within her that burns away all questions and wonderment that mere seconds ago, seemed to fill her to bursting. Her eyes flash (a rarity) and she reaches for her power, ready to transform if given the slightest provocation. Whole herd be damned, now she knows where the demon woman lives, and she’d rather let them all know this innocent-looking body is not to be trifled with. They’re practically on the verge of an international incident and it’s only been a couple of minutes! Long ears fly back to her skull as she spits out, “Oh, Adonai, you leev xere too?”

Would that she were a dragon now, she could use an accusatory, sybilant hisssss on the edge of her lips. With unusual sharpness, she answers Weaver's question. “I seek knowledge - collect ze Basin’s stories nekst summer. Tell me xoo to speak to about zat.”


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@Weaver  @Beloved

Please only tag in starter posts, or if the thread is getting dusty
Force and magic allowed, no death please

Weaver Posts: 149
Aurora Basin Corporal atk: 8.0 | def: 10.0 | dam: 3.0
Mare :: Hybrid :: 15.1 :: 3 years HP: 61 | Buff: Novice
Raven :: Australian Raven :: Terrorize Kyra
#5

i don't rise from the ashes, i make them.

Beloved laughter is akin to crickets in the Basin. Sometimes, Weaver doesn’t even notice it, the way she doesn’t notice the crickets or a babbling brook unless she wants to. But as the pale mare draws beside her, Weaver can’t ignore the laughter, and finds herself unusually thankful for the strange mare’s presence. The again from Beloved’s mouth catches Weaver’s attention though, wondering how long Yael has been here, what cause they had to meet. Not that it’s unusual to stumble upon stranger in Helovia, but still….these two?

Though she’d laugh if she could hear Yael’s thoughts. Sweet little foreign girl, my ass, she thinks. Little, yes. Foreign, yes, but in this place so is Weaver and just about everyone else. Sweet? Yea, not so much. Weaver’s met Yael enough times to know she’s far from sweet. Sure, she can be nice. Sure, she’s quite the loving mother, and even lets guilt get the best of her. But it’s not sweet.

What a trio they may.

She actually laughs. She can’t help it. The whole thing is so impossible and ridiculous that she just up and turns herself into Beloved for a moment. Though it’s not her incessant, creepy cackling, but downright amusement. “I walked,” she says, matter-of-factly. Because she did. She walked and flew and traveled through one world to the next until finally settling on this one. How on each her and Yael managed to pick the same land when there were countless others is beyond her. “How did you?” She doesn’t even finish the question, because it’s obvious enough what she’s asking.

Then Yael’s attention in on Beloved, some strange combination of hate and fear, maybe? Yea, so sweet Yael. “She does,” Weaver says flatly, not particularly thrilled with the current turn of events right now. Weaver has no idea what Helovia took from Yael and what it’s given her, but she doesn’t feel inclined to find out. Because if it comes to that, Weaver’s hardly going to walk away from that fight. “We live here, and you do not. If you have things you want it might benefit you to remember you are our guest.”

She doesn’t care that she’s being entirely rude. Because though Tiamat would totally scold her right now, Rikyn thankfully had a little more backbone, and probably would not. But no one pins their damn ears at one the Basin’s own. Particularly while standing on their border with some request in mind. She debates telling Yael she ought to say please, but instead just answers, not really in the mood to get into it anymore with her past. She’d come here to escape it, after all, but the little golden mare somehow stands on her doorstep anyway. “Cassius is our Haruspex, and Ode one of the Basin’s disciples. Either of them would be able to help you.”

I'm the whole fucking fire.

- weaver -

image credit | quote by erin van vuren


@Yael @Beloved

Please tag in all posts
Magic use/power playing is okay, but check before serious injury/death
Image by AmoretteRose

Beloved Posts: 121
Aurora Basin Soldier atk: 8.5 | def: 10 | dam: 3
Mare :: Unicorn :: 14.3 :: Appears 6 HP: 62 | Buff: NOVICE
Orphan :: Ragdoll Cat :: None Bunnie
#6
The tricky mouse is not pleased to see the wicked one, which the witch is glad to reply to with an overly wide, gruesome smile, her eager teeth gleaming. The backward tilt of the twice escaped prize’s ears does not deter the woman who stands on her own soil, a realm which she has bled for more than once now, and feels quite entitled to. That split expression is paired with cold, emotionless eyes, which drink, and devour, and give no light or glimmer to those who watch in return.

Her giggles are the answer she gives but that terrible smile, Yr’s Weaver crooning a reply for her, one which is layered in ice. With a deep inhalation, the pale one snakes her muzzle forth, her nostrils sucking in with the obvious breath.

"Is the Silver One not… afraid?" she cackles, withdrawing her sculpted features to glance at her the mouse with her silver, onyx rimmed eye to the tilted fore, its pupil, small, fluctuating in size, her eagerness to do more than talk found in that trembling eye, and the breathiness of her needy question.

This is the forest of our hunting, croon the voices, as her laughter shakes the air, and the others pretend that this is social gathering, not the flanking of a clever witch by skilled wolves.

"Come, come in," she adds with a sinister giggle, pulling her whole body aside, as if to open a path between she and Weaver, a brow rising deviously over her black eye, further warping the cruel mark seemingly hewn there, "we will take you, Golden Mouse, Silver Mask."



Beloved
rust every place that I touch

@Yael @Weaver
Tag Beloved, please!

Feel free to attack her with physical or magical violence at your own risk. ;D

Yael Posts: 186
World's Edge Seer atk: 7.5 | def: 11 | dam: 2.5
Mare :: Pegasus :: 14.2 :: 39 - appears 8 HP: 63.5 | Buff: NOVICE
Zani :: Serval :: None Astor
#7
like a jar, you housed infinite tenderness
and infinite tenderness shattered you
The amount of vitriol that could fly from her lips towards Beloved is… excessive, to say the least. She finds it hard to believe that Weaver is so unaware of the white mare’s lunacy, or better yet, that Yael would react in such a way without reason to. But the girl and the mare have never been friendly - even when she thought Yael her mother, they were at perpetual odds. In the end it was more guilt than exasperation that led the then-Queen to return the former princess’s memories, peace was more important than revenge at that point.

“A guest zis vone xas attempted to keel tice before… but she knows vhat xappens vhen I am t’reatened.” A very pointed, dagger-filled look flies towards the giggling monster, pointedly ignoring her question. Does she need to remind the earless woman how hot her fire can be? Or is she sane enough to imagine how hot dragonfire can be when it is melting flesh and bone? “Xer xorn gave me t’is,” she says, tossing her neck to the left to reveal a circular mark devoid of fur on the right side of her neck, too close to the artery for comfort, but definitely not life-threatening. Silver One is an apt term for her altered form; with both of them being incredibly vague about what that is, she’s able to avoid disclosing that Helovia has taken almost everything from her that B’kanna so begrudgingly bestowed. But they both know she’s not here looking for a fight - and now, all she wants to do is secure permission and get out.

She is invited in, and though ears return to a somewhat normal position, the Sage trusts Beloved just about as far as she can throw her. A walk with Weaver in awkward, tension-filled silence is doable, but she’ll be damned if she puts herself right next to the beast who’s stalked her, who’s left scars and drawn blood. And yet she knows she cannot show fear in the face of madness, not if she ever expects peace and quiet. Steeling her jaw and gritting her teeth, the petite, aurelian mare steps forward to take her place between her escorts, wings tucked tightly against her sides and magic at the ready. How much damage could they do in 10 seconds that fire could not return tenfold?

“Lead ze vay, please.”

See, she remembers her manners.


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@Weaver  @Ode  @Tiamat  @Rikyn  
Someone come help plsssss <3

Please only tag in starter posts, or if the thread is getting dusty
Force and magic allowed, no death please

Weaver Posts: 149
Aurora Basin Corporal atk: 8.0 | def: 10.0 | dam: 3.0
Mare :: Hybrid :: 15.1 :: 3 years HP: 61 | Buff: Novice
Raven :: Australian Raven :: Terrorize Kyra
#8
Weaver is entirely aware of Beloved’s lunacy, and she rather likes it. She knows too that likely there is a reason they so despise one another, but she doesn’t care what it is. There was a reason Yael dangled Weaver in her talons long ago, but that didn’t make it okay. That’s sort of the thing. Having a reason doesn’t make it acceptable. Weaver knows this fact, knows her behavior is rarely acceptable, and doesn’t care. Yael seems to think having a reason vindicates her.

The Little Golden Mouse, as Beloved says, is no better than the rest of them. Just annoying because she pretends to be.

“Shall I kiss it better for you?” she says as Yael shows her the mark from Beloved’s horns. She has no idea what caused the animosity between them, but if it didn’t happen on the Basin’s soil or with Weaver around, there’s shit she can do about it. Rikyn might care, though unlikely. Tia would apologize profusely and fetch a healer. She debates offering one, but she can’t bring the words to her lips.

She would be perfectly happy to tell Yael to get lost, but Beloved invites her in instead. Awesome. This is definitely how she wants to spend her day, shuffling Yael around the Basin. Though Weaver laughs as Beloved makes room for Yael between them, though Weaver doesn’t stay in her place. Weaver spins around and leads her strange and impossible companions into the Basin, looking for anyone who can get her out of this fantastic task.

Raven takes off, soaring into the Basin in front of them, trying to find anyone that Weaver might need. He knows the important faces, and he knows she wants someone important. It’s enough to set him in the right direction.

- weaver -

Image


@Beloved
@Ode, @Tiamat, @Rikyn - whoever wants to come and save Yael, haha. Feel free to pp Raven finding you if you want

Please tag in all posts
Magic use/power playing is okay, but check before serious injury/death
Image by AmoretteRose

Rikyn the Puppeteer Posts: 549
Aurora Basin Lord atk: 7.5 | def: 11.5 | dam: 4.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16.3 :: 4 HP: 70 | Buff: SWIFT
Duir :: Royal Cerndyr :: Earth Spirit Bunnie
#9

Rikyn


Duir honks an ugly sound at a raven as it flies by him, some distance away. Sitting up suddenly from where I’d been flopped over on my side, lazily passing the time in the tall, summer grass, I look towards the horrid guffaw of a noise to see my buck looking towards the entrance to the valley. Sighing as I stand up and stretch, thrusting my ass to the sky and then moving forward, my hind legs seeming to only follow me at their leisure, one at a time, some steps later, I chase the last of the drowsiness from my whole body with a vigorous shake, before I even clarify who it is I’m going to go talk to.

My eyes land on a trio crossing towards the lake, and they’re almost halfway there; the crazy woman, who I’ve avoided as much as possible, Weaver, and Yael. The presence of Beloved (if that’s even her name) explains why my buck didn’t go forward to meet them, considering his natural wariness around anything that was so obviously predatory by nature. Feeling an ear fall back and a scowl begin to form on my face, I can almost hear Wessex calling me a brat again, but do little to change what’s going on in the window display, regardless.

I’m allowed to not want to talk to them, right?

"Hello ladies," I say and pause, falling into step alongside Yael, and nodding to Weaver as she passes; I keep an ear attentively tuned on the creepy giggling of the white mare, while trying not to actually look at her (my mother had claimed it provoked the loonies, of which there were numerous about, during my childhood here – sound advice to give, really), "what brings you here, Yael?"


I’d love to be the one to disappoint you
when I don’t fall down
@Yael @Weaver

Wishlist - Plots

Force/violence is allowed to be used on Rikyn permitted it does not permanently maim or kill him (PM me!).

Öde Posts: 145
Aurora Basin Disciple atk: 5 | def: 10 | dam: 5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 17 hh :: 4.5 HP: 64.5 | Buff: NOVICE
Blu
#10


The gods are known to have an array of messengers. They're beasts deemed subservient and therefore prime to do the bidding of the gods that have no time (or just no will) to attend to the mediocrity of mortality. Öde can't help but wonder though if those celestial slaves are still above him. Many had since shuffled off their mortal coil but clung still to an existence graciously provided by the gods. Most even had a glorious display of gifts from the gods, marking them as their familiars in all the elements they commonly dressed in. There's something to be said too of an owner's affinity for his pets...

Öde ponders too the mimicry of their mortal companions. They are but mere shadows of the godly beasts, lacking the same invulnerability, the array of prowess (just a splinter of it), and they certainly aren't half as intelligent, evidenced by their inability to do anything but speak in one horse's mind.
Still, Öde feels lesser for having nothing. He thinks of this as he lays and stares at his wolf pelt, wishing he had the magic of his mother to make it dance for him, if even just to pretend for a short while it was his ally.

He sighs, a bitter, lonely sound, as the raven caws for his attention.

A red ear twists and his head follows, bloody gaze curious as it held the beady stare of the bird. Was this his inevitable gift, come at last? No, he thinks with a scowl, knowing the bond is born of an egg, this was just fate mocking him once more.

Though it does make him wonder if the gods hatch their familiars as well. There's something terribly amusing in imagining the God of Time doting over a lightning-streaked infant.

He chuckles as he rises with the thought, shaking himself and gathering his things. He flips the dead wolf skin over his back, and with a few stretching maneuvers buckles his groin hammock into place. By now he's registered the raven as being Weaver's pet, and he sets off to follow it, doing his best not to be intrigued by this summons.

He's a bit surprised at the little gathering he comes across, and while he glances at each in turn, Rikyn holds his interest the longest. The king's question that Öde overhears as he settles in with the group gives him no answers though, so instead he diverts his attention to Weaver with a raised 'brow. "I didn't think birds played fetch."


THE GLASS IS HALF EMPTY
Tag me only if starting a new thread.
Magic or force permitted any time, including death - no decapitating.
Be aware active magic doesn't work in his vicinity due to his magic!


62.5/62.5 HP
Helovia Hard Mode

Yael Posts: 186
World's Edge Seer atk: 7.5 | def: 11 | dam: 2.5
Mare :: Pegasus :: 14.2 :: 39 - appears 8 HP: 63.5 | Buff: NOVICE
Zani :: Serval :: None Astor
#11

yael

Right, anything to make this unfortunate endeavor come to a quick and quiet resolution so Yael can be on her way again. There is much… processing to be done. The walk in terse silence, Yael on full alert – mostly for the crazy one – until a somewhat familiar stallion approaches. Rikyn! She could almost weep for joy when he reluctantly walks up (she won’t, but her relief is almost palpable). If none of them said anything, he wouldn't be any the wiser about the 'situation' between herself and Weaver. “Xello Rikyn.” Putting a polite smile on her face, she takes a step towards the Lord and is about to explain gloss over why she’s in the Basin when a fourth arrives. Well, isn’t this exciting? Yael will have nothing but polite manners and there’s no reason for anyone to attack anyone else, and they can all just pretend to be cordial.

She offers the fourth stallion a greeting with a small dip of her romanesque head; without an introduction, she has no way of knowing that he is also in a position to help her. “I am now Sage een ze Edge and xaf a project I’m vorkeeng on. Collecteend Xelovia’s stories. Vould eet be alright eef I come back een varmer veazer and talk to ze Basiners about zeir storees?” She’s sure the Basin has some very unique oral traditions to pass along, and it is a strictly scholarly endeavor – but if she has to convince them of that, then so be it.


trust your heart if the seas catch fire

live by love, though the stars walk backwards

Image © littlewillow-art





@Rikyn  @Ode  @Weaver  
wellllll this is shit. I sorry :/

Please only tag in starter posts, or if the thread is getting dusty
Force and magic allowed, no death please


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