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Author Topic: An Adventure In Black - Chapter III  (Read 13586 times)
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Quáel
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« Reply #15 on: May 28, 2012, 09:15:34 AM »

Quael sat quitely eating as she listened to the words being exchanged between Tak and Gilith. What a funny little gnome Tak was, he brought a certain light to the dark mood that befell the area around the party. Then Irid came over and divulged a sort of "condition" that she has. The blacking out and acting weird reminded Quael of herself, the curse that Keeshaunka had caused her.

When she finished explaining that she had already talked with Alyr about it, Tak jumped off his chair and took Irid's hand. “Come on, I need to study you!  Those old stuffy gnomes back home will never believe this!” " Quael couldn't stop herself from smiling, it was a funny scene. She looked over at Gilith who wore the same exrpession that everyone who was seeing this had.
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« Reply #16 on: May 30, 2012, 12:21:21 AM »

There was not much reaction from most of the group - whoever was left, anyway, she noticed that not everyone had actually come into the tavern. Not much reaction, until Tak reacted enthusiastically that he needed to study her, saying something about Uluvar. She regarded him with her golden eyes, not allowing herself to be dragged from her chair. Gillith was the first to pick up the conversation, saying that she could not be an Ulvur. What were they talking about? It was not some gnomish or human thing, since both races seemed to know them.

Wait, wait, hadn't she heard something, once? A snippet of a story, something about wolf-men in the far, far north, from the cold lands where the Kasumarii assassins came from. She shook her head at Tak. "No, I am not an... what did you call them? Uluver? I am a Quaelhoirhim elf, and for 306 years I was not out of the ordinary in any way."

Just at that moment, Alyr and the archmage came back to their table, and a conversation ensued about the box and its significance. But what were they going to do with it? Collect the fragments of the key and open it, or make sure that there was no way for the enemy to do so?
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Stat rosa pristina nomine, nomina nuda tenemus.
Irid al'Menie
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« Reply #17 on: June 05, 2012, 12:31:01 AM »

Tak eyed Irid with suspicion.  Everyone denied that she was Ulvar, but what else could explain the “wolfish” happening she experienced?  Maybe she was half Ulvar and didn’t know it. 

“Half Ulvar maybe?  No, it would be much too complicated.  If it looks like a lizard, sounds like a lizard and acts like a lizard, it’s a lizard and not a dragon.  Still…”  Tak peered at Irid closely, “we should study this.  What if it’s contagious?!  I have noticed more hair coming out of my ears than normal.” 

Tak hadn’t seen or heard Rayne and her old friend reappear, but he didn’t miss a beat. “Rayne, Irid may be contagious, we need to take precautions.  I’m going to my cart to see if I have my testing equipment intact after our…trip.  I will meet you all in the library!”  And with that Tak hurried out of the Inn.  He ran around the corner and nearly careened straight into a group of men standing in front of Jarrox.  “Oh, pardon me.  Lizard!  There you are, I’ll be conducting tests on our friend Irid, she may be half or one third Ulvar.  I need my testing equipment.  Have you seen Buttons?” 

That’s when Tak noticed that everyone was looking very, very angry and holding weapons.  “Did I interrupt something?”
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"There’s Nothing Worth Doing That Isn’t Worth Overdoing" - Tak "The Magnificent"
Serpentfang
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« Reply #18 on: June 05, 2012, 02:20:00 PM »

His companions kept talking to the man. Good. They suspect nothing.

"He-hey man, ye be alright there?"

"What-cha doing squirming on the ground? Get up!"


Then another voice chimed in, one that was not here in the first place.

“Did I interrupt something?”

The sudden intrusion broke the psyrpent's concentration, freeing the obnoxious man from his psionic grip. A good thing too, since a few more minutes of that treatment and he would probably lose his sanity permanently. The bully staggered backwards, holding his head as if preventing it from bursting. He stared at his companions with weary, tearful eyes, confused and trying to understand what they are saying. His bewildered stares landed on the psyrpent again, and he immediately began backing away. He tripped and fell down, but wasted no time in standing up. The man crawled away quickly, followed by his goon friends.

Serpentfang squinted his eyes at the small squishie, trying to remember who this was. His incessant talking and zealotry for his profession was annoying, especially for the psyrpent, who was used to being alone and thus accompanied by silence. What was he talking about anyway? Buttons? Why would he be looking for buttons on the snakeman? Jarrox sighed. Better give him what he wants than have him talk his ear off, which is bad, considering snakes only have internal ears and thus made it sensitive to unwanted noises. Like the squeaking squishie here, for example.

He rummaged in his bag, and pulled out a string of shiny buttons. He had been tricked by a wandering peddler, saying that these were made out of precious stones. It took him several silver pieces to learn that not all shinies are made out of gems. Maybe he'll meet that swindler again and get the opportunity to strangle him, slowly and painfully.

The psyrpent held out the string of buttons, waiting for the squishie to pick one of his choosing.
« Last Edit: June 05, 2012, 04:52:06 PM by Serpentfang » Logged

Termat Geirskun
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« Reply #19 on: June 08, 2012, 07:48:08 AM »

The barmaid returned with a full glass of deep red wine and a smile; returning the smile and taking the glass, Termat took a small mouthful and savoured the flavour. Artiwine. I’d recognise that anywhere. Setting the glass down, he glanced over to the table where his companions had congregated and asked the barmaid please to bring a bottle of the wine and several glasses. He would, he informed her, be sitting with the group. Wiping her hands on a cloth tucked through the string of her apron, she bobbed her head and turned to fetch the requested items.

The smallest things can change the course of lives, and while the events that followed were not precisely life changing in the common dramatic sense of the term, they were both small and, for Termat, thought-provoking. As the barmaid turned, the tie to her apron caught the wine glass where he had placed it and knocked it over; the wine, as wine from a tipped glass does, left the glass and made its way to the edge of the table, where it dripped off into a small puddle on the floor.

The barmaid was of course apologetic; Termat was of course understanding; and it was both amicably and cordially that he nodded to her as she went to fetch a cloth - the one she carried in her apron string being soaked from the catching of the glass - leaving Termat staring at the wine as it dripped. The colour, and the loss, of the spilled drink reminded him of a poem that he had read, long ago, and as he stared the words rang through his mind as fresh as when first, with the page in front of him, they had echoed there.

I drink not wine no more, my friend
For wine is red as blood
Of blood I had a surfeit, once,
My comrades’, mixed to mud.

I do not wish to eat my fill
For I cannot be sated
And my dear friends who died that day
Too long for feasts have waited.

My arms are tired, cold, and thin
But not as thin as those
Who falling to an arrow’s point
Are feasted on by crows.
 
I love the songs no more, my friend
For songs, they tell of glory
And as I hear their blasted lie
I know the truth more gory.
 
Perhaps it was a trick of the light, or the smoky atmosphere in the inn, or merely a result of Termat’s imagination, but the dark red wine was beginning to look almost exactly like blood when the barmaid returned and, with a good-humoured smile, wiped it up swiftly and expertly with the fresh cloth. Returned to reality, Termat gave her a half-smile that was almost apologetic and took the fresh bottle she proffered. 
 
As she left for a second time, Termat picked up his empty glass and full bottle in one hand; returned his watch, with a glance, to his pocket with the other; and then, lifting his case, moved to join the group. As he sat down, one of the elvish ladies was speaking.
 
“ Something happened some years ago, I am still uncertain what exactly, but since then I have experienced black-outs at times. During these times, I am told I act rather strangely - to be exact, somewhat wolfish. How long these spells last is hard to say, as it varies, but when I wake up I never remember anything from this time. Since we will be travelling together, I thought you should know about this, so that if it should happen in your presence, you will not be surprised. I have told Alýr about this, and she had no problems with me staying on.” She looked tense as and after she spoke, and was clearly worried about acceptance.
 
Termat wasn’t quite sure whether the immense excitement of the gnome and his apparent desire to study her was a valid expression of acceptance, but there was clearly no malice in it, and so he contented himself  with pouring and sipping from another glass of wine - noting wryly that this was even nicer than the one he had been given before - and smiling slightly as the gnome rushed out of the door.
 
Shortly afterwards, once glasses had been brought and the wine bottle placed in the middle of the table for general use, Alýr and the old man returned. At the elfess’s request, the man began to tell of the origins of the elusive box that the demonic creature had sought so fervently and so ruthlessly. It appeared that it had its roots in Fá’áv’cál’âr and a great dragon summoned by Coór - a name and myths only familiar to Termat through distorted fragments from long ago. He listened intently, though his face did not betray the depth of his fascination, springing both from an earnest desire to know whatever new or rediscovered old knowledge was being expounded and brought together and from the extreme pertinence that this knowledge had to his own situation. He was a hundred strals from his loosely planned path if he was a ped, travelling with a group of trained warriors and mages and their valuable cargo, and any information on why and how that cargo was so valuable had a value above and beyond that of his desire for any knowledge. He played his part in greeting the old man’s words with attentive silence.
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Roy Tmofl
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« Reply #20 on: June 08, 2012, 01:22:26 PM »

Roy listened Closely to this conversation. Closer than he had with the last one.  As such he locked away almost of it in his mind in order to bring it out at a will. Parts of this story were very important. Such as the device and the twelve key peices. Other parts such as the death of the person who found these things were not. So he did not memorise these as he did the other parts. 

There was silence. It was strangely enough broken by Roy.

"I apologise but your story has given us more questions than answers Archmage."

Said Roy. It sounded strange coming from his mouth. Not strange perhaps to the others. But what Roy found strange in his voice was the respect it carried for the Archmage. Someone who had risen to the highest possible power for a mage. What was there not to respect?

"Some of these are. Who holds any peices of the keys? Do we have them? Does the enemy have them?" (Roy found this funny because at the moment he was trying to do the exact same thing as their enemy.)

"Or perhaps the device? Where is that? Can we simply destroy a single fragment of the key and rid us of the entire problem?" (I hope not thought Roy.)

"Not to mention the very strange ordeal with the thirteenth peice? Does this mean it has been destroyed? Captured by someone powerful enough to hide it?"

"I do not mean to cause confusion. But what exactly will we be doing after we've taken the box to Ximax?"
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« Reply #21 on: June 19, 2012, 01:30:33 AM »

Tak stared at the lizard and the buttons for much longer than he should have.  He couldn’t be sure if he was serious or joking.  “Hmm, I must have underestimated the lizard’s ability for humor.”  Tak muttered to himself, waving for Jarrox to put the string of buttons away. 

“Where is my cart?  I need my…oh, there it is.”  Tak ran over to where he saw the cylinder of his fragscent launcher sticking out from the side of the stables.  As he rummaged through his cart, Tak explained what was happening to the lizard.  “Jarrox, we need to go to the library, I think there is an Ulvar contagion spreading!  Have you noticed any hair or fur growing on you?  In your ears or nose maybe?  Has David seemed more…what was the term Irid used…Wolfish?  Those should be the symptoms, I think I may be afflicted!  But if we make it to the library I'll know for sure.”

With a gleeful laugh, Tak pulled out some of his testing equipment, beakers, glass vials, a burner, and a few choice gnomish liquids.  He stuffed them into various pockets and still filled his hands with more little gadgets and baubles for testing.  A small red gem fell out of his pocket, and Tak remembered about the very strange ruby Roy had given him earlier.  He set his equipment down and examined the ruby a bit more.  It was a rough, uncut gem, but it was definitely a ruby.  There was something strange about the gem, though Tak couldn’t quite place it.  He plopped the gem back in his pocket and beckoned Jarrox over to him, he'd need more equipment to study the gem as well. “Help me carry some of this equipment!  The rest of them should meet us at the library.”
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"There’s Nothing Worth Doing That Isn’t Worth Overdoing" - Tak "The Magnificent"
Gilith
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« Reply #22 on: June 19, 2012, 10:48:23 PM »

Gilith. Was to say the least. Scared speachless when he realized what he was holding. He had heard the jist of it before but it really hadn't sunk in until now. He thought it probable that the calming spell had aided him before in maintain his calm. Now without that spell. He took on an entire new perspective. Still though he would have liked to he gave no mention that he had the box or that he would like to give it to someone else. Besides. Who would expect him to have the box? Wounded unable to use one arm for at least a day. He would be the one attacked least of all. Thus protecting the box most of all.

He made his way to the library. The feeling of unease growing by the second. What!? in the world was he so worried about? He took a deep breath and slowed for a moment. He couldn't shake a certain feeling that he was imagining what ever it was that he was afraid of. But none the less he put his had to  his sword.
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Aye, I've my fair share of scars. Perhaps a bit too many to be honest, decent sign of a careless man. But those don't bother me, they heal, and even if they don't heal right I've always found a way to deal with 'em. The ones I can see at least, the others...the ones inside. They aren't so easy to forget about, they don't heal like the others do. They might heal in a day, a week, a year. Or maybe some like mine, won't ever heal at all. There's no getting past these scars, you can't treat it, you can't cover it up, and you can't find a way around it. But, there comes a day, when you learn to live it, and you stop living in the past, so you can do what your able for the future.

Gilith
Roy Tmofl
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« Reply #23 on: June 20, 2012, 06:01:20 AM »

Roy waved aside his questions for now. They were to numerous and they might as well waite untill later. Right now they were going to the library. He picked up his staff from the wall and followed the group out the door.

This would be a very interesting trip thought Roy. Already a deserter and one who would especially love to see alot of the people here dead. Roy turned to look at the people in the party. Though they couldn't see this he smiled.

He expected that at some time they would be attacked. They were fools not to see this coming. It would probably happen while they were asleep or maybe even in the morning to throw them off. Another thought passed through his mind as well.

The traitor. He did not appreciate being betrayed. Perhaps if he found the dark elf. He would. Repay him. Just as a spark that catches and eventually ignites. So to did his idea. His smile grew wider. These pathetic creatures of the darkness shall burn. And they shall burn very soon.
« Last Edit: July 16, 2012, 12:32:39 AM by Roy Tmofl » Logged

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Serpentfang
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« Reply #24 on: June 29, 2012, 08:53:44 PM »

"Blablabla blablablablabla I'm an annoying gnome blablabla wolololoool!"

Most of the jabber the little squishie unleashed slid away from him like water from his scales. Does he ever get tired of talking? Did his mother smoke a lot of chatterweed - if such a thing exists - while she was pregnant with him? He tucked the buttons insided a pocket, shrugging his shoulders as the incessant talking continued. He's got half a mind to stuff the squishie inside an urn and throw it in the river than to listen to the gnome spout one more word.

Then it commanded him to carry some stuff to the library. The psyrpent looked at the squishie in return. "Who does this gnome think he is, commanding me like that?" The psyrpent said to himself. "Do I look like a pack animal?" He ignored the little creature and walked away, deciding to search for the building himself or ask anyone for its location. It wouldn't do him any good to lash out at the gnome. People might get the wrong idea, and his employer will not like it.
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Termat Geirskun
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« Reply #25 on: July 13, 2012, 06:42:04 PM »

Although Termat had kept quiet, the strangely grim figure asked several pertinent questions, and Termat remained attentive, noting, however, that he addressed the old man as Archmage, which seemed to fit him - in the way that an old boot that really shouldn’t fit and by rights should be falling apart somehow conforms perfectly to the foot. While there was little Termat would have liked more than to hear the answers - especially to the pragmatic question of whether the problem would be solved by simply destroying a fragment of the key - the group seemed determined to move on to the library and so, following the lead of the impetuous gnome, Termat unfolded his legs and stepped easily to his feet. As he rose he flexed his shoulderblades, feeling the stiffness of his suddenly sedentary time in the tavern disappear, and then straightened the sit of his waistcoat before fastening his jacket. He was ready to go.

Well, almost ready to go. With a smile and an apology, he reached back over his vacated seat and picked up the bottle of wine he had bought. He had drunk about a quarter of his glass, and so giving himself a brief splash more - it was good wine - he put it back on the edge of the table.

"Help yourselves before we head off."

He had just finished his own glass when the group as a whole was ready to move off, and so, leaving the now empty glass on the table, he returned the stopper to the bottle and slipped it into his case before moving on. Books!
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Irid alMenie
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« Reply #26 on: July 26, 2012, 11:47:19 PM »

Irid looked quietly at her companions. They were... well, impatient was a good word for it. Here they were, in an inn, night closing in, and they wanted to go to a library now? Was that not going to be closed? Of course, they were in a hurry - the quicker they knew what they were up against, the less time their demonic friend had of attacking again. Still, what were they going to do when they came to closed doors?

However, as it turned out when everyone had gathered before the library, having an archmage with you had its advantages. The venerable man knocked on a door next to the library building, from where a head poked out. This man, a bent and white-haired little man, possibly the librarian, seemed to recognise the mage. Nodding his head, as if he had expected him, he came out with a large and ornate bronze key, which opened the doors. Then he stepped aside to let the party through.
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Stat rosa pristina nomine, nomina nuda tenemus.
Irid al'Menie
Tak
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« Reply #27 on: August 06, 2012, 12:27:49 AM »

“Hmm, maybe the lizard isn't as intelligent as I thought.” Tak said, standing there with his arms full to testing equipment.  He went over his mental checklist and decided he needed everything thing he was holding and nothing more, so he took off toward the library.

By the time he got within sight of the library, he was pleasantly surprised to see the rest of the group entering the library, or what he assumed was the rest of the group, “Wait for me!” he yelled at the top of his lungs and scurried toward the entrance.  Once inside, Tak found a nice place to set up his equipment.  He held the ruby he was given as payment earlier, he had a series of tests he could run on stones to figure out what they were. 

First Tak set out a variety of plates – various metals and ceramics, to test the gems hardness, and began scratching the gem across the surface.  His eyebrows furrowed as he reached the end of the experiment, the stone had scratched every plate, even the small, coin sized one that looked suspiciously like Mithril.  For the second, he poured a drop of Malthanune on the gem.  The reaction was more violent than Tak had expected – the liquid fizzed and spat. Tak threw a neutralizing agent on the gem, only to have it combust in a loud, smoky, “Pop!”, covering his face in a dark soot. 

At the end of the experiments, Tak came to the only conclusion he possibly could – this gem was not a ruby.  Tak had no idea what it was, but it is not any sort of natural stone.  For once in his life, Tak didn't know what to say.
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"There’s Nothing Worth Doing That Isn’t Worth Overdoing" - Tak "The Magnificent"
Termat Geirskun
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« Reply #28 on: August 09, 2012, 02:22:18 AM »

Books!

Only one thought was in Termat’s mind as he crossed the threshold. He wasn’t thinking about his family, or the sit of his cravat - impeccable, in case you were wondering - or their quest, or the danger inherent in continuing it. Books filled his consciousness. Row upon row of them, on dark wooden shelves. The ceiling was arched and elegant; the door large, bronzed and imposing; but the books! At the end of each bookcase were two inset wooden plaques, hinged like double doors; moving to the nearest, Termat opened them almost reverentially to find, inscribed in small, neat, cursive script on the paper that covered the wood behind them, an alphabetical catalogue of the works to be found there. Vladimir Flyeater. Artimidor Federkiel. The entire Compendium sat bound in calfskin on two low shelves at the end of the bookcase. He moved on.

Another bookcase. The Lady of Chrynna Dabney. I remember reading this. Breathlessly, he took the volume from the shelf and it fell open in the middle. “It was as though, after a black atonement, the light had finally returned to Chrynna Dabney.” Instantly, the whole tale returned to him, and he shivered as he had when he had first taken the book from his father’s shelves. He replaced it and moved on.

On the next bookcase there was a slim black book, with a peculiar and familiar design on the spine. Termat reached out and took it down; he opened it up, and there it was. The first line of Caelerethian philosophy he had ever read.

“It is as absurd to claim that the world is a dream as it is to claim that it is not.”

He’d put the book back after five pages, five pages that had battered his mind and fascinated him at the same time. Perhaps he’d give it another go.

He opened his small case and took out a cushion - the floor was bare wood. Fixing his monocle, he began to read.
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Roy Tmofl
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« Reply #29 on: August 09, 2012, 07:36:20 AM »


“Wait for me!”

Roy visably flinched at the loud racking sound yet did not say anything about for he knew he could only make things worse. When he was finally able to ener the library he took stock of the books. He had come here with Xantherith many times in the past. As such he knew exactly where to fnd the books he was interested in. He wen t over to a very near shelf an surveyed the selection.

"Ah. This appears to be new." Muttered Roy to himself as he pulled out a small yet slightly tall book from the shelf.

It had a soft green cover made of a flexable leather. Ro lit the underside of his finger nail with very little light and began to inspect he book. The pages were in good condition and were of promising quility. It was labled. 'The dangers of Ximaxian plants.' Roy opened it up and almost laughed at the first page. It was nothing more than a warning about what some called 'Wizard Weed.' Roy flipped through the pages and noticed very few things of interest to him. Most of wha was documented he already knew about and the other parts were merely angry teachers quotes or the words of someone claiming to have almost ruined their magical career with it.

Roy slipped the book back trying to conceal some very minor laughter.

He then went over to a table and pulled out some quills an ink vial and a book. The book was a dark red with a thick and stiff cover and binding. The words DEMONOLOGY weree displayed proudly in bold black letters on the frnt of it.

He opened it up to page 62 which was labled demonic creatures of non demon origin.

Roy read through his earlier writting.

"The Mephguóur Demon Is said to be a demon that was once man. It is rumered to be created by a mage of extrodinary power. These are so far the only things I have discovered that become an actual demon."

After Roy finished reading through this he put a glowing quill to parchment and wrote.

Additional non Demonic Demons. Two new creatures have arisen thus far in the time of my studies. I shall list them as hell hounds and Curtain demons.

"Firstly the hell hound is a demonic wolf...or rather mixture of worldly creatures. It is and I quote 'Nearly impossible to kill unless you hit its head or a vital organ.' They seem to have no mentality other than a blind bloodlust and will gladly die for a chance to kill something. However just like Curtin demons they can be controlled by a cult of men whom reside either around or in Ximax itself.

The Curtain demon. Is very much like a Móh-Mélor or Wraith
 demon as some call them. They are immaterial and mindless. However if they are struck they explode in a white lingering mist that blinds all within side of it. These creatures are controlled by the same group of demon worshippers I have mentioned before. These cultists tend to use them to scatter not expecting parties."

Roy scribbed all of this quickly and without air. When he was done he put away his things and looked over to see the gnome trying to kill them all. Or at least thought Roy. Thats what it sounded like.
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