Abroxis
Knight
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➦Name: Abroxis Blazeblood
➦Age: 2,000
➦Apparent Age: 20
➦Sex: Female
➦Sexuality: Pansexual
➦Species: Dark Elf
➦Height: 5'7" ft | 170 cm
➦Weight: 132 lbs
➦Personality: To those, who are clear strangers, she masks herself as the obscure female and mostly tries everything to get disliked, in hopes no one enters her private zone ever again. It is hard for her to talk about her past, or the incident years ago, but she can be a real softie underneath her crust. She also tends to avoid trouble or questions about herself. But Abroxis does not yield if someone she knows or pity is in obvious danger, she is tactless, blunt if she talks, or is asked after her opinion. Mostly, Abroxis remains calm, patient, and mute.
She easily takes risks, too, and is quick-witted. Yet, Abroxis sometimes is confused about her feelings and hence she might overreact some times.
➦Backstory:
Abroxis is one of the last survivors of her clan. At the early age of five she noticed that she had been different, so, so different. She never bonds to any groups- as soon as she loses profit from them, she leaves. Yet she is unknown, only the shadows can recall her.
She is a trickster, too. No one can truly tell her name- either she names herself after her sister "Fatima" or any other name that suits her moods.
As far as she can remember, she was trained as an archer, ignoring the facts of her magic in her veins. She may have learned to shoot, but never how to use her magic.
And soon after, she left, decided to become a rogue and loner.
Yet, on her journey, she had never been callous nor coarse to the beginnings- no. She helped and interfere in such situations she judged to be in need of one or two arrows of hers.
And she had met a woman- an elve- who accompanied her.
But one day….
From those days on, she swore never to trust anyone again, in anxiety to ever lose someone ever again, in distrust to fail once again.
➥Power/Spell Name: Crimson Sweep
➥Description: Her ability is shaped in Shadow Fire and reaches those who are in a range of ten meters. The flames are black with purple to blue Flame Stitches. It erupts from the shadows and lasts about one turn. The after-effect is "Burn" (at 2 degrees), in which her opponent takes damage for the 1 lasting turn. And whilst it recovers 6 turns long, Abroxis herself is affected and her actions slow down, as well as she takes mere damage from it, too.
➥Limits: She reaches her opponent in a range of ten meters at max. Her victims suffer from an after-effect ("Burn" at 2 degrees) for 1 turn. In order to recharge, the Ability takes 6 turns. It also affects herself in the 6 turns. She is slower to her reactions and weaker then.
➥Weaknesses: Light is most likely to stop is, as well as fire. If Light or fire bursts into the flames before it reaches the opponent, then it canceled completely. And if a Light Ability manages to cover all the shadows, then her fire can't even flare-up. ➥Abilities: Vision in the dark, skilled Archer
➥Disabilities: Weak with her Power and close up fights; Light
➥Weapons: A Bow- made out of black wood + Whip-Sword
➥Appearance: Her clothes are most likely in patterns of brown-black-gold; She is usually seen with a cape and hood; pure white hair and pointy, long ears, violet lips and eyes, greyish/ ashen skin
➥Extra Info: If you want to piss her off, then insult her joy of playing the violin and writing poems, as well as her weird eyes. But if you want to win her trust, then be aware: She won't believe words, but actions. Abroxis loves midnight walks.
Genres to use Rox: Fantasy, Dark Fantasy, Romance, Adventure, Mystery
➦Age: 2,000
➦Apparent Age: 20
➦Sex: Female
➦Sexuality: Pansexual
➦Species: Dark Elf
➦Height: 5'7" ft | 170 cm
➦Weight: 132 lbs
➦Personality: To those, who are clear strangers, she masks herself as the obscure female and mostly tries everything to get disliked, in hopes no one enters her private zone ever again. It is hard for her to talk about her past, or the incident years ago, but she can be a real softie underneath her crust. She also tends to avoid trouble or questions about herself. But Abroxis does not yield if someone she knows or pity is in obvious danger, she is tactless, blunt if she talks, or is asked after her opinion. Mostly, Abroxis remains calm, patient, and mute.
She easily takes risks, too, and is quick-witted. Yet, Abroxis sometimes is confused about her feelings and hence she might overreact some times.
➦Backstory:
Abroxis is one of the last survivors of her clan. At the early age of five she noticed that she had been different, so, so different. She never bonds to any groups- as soon as she loses profit from them, she leaves. Yet she is unknown, only the shadows can recall her.
She is a trickster, too. No one can truly tell her name- either she names herself after her sister "Fatima" or any other name that suits her moods.
As far as she can remember, she was trained as an archer, ignoring the facts of her magic in her veins. She may have learned to shoot, but never how to use her magic.
And soon after, she left, decided to become a rogue and loner.
Yet, on her journey, she had never been callous nor coarse to the beginnings- no. She helped and interfere in such situations she judged to be in need of one or two arrows of hers.
And she had met a woman- an elve- who accompanied her.
But one day….
"Rox, you heard that?"
Abroxis halted her motions, turned her ashed frame half-way to her companion. A brow of her raised, demonstrated her questions as she had decided to seal her words. The sun-flecked eyes of her friend sulked with raising attention.
"There is someone."
She flicked her ears, perked them. Those ears that had been the commonest trait in her bloodline, aside from her black nails. Usually, this appearance alone caused the other races and animals to clear her ways.
Usually...
The Archer's breath calmed, almost ceased in the proceeding. Faint songs of birds, frogs, and several other animals of the forest flooded in. The forest tinted in the honey yellow as Daybreak rose over those mountains. And its leafs bowed to the breeze as it passed. Everything seemed just fine…
"DUCK," bellowed Abroxis and whirled to her full size. But-
Too late. She had been too late… Too late to save who had changed the usual- who had accepted her.
An arrow struck through the chest of the elf, right through this enormous heart. And Abroxis rifted into halves. The shadows animated by her fire and her magic erupted uncontrolled over the greens of the forest and their predators. But she had never cared about the annihilation of the woods, nor the faint cries of the deers, hares, and merchants. The world had halted right then and there, the world even rifted in ease like a wobbly rock. Her world had fallen, so, so slowly, to the earth. To a sector where the lushing green remained.
Dead, screamed a voice in her thoughts. D e a d.
"No," breathed Abroxis.
Abroxis halted her motions, turned her ashed frame half-way to her companion. A brow of her raised, demonstrated her questions as she had decided to seal her words. The sun-flecked eyes of her friend sulked with raising attention.
"There is someone."
She flicked her ears, perked them. Those ears that had been the commonest trait in her bloodline, aside from her black nails. Usually, this appearance alone caused the other races and animals to clear her ways.
Usually...
The Archer's breath calmed, almost ceased in the proceeding. Faint songs of birds, frogs, and several other animals of the forest flooded in. The forest tinted in the honey yellow as Daybreak rose over those mountains. And its leafs bowed to the breeze as it passed. Everything seemed just fine…
"DUCK," bellowed Abroxis and whirled to her full size. But-
Too late. She had been too late… Too late to save who had changed the usual- who had accepted her.
An arrow struck through the chest of the elf, right through this enormous heart. And Abroxis rifted into halves. The shadows animated by her fire and her magic erupted uncontrolled over the greens of the forest and their predators. But she had never cared about the annihilation of the woods, nor the faint cries of the deers, hares, and merchants. The world had halted right then and there, the world even rifted in ease like a wobbly rock. Her world had fallen, so, so slowly, to the earth. To a sector where the lushing green remained.
Dead, screamed a voice in her thoughts. D e a d.
"No," breathed Abroxis.
From those days on, she swore never to trust anyone again, in anxiety to ever lose someone ever again, in distrust to fail once again.
➥Power/Spell Name: Crimson Sweep
➥Description: Her ability is shaped in Shadow Fire and reaches those who are in a range of ten meters. The flames are black with purple to blue Flame Stitches. It erupts from the shadows and lasts about one turn. The after-effect is "Burn" (at 2 degrees), in which her opponent takes damage for the 1 lasting turn. And whilst it recovers 6 turns long, Abroxis herself is affected and her actions slow down, as well as she takes mere damage from it, too.
➥Limits: She reaches her opponent in a range of ten meters at max. Her victims suffer from an after-effect ("Burn" at 2 degrees) for 1 turn. In order to recharge, the Ability takes 6 turns. It also affects herself in the 6 turns. She is slower to her reactions and weaker then.
➥Weaknesses: Light is most likely to stop is, as well as fire. If Light or fire bursts into the flames before it reaches the opponent, then it canceled completely. And if a Light Ability manages to cover all the shadows, then her fire can't even flare-up. ➥Abilities: Vision in the dark, skilled Archer
➥Disabilities: Weak with her Power and close up fights; Light
➥Weapons: A Bow- made out of black wood + Whip-Sword
➥Appearance: Her clothes are most likely in patterns of brown-black-gold; She is usually seen with a cape and hood; pure white hair and pointy, long ears, violet lips and eyes, greyish/ ashen skin
➥Extra Info: If you want to piss her off, then insult her joy of playing the violin and writing poems, as well as her weird eyes. But if you want to win her trust, then be aware: She won't believe words, but actions. Abroxis loves midnight walks.
Genres to use Rox: Fantasy, Dark Fantasy, Romance, Adventure, Mystery
➦Name:** Desdemon Casksnow
➦Age: 18
➦Apparent Age: 18
➦Sex: Female
➦Sexuality: Pansexual
➦Species: Shapeshifter
➦Height: 5'6 ft
➦Weight: 110.23 lbs | 50 kg
➦Occupation: Thief/ Rogue
➦Appearance: Winered hair, snaking, and waving until her waist. She mostly wears it in a high, loose ponytail. She usually wears black, dark blue mixed with white
➦Personality: Desdemon is impatient, almost never forgiving. Her pride means a lot to her, as well as the graves and remains of her ken. To the most, she is this powerful, obnoxious, Caustic, and sarcastic bitch, who acts so cold, that even winter fears her.
But what's underneath the mask?
A lot, actually. To begin with, her loyalty, or honesty, or her Charisma and Proactive. And even deeper is the little child she never was able to show. The Zany little girl, or even talkative.
➦Bio: She was not the woman she is today. To begin with, it was even worse. Her childhood- taken away by the death of her mother and the abusive father. But Des was never alone. She had a brother, older and witter. Yet- yet this bastard had left her alone with the sire of them. Never had she felt so much betrayal.
That's where her limp comes from, the cluster of twisted bones in the lower sector of the left leg. Soon, her father kicked her out at the age of 8. Soon she was forced to run, escape predators and blades. Soon Desdemon had to accept her malfunctioning leg and trained with it. After up to a year she crossed her paths with a man of the slums. He was not like others, she noticed at first hand.
He truly was not.
Because he became her master, trained her as a thief, fighter, and Swordswoman. She learned to fight, dodge, jump, swim and shifted to several forms. And he left her, too. As she turned 12 he left her in the warehouse, said he would return but he had joined her mother already as hopes built up.
And so, Desdemon found herself back on the streets. This time, she was prepared and not afraid.
➥Power: Shapeshifting
➥Description: Her body can transform into whatever animal or skin she desires
➥Limits: It takes her time to get comfortable with a form (as for a bird, she needs to learn how to fly and stuff; ...) She also has to trains the form, in the beginnings, there is a high chance that a new form cripples and has imperfections. In the process of learning, she might even brake a few bones.
➥Weaknesses: Water, Iron, And her fear of the color red
➥Abilities: A skilled fighter with Blades, Daggers, Swords
➥Disabilities: Slow reactions, some times; her leg causes major problems; She can't climb and swim well
➥Weapons: Her Demon-Blades; Hellreaver (Sword and heirloom of her mother, a warrior)
➥Extra Info: You might stumble across lies in the beginnings, or even get surprised when she exposed her joy for the violin and cooking. Awareness of her moods, whatever pleases her, she does it. A brave, independent woman like her won't take orders easily or let you boss her around. But psht, she snores in her sleep.
➦Age: 18
➦Apparent Age: 18
➦Sex: Female
➦Sexuality: Pansexual
➦Species: Shapeshifter
➦Height: 5'6 ft
➦Weight: 110.23 lbs | 50 kg
➦Occupation: Thief/ Rogue
➦Appearance: Winered hair, snaking, and waving until her waist. She mostly wears it in a high, loose ponytail. She usually wears black, dark blue mixed with white
➦Personality: Desdemon is impatient, almost never forgiving. Her pride means a lot to her, as well as the graves and remains of her ken. To the most, she is this powerful, obnoxious, Caustic, and sarcastic bitch, who acts so cold, that even winter fears her.
But what's underneath the mask?
A lot, actually. To begin with, her loyalty, or honesty, or her Charisma and Proactive. And even deeper is the little child she never was able to show. The Zany little girl, or even talkative.
➦Bio: She was not the woman she is today. To begin with, it was even worse. Her childhood- taken away by the death of her mother and the abusive father. But Des was never alone. She had a brother, older and witter. Yet- yet this bastard had left her alone with the sire of them. Never had she felt so much betrayal.
That's where her limp comes from, the cluster of twisted bones in the lower sector of the left leg. Soon, her father kicked her out at the age of 8. Soon she was forced to run, escape predators and blades. Soon Desdemon had to accept her malfunctioning leg and trained with it. After up to a year she crossed her paths with a man of the slums. He was not like others, she noticed at first hand.
He truly was not.
Because he became her master, trained her as a thief, fighter, and Swordswoman. She learned to fight, dodge, jump, swim and shifted to several forms. And he left her, too. As she turned 12 he left her in the warehouse, said he would return but he had joined her mother already as hopes built up.
And so, Desdemon found herself back on the streets. This time, she was prepared and not afraid.
➥Power: Shapeshifting
➥Description: Her body can transform into whatever animal or skin she desires
➥Limits: It takes her time to get comfortable with a form (as for a bird, she needs to learn how to fly and stuff; ...) She also has to trains the form, in the beginnings, there is a high chance that a new form cripples and has imperfections. In the process of learning, she might even brake a few bones.
➥Weaknesses: Water, Iron, And her fear of the color red
➥Abilities: A skilled fighter with Blades, Daggers, Swords
➥Disabilities: Slow reactions, some times; her leg causes major problems; She can't climb and swim well
➥Weapons: Her Demon-Blades; Hellreaver (Sword and heirloom of her mother, a warrior)
➥Extra Info: You might stumble across lies in the beginnings, or even get surprised when she exposed her joy for the violin and cooking. Awareness of her moods, whatever pleases her, she does it. A brave, independent woman like her won't take orders easily or let you boss her around. But psht, she snores in her sleep.
Name: Nelyvia Pellere
Age: 1900
normal appearance age: 19
Gender: Female
Race: Demon (Tiefling)
Clan: Ravinca
Rank: Member
Role: Explorer
Weapons: "PhantomBlow"
Passive Abilities:
°Resistant against Fire: Due to her skin, she developed a mere resistance to fire. It "tingles" her, if she is attacked by a fire ability, which increases her weakness to water and earth attacks.
°Demonic Speed: Due to her body, she is swift and fast. Which explains her good reaction time.
Active Abilities:
°Shadow Fire: Nel is able to manipulate her aura and body heat in order to perform and erupt a blackish fire from the shadows.
It takes about 2 degrees and cools her down. If she does not eat enough it may damage her in the process.
°Earth Whistle: She can use her aura, on a high set focus, to perform a tiny earthquake in a radius of ten to twenty meters. Mostly it is only to rattle the earth and make her opponents fall, no further damage is made
°DarkArrow: Due to the fact her bow was specially made (see the bio), her arrows remake themselves and "listen" to her commands. Such as, if she says "strike beside" it misses the target even though she aimed perfectly.
It doesn't always work and for the regeneration of her arrows, she takes half of her energy, mostly.
Likes:
-Midnight walks
-Elder tea
-Animals
-Writing poems
-Listening to Storytellers
-To Party
Dislikes:
-Loud noises
-Messy rooms
-too large clusters of people
-loosing
Personality:
She loves to manipulate others- at least those she dislikes. Nel is an honest, sincere, and patient Female. Yet her Rudeness pesters a load of people, as much as she set her name in red on many lists. She is daring, too, brave, and even at desperate times heroic. Don't underestimate her, though. Nelyvia is mostly known for her Unmercifulness. She truly enjoys dominating others and teases them from time to time.
But if you look closely under her coat, there is far more than you can expect. For example, her Ambitiousness. If Nel wants something, beware, because she won't back down.
And don't ever expect from her to take your orders well, if she even accepts them. She loves her freedom and expects overs to keep the leash long.
Bio:
Nelyvia was born in a poor family, farmers to be specific. But not only the money was missed, the love and caretaking of her oh so perfect parents and siblings, too. Her ken against her, a single friend- that was simply her childhood.
And soon enough she turned to be 10- if she thought it never could get any worse, then this was a sheer fool's hope.
Her Mother- Mithwure- faded into an abusive shape. Those endless scars on her back are painful memories- no, reminders of who had made her to a monster.
Her father- Casakas- occurred her to hunt, to do the grocery shopping, and earn any money she could get. They had never bothered to ask about her injuries from the streetfights or cared if she returned in the long nights.
With twelve, though, she discovered an old man. His name had been long ago forgotten, so did his facials. But his voice never vamoosed from her mind. He had sawn, noted, and cared about her miseries, about her cold Kens and he told her so many stories, so many wise things. Eventually, he thought her to fight. Eventually, she had been the best protégé he had ever crossed paths with.
With 14 Nelyvia left the house she had been born and beaten up in, had left the dog, the horse, and little flower-garden in their yard.
Just to move in with her old Master. Just to move into a rotten wrought aside of the slums from the city. Even though society had improved such technology, her master taught her the good, old ways. Nelyvia never had touched those strange things, never dared to even think about it.
One day, as she returned from her midnight walk, the wrought had been oddly still, but the lights- they had flickered to welcome her. How often had she called the forgotten name? How often?
Until she turned to the oven, to the burnt head of her old master.
Then! Just as she plopped to her back quarters, black flames erupted from all of the shadows. Erupted and demolished her home to faint ashes, even the body of her master.
Nothing remained, except for this Bow- this wooden damned bow. Her tears salted her cheeks as she wobbled over to it. there it laid, covered in a dim gleaming and soot. Aside from it... one, two, three... eight! Eight and a half-finished arrow. Nothing she had ever seen or experienced. He had... had made it for her and lost his life.
He paid her the Weapon with his life.
He had made PhantomBlow
Extra: The brand is on her back, covers her childhood scars.
She usually wears a coat and hood in patterns of black-brown.
Appearance
Age: 1900
normal appearance age: 19
Gender: Female
Race: Demon (Tiefling)
Clan: Ravinca
Rank: Member
Role: Explorer
Weapons: "PhantomBlow"
Passive Abilities:
°Resistant against Fire: Due to her skin, she developed a mere resistance to fire. It "tingles" her, if she is attacked by a fire ability, which increases her weakness to water and earth attacks.
°Demonic Speed: Due to her body, she is swift and fast. Which explains her good reaction time.
Active Abilities:
°Shadow Fire: Nel is able to manipulate her aura and body heat in order to perform and erupt a blackish fire from the shadows.
It takes about 2 degrees and cools her down. If she does not eat enough it may damage her in the process.
°Earth Whistle: She can use her aura, on a high set focus, to perform a tiny earthquake in a radius of ten to twenty meters. Mostly it is only to rattle the earth and make her opponents fall, no further damage is made
°DarkArrow: Due to the fact her bow was specially made (see the bio), her arrows remake themselves and "listen" to her commands. Such as, if she says "strike beside" it misses the target even though she aimed perfectly.
It doesn't always work and for the regeneration of her arrows, she takes half of her energy, mostly.
Likes:
-Midnight walks
-Elder tea
-Animals
-Writing poems
-Listening to Storytellers
-To Party
Dislikes:
-Loud noises
-Messy rooms
-too large clusters of people
-loosing
Personality:
She loves to manipulate others- at least those she dislikes. Nel is an honest, sincere, and patient Female. Yet her Rudeness pesters a load of people, as much as she set her name in red on many lists. She is daring, too, brave, and even at desperate times heroic. Don't underestimate her, though. Nelyvia is mostly known for her Unmercifulness. She truly enjoys dominating others and teases them from time to time.
But if you look closely under her coat, there is far more than you can expect. For example, her Ambitiousness. If Nel wants something, beware, because she won't back down.
And don't ever expect from her to take your orders well, if she even accepts them. She loves her freedom and expects overs to keep the leash long.
Bio:
Nelyvia was born in a poor family, farmers to be specific. But not only the money was missed, the love and caretaking of her oh so perfect parents and siblings, too. Her ken against her, a single friend- that was simply her childhood.
And soon enough she turned to be 10- if she thought it never could get any worse, then this was a sheer fool's hope.
Her Mother- Mithwure- faded into an abusive shape. Those endless scars on her back are painful memories- no, reminders of who had made her to a monster.
Her father- Casakas- occurred her to hunt, to do the grocery shopping, and earn any money she could get. They had never bothered to ask about her injuries from the streetfights or cared if she returned in the long nights.
With twelve, though, she discovered an old man. His name had been long ago forgotten, so did his facials. But his voice never vamoosed from her mind. He had sawn, noted, and cared about her miseries, about her cold Kens and he told her so many stories, so many wise things. Eventually, he thought her to fight. Eventually, she had been the best protégé he had ever crossed paths with.
With 14 Nelyvia left the house she had been born and beaten up in, had left the dog, the horse, and little flower-garden in their yard.
Just to move in with her old Master. Just to move into a rotten wrought aside of the slums from the city. Even though society had improved such technology, her master taught her the good, old ways. Nelyvia never had touched those strange things, never dared to even think about it.
One day, as she returned from her midnight walk, the wrought had been oddly still, but the lights- they had flickered to welcome her. How often had she called the forgotten name? How often?
Until she turned to the oven, to the burnt head of her old master.
Then! Just as she plopped to her back quarters, black flames erupted from all of the shadows. Erupted and demolished her home to faint ashes, even the body of her master.
Nothing remained, except for this Bow- this wooden damned bow. Her tears salted her cheeks as she wobbled over to it. there it laid, covered in a dim gleaming and soot. Aside from it... one, two, three... eight! Eight and a half-finished arrow. Nothing she had ever seen or experienced. He had... had made it for her and lost his life.
He paid her the Weapon with his life.
He had made PhantomBlow
Extra: The brand is on her back, covers her childhood scars.
She usually wears a coat and hood in patterns of black-brown.
Appearance
Name: Sezsoral Leceti
Age: 19
Gender: Female
Species: Tiefling
Weapons: Bow: ArtStation - Weapony, Vera Velichko in 2020 | Waffe, Messer und schwerter, Pfeil und bogen
Dagger: Pin auf Messer
Ability: She is a Warlock, so she can cast spells. Her favorite is lighting, though.
Special Item(s): A necklace in Honor of her Mother
Special Abilities: "Nighteye"-> she can see in the night better than in the day -> means she tries to avoid bright light, even though it doesn't hurt her
Personality: Soral is a little pest, reckless, foolish, and the Queen of Sass. Fool, if you thought that was her? Then jokes on you. Underneath this childish mask, she is a quick-witted Female, clever and tactical. She is loyal and determined, as well as caring.
Yet, Soral is a Tiefling of secrets and she hates to ask others for help. Mostly, because of her violent childhood.
Let her fool you, let her entertain you, and lie to you- with mere chances she might tell you the truth. Soral is known for her charisma and her temper. Don't push it too far with her.
And she might talk to those she hates as if they were friends, but Soral loves luxury and is the most pickiest Tiefling. Not everyone is her friend, hence she won't step up for everyone. Though, she leads others out of troubles and mostly tries to avoid senseless fights.
Appearance:
Age: 19
Gender: Female
Species: Tiefling
Weapons: Bow: ArtStation - Weapony, Vera Velichko in 2020 | Waffe, Messer und schwerter, Pfeil und bogen
Dagger: Pin auf Messer
Ability: She is a Warlock, so she can cast spells. Her favorite is lighting, though.
Special Item(s): A necklace in Honor of her Mother
Special Abilities: "Nighteye"-> she can see in the night better than in the day -> means she tries to avoid bright light, even though it doesn't hurt her
Personality: Soral is a little pest, reckless, foolish, and the Queen of Sass. Fool, if you thought that was her? Then jokes on you. Underneath this childish mask, she is a quick-witted Female, clever and tactical. She is loyal and determined, as well as caring.
Yet, Soral is a Tiefling of secrets and she hates to ask others for help. Mostly, because of her violent childhood.
Let her fool you, let her entertain you, and lie to you- with mere chances she might tell you the truth. Soral is known for her charisma and her temper. Don't push it too far with her.
And she might talk to those she hates as if they were friends, but Soral loves luxury and is the most pickiest Tiefling. Not everyone is her friend, hence she won't step up for everyone. Though, she leads others out of troubles and mostly tries to avoid senseless fights.
Appearance:
Attachments
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