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<blockquote data-quote="MerakSpielman" data-source="post: 1852919" data-attributes="member: 7464"><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px">They went to go see the Mayor, the Halfling child worried and crying faintly as they left his home.</span></span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px">The “Mayer,” it turned out, was simply the local priest, a friendly halfling who explained what was going on. While delighted to have the child returned to the community, he admitted that they had been having some problems lately. “We’re overrun with idiots! People, ordinary, productive citizens, keep wandering back into town drooling and incoherent! They’re totally unable to explain what’s been happening to them. We’ve lost dozens of people to this mysterious affliction. Alas,” he looks at the child sadly, “his own mother is afflicted. She’s being cared for by relatives in a different house. This child will be easily housed – half the halflings here are all related to each other in some way, and they all help each other in times of need.” “What about his father?” Asks Lysorn, worried, “Is he still around?” The mayor looked troubled, “His father left to try to find his son after he was taken by the slavers. We never heard from him again, and fear the worst.”</span></span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px">Having left the child in the care of his relatives, the party considered their options. “We have to help them!” insisted Lysorn. “Something is plaguing these villagers, and it would be wrong to just leave.”</span></span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px">Dust and Raven reluctantly agreed, and the group formulated a plan. Deciding that the afflicted idiots were the victims of some sort of intelligence-draining affect, they reasoned that the appropriate <em>Restoration</em> magic would cure them. Their plan was to get a single villager cured, so he could relate what had happened. Both Lysorn and the local cleric were unable to cast such magic, however, and it looked disturbingly like a simple <em>Lesser Restoration</em> would be insufficient for the task (presuming the afflicted were reduced to 1 INT, a <em>Lesser Restoration</em> might not increase their INT sufficiently to get useful information out of him). However, the price of a full Restoration was generally 280gp, which was severely beyond their ability to pay. The party returned to the mayor, hoping the town could front the money, but he said it was impossible, “We’d love to cure somebody and get to the bottom of this, but we’re a poor, small village. I doubt that sum exists here, even were we to pool all of our cash, and even were we to do that, it would destroy us. I appreciate your help, though, and hope this doesn’t discourage you too badly.”</span></span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px">Grumbling, the party decided to try to find some way of making money, and made a few Gather Information checks. They come up with two primary prospects. First, there are rumors of a mysterious barrow mound in a cemetery perhaps two miles from town. However, unlike most mysterious barrow mounds, there are no rumors of undead, no noises in the dark, and nothing happening on the full moon. In fact, the primary reason the PCs decide the mound is mysterious is that the villagers mention it as a local landmark, and then proceed to adamantly declare how pointless it is to investigate. Second, an elf is in town with a proposition: several years ago an elven hermit lived on the shores of Lake Tali, where he crafted an unusually fine single-seat sailing boat and spent his twilight years sailing around and generally enjoying himself. Then he got caught in a sudden squall, his boat sank, and he was killed. The elf with which the party spoke was willing to pay 200gp for the recovery of the boat, which itself contained some excellent and valuable examples of woodcarving.</span></span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px">The party opted to attempt to retrieve the boat. They talked to the local fishermen, who directed them to the location of the wreck, at the bottom of 30 feet of water, about 200’ from shore, half a mile north of Popowan. Having paid a couple silver, the fisherman was quite willing to act as a ferry out to the wreck, but once there, the party had a bit of a problem. How to retrieve the boat?</span></span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px">Returning to shore, they ponder their options and decide their best bet is to buy a bunch of rope, swim down and tie the rope to the boat, and trail the rope to shore where they could pull the boat to land.</span></span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px">(at this point we, in traditional geek-fashion, used the Pythagorean Theorem to determine the length of rope required. If the length of one side of a triangle is 200’, and the other side is 30’, it turns out the hypotenuse (the distance along the lakebed) is 200.224 feet.)</span></span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px">The party purchased sufficient rope (250’) and proceeded with their plan. The friendly fisherman took them to the wreck, where Raven proceeded to strip down naked and swim down to it, carrying one end of the rope. The fisherman goggled, remembered his wife, swallowed, and pretended he hadn’t noticed. Apparently the Fhokki have different social mores.</span></span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px">However, there was a complication. Just as Raven was tying the rope onto the exquisite little sailboat, she was attacked by a giant snapping turtle, which (understandably enough) perceived this soft, squishy pink thing floundering in the water to be some sort of prey animal. Trailing blood from a viscous gash in her side, Raven swam desperately for the surface. The turtle got in another good bite before she made it to the boat, clinging desperately to the few hit points she had left. Lysorn quickly cured her of some of the damage, but the battle wasn’t over yet. The turtle came up and capsized the boat, spilling everybody into the water. </span></span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px">Years later, the story was still told in Popowan of the Naked Warrior, clambering to the top of a capsized fishing boat, and wielding the sword she had managed to grab before all her other equipment was lost. Valiently she stood, water glistening on her skin, blood flowing from a hundred wounds, attacking the tremendous horde of giant turtles in a desperate, futile attempt to save her friends, who were being torn to pieces around her. But miracle of miracles, her skill won the day. Without armor or aid of any kind, she single-handedly slew hundreds of the foul beasts. More seedy versions, told in the back of the alehouse after many rounds of brew, included minute descriptions of the warrior’s physical characteristics.</span></span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px">The battle over, Lysorn and Dust out of spells, and their lost equipment retrieved from the lakebed, the party finally ties the rope to the boat and strings the other end to a sturdy tree on shore. Evening was coming on, so after delivering the carcass of the giant snapping turtle to the villagers, the party opted to wait until tomorrow to actually haul the boat to shore, and on the short of the lake, they slept.</span></span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px">-</span></span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px">They were awoken shortly before dawn by a villager, running through their camp, shaking them awake. “Wake up, guys, there’s slavers in town! About a mile east! They have some people in a cage, and we’re worried they’ll come after our kids again!” The villager, having in his own way asked the adventurers for aid (as he had been instructed by the mayor), dashed off to the safety of his house.</span></span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px">“I suppose Lysorn is going to make us go do something about this,” Raven sighed, and she stretched and winced as she disturbed her remaining wounds from the previous day. Dust wearily agreed, and Lysorn looked annoyed, but pulled on his armor and robe. They set out.</span></span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px">The slaver camp was dominated by the large cage-wagon which held the prisoners, two humans and a halfling. Attached to the back of the wagon, forming a sort of “train,” was a small cart within which was a pile of random weapons and equipment. Around a small cook-fire hunched four hobgoblins, all armed and armored. Three horses was hobbled nearby, two of which looked like typical nags, and the third of which was a very nice-looking light war horse.</span></span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px">In the middle of their breakfast, the hobgoblin slavers found themselves suddenly under attack. Dust <em>Dazed</em> a couple, then found herself resorting to <em>Burning Hands</em>. Lysorn held back and <em>Blessed</em> the party. But strangely enough, at the moment the trio attacked, the prisoners burst out of the door at the back of the cage-wagon, grabbed weapons from the cart, and joined in the fray. Quickly all the hobgoblins had been slain, with minimal damage taken by anybody involved.</span></span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px">It turned out that the halfling was an accomplished rogue, and had picked the lock on the cage during the night. But the prisoners had been leery of trying to escape without some sort of distraction, especially since it would take them valuable time to recover their equipment. They introduced themselves as T’Angel, a Fhokki who had been abandoned by her parents for her outlandish appearance (they thought the albino hair was a curse) and raised by a sect of druids, whose skills she learned, Alron, the aforementioned halfling rogue, and Astoria, a Reanaarian paladin, for whom the capture and imprisonment had been almost too much to bear. The light war horse was hers.</span></span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px">The ex-prisoners were disoriented and in an unfamiliar land. After hearing the tale spun by Lysorn, Raven, and Dust, they all, each for their own reasons, offered to join them and help them solve the mystery of the Popowan Idiots. </span></span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px">The newly-formed group piled all the armor and weapons they looted from the slavers into the small cart, hitched up the horses to the wagon, and drove the thing to town, asking the villagers to look after it while they went back to retrieve the boat.</span></span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px">If only it had gone smoothly after that.</span></span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px">All six of them pulled mightily on the rope and managed to get the small sailboat ashore. Just as they were lying, panting on the sand after their exertions, a head poked up out of the water. It was a Nixie, and it had been watching them.</span></span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px">Instantly on guard, the party conversed with the Nixie, who seemed very curious about what they were doing. Apparently it was just toying with them, because quite suddenly it said, “well, that’s all well and good, but I’m afraid we’re going to have to capture and enslave all of you now.” Several other Nixies popped their heads up out of the water – five in all – and the party suddenly found itself buffeted by <em>Charm</em> effects.</span></span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px">Amazingly, everybody made their saving throws. Dust desperately counterspelled the next <em>Charm</em> targeting her, while Raven, T’Angel, and Alron targeting the Nixies with their various missile weapons. (NOTE: I didn’t apply the Nixie’s damage reduction. The PCs were having a hard enough time dealing damage as it was). A couple party members were briefly <em>Charmed</em>, but the Nixies responsible were quickly targeted and killed, ending the enchantment. Their magic exhausted, the Nixies began to resort to their crossbows to continue their assault. </span></span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px">Things were going pretty poorly when, all of a sudden, three more Nixies surfaced and came to the aid of the party, attacking the original Nixies with their own crossbows. The party, looking pretty bedraggled and with many crossbow bolts sticking out of various members, thanked the new Nixies for their assistance. </span></span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px">T’Angel wanted to know why they were attacked, because Nixies are generally pretty quiescent water spirits, sometimes mischievous, but never downright hostile without good reason. The spokes-nixie replied, “We’re not really sure… about half of us suddenly turned evil and left the village. We’ve been waging a minor war with them ever since. It wouldn’t be so bad except, at the same time they went bad, our guardian naga got stupid.” Lots of questions from the party, “Yes, just transformed into a blubbering idiot. Without him, we’re crippled.”</span></span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px">After a few more words of little significance, the good Nixies vanished back into the lake, leaving the party to ponder this news. Villagers idiofied (a new term coined by my players and used extensively during this plot arc), and the naga as well? Something was going on, and they had no idea what it was. Curing one of the villagers was imperative. </span></span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px">The wreck of the ship, as well as a few baubles contained within, netted the party enough gold for a <em>Restoration</em> spell, but the nearest city where they could be assured such magic was available was Kalokapeta, the city they had just visited about a week before.</span></span></p><p> </p><p><span style="font-family: 'Times New Roman'"><span style="font-size: 12px">It turned out not to be difficult to pick which afflicted villager to take with them for curing – Lysorn was quite adamant. It was to be the mother of the child they had rescued, a young halfling woman. After collecting the halfling and bidding farewell to the mayor, they departed, bringing the captured slave wagon with them.</span></span></p></blockquote><p></p>
[QUOTE="MerakSpielman, post: 1852919, member: 7464"] [font=Times New Roman][size=3]They went to go see the Mayor, the Halfling child worried and crying faintly as they left his home.[/size][/font] [font=Times New Roman][size=3]The “Mayer,” it turned out, was simply the local priest, a friendly halfling who explained what was going on. While delighted to have the child returned to the community, he admitted that they had been having some problems lately. “We’re overrun with idiots! People, ordinary, productive citizens, keep wandering back into town drooling and incoherent! They’re totally unable to explain what’s been happening to them. We’ve lost dozens of people to this mysterious affliction. Alas,” he looks at the child sadly, “his own mother is afflicted. She’s being cared for by relatives in a different house. This child will be easily housed – half the halflings here are all related to each other in some way, and they all help each other in times of need.” “What about his father?” Asks Lysorn, worried, “Is he still around?” The mayor looked troubled, “His father left to try to find his son after he was taken by the slavers. We never heard from him again, and fear the worst.”[/size][/font] [font=Times New Roman][size=3]Having left the child in the care of his relatives, the party considered their options. “We have to help them!” insisted Lysorn. “Something is plaguing these villagers, and it would be wrong to just leave.”[/size][/font] [font=Times New Roman][size=3]Dust and Raven reluctantly agreed, and the group formulated a plan. Deciding that the afflicted idiots were the victims of some sort of intelligence-draining affect, they reasoned that the appropriate [i]Restoration[/i] magic would cure them. Their plan was to get a single villager cured, so he could relate what had happened. Both Lysorn and the local cleric were unable to cast such magic, however, and it looked disturbingly like a simple [i]Lesser Restoration[/i] would be insufficient for the task (presuming the afflicted were reduced to 1 INT, a [i]Lesser Restoration[/i] might not increase their INT sufficiently to get useful information out of him). However, the price of a full Restoration was generally 280gp, which was severely beyond their ability to pay. The party returned to the mayor, hoping the town could front the money, but he said it was impossible, “We’d love to cure somebody and get to the bottom of this, but we’re a poor, small village. I doubt that sum exists here, even were we to pool all of our cash, and even were we to do that, it would destroy us. I appreciate your help, though, and hope this doesn’t discourage you too badly.”[/size][/font] [font=Times New Roman][size=3]Grumbling, the party decided to try to find some way of making money, and made a few Gather Information checks. They come up with two primary prospects. First, there are rumors of a mysterious barrow mound in a cemetery perhaps two miles from town. However, unlike most mysterious barrow mounds, there are no rumors of undead, no noises in the dark, and nothing happening on the full moon. In fact, the primary reason the PCs decide the mound is mysterious is that the villagers mention it as a local landmark, and then proceed to adamantly declare how pointless it is to investigate. Second, an elf is in town with a proposition: several years ago an elven hermit lived on the shores of Lake Tali, where he crafted an unusually fine single-seat sailing boat and spent his twilight years sailing around and generally enjoying himself. Then he got caught in a sudden squall, his boat sank, and he was killed. The elf with which the party spoke was willing to pay 200gp for the recovery of the boat, which itself contained some excellent and valuable examples of woodcarving.[/size][/font] [font=Times New Roman][size=3]The party opted to attempt to retrieve the boat. They talked to the local fishermen, who directed them to the location of the wreck, at the bottom of 30 feet of water, about 200’ from shore, half a mile north of Popowan. Having paid a couple silver, the fisherman was quite willing to act as a ferry out to the wreck, but once there, the party had a bit of a problem. How to retrieve the boat?[/size][/font] [font=Times New Roman][size=3]Returning to shore, they ponder their options and decide their best bet is to buy a bunch of rope, swim down and tie the rope to the boat, and trail the rope to shore where they could pull the boat to land.[/size][/font] [font=Times New Roman][size=3](at this point we, in traditional geek-fashion, used the Pythagorean Theorem to determine the length of rope required. If the length of one side of a triangle is 200’, and the other side is 30’, it turns out the hypotenuse (the distance along the lakebed) is 200.224 feet.)[/size][/font] [font=Times New Roman][size=3]The party purchased sufficient rope (250’) and proceeded with their plan. The friendly fisherman took them to the wreck, where Raven proceeded to strip down naked and swim down to it, carrying one end of the rope. The fisherman goggled, remembered his wife, swallowed, and pretended he hadn’t noticed. Apparently the Fhokki have different social mores.[/size][/font] [font=Times New Roman][size=3]However, there was a complication. Just as Raven was tying the rope onto the exquisite little sailboat, she was attacked by a giant snapping turtle, which (understandably enough) perceived this soft, squishy pink thing floundering in the water to be some sort of prey animal. Trailing blood from a viscous gash in her side, Raven swam desperately for the surface. The turtle got in another good bite before she made it to the boat, clinging desperately to the few hit points she had left. Lysorn quickly cured her of some of the damage, but the battle wasn’t over yet. The turtle came up and capsized the boat, spilling everybody into the water. [/size][/font] [font=Times New Roman][size=3]Years later, the story was still told in Popowan of the Naked Warrior, clambering to the top of a capsized fishing boat, and wielding the sword she had managed to grab before all her other equipment was lost. Valiently she stood, water glistening on her skin, blood flowing from a hundred wounds, attacking the tremendous horde of giant turtles in a desperate, futile attempt to save her friends, who were being torn to pieces around her. But miracle of miracles, her skill won the day. Without armor or aid of any kind, she single-handedly slew hundreds of the foul beasts. More seedy versions, told in the back of the alehouse after many rounds of brew, included minute descriptions of the warrior’s physical characteristics.[/size][/font] [font=Times New Roman][size=3]The battle over, Lysorn and Dust out of spells, and their lost equipment retrieved from the lakebed, the party finally ties the rope to the boat and strings the other end to a sturdy tree on shore. Evening was coming on, so after delivering the carcass of the giant snapping turtle to the villagers, the party opted to wait until tomorrow to actually haul the boat to shore, and on the short of the lake, they slept.[/size][/font] [font=Times New Roman][size=3]-[/size][/font] [font=Times New Roman][size=3]They were awoken shortly before dawn by a villager, running through their camp, shaking them awake. “Wake up, guys, there’s slavers in town! About a mile east! They have some people in a cage, and we’re worried they’ll come after our kids again!” The villager, having in his own way asked the adventurers for aid (as he had been instructed by the mayor), dashed off to the safety of his house.[/size][/font] [font=Times New Roman][size=3]“I suppose Lysorn is going to make us go do something about this,” Raven sighed, and she stretched and winced as she disturbed her remaining wounds from the previous day. Dust wearily agreed, and Lysorn looked annoyed, but pulled on his armor and robe. They set out.[/size][/font] [font=Times New Roman][size=3]The slaver camp was dominated by the large cage-wagon which held the prisoners, two humans and a halfling. Attached to the back of the wagon, forming a sort of “train,” was a small cart within which was a pile of random weapons and equipment. Around a small cook-fire hunched four hobgoblins, all armed and armored. Three horses was hobbled nearby, two of which looked like typical nags, and the third of which was a very nice-looking light war horse.[/size][/font] [font=Times New Roman][size=3]In the middle of their breakfast, the hobgoblin slavers found themselves suddenly under attack. Dust [i]Dazed[/i] a couple, then found herself resorting to [i]Burning Hands[/i]. Lysorn held back and [i]Blessed[/i] the party. But strangely enough, at the moment the trio attacked, the prisoners burst out of the door at the back of the cage-wagon, grabbed weapons from the cart, and joined in the fray. Quickly all the hobgoblins had been slain, with minimal damage taken by anybody involved.[/size][/font] [font=Times New Roman][size=3]It turned out that the halfling was an accomplished rogue, and had picked the lock on the cage during the night. But the prisoners had been leery of trying to escape without some sort of distraction, especially since it would take them valuable time to recover their equipment. They introduced themselves as T’Angel, a Fhokki who had been abandoned by her parents for her outlandish appearance (they thought the albino hair was a curse) and raised by a sect of druids, whose skills she learned, Alron, the aforementioned halfling rogue, and Astoria, a Reanaarian paladin, for whom the capture and imprisonment had been almost too much to bear. The light war horse was hers.[/size][/font] [font=Times New Roman][size=3]The ex-prisoners were disoriented and in an unfamiliar land. After hearing the tale spun by Lysorn, Raven, and Dust, they all, each for their own reasons, offered to join them and help them solve the mystery of the Popowan Idiots. [/size][/font] [font=Times New Roman][size=3]The newly-formed group piled all the armor and weapons they looted from the slavers into the small cart, hitched up the horses to the wagon, and drove the thing to town, asking the villagers to look after it while they went back to retrieve the boat.[/size][/font] [font=Times New Roman][size=3]If only it had gone smoothly after that.[/size][/font] [font=Times New Roman][size=3]All six of them pulled mightily on the rope and managed to get the small sailboat ashore. Just as they were lying, panting on the sand after their exertions, a head poked up out of the water. It was a Nixie, and it had been watching them.[/size][/font] [font=Times New Roman][size=3]Instantly on guard, the party conversed with the Nixie, who seemed very curious about what they were doing. Apparently it was just toying with them, because quite suddenly it said, “well, that’s all well and good, but I’m afraid we’re going to have to capture and enslave all of you now.” Several other Nixies popped their heads up out of the water – five in all – and the party suddenly found itself buffeted by [i]Charm[/i] effects.[/size][/font] [font=Times New Roman][size=3]Amazingly, everybody made their saving throws. Dust desperately counterspelled the next [i]Charm[/i] targeting her, while Raven, T’Angel, and Alron targeting the Nixies with their various missile weapons. (NOTE: I didn’t apply the Nixie’s damage reduction. The PCs were having a hard enough time dealing damage as it was). A couple party members were briefly [i]Charmed[/i], but the Nixies responsible were quickly targeted and killed, ending the enchantment. Their magic exhausted, the Nixies began to resort to their crossbows to continue their assault. [/size][/font] [font=Times New Roman][size=3]Things were going pretty poorly when, all of a sudden, three more Nixies surfaced and came to the aid of the party, attacking the original Nixies with their own crossbows. The party, looking pretty bedraggled and with many crossbow bolts sticking out of various members, thanked the new Nixies for their assistance. [/size][/font] [font=Times New Roman][size=3]T’Angel wanted to know why they were attacked, because Nixies are generally pretty quiescent water spirits, sometimes mischievous, but never downright hostile without good reason. The spokes-nixie replied, “We’re not really sure… about half of us suddenly turned evil and left the village. We’ve been waging a minor war with them ever since. It wouldn’t be so bad except, at the same time they went bad, our guardian naga got stupid.” Lots of questions from the party, “Yes, just transformed into a blubbering idiot. Without him, we’re crippled.”[/size][/font] [font=Times New Roman][size=3]After a few more words of little significance, the good Nixies vanished back into the lake, leaving the party to ponder this news. Villagers idiofied (a new term coined by my players and used extensively during this plot arc), and the naga as well? Something was going on, and they had no idea what it was. Curing one of the villagers was imperative. [/size][/font] [font=Times New Roman][size=3]The wreck of the ship, as well as a few baubles contained within, netted the party enough gold for a [i]Restoration[/i] spell, but the nearest city where they could be assured such magic was available was Kalokapeta, the city they had just visited about a week before.[/size][/font] [font=Times New Roman][size=3]It turned out not to be difficult to pick which afflicted villager to take with them for curing – Lysorn was quite adamant. It was to be the mother of the child they had rescued, a young halfling woman. After collecting the halfling and bidding farewell to the mayor, they departed, bringing the captured slave wagon with them.[/size][/font] [/QUOTE]
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Story Hour
MerakSpielman's Story Hour (A Kingdoms of Kalamar campaign)
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