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I may try my hand at an Oblin, but in the Ig thread. That feels a somewhat less chaotic in the moment. Is world building permissible or is the setting and plot as defined so far set?


I'll send you a little primer on Oblins which should help you out! World building is otherwise permissible, if it doesn't conflict with what already exists.
Apologies for the delay. I got a new job, which has become even more busy than the last one. It's for that reason I will be pulling out from this in a GM capacity. Rather than lock the thread, I am happy for everybody who wants to keep fighting to resume the order (Just without me).

Sorry!
@Shinny Any word from our eight-legged pickle?


So after some discussion, we have agreed that spickle will no longer be in play. This leaves it as @Alucroas turn.


<ORST – PORT SOLT – RUINS>
“How many so far?”

“By our count, about a hundred. Other surviving groups notwithstanding.” The Tortan sighed, clinging to an enchanted staff that was scuffed from use as a pry-bar. The Tortan’s shoulders were knotted, his eyes drooping with weariness. Opposing him and standing before a pile of rubble stood Chiro, her chitinous armour covered in dust and her claws blunted. She only gave the Tortan a nod, before she turned away and headed towards the pile. The sound of scraping rubble masked the sound of the Tortan leaving, Chiro’s claws crushing through concrete boulders and ripping polymer structures. Over and over and over she had done this, seeking out the life signals that her armour could sense trapped in the rubble; most of them were too weak to save, their sighs fading before Chiro could bring them to safety. But sometimes, it was worth it.

Heaving through enough debris to make a gap, Chiro pushed on, moving inch by inch until she saw the alcove. The light here was all but gone, the only source being from the hole that she made — and thus blocked. Dim as it was, Chiro could see the weakly breathing figure, whose light hair and beard reminded her of that man she had spoke to before. Donnel, was it? The name sounded correct. It was a miracle he had survived for so long beneath all of this, even Chiro might have struggled to escape in her present state. Even as he clung to the edge of life, Chiro’s sense could pick up the energy he had burned to keep himself alive. It was power, which he had hidden until this time of need.

Gods, she was hungry.

Like all of those who ‘mattered’, Chiro was a form of red scourge. A ‘vampire’ like those from myth, who survived through drinking essence in the form of blood. Chiro was not like most, who could survive on a diet of whichever random human they stumbled across — Chiro had a unique curse. She could absorb the very strength of those who killed, but to be satiated she had to drink from those who were strong. Stronger than her was ideal, but being stronger than average could do in a pinch.

Hence her dilemma. How long had it been since she ate? At the very least since she was imprisoned, all those years ago. Such a long time without blood should’ve driven her insane, but her armour gave her a way to stave it off, her mind and body switching off in a long torpor until the moment she escaped. Now? Now she was on a timer, she had to eat and she had to eat soon, or risk atavism and lashing out at as many people she could find until her thirst was slaked. Hell, the very notion of betraying a former – if brief – comrade to feed was evidence that she was slowly losing it.

As Chiro thought, her mouth activated. To say she was salivating was putting it lightly, for her very jaw started to unfurl into multiple components, segments exposed more like a pair of giant needles than any real form of fang. In the gloom Chiro crept closer and closer, thinking about how easy it would be to steal his life and pretend her was crushed like the others. She was barely an inch away before—

“Look!”

Chiro’s head snapped away, her mouth returning to normal as she heard the voice. Wrapping an arm around Donnel, she hoisted him back and out until she could carry his limp self out into the open. The commotion of people jumping and waving was drowned out by the sounds of propellor-craft, seaplanes landing nearby as the first answer from Orst’s natives came around. Seaplanes and hovercraft arrived, ready to help and not a moment too soon. Chiro took Donnel’s body with her, giving it over to join the many who needed medical attention first.

She would have to eat later.

@Shinny I think that looks good.

I noticed for most of the combatants, they either have their player's avatar or artwork from their CS. But Divorarel/Nudara doesn't have a CS but it looks like you found art of their character? Do they have a character sheet somewhere? They seemed to imply that they had won the last toyale and that this was not their first rodeo.


I've known Divorarel for a while, they didn't manage to make a sheet but I've seen the character before from where the toyale used to be hosted!
@Shinny I can't find the updated map. Is it hidden on a certain post?


Sorry for the delay, here it is! Let me know if I'm wrong at all @Ponn @BrokenPromise @Divorarel @Forge @Pickled Piper @Alucroas


NAME‎                                            :: Chiro the Disgraced, formerly of house ██████
AGE‎                                        :: Hard to say, she was in the hundreds range when she was locked up.
SPECIES‎                            :: Kraturan, ‘Vampire’ to the commonfolk.
ARRIVAL                           :: Interloper

Chiro appears as a tall and gaunt humanoid, constantly wrapped in a black carapace resembling chitinous armour. When her helmet has peeled away, Chiro’s complexion is dark-skinned and her hair is long and ulotrichous. Given the biological nature of her armour, it is worth noting that her appearance can change on a dime thanks to adaptional needs.

Chiro is an example of ‘biotechnological weaponry’, her entire body fused with a living suit. This grants her such impressive feats as the constitution to withstand the attack that destroyed Port Solt, and the strength to throw a small building. What is more impressive, however, is her suit’s adaptability and resilience. Chiro can grow weapons and other tools from her own flesh, allowing her to change her form on the fly to specialise on the task at hand. Her suit’s resilience also includes the ability to regenerate, and if given enough time her body can regrow from severed limbs if they are left alone. This fact also allows her to produce her own minions to command, if needed.

Once a well renowned scientist among the Kraturan empire, Chiro’s knowledge of biotechnology was unsurpassed. Alas, Chiro was stripped of such renown thanks to an event which she refuses to regale, such is the level of her perpetuated atrocity. Rather than killing the bio-knight outright, Chiro was imprisoned, left to starve and slowly lose her mind within the depths of Château du Sang. The colossal city-ship’s breaking up within the skies of Orst granted Chiro the opportunity to escape, tumbling through Orst’s atmosphere to land far away from her people — and thus be granted the opportunity to live a new life.
In Testo 1 yr ago Forum: Test Forum

NAME‎                                            :: Chiro the Disgraced, formerly of house ██████
AGE‎                                        :: Hard to say, she was in the hundreds range when she was locked up.
SPECIES‎                            :: Kraturan, ‘Vampire’ to the commonfolk.
ARRIVAL                           :: Interloper

Chiro appears as a tall and gaunt humanoid, constantly wrapped in a black carapace resembling chitinous armour. When her helmet has peeled away, Chiro’s complexion is dark-skinned and her hair is long and ulotrichous. Given the biological nature of her armour, it is worth noting that her appearance can change on a dime thanks to adaptional needs.

Chiro is an example of ‘biotechnological weaponry’, her entire body fused with a living suit. This grants her such impressive feats as the constitution to withstand the attack that destroyed Port Solt, and the strength to throw a small building. What is more impressive, however, is her suit’s adaptability and resilience. Chiro can grow weapons and other tools from her own flesh, allowing her to change her form on the fly to specialise on the task at hand. Her suit’s resilience also includes the ability to regenerate, and if given enough time her body can regrow from severed limbs if they are left alone. This fact also allows her to produce her own minions to command, if needed.

Once a well renowned scientist among the Kraturan empire, Chiro’s knowledge of biotechnology was unsurpassed. Alas, Chiro was stripped of such renown thanks to an event which she refuses to regale, such is the level of her perpetuated atrocity. Rather than killing the bio-knight outright, Chiro was imprisoned, left to starve and slowly lose her mind within the depths of Château du Sang. The colossal city-ship’s breaking up within the skies of Orst granted Chiro the opportunity to escape, tumbling through Orst’s atmosphere to land far away from her people — and thus be granted the opportunity to live a new life.


Invaders descend from the stars above.

The salty tang of seawater in her mouth was refreshing, compared to the dusty lifelessness of her former cell. Black chitin hands scraped through soft sand, seeking purchase to hoist Chiro up until she sat upon the beach. Gentle waves brushed against her biomechanical armoured legs, her living suit giving stimuli while protecting her at the same time. Ptoo! Chiro spat out the saltwater from her mouth. Her body curled once more as her feet planted in the sand and forced the slender woman up to her full height. Dark eyes gazed at the night sky, admiring how the red glow of the descending Château du Sang bounced from the smoky clouds that lined the horizon. Unsteady feet pushed Chiro the Disgraced along the beach, heavy bootprints left behind. She slogged on away from the red lights of that sordid invader, towards the hospitable glow of a nearby settlement.

Far away from there, far away from then.



<ORST - PORT SOLT - DOCKYARDS>

There are places on Orst comparable to jewels, precious stones and metals whose rarity was only outdone by their sheer lustre; Solt was not such a place. Solt’s mineral companion was the substance that gave the port its name, whose value is comparable to gold only through the sheer usefulness of its existence. Salt and Solt were both valuable through their ability to keep the body and world of Orst going. Barges floated down long winding canals, capillaries connected to the docks where their mineral goods could be loaded onto sleek white ships, ready to make the long journey through the inner sea to beacons such as Hōm, Knō, and Solaria. A whole smorgasbord of different species and races worked together to load these ships with goods. From humans and those who looked like them, to less common forms such as the turtle-shaped Tortan and the three-legged Gops.

Chiro stared at the sight from the shadows, her chitinous faceplate obscuring the upper half of her face while her lower half pursed into a pensive frown. The organic-looking technicolour buildings balanced upon their root-like stilts, the bridges connecting between them forming a layer of commuters above the workers in the canals. Even the blue sky felt so alien, compared to what she remembered. But maybe alien was what she needed? The complete opposite of the iron bars, pseudo-bone walls, and the cold empty blackness.

“Comin’ through!” A voice broke Chiro’s thoughts. One of the three-legged Gops, their body radially symmetrical like a starfish — save for the two limbs evolved to form grasping hands, and the five eyes merged together on top of the Gops’ bulging trunk in a single radial eyestalk. They were carrying a box, a clever bit of shimmying allowing them to walk through the gap Chiro made as she turned her body around to slim down her profile.

”Ah, sorry—”

The Gops carried on without missing a beat, leaving Chiro alone once again. Hands clinging to her forearms, Chiro looked down into the water. She saw herself, and how her dusky lips turned into a smile. Yes. She could get used to this.



<ORST – THE INNER SEA – THE MOVING ISLAND>

”Why do they call it the moving island, anyway?”

“Because it moves, duh.

“Yeah but has anybody seen it move? We’re naming it based on an assumption hidden in a book in some vault in a place called Know. Y’sure they didn’t call it that as a joke? Or because they got high?”

Trudge, trudge, trudge. Ramble, ramble, ramble. Two explorers with backpacks bigger than themselves argued as their boots gained mud and their vision gained height. Officially they were here to make a deal with the local Skogatti — brutal and cunning yet wise and powerful catfolk — to get them to stop harassing the company’s trade-ships. But more than just that, the two wanted an opportunity to just look at the island. It was rare that people managers to reach there, and the bountiful purple forests were the thing of legend.

Were.

Crossing over the top of the hill, the young blond boy was the first to set his eyes upon the trees. Crimson, just as the stories said. Surrounded by water that gleamed like mirrors, the trees had colourful fruits so laden that they bent the branches that held them. The lad splashed through the crystalline water, bringing his gloved hands towards the branch to pull it down that little bit lower and — snap! The branch broke, dropping the fruit in his hands. Large enough that it required both arms for him to carry it, he turned around to his sister and jostled the thing in an attempt to wave.

“I think I could get used to this!”



The unseen moon casts madness with its loathsome stare—

”Chiro, Chiro of...” The woman’s voice trailed off. That house was no longer hers, that title was no longer hers. ”… Just call me Chiro.” Black chitinous fingers held onto a cup filled with some alcoholic drink. No matter what it was, consuming it did nothing — it was an act of pure habit. She took a sip from the clay cup, before looking over to the sharp-eared stranger beside her.

”Chiro, huh. I’m Donnel,” he replied. He took some of his own drink, wiping his beard afterwards in a single swift motion. ”You said you were looking for work? They’re always looking for more hands down the mines. ‘course looking at your armour I guess you might be better at the whole ‘monster hunting’ business.” There was a pause, then a chuckle as the elf mused to himself. ”There’s work all over. Can’t guarantee any of it safe, but.”

It was as if his words had summoned the devil himself, how imminent the rattling began. Chiro’s alarmed reaction was counteracted by Donnel’s nonchalant response. ”Ah, earthquake. It’s normal, don’t worry about it.” The corresponding BWOOM that rolled from some unholy horn, however, was not normal. Donnel’s reaction now matched Chiro’s, and they were joined by the pub’s many denizens that went to the edge to try and peek out — to try and see whatever had caused it. Chiro’s nocturnal senses could detect the unusual floating thing in the sky, and when the few other nocturnal denizens spotted it, panic arose from the crowd.

“It’s an Oblin!” “What are they doing here?” “This is meant to be a safe zone-!” A thousand other mutterings that turned into shouting and running and hiding as the peaceful attitude turned into chaos. Chiro gazed up at the ‘Oblin’, the warped being of a hundred hands, bringing her hands ready to form a biological blade in order to battle this beast. Not that she would get the chance. The Oblin let loose another BWEOOOO, a crying howl before the dark figure became a light in the sky with the corona of an unseen sun—

—and for a few minutes and thousands of miles around, night became day.



—and the titan rose once more.

The night turning into day should have been the most catastrophic thing the two explorers should have ever experienced. The source came right from Port Solt — their home — and it didn’t take a genius to figure out that such a brightness did not bode well. Already the sister was taking out her comms unit from her backpack, matching wavelengths in an attempt to establish communications with home base. The static spoke for itself, but still she tried and still her voice got more desperate and frustrated. It ended with a single screaming ”Fuck!” The sister smacking the device before throwing it away.

“Look, maybe it’s just an EM disturbance?” The brother spoke, crouching by his sister. But his hands worked to pack his things, his actions singing a clear story for which she didn’t even need to hear to acknowledge and respond. This mission could wait. They needed to go back and find out what the hell happened, and they needed to do it now. For once they stopped bickering, working together to do a twenty-minute job in the span of five. They were already trekking down towards the beach and their boat, before the shockwave finally reached them. It did little more than jostle their hair and shift the leaves, but they were also over three hundred miles away in the middle of the sea. Their quickened pace might have been the only thing that saved them.

For the very island boomed in response.

The hurried march turned into a full-on panicked sprint, as the very earth beneath them began to shift. Down the jungle hills they ran, further and further down towards the sand and the water. The very sand sank beneath them as they finally sprinted towards their vessel, heaving together to unbeach it and clamber aboard right before the ground gave way for good.

Maybe on a better day, one of them would have commented on being the first in thousands of years to see this hundred-mile monstrosity rise and move. To see the stony skin of such a massive being shifting once more. Save for brief moment of awe that any living being would have, the only thing the two could think of was home.



<ORST – PORT SOLT – RUINS>

A gasping crash returned Chiro to reality. Her body seized without hesitation, feeling the weight of the rubble covering her before surging until she broke through. A growl lurched from her lungs, her body crashing out of the debris until she fell down the impromptu mound. Running on her biosuit’s cocktail of drugs, she rose to her feet with a flip, ready to face off against the adversary — that was no longer there. Without an enemy to fight, Chiro could only lower her blade and look at the devastation. Port Solt had been undone, and it looked like nothing had survived the encounter unchanged. The lucky buildings were still standing in one way or another, while the unlucky were little more than suggestions within the rubble.

Stepping forward and withdrawing her blade, Chiro’s next response was to look for other survivors. The quiet howl of the wind was drowned out by subsequent aftershocks, but those came from far away and were thus at the back of Chiro’s mind. At the front were her vampiric senses, once used to locate prey and now used to find survivors. Chiro sniffed, tasting the carbon-dioxide from panicked breaths deep within a pile of rubble. Taking long steps, her lithe armoured form went to work. Claws grabbed at the boulders, broken pieces of wall, support beams. Anything and everything that got in the way of her finding her target — a Tortan huddled within his protective shell. But rather than steal his essence as she should, Chiro extended a hand to the cowering figure. ”Take my hand.” A pause came, before the head of the figure left the shell, looking towards Chiro. When their hands came together, Chiro used her supernatural strength to pull the Tortan free.

”Stay put, I’m going to find other survivors.” And so Chiro strode off, ready to find other survivors of this tragedy.
In Testo 1 yr ago Forum: Test Forum


Invaders descend from the stars above.

The salty tang of seawater in her mouth was refreshing, compared to the dusty lifelessness of her former cell. Black chitin hands scraped through soft sand, seeking purchase to hoist Chiro up until she sat upon the beach. Gentle waves brushed against her biomechanical armoured legs, her living suit giving stimuli while protecting her at the same time. Ptoo! Chiro spat out the saltwater from her mouth. Her body curled once more as her feet planted in the sand and forced the slender woman up to her full height. Dark eyes gazed at the night sky, admiring how the red glow of the descending Château du Sang bounced from the smoky clouds that lined the horizon. Unsteady feet pushed Chiro the Disgraced along the beach, heavy bootprints left behind. She slogged on away from the red lights of that sordid invader, towards the hospitable glow of a nearby settlement.

Far away from there, far away from then.



<ORST - PORT SOLT - DOCKYARDS>

There are places on Orst comparable to jewels, precious stones and metals whose rarity was only outdone by their sheer lustre; Solt was not such a place. Solt’s mineral companion was the substance that gave the port its name, whose value is comparable to gold only through the sheer usefulness of its existence. Salt and Solt were both valuable through their ability to keep the body and world of Orst going. Barges floated down long winding canals, capillaries connected to the docks where their mineral goods could be loaded onto sleek white ships, ready to make the long journey through the inner sea to beacons such as Hōm, Knō, and Solaria. A whole smorgasbord of different species and races worked together to load these ships with goods. From humans and those who looked like them, to less common forms such as the turtle-shaped Tortan and the three-legged Gops.

Chiro stared at the sight from the shadows, her chitinous faceplate obscuring the upper half of her face while her lower half pursed into a pensive frown. The organic-looking technicolour buildings balanced upon their root-like stilts, the bridges connecting between them forming a layer of commuters above the workers in the canals. Even the blue sky felt so alien, compared to what she remembered. But maybe alien was what she needed? The complete opposite of the iron bars, pseudo-bone walls, and the cold empty blackness.

“Comin’ through!” A voice broke Chiro’s thoughts. One of the three-legged Gops, their body radially symmetrical like a starfish — save for the two limbs evolved to form grasping hands, and the five eyes merged together on top of the Gops’ bulging trunk in a single radial eyestalk. They were carrying a box, a clever bit of shimmying allowing them to walk through the gap Chiro made as she turned her body around to slim down her profile.

”Ah, sorry—”

The Gops carried on without missing a beat, leaving Chiro alone once again. Hands clinging to her forearms, Chiro looked down into the water. She saw herself, and how her dusky lips turned into a smile. Yes. She could get used to this.



<ORST – THE INNER SEA – THE MOVING ISLAND>

”Why do they call it the moving island, anyway?”

“Because it moves, duh.

“Yeah but has anybody seen it move? We’re naming it based on an assumption hidden in a book in some vault in a place called Know. Y’sure they didn’t call it that as a joke? Or because they got high?”

Trudge, trudge, trudge. Ramble, ramble, ramble. Two explorers with backpacks bigger than themselves argued as their boots gained mud and their vision gained height. Officially they were here to make a deal with the local Skogatti — brutal and cunning yet wise and powerful catfolk — to get them to stop harassing the company’s trade-ships. But more than just that, the two wanted an opportunity to just look at the island. It was rare that people managers to reach there, and the bountiful purple forests were the thing of legend.

Were.

Crossing over the top of the hill, the young blond boy was the first to set his eyes upon the trees. Crimson, just as the stories said. Surrounded by water that gleamed like mirrors, the trees had colourful fruits so laden that they bent the branches that held them. The lad splashed through the crystalline water, bringing his gloved hands towards the branch to pull it down that little bit lower and — snap! The branch broke, dropping the fruit in his hands. Large enough that it required both arms for him to carry it, he turned around to his sister and jostled the thing in an attempt to wave.

“I think I could get used to this!”



The unseen moon casts madness with its loathsome stare—

”Chiro, Chiro of...” The woman’s voice trailed off. That house was no longer hers, that title was no longer hers. ”… Just call me Chiro.” Black chitinous fingers held onto a cup filled with some alcoholic drink. No matter what it was, consuming it did nothing — it was an act of pure habit. She took a sip from the clay cup, before looking over to the sharp-eared stranger beside her.

”Chiro, huh. I’m Donnel,” he replied. He took some of his own drink, wiping his beard afterwards in a single swift motion. ”You said you were looking for work? They’re always looking for more hands down the mines. ‘course looking at your armour I guess you might be better at the whole ‘monster hunting’ business.” There was a pause, then a chuckle as the elf mused to himself. ”There’s work all over. Can’t guarantee any of it safe, but.”

It was as if his words had summoned the devil himself, how imminent the rattling began. Chiro’s alarmed reaction was counteracted by Donnel’s nonchalant response. ”Ah, earthquake. It’s normal, don’t worry about it.” The corresponding BWOOM that rolled from some unholy horn, however, was not normal. Donnel’s reaction now matched Chiro’s, and they were joined by the pub’s many denizens that went to the edge to try and peek out — to try and see whatever had caused it. Chiro’s nocturnal senses could detect the unusual floating thing in the sky, and when the few other nocturnal denizens spotted it, panic arose from the crowd.

“It’s an Oblin!” “What are they doing here?” “This is meant to be a safe zone-!” A thousand other mutterings that turned into shouting and running and hiding as the peaceful attitude turned into chaos. Chiro gazed up at the ‘Oblin’, the warped being of a hundred hands, bringing her hands ready to form a biological blade in order to battle this beast. Not that she would get the chance. The Oblin let loose another BWEOOOO, a crying howl before the dark figure became a light in the sky with the corona of an unseen sun—

—and for a few minutes and thousands of miles around, night became day.



—and the titan rose once more.

The night turning into day should have been the most catastrophic thing the two explorers should have ever experienced. The source came right from Port Solt — their home — and it didn’t take a genius to figure out that such a brightness did not bode well. Already the sister was taking out her comms unit from her backpack, matching wavelengths in an attempt to establish communications with home base. The static spoke for itself, but still she tried and still her voice got more desperate and frustrated. It ended with a single screaming ”Fuck!” The sister smacking the device before throwing it away.

“Look, maybe it’s just an EM disturbance?” The brother spoke, crouching by his sister. But his hands worked to pack his things, his actions singing a clear story for which she didn’t even need to hear to acknowledge and respond. This mission could wait. They needed to go back and find out what the hell happened, and they needed to do it now. For once they stopped bickering, working together to do a twenty-minute job in the span of five. They were already trekking down towards the beach and their boat, before the shockwave finally reached them. It did little more than jostle their hair and shift the leaves, but they were also over three hundred miles away in the middle of the sea. Their quickened pace might have been the only thing that saved them.

For the very island boomed in response.

The hurried march turned into a full-on panicked sprint, as the very earth beneath them began to shift. Down the jungle hills they ran, further and further down towards the sand and the water. The very sand sank beneath them as they finally sprinted towards their vessel, heaving together to unbeach it and clamber aboard right before the ground gave way for good.

Maybe on a better day, one of them would have commented on being the first in thousands of years to see this hundred-mile monstrosity rise and move. To see the stony skin of such a massive being shifting once more. Save for brief moment of awe that any living being would have, the only thing the two could think of was home.



<ORST – PORT SOLT – RUINS>

A gasping crash returned Chiro to reality. Her body seized without hesitation, feeling the weight of the rubble covering her before surging until she broke through. A growl lurched from her lungs, her body crashing out of the debris until she fell down the impromptu mound. Running on her biosuit’s cocktail of drugs, she rose to her feet with a flip, ready to face off against the adversary — that was no longer there. Without an enemy to fight, Chiro could only lower her blade and look at the devastation. Port Solt had been undone, and it looked like nothing had survived the encounter unchanged. The lucky buildings were still standing in one way or another, while the unlucky were little more than suggestions within the rubble.

Stepping forward and withdrawing her blade, Chiro’s next response was to look for other survivors. The quiet howl of the wind was drowned out by subsequent aftershocks, but those came from far away and were thus at the back of Chiro’s mind. At the front were her vampiric senses, once used to locate prey and now used to find survivors. Chiro sniffed, tasting the carbon-dioxide from panicked breaths deep within a pile of rubble. Taking long steps, her lithe armoured form went to work. Claws grabbed at the boulders, broken pieces of wall, support beams. Anything and everything that got in the way of her finding her target — a Tortan huddled within his protective shell. But rather than steal his essence as she should, Chiro extended a hand to the cowering figure. ”Take my hand.” A pause came, before the head of the figure left the shell, looking towards Chiro. When their hands came together, Chiro used her supernatural strength to pull the Tortan free.

”Stay put, I’m going to find other survivors.” And so Chiro strode off, ready to find other survivors of this tragedy.
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