Tyrese Washington 3 Share Posted July 26, 2021 Character Information: The IC log for the character bellow can be found at this link: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1JmCuqMh4rvacl05011_Zs8OIyzdnvD2XAlqshioafyQ/edit?usp=sharing OOC Section Steam Name: Cool Jesus Steam ID: STEAM_0:1:112561055 In-Game Name: Tyrese Washington Discord: Cool Jesus#8517 ??? Name: Anubis Job Title: Anubis Equipment: Pyrokinesis Swep No-Collide Swep Knife (SUBJECT TO CHANGE) Playermodel: Suited Male Relations: Foundation: Friendly MCD: Undecided Anderson’s Robotics Company: Undecided CI: Hostile How will this character improve RP?: This character has the chance to improve passive roleplay all over the site. Giving most personal the ability to interact with a new and interesting character. It as well opens new opportunities for not only scientists to run some interesting tests, but for some armed guards to perform new as well as different tasks than just, stand around the site and shoot things. (If there is anything that needs to be changed or added please contact me at the discord stated above and I will change it ASAP. As well as just some general feedback would be nice seeing how this is my first custom character.) Oswald Bruner and Rachel Fischer 2 Link to comment
Linxio 5 Share Posted July 26, 2021 (edited) A Journal rests on a small table, Candle lit but no soul is near to accompany the lone flame.Read the journal? Edited July 30, 2021 by Linxio Edward Balls, Joe Drakan, Oswald Bruner and 2 others 5 Link to comment
Josh Richardson 30 Share Posted July 27, 2021 (edited) Fixedyou look down and notice a book Edited July 28, 2021 by The council of Josh no fr Link to comment
Qas 101 Share Posted July 28, 2021 (edited) Á𝔡𝔞𝔢𝔳𝔞𝔳𝔞𝔬𝔫 𝔡𝔢á𝔤 𝔱𝔞𝔦. Ṭ𝔢𝔲𝔨𝔪𝔰𝔞𝔢 𝔱𝔞𝔦. 𝔇𝔲𝔳𝔱𝔞𝔢𝔫 𝔱𝔞𝔦. Á𝔭á𝔡𝔫𝔣𝔢𝔲𝔱 𝔩𝔢𝔲𝔵 𝔵𝔦𝔭𝔬𝔳𝔢 𝔱𝔞𝔦. 𝔗𝔦á𝔩ḳ 𝔢á 𝔱𝔞𝔦 𝔰𝔞𝔤𝔬𝔰á 𝔭á𝔡𝔫𝔣𝔢𝔲𝔱. 𝔗𝔢á𝔱𝔢𝔫𝔢𝔫 𝔱𝔦𝔥𝔞𝔷𝔲. 𝔎𝔬𝔪𝔦𝔱𝔢𝔫𝔢𝔫 𝔱𝔦ḳá𝔣á. 𝔗𝔦á𝔩ḳ ṭá 𝔱𝔦𝔪𝔬𝔰𝔲 𝔱𝔞𝔦. 𝔐𝔞𝔦𝔵𝔢 ṭ𝔞𝔲𝔩𝔬𝔣𝔞𝔦 𝔰á𝔨𝔢𝔣𝔢 𝔡𝔢á𝔤𝔢𝔫𝔣𝔞𝔦. 𝔇𝔞𝔬š𝔯𝔢 𝔰𝔞ṭá𝔣𝔦𝔤𝔢 á𝔭á𝔡𝔫𝔣𝔢𝔲𝔱 𝔟𝔞. ℑ𝔱 𝔴𝔞𝔰 𝔠𝔬𝔩𝔡. 𝔚𝔦𝔫𝔱𝔢𝔯 𝔟𝔬𝔯𝔢 𝔡𝔬𝔴𝔫 𝔬𝔫 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔟𝔩𝔞𝔠𝔨 𝔰𝔱𝔬𝔫𝔢 𝔰𝔭𝔦𝔯𝔢𝔰 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔰𝔩𝔞𝔳𝔢 𝔭𝔦𝔱𝔰 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔰𝔪𝔬𝔨𝔢𝔰𝔱𝔞𝔠𝔨𝔰 𝔬𝔣 𝔇𝔞𝔢𝔳𝔬𝔫 𝔦𝔫 𝔞 𝔰𝔥𝔢𝔢𝔱 𝔬𝔣 𝔣𝔯𝔬𝔷𝔢𝔫 𝔩𝔢𝔞𝔡. 𝔖𝔫𝔬𝔴 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔞𝔰𝔥 𝔥𝔞𝔡 𝔪𝔦𝔵𝔢𝔡 𝔦𝔫𝔱𝔬 𝔞𝔫 𝔦𝔫𝔡𝔢𝔣𝔦𝔫𝔞𝔟𝔩𝔢 𝔰𝔩𝔲𝔯𝔯𝔶 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔣𝔦𝔩𝔩𝔢𝔡 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔫𝔞𝔯𝔯𝔬𝔴 𝔰𝔱𝔯𝔢𝔢𝔱𝔰. 𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔩𝔞𝔪𝔭𝔰 𝔣𝔬𝔲𝔤𝔥𝔱 𝔲𝔰𝔢𝔩𝔢𝔰𝔰𝔩𝔶 𝔞𝔤𝔞𝔦𝔫𝔰𝔱 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔢𝔫𝔠𝔬𝔪𝔭𝔞𝔰𝔰𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔡𝔞𝔯𝔨𝔫𝔢𝔰𝔰. ℑ𝔫 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔤𝔩𝔬𝔬𝔪, 𝔰𝔬𝔪𝔢 𝔰𝔱𝔯𝔞𝔶 𝔡𝔬𝔤𝔰 𝔭𝔦𝔠𝔨𝔢𝔡 𝔞𝔱 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔣𝔯𝔬𝔷𝔢𝔫 𝔟𝔬𝔡𝔶 𝔬𝔣 𝔞 𝔰𝔩𝔞𝔳𝔢 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔥𝔞𝔡 𝔫𝔬𝔱 𝔪𝔞𝔡𝔢 𝔦𝔱 𝔥𝔬𝔪𝔢 𝔱𝔬 𝔥𝔦𝔰 𝔪𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔯’𝔰 𝔥𝔢𝔞𝔯𝔱𝔥. 𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔞𝔯𝔱𝔦𝔰𝔱 𝔯𝔢𝔠𝔩𝔦𝔫𝔢𝔡 𝔦𝔫 𝔥𝔢𝔯 𝔢𝔤𝔤𝔰𝔥𝔢𝔩𝔩 𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔦𝔯, 𝔫𝔲𝔡𝔢. 𝔖𝔦𝔩𝔨𝔰 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔣𝔲𝔯𝔰 𝔴𝔢𝔯𝔢 𝔡𝔯𝔞𝔭𝔢𝔡 𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔥𝔞𝔷𝔞𝔯𝔡𝔩𝔶 𝔞𝔯𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔡 𝔥𝔢𝔯, 𝔪𝔬𝔯𝔢 𝔬𝔯 𝔩𝔢𝔰𝔰 𝔲𝔫𝔫𝔢𝔢𝔡𝔢𝔡 𝔦𝔫 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔰𝔬𝔣𝔱 𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔪𝔱𝔥 𝔬𝔣 𝔥𝔢𝔯 𝔰𝔱𝔲𝔡𝔦𝔬. 𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔢𝔲𝔭𝔥𝔬𝔯𝔦𝔞 𝔬𝔣 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔞𝔠𝔱 𝔴𝔞𝔰 𝔰𝔱𝔦𝔩𝔩 𝔣𝔯𝔢𝔰𝔥, 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔢𝔩𝔢𝔠𝔱𝔯𝔦𝔠 𝔱𝔥𝔯𝔦𝔩𝔩 𝔬𝔣 𝔤𝔦𝔳𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔩𝔦𝔣𝔢 𝔱𝔬 𝔞𝔯𝔱. ℌ𝔢𝔯 𝔥𝔞𝔫𝔡𝔰 𝔪𝔬𝔳𝔢𝔡 𝔴𝔦𝔱𝔥 𝔭𝔯𝔢𝔠𝔦𝔰𝔦𝔬𝔫 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔰𝔭𝔢𝔢𝔡, 𝔡𝔢𝔱𝔞𝔦𝔩𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔡𝔰, 𝔣𝔦𝔤𝔲𝔯𝔢𝔰, 𝔰𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔢𝔰. ℑ𝔫𝔨 𝔟𝔩𝔬𝔰𝔰𝔬𝔪𝔢𝔡 𝔬𝔲𝔱 𝔞𝔠𝔯𝔬𝔰𝔰 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔰𝔥𝔢𝔢𝔱 𝔬𝔣 𝔳𝔢𝔩𝔩𝔲𝔪 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔴𝔞𝔰 𝔰𝔱𝔯𝔢𝔱𝔠𝔥𝔢𝔡 𝔬𝔲𝔱 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔥𝔢𝔩𝔡 𝔱𝔞𝔲𝔤𝔥𝔱 𝔟𝔶 𝔧𝔬𝔦𝔫𝔱𝔢𝔡 𝔦𝔯𝔬𝔫 𝔩𝔢𝔤𝔰. ℑ𝔫𝔨 𝔴𝔞𝔰 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔩𝔦𝔣𝔢 𝔬𝔣 𝔞𝔯𝔱 𝔞𝔰 𝔟𝔩𝔬𝔬𝔡 𝔴𝔞𝔰 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔩𝔦𝔣𝔢 𝔬𝔣 𝔪𝔞𝔫. 𝔖𝔥𝔢 𝔥𝔞𝔡 𝔪𝔞𝔡𝔢, 𝔠𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔱𝔢𝔡, 𝔤𝔦𝔳𝔢𝔫 𝔟𝔦𝔯𝔱𝔥 𝔱𝔬, 𝔴𝔞𝔰 𝔞𝔯𝔱. 𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔦𝔫𝔨 𝔥𝔞𝔡 𝔞𝔩𝔩 𝔭𝔬𝔬𝔩𝔢𝔡 𝔦𝔫 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔟𝔞𝔰𝔦𝔫 𝔲𝔫𝔡𝔢𝔯𝔫𝔢𝔞𝔱𝔥 𝔥𝔢𝔯 𝔞𝔰 𝔰𝔥𝔢 𝔪𝔞𝔡𝔢 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔣𝔦𝔯𝔰𝔱 𝔦𝔫𝔠𝔦𝔰𝔦𝔬𝔫, 𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔫 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔟𝔩𝔞𝔠𝔨, 𝔭𝔬𝔲𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔬𝔲𝔱 𝔬𝔣 𝔥𝔢𝔯 𝔟𝔬𝔡𝔶 𝔴𝔦𝔱𝔥𝔬𝔲𝔱 𝔰𝔱𝔞𝔦𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤. 𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔤𝔦𝔣𝔱 𝔬𝔣 𝔱𝔥𝔢 ℌ𝔬𝔯𝔫𝔢𝔡 𝔎𝔦𝔫𝔤, 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔥𝔦𝔰 𝔡𝔦𝔰𝔠𝔦𝔭𝔩𝔢𝔰 𝔪𝔦𝔤𝔥𝔱 𝔱𝔲𝔯𝔫 𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔦𝔯 𝔬𝔴𝔫 𝔩𝔦𝔣𝔢 𝔦𝔫𝔱𝔬 𝔞𝔯𝔱 𝔣𝔬𝔯 𝔥𝔦𝔰 𝔤𝔩𝔬𝔯𝔶. 𝔖𝔥𝔢 𝔥𝔞𝔡 𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔨𝔢𝔡 𝔮𝔲𝔦𝔠𝔨𝔩𝔶 𝔞𝔣𝔱𝔢𝔯 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔱, 𝔠𝔞𝔯𝔢𝔣𝔲𝔩𝔩𝔶 𝔭𝔯𝔢𝔭𝔞𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔳𝔢𝔩𝔩𝔲𝔪, 𝔥𝔢𝔯 𝔥𝔢𝔞𝔯𝔱 𝔣𝔦𝔩𝔩𝔢𝔡 𝔴𝔦𝔱𝔥 𝔧𝔬𝔶. 𝔖𝔥𝔢 𝔱𝔬𝔬𝔨 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔰𝔨𝔦𝔫, 𝔱𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔱𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔦𝔱 𝔴𝔦𝔱𝔥 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔞𝔭𝔭𝔯𝔬𝔭𝔯𝔦𝔞𝔱𝔢 𝔠𝔥𝔢𝔪𝔦𝔠𝔞𝔩𝔰 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔰𝔭𝔦𝔠𝔢𝔰, 𝔡𝔯𝔞𝔦𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔯𝔢𝔰𝔱 𝔬𝔣 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔦𝔫𝔨 𝔬𝔣𝔣 𝔦𝔫𝔱𝔬 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔟𝔞𝔰𝔦𝔫. 𝔗𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔡𝔬𝔫𝔢, 𝔴𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔯𝔢𝔪𝔞𝔦𝔫𝔢𝔡 𝔥𝔞𝔡 𝔟𝔢𝔢𝔫 𝔟𝔲𝔯𝔫𝔱 𝔦𝔫 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔣𝔲𝔯𝔫𝔞𝔠𝔢 𝔰𝔥𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔢 𝔰𝔢𝔱 𝔦𝔫 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔴𝔞𝔩𝔩, 𝔴𝔦𝔱𝔥 𝔦𝔫𝔠𝔢𝔫𝔰𝔢 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔭𝔯𝔞𝔶𝔢𝔯𝔰, 𝔲𝔫𝔡𝔢𝔯𝔫𝔢𝔞𝔱𝔥 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔭𝔞𝔦𝔫𝔱𝔢𝔡 𝔰𝔱𝔬𝔫𝔢 𝔣𝔬𝔯𝔪 𝔬𝔣 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔎𝔦𝔫𝔤, 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔦𝔱 𝔴𝔞𝔰 𝔭𝔩𝔢𝔞𝔰𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔱𝔬 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔞𝔯𝔱𝔦𝔰𝔱’𝔰 𝔩𝔬𝔯𝔡. ℑ𝔱 𝔴𝔞𝔰 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔎𝔦𝔫𝔤’𝔰 𝔠𝔬𝔪𝔪𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔥𝔢 𝔱𝔞𝔨𝔢 𝔭𝔞𝔯𝔱 𝔦𝔫 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔞𝔯𝔱, 𝔣𝔬𝔯 𝔦𝔣 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔎𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔟𝔬𝔯𝔢 𝔤𝔬𝔡𝔥𝔬𝔬𝔡 𝔦𝔫 𝔥𝔦𝔰 𝔠𝔯𝔬𝔴𝔫, 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔞𝔯𝔱 𝔴𝔞𝔰 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔞𝔯𝔱𝔦𝔰𝔱, 𝔱𝔥𝔲𝔰 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔞𝔯𝔱-𝔞𝔯𝔱𝔦𝔰𝔱 𝔩𝔦𝔨𝔢𝔴𝔦𝔰𝔢 𝔠𝔞𝔪𝔢 𝔱𝔬 𝔤𝔬𝔡𝔥𝔬𝔬𝔡. 𝔄𝔠𝔠𝔬𝔯𝔡𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔱𝔬 𝔱𝔯𝔞𝔡𝔦𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫, 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔲𝔪𝔟𝔦𝔩𝔦𝔠𝔞𝔩 𝔠𝔬𝔯𝔡 𝔴𝔞𝔰 𝔱𝔦𝔢𝔡 𝔞𝔯𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔡 𝔥𝔢𝔯 𝔫𝔢𝔠𝔨. 𝔖𝔥𝔢 𝔠𝔬𝔫𝔱𝔦𝔫𝔲𝔢𝔡 𝔱𝔬 𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔨, 𝔭𝔬𝔲𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔥𝔢𝔯 𝔩𝔦𝔣𝔢, 𝔥𝔢𝔯 𝔰𝔬𝔲𝔩, 𝔦𝔫𝔱𝔬 𝔥𝔢𝔯 𝔞𝔯𝔱, 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔣𝔯𝔬𝔷𝔢𝔫 𝔫𝔦𝔤𝔥𝔱 𝔭𝔯𝔢𝔰𝔰𝔢𝔡 𝔬𝔫 𝔬𝔲𝔱𝔰𝔦𝔡𝔢. ℑ𝔫 𝔱𝔦𝔪𝔢, 𝔴𝔥𝔢𝔫 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔤𝔯𝔢𝔶 𝔰𝔪𝔬𝔤-𝔰𝔪𝔢𝔞𝔯𝔢𝔡 𝔡𝔞𝔴𝔫 𝔞𝔭𝔭𝔯𝔬𝔞𝔠𝔥𝔢𝔡, 𝔰𝔥𝔢 𝔭𝔲𝔱 𝔡𝔬𝔴𝔫 𝔥𝔢𝔯 𝔭𝔢𝔫𝔰, 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔰𝔪𝔦𝔩𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔞𝔱 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔨 𝔰𝔥𝔢 𝔥𝔞𝔡 𝔡𝔬𝔫𝔢, 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔞𝔯𝔱𝔦𝔰𝔱 𝔟𝔢𝔤𝔞𝔫 𝔱𝔬 𝔰𝔢𝔴 𝔲𝔭 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔰𝔩𝔦𝔱 𝔦𝔫 𝔥𝔢𝔯 𝔟𝔢𝔩𝔩𝔶. 𝔄𝔩𝔩 𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔰 𝔴𝔞𝔰 𝔭𝔩𝔢𝔞𝔰𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔱𝔬 𝔐𝔬𝔩𝔲𝔠𝔥, 𝔱𝔥𝔢 ℌ𝔬𝔯𝔫𝔢𝔡 𝔎𝔦𝔫𝔤 ℭ𝔯𝔬𝔴𝔫𝔢𝔡 𝔦𝔫 𝔖𝔥𝔞𝔪𝔢. “𝔄𝔫𝔡 𝔰𝔬 𝔄𝔟-𝔏𝔢𝔰𝔥𝔞𝔩 𝔯𝔢𝔱𝔲𝔯𝔫𝔰 𝔱𝔬 𝔲𝔰, 𝔠𝔯𝔬𝔴𝔫𝔢𝔡 𝔦𝔫 𝔱𝔯𝔦𝔲𝔪𝔭𝔥,” 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔰𝔩𝔞𝔳𝔢-𝔟𝔯𝔬𝔨𝔢𝔯 𝔰𝔞𝔦𝔡 𝔞𝔰 𝔥𝔢 𝔩𝔬𝔬𝔨𝔢𝔡 𝔬𝔲𝔱 𝔬𝔳𝔢𝔯 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔰𝔫𝔬𝔴𝔶 𝔠𝔦𝔱𝔶 𝔣𝔯𝔬𝔪 𝔥𝔦𝔰 𝔟𝔞𝔩𝔠𝔬𝔫𝔶, 𝔴𝔦𝔫𝔢 𝔤𝔩𝔞𝔰𝔰 𝔦𝔫 𝔥𝔞𝔫𝔡. “𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔠𝔯𝔬𝔴𝔡 𝔤𝔬𝔢𝔰 𝔴𝔦𝔩𝔡.” ℌ𝔢 𝔥𝔞𝔡 𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔡 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔞𝔠𝔠𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱𝔰 𝔬𝔣 𝔴𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔶 𝔥𝔞𝔡 𝔯𝔢𝔱𝔲𝔯𝔫𝔢𝔡 𝔴𝔦𝔱𝔥. 𝔗𝔴𝔢𝔩𝔳𝔢 𝔱𝔥𝔬𝔲𝔰𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔰𝔩𝔞𝔳𝔢𝔰, 𝔣𝔦𝔳𝔢 𝔱𝔥𝔬𝔲𝔰𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔤𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔱 𝔪𝔢𝔞𝔰𝔲𝔯𝔢𝔰 𝔬𝔣 𝔤𝔬𝔩𝔡, 𝔰𝔢𝔳𝔢𝔫 𝔱𝔥𝔬𝔲𝔰𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔬𝔣 𝔦𝔯𝔬𝔫, 𝔱𝔢𝔫 𝔬𝔣 𝔟𝔯𝔬𝔫𝔷𝔢, 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔠𝔬𝔯𝔭𝔰𝔢 𝔬𝔣 𝔞 𝔤𝔬𝔡 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔰𝔢𝔠𝔯𝔢𝔱 𝔬𝔣 𝔱𝔯𝔲𝔢 𝔦𝔪𝔪𝔬𝔯𝔱𝔞𝔩𝔦𝔱𝔶. 𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔤𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔱𝔢𝔰𝔱 𝔱𝔯𝔦𝔲𝔪𝔭𝔥 𝔬𝔣 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔞𝔤𝔢. 𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔰𝔩𝔞𝔳𝔢-𝔟𝔯𝔬𝔨𝔢𝔯 𝔰𝔦𝔭𝔭𝔢𝔡 𝔣𝔯𝔬𝔪 𝔥𝔦𝔰 𝔤𝔩𝔞𝔰𝔰. 𝔉𝔯𝔬𝔪 𝔥𝔦𝔰 𝔭𝔢𝔯𝔰𝔭𝔢𝔠𝔱𝔦𝔳𝔢, 𝔥𝔢 𝔴𝔞𝔰 𝔞𝔟𝔩𝔢 𝔱𝔬 𝔰𝔢𝔢 𝔬𝔫𝔢 𝔬𝔣 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔤𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔱 𝔠𝔬𝔫𝔠𝔬𝔲𝔯𝔰𝔢𝔰 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔩𝔢𝔡 𝔱𝔬 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔥𝔦𝔤𝔥 𝔱𝔢𝔪𝔭𝔩𝔢 𝔦𝔫 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔠𝔢𝔫𝔱𝔢𝔯 𝔬𝔣 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔠𝔦𝔱𝔶, 𝔣𝔦𝔩𝔩𝔢𝔡 𝔱𝔬 𝔱𝔯𝔞𝔪𝔭𝔩𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔡𝔢𝔫𝔰𝔦𝔱𝔶 𝔴𝔦𝔱𝔥 𝔰𝔬𝔩𝔡𝔦𝔢𝔯𝔰 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔠𝔢𝔩𝔢𝔟𝔯𝔞𝔱𝔬𝔯𝔰. 𝔈𝔞𝔠𝔥 𝔪𝔞𝔫 𝔴𝔥𝔬 𝔰𝔬 𝔞𝔰 𝔪𝔲𝔠𝔥 𝔥𝔢𝔩𝔡 𝔞 𝔰𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔡 𝔬𝔯 𝔪𝔲𝔰𝔨𝔢𝔱 𝔴𝔬𝔲𝔩𝔡 𝔣𝔦𝔫𝔡 𝔥𝔦𝔪𝔰𝔢𝔩𝔣 𝔴𝔢𝔩𝔠𝔬𝔪𝔢 𝔦𝔫 𝔞𝔫𝔶 𝔴𝔥𝔬𝔯𝔢𝔥𝔬𝔲𝔰𝔢 𝔦𝔫 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔠𝔦𝔱𝔶, 𝔰𝔦𝔪𝔭𝔩𝔶 𝔣𝔬𝔯 𝔥𝔞𝔳𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔰𝔢𝔯𝔳𝔢𝔡 𝔲𝔫𝔡𝔢𝔯 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔠𝔬𝔪𝔪𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔬𝔣 𝔄𝔟-𝔏𝔢𝔰𝔥𝔞𝔩, 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔉𝔦𝔯𝔰𝔱 𝔖𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔡 𝔬𝔣 𝔇𝔞𝔢𝔳𝔬𝔫. 𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔰𝔩𝔞𝔳𝔢-𝔟𝔯𝔬𝔨𝔢𝔯’𝔰 𝔪𝔞𝔤𝔢𝔠𝔯𝔞𝔣𝔱 𝔢𝔶𝔢𝔰 𝔞𝔩𝔩𝔬𝔴𝔢𝔡 𝔥𝔦𝔪 𝔣𝔞𝔯 𝔟𝔢𝔱𝔱𝔢𝔯 𝔰𝔦𝔤𝔥𝔱 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔫 𝔫𝔬𝔯𝔪𝔞𝔩 𝔪𝔢𝔫 𝔰𝔬 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔢𝔳𝔢𝔫 𝔞𝔱 𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔰 𝔡𝔦𝔰𝔱𝔞𝔫𝔠𝔢 𝔥𝔢 𝔠𝔬𝔲𝔩𝔡 𝔣𝔬𝔠𝔲𝔰 𝔬𝔫 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔭𝔢𝔬𝔭𝔩𝔢 𝔞𝔯𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔡 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔞𝔩𝔱𝔞𝔯 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔥𝔞𝔡 𝔟𝔢𝔢𝔫 𝔰𝔢𝔱 𝔲𝔭 𝔞𝔱 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔣𝔬𝔬𝔱 𝔬𝔣 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔥𝔦𝔤𝔥 𝔱𝔢𝔪𝔭𝔩𝔢 𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔭𝔰. 𝔗𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔢 𝔴𝔢𝔯𝔢 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔥𝔦𝔤𝔥 𝔭𝔯𝔦𝔢𝔰𝔱𝔰, 𝔠𝔬𝔳𝔢𝔯𝔢𝔡 𝔥𝔢𝔞𝔡 𝔱𝔬 𝔱𝔬𝔢 𝔦𝔫 𝔠𝔯𝔦𝔪𝔰𝔬𝔫 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔯𝔬𝔟𝔢𝔰. 𝔗𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔢 𝔴𝔞𝔰 𝔄𝔟-𝔏𝔢𝔰𝔥𝔞𝔩, 𝔪𝔬𝔯𝔢 𝔴𝔞𝔩𝔩 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔫 𝔪𝔞𝔫, 𝔱𝔞𝔱𝔱𝔬𝔬𝔢𝔡 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔠𝔯𝔞𝔤𝔤𝔶. 𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔉𝔬𝔲𝔯𝔱𝔥 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔖𝔢𝔳𝔢𝔫𝔱𝔥 𝔖𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔡𝔰 𝔴𝔢𝔯𝔢 𝔞𝔩𝔰𝔬 𝔭𝔯𝔢𝔰𝔢𝔫𝔱, 𝔰𝔩𝔦𝔪 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔢𝔣𝔣𝔢𝔪𝔦𝔫𝔞𝔱𝔢 𝔍𝔞𝔡-𝔨𝔞𝔯 𝔇𝔞𝔯𝔨-𝔅𝔩𝔞𝔡𝔢 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔫𝔢𝔲𝔯𝔬𝔱𝔦𝔠, 𝔴𝔦𝔡𝔢-𝔢𝔶𝔢𝔡 𝔅𝔢𝔯𝔤𝔬𝔫 𝔖𝔬𝔲𝔩𝔟𝔢𝔞𝔯𝔢𝔯, 𝔢𝔞𝔠𝔥 𝔰𝔱𝔞𝔫𝔡𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔞 𝔯𝔢𝔰𝔭𝔢𝔠𝔱𝔣𝔲𝔩 𝔡𝔦𝔰𝔱𝔞𝔫𝔠𝔢 𝔟𝔢𝔥𝔦𝔫𝔡 𝔄𝔟-𝔏𝔢𝔰𝔥𝔞𝔩. 𝔗𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔢 𝔴𝔞𝔰 𝔒𝔡𝔯𝔞𝔥𝔫 𝔎𝔞𝔥𝔡 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔐𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔯 𝔬𝔣 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔎𝔢𝔶𝔰, 𝔓𝔯𝔞𝔱𝔞𝔫 𝔇𝔞𝔦 𝔱𝔥𝔢 ℭ𝔯𝔞𝔣𝔱𝔪𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔯, 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔐𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔯 𝔊𝔢𝔫𝔢𝔯𝔞𝔩𝔰 ℌ𝔯𝔞𝔡𝔲𝔫, 𝔙𝔞𝔰𝔦𝔤, 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔎𝔥𝔞𝔷𝔢𝔰, ℭ𝔲𝔯𝔦𝔵 𝔑𝔬𝔞𝔫, 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔞𝔯𝔱𝔦𝔰𝔱 𝔠𝔞𝔩𝔩𝔢𝔡 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔪𝔦𝔰𝔱𝔯𝔢𝔰𝔰 𝔬𝔣 𝔦𝔫𝔨, 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔡𝔬𝔷𝔢𝔫𝔰 𝔬𝔣 𝔬𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯 𝔤𝔬𝔳𝔢𝔯𝔫𝔪𝔢𝔫𝔱 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔯𝔢𝔩𝔦𝔤𝔦𝔬𝔲𝔰 𝔬𝔣𝔣𝔦𝔠𝔦𝔞𝔩𝔰, 𝔞𝔩𝔩 𝔡𝔯𝔢𝔰𝔰𝔢𝔡 𝔦𝔫 𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔦𝔯 𝔣𝔦𝔫𝔢𝔰𝔱. 𝔖𝔲𝔯𝔯𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔡𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔥𝔦𝔤𝔥 𝔞𝔩𝔱𝔞𝔯 𝔴𝔢𝔯𝔢 𝔰𝔪𝔞𝔩𝔩𝔢𝔯 𝔞𝔩𝔱𝔞𝔯𝔰, 𝔥𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔢𝔡 𝔟𝔶 𝔱𝔬𝔴𝔢𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔦𝔡𝔬𝔩𝔰 𝔬𝔣 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔤𝔬𝔡𝔰: 𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔎𝔦𝔫𝔤-ℑ𝔫-𝔖𝔠𝔞𝔯𝔩𝔢𝔱, 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔑𝔬𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔫𝔤-ℑ𝔫-𝔄𝔩𝔩, 𝔱𝔥𝔢 ℌ𝔞𝔫𝔤𝔢𝔡 𝔎𝔦𝔫𝔤, 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔈𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔫𝔞𝔩 𝔗𝔢𝔵𝔱𝔰, 𝔐𝔬𝔩𝔲𝔠𝔥 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔎𝔦𝔫𝔤 ℭ𝔯𝔬𝔴𝔫𝔢𝔡 𝔦𝔫 𝔖𝔥𝔞𝔪𝔢, 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔚𝔬𝔫𝔡𝔢𝔯-𝔐𝔞𝔨𝔢𝔯, 𝔊𝔬𝔱𝔥𝔬𝔤 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔐𝔦𝔤𝔥𝔱𝔶, 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔐𝔬𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯 𝔬𝔣 𝔗𝔥𝔢𝔪 𝔄𝔩𝔩, 𝔐𝔬𝔩𝔲𝔤 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔅𝔯𝔬𝔨𝔢𝔫 𝔉𝔦𝔰𝔱, ℭ𝔞𝔯𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔠 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔐𝔞𝔫𝔶-𝔉𝔞𝔠𝔢𝔡 𝔎𝔦𝔫𝔤, 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔬𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔰. 𝔄 𝔤𝔬𝔫𝔤 𝔰𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔡𝔢𝔡, 𝔣𝔬𝔩𝔩𝔬𝔴𝔢𝔡 𝔟𝔶 𝔱𝔥𝔯𝔢𝔢 𝔟𝔩𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔰 𝔬𝔫 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔱𝔴𝔢𝔫𝔱𝔶-𝔣𝔬𝔬𝔱 𝔱𝔢𝔪𝔭𝔩𝔢 𝔥𝔬𝔯𝔫𝔰. 𝔅𝔬𝔫𝔣𝔦𝔯𝔢𝔰 𝔟𝔲𝔯𝔰𝔱 𝔱𝔬 𝔩𝔦𝔣𝔢 𝔞𝔱 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔣𝔢𝔢𝔱 𝔬𝔣 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔦𝔡𝔬𝔩𝔰, 𝔠𝔩𝔬𝔲𝔡𝔰 𝔬𝔣 𝔦𝔫𝔠𝔢𝔫𝔰𝔢 𝔯𝔦𝔰𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔦𝔫𝔱𝔬 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔞𝔦𝔯 𝔞𝔰 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔠𝔥𝔞𝔫𝔱𝔰 𝔰𝔱𝔞𝔯𝔱𝔢𝔡 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔟𝔩𝔬𝔬𝔡 𝔟𝔢𝔤𝔞𝔫 𝔱𝔬 𝔣𝔩𝔬𝔴, 𝔣𝔦𝔯𝔰𝔱 𝔣𝔯𝔬𝔪 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔪𝔞𝔪𝔪𝔬𝔱𝔥𝔰 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔥𝔞𝔡 𝔭𝔲𝔩𝔩𝔢𝔡 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔦𝔡𝔬𝔩𝔰 𝔦𝔫𝔱𝔬 𝔭𝔩𝔞𝔠𝔢, 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔫 𝔣𝔯𝔬𝔪 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔠𝔞𝔭𝔱𝔦𝔳𝔢𝔰. 𝔗𝔥𝔢𝔶 𝔴𝔬𝔲𝔩𝔡 𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔨 𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔦𝔯 𝔴𝔞𝔶 𝔲𝔭, 𝔣𝔯𝔬𝔪 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔰𝔪𝔞𝔩𝔩𝔢𝔰𝔱 𝔱𝔬 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔤𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔱𝔢𝔰𝔱, 𝔣𝔦𝔫𝔞𝔩𝔩𝔶 𝔰𝔞𝔠𝔯𝔦𝔣𝔦𝔠𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔭𝔦𝔢𝔠𝔢𝔰 𝔬𝔣 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔟𝔯𝔬𝔨𝔢𝔫 𝔤𝔬𝔡 𝔦𝔱𝔰𝔢𝔩𝔣. ℑ𝔱 𝔴𝔬𝔲𝔩𝔡 𝔫𝔬𝔱 𝔢𝔫𝔡 𝔲𝔫𝔱𝔦𝔩 𝔩𝔬𝔫𝔤 𝔞𝔣𝔱𝔢𝔯 𝔰𝔲𝔫𝔰𝔢𝔱, 𝔴𝔥𝔢𝔫 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔤𝔲𝔱𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔰 𝔯𝔞𝔫 𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔠𝔨 𝔴𝔦𝔱𝔥 𝔰𝔠𝔞𝔟𝔟𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔟𝔩𝔬𝔬𝔡. 𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔰𝔩𝔞𝔳𝔢-𝔟𝔯𝔬𝔨𝔢𝔯 𝔡𝔦𝔡 𝔫𝔬𝔱 𝔨𝔫𝔢𝔢𝔩 𝔴𝔦𝔱𝔥 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔠𝔯𝔬𝔴𝔡, 𝔫𝔬𝔯 𝔡𝔦𝔡 𝔥𝔢 𝔣𝔢𝔢𝔩 𝔩𝔦𝔨𝔢 𝔱𝔞𝔨𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔭𝔞𝔯𝔱 𝔦𝔫 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔣𝔬𝔩𝔩𝔬𝔴𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔬𝔯𝔤𝔶 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔰𝔩𝔞𝔲𝔤𝔥𝔱𝔢𝔯. ℌ𝔢 𝔴𝔞𝔰 𝔞 𝔴𝔢𝔩𝔩-𝔱𝔯𝔞𝔳𝔢𝔩𝔢𝔡 𝔪𝔞𝔫, 𝔴𝔥𝔬 𝔥𝔞𝔡 𝔰𝔢𝔢𝔫, 𝔟𝔬𝔲𝔤𝔥𝔱, 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔰𝔬𝔩𝔡 𝔞 𝔤𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔱 𝔪𝔞𝔫𝔶 𝔴𝔬𝔫𝔡𝔢𝔯𝔰 𝔱𝔥𝔯𝔬𝔲𝔤𝔥𝔬𝔲𝔱 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔢𝔪𝔭𝔦𝔯𝔢 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔟𝔢𝔶𝔬𝔫𝔡. ℌ𝔦𝔰 𝔣𝔢𝔞𝔯 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔞𝔴𝔢 𝔬𝔣 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔤𝔬𝔡𝔰 𝔴𝔞𝔰 𝔬𝔫 𝔞 𝔭𝔲𝔯𝔢𝔩𝔶 𝔭𝔯𝔬𝔣𝔢𝔰𝔰𝔦𝔬𝔫𝔞𝔩 𝔟𝔞𝔰𝔦𝔰. 𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔰𝔩𝔞𝔳𝔢-𝔟𝔯𝔬𝔨𝔢𝔯 𝔡𝔯𝔞𝔦𝔫𝔢𝔡 𝔴𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔯𝔢𝔪𝔞𝔦𝔫𝔢𝔡 𝔬𝔣 𝔥𝔦𝔰 𝔴𝔦𝔫𝔢, 𝔥𝔦𝔰 𝔤𝔞𝔷𝔢 𝔩𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔢𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔣𝔬𝔯 𝔞 𝔱𝔦𝔪𝔢 𝔬𝔫 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔟𝔲𝔩𝔩-𝔥𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔢𝔡 𝔦𝔡𝔬𝔩 𝔦𝔫 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔡𝔦𝔰𝔱𝔞𝔫𝔠𝔢, 𝔟𝔢𝔣𝔬𝔯𝔢 𝔥𝔢 𝔱𝔲𝔯𝔫𝔢𝔡 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔴𝔞𝔩𝔨𝔢𝔡 𝔟𝔞𝔠𝔨 𝔦𝔫𝔰𝔦𝔡𝔢. 𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔞𝔯𝔱𝔦𝔰𝔱 𝔠𝔞𝔩𝔩𝔢𝔡 ℭ𝔲𝔯𝔦𝔵 𝔑𝔬𝔞𝔫 𝔰𝔪𝔦𝔩𝔢𝔡 𝔞𝔰 𝔰𝔥𝔢 𝔴𝔞𝔱𝔠𝔥𝔢𝔡 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔰𝔩𝔞𝔳𝔢𝔰 𝔰𝔥𝔲𝔣𝔣𝔩𝔢𝔡 𝔬𝔲𝔱 𝔣𝔯𝔬𝔪 𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔦𝔯 𝔠𝔞𝔯𝔱𝔰 𝔱𝔥𝔯𝔬𝔲𝔤𝔥 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔰𝔩𝔲𝔰𝔥 𝔬𝔣 𝔥𝔢𝔯 𝔠𝔬𝔲𝔯𝔱𝔶𝔞𝔯𝔡. 𝔉𝔯𝔢𝔰𝔥 𝔟𝔬𝔡𝔦𝔢𝔰 𝔣𝔯𝔬𝔪 𝔄𝔟-𝔏𝔢𝔰𝔥𝔞𝔩’𝔰 𝔠𝔬𝔫𝔮𝔲𝔢𝔰𝔱 𝔬𝔣 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔴𝔢𝔰𝔱 𝔩𝔦𝔫𝔢𝔡 𝔲𝔭 𝔟𝔢𝔣𝔬𝔯𝔢 𝔥𝔢𝔯, 𝔪𝔢𝔫 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔴𝔬𝔪𝔢𝔫 𝔴𝔦𝔱𝔥 𝔥𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔰 𝔟𝔬𝔴𝔢𝔡, 𝔞𝔯𝔪𝔰 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔩𝔢𝔤𝔰 𝔰𝔥𝔞𝔠𝔨𝔩𝔢𝔡, 𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔠𝔨 𝔪𝔞𝔤𝔢𝔠𝔯𝔞𝔣𝔱 𝔠𝔬𝔩𝔩𝔞𝔯𝔰 𝔞𝔯𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔡 𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔦𝔯 𝔫𝔢𝔠𝔨𝔰. ℭ𝔬𝔪𝔭𝔞𝔫𝔶 𝔪𝔢𝔯𝔠𝔢𝔫𝔞𝔯𝔦𝔢𝔰 𝔴𝔞𝔩𝔨𝔢𝔡 𝔱𝔥𝔯𝔬𝔲𝔤𝔥 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔣𝔬𝔯𝔪𝔞𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫, 𝔟𝔞𝔯𝔨𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔠𝔬𝔪𝔪𝔞𝔫𝔡𝔰. “𝔗𝔥𝔯𝔢𝔢 𝔥𝔲𝔫𝔡𝔯𝔢𝔡 𝔰𝔩𝔞𝔳𝔢𝔰, 𝔬𝔫𝔢 𝔥𝔲𝔫𝔡𝔯𝔢𝔡 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔣𝔦𝔣𝔱𝔶 𝔪𝔞𝔩𝔢, 𝔬𝔫𝔢 𝔥𝔲𝔫𝔡𝔯𝔢𝔡 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔣𝔦𝔣𝔱𝔶 𝔣𝔢𝔪𝔞𝔩𝔢, 𝔞𝔰 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔯𝔢𝔮𝔲𝔢𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔡,” 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔰𝔩𝔞𝔳𝔢 𝔟𝔯𝔬𝔨𝔢𝔯 𝔰𝔞𝔦𝔡. ℌ𝔦𝔰 𝔰𝔠𝔞𝔯𝔣 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔩𝔬𝔫𝔤 𝔠𝔬𝔞𝔱 𝔣𝔩𝔲𝔱𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔢𝔡 𝔦𝔫 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔦𝔠𝔶 𝔟𝔯𝔢𝔢𝔷𝔢. “𝔄𝔫𝔡 𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔢 𝔥𝔲𝔫𝔡𝔯𝔢𝔡 𝔪𝔞𝔯𝔨𝔰, 𝔖𝔢𝔯 𝔈𝔲𝔱𝔪𝔲𝔫.” 𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔞𝔯𝔱𝔦𝔰𝔱 𝔥𝔞𝔫𝔡𝔢𝔡 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔰𝔩𝔞𝔳𝔢-𝔟𝔯𝔬𝔨𝔢𝔯 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔰𝔱𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰 𝔬𝔣 𝔠𝔬𝔦𝔫𝔰. “𝔐𝔶 𝔪𝔬𝔰𝔱 𝔥𝔲𝔪𝔟𝔩𝔢 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔫𝔨𝔰,” ℌ𝔢 𝔟𝔬𝔴𝔢𝔡, 𝔰𝔴𝔢𝔢𝔭𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔠𝔬𝔦𝔫𝔰 𝔦𝔫𝔱𝔬 𝔥𝔦𝔰 𝔭𝔲𝔯𝔰𝔢. “𝔅𝔲𝔱 ℑ 𝔟𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔪𝔬𝔯𝔢 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔫 𝔰𝔦𝔪𝔭𝔩𝔢 𝔰𝔲𝔭𝔭𝔩𝔦𝔢𝔰 𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔰 𝔱𝔦𝔪𝔢, 𝔪𝔦𝔰𝔱𝔯𝔢𝔰𝔰.” ℌ𝔢 𝔪𝔬𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫𝔢𝔡 𝔱𝔬 𝔞 𝔭𝔞𝔠𝔨 𝔬𝔣 𝔪𝔢𝔯𝔠𝔢𝔫𝔞𝔯𝔦𝔢𝔰, 𝔴𝔥𝔬 𝔟𝔯𝔬𝔲𝔤𝔥𝔱 𝔞𝔫𝔬𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯 𝔪𝔞𝔫 𝔬𝔣 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔴𝔢𝔰𝔱 𝔟𝔢𝔣𝔬𝔯𝔢 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔞𝔯𝔱𝔦𝔰𝔱. “ℭ𝔬𝔫𝔰𝔦𝔡𝔢𝔯 𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔰 𝔬𝔫𝔢 𝔞 𝔰𝔭𝔢𝔠𝔦𝔞𝔩 𝔤𝔦𝔣𝔱.” 𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔪𝔞𝔫 𝔴𝔞𝔰 𝔭𝔞𝔯𝔱𝔦𝔠𝔲𝔩𝔞𝔯𝔩𝔶 𝔤𝔞𝔲𝔫𝔱, 𝔱𝔞𝔩𝔩𝔢𝔯 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔫 𝔟𝔬𝔱𝔥 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔞𝔯𝔱𝔦𝔰𝔱 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔰𝔩𝔞𝔳𝔢-𝔟𝔯𝔬𝔨𝔢𝔯, 𝔴𝔦𝔱𝔥 𝔞 𝔰𝔠𝔯𝔞𝔤𝔤𝔩𝔶 𝔟𝔩𝔞𝔠𝔨 𝔪𝔞𝔫𝔢 𝔬𝔣 𝔥𝔞𝔦𝔯, 𝔡𝔦𝔯𝔱𝔶, 𝔩𝔢𝔞𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔶 𝔰𝔨𝔦𝔫, 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔡𝔢𝔞𝔡 𝔢𝔶𝔢𝔰. ℌ𝔦𝔰 𝔞𝔯𝔪𝔰 𝔴𝔢𝔯𝔢 𝔪𝔞𝔤𝔢𝔠𝔯𝔞𝔣𝔱𝔢𝔡 𝔪𝔢𝔱𝔞𝔩, 𝔞𝔩𝔩 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔴𝔞𝔶 𝔲𝔭 𝔱𝔬 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔰𝔥𝔬𝔲𝔩𝔡𝔢𝔯𝔰. 𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔞𝔯𝔱𝔦𝔰𝔱 𝔯𝔞𝔦𝔰𝔢𝔡 𝔞𝔫 𝔢𝔶𝔢𝔟𝔯𝔬𝔴. 𝔖𝔲𝔠𝔥 𝔢𝔵𝔭𝔢𝔫𝔰𝔢 𝔬𝔫 𝔞 𝔰𝔩𝔞𝔳𝔢 𝔴𝔥𝔬 𝔩𝔬𝔬𝔨𝔢𝔡 𝔞𝔰 𝔦𝔣 𝔥𝔢 𝔴𝔬𝔲𝔩𝔡 𝔱𝔬𝔭𝔭𝔩𝔢 𝔬𝔳𝔢𝔯 𝔦𝔫 𝔞 𝔰𝔥𝔞𝔯𝔭 𝔟𝔯𝔢𝔢𝔷𝔢? ℜ𝔦𝔡𝔦𝔠𝔲𝔩𝔬𝔲𝔰. “ℑ𝔱 𝔰𝔢𝔢𝔪𝔰 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔞𝔯𝔢 𝔪𝔬𝔠𝔨𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔪𝔢, 𝔖𝔦𝔯 𝔈𝔲𝔱𝔪𝔲𝔫.” “𝔑𝔬𝔱 𝔞𝔱 𝔞𝔩𝔩. 𝔗𝔥𝔦𝔰 𝔰𝔩𝔞𝔳𝔢 𝔦𝔰 𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔱𝔥 𝔪𝔬𝔯𝔢 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔫 𝔞𝔩𝔩 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔬𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔰 𝔠𝔬𝔪𝔟𝔦𝔫𝔢𝔡. ℌ𝔦𝔰 𝔰𝔭𝔦𝔯𝔦𝔱 𝔦𝔰 𝔞𝔩𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔶 𝔟𝔯𝔬𝔨𝔢𝔫, 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔰𝔬 𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔢 𝔦𝔰 𝔫𝔬 𝔫𝔢𝔢𝔡 𝔣𝔬𝔯 𝔞 𝔠𝔬𝔫𝔱𝔯𝔬𝔩 𝔠𝔬𝔩𝔩𝔞𝔯. ℌ𝔢 𝔬𝔟𝔢𝔶𝔰 𝔬𝔯𝔡𝔢𝔯𝔰 𝔭𝔢𝔯𝔣𝔢𝔠𝔱𝔩𝔶. 𝔄𝔰 𝔞 𝔰𝔢𝔯𝔳𝔞𝔫𝔱 𝔥𝔢 𝔴𝔦𝔩𝔩 𝔭𝔞𝔶 𝔣𝔬𝔯 𝔥𝔦𝔰 𝔪𝔞𝔤𝔢𝔠𝔯𝔞𝔣𝔱 𝔰𝔴𝔦𝔣𝔱𝔩𝔶.” “𝔚𝔥𝔬 𝔴𝔞𝔰 𝔥𝔢?” “𝔄 𝔭𝔯𝔦𝔢𝔰𝔱, 𝔬𝔯 𝔴𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔭𝔞𝔰𝔰𝔢𝔰 𝔣𝔬𝔯 𝔬𝔫𝔢 𝔞𝔪𝔬𝔫𝔤 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔰𝔞𝔳𝔞𝔤𝔢𝔰,” 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔰𝔩𝔞𝔳𝔢-𝔟𝔯𝔬𝔨𝔢𝔯 𝔰𝔞𝔦𝔡, 𝔠𝔦𝔯𝔠𝔩𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔰𝔩𝔞𝔳𝔢. “ℌ𝔢 𝔴𝔞𝔰 𝔠𝔞𝔭𝔱𝔲𝔯𝔢𝔡 𝔞𝔱 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔅𝔞𝔱𝔱𝔩𝔢 𝔬𝔣 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔙𝔞𝔩𝔩𝔢𝔶, 𝔴𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔢 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔟𝔯𝔬𝔫𝔷𝔢 𝔤𝔬𝔡 𝔴𝔞𝔰 𝔟𝔯𝔬𝔨𝔢𝔫. ℌ𝔢 𝔥𝔞𝔡 𝔞𝔱𝔱𝔢𝔪𝔭𝔱𝔢𝔡 𝔱𝔬 𝔰𝔱𝔯𝔦𝔨𝔢 𝔡𝔬𝔴𝔫 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔉𝔦𝔯𝔰𝔱 𝔖𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔡 𝔴𝔦𝔱𝔥 𝔞 𝔯𝔬𝔠𝔨. 𝔄 𝔯𝔬𝔠𝔨! 𝔄𝔟-𝔏𝔢𝔰𝔥𝔞𝔩 𝔱𝔬𝔬𝔨 𝔭𝔦𝔱𝔶 𝔲𝔭𝔬𝔫 𝔥𝔦𝔪 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔬𝔫𝔩𝔶 𝔱𝔬𝔯𝔢 𝔬𝔣𝔣 𝔥𝔦𝔰 𝔞𝔯𝔪𝔰.” “ℑ 𝔰𝔢𝔢. 𝔄𝔫𝔡 𝔥𝔢 𝔩𝔦𝔳𝔢𝔡?” “𝔅𝔶 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔉𝔦𝔯𝔰𝔱 𝔖𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔡’𝔰 𝔠𝔬𝔪𝔪𝔞𝔫𝔡.” 𝔖𝔭𝔢𝔠𝔦𝔞𝔩 𝔢𝔫𝔬𝔲𝔤𝔥 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔄𝔟-𝔏𝔢𝔰𝔥𝔞𝔩 𝔴𝔬𝔲𝔩𝔡 𝔰𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔩𝔢 𝔥𝔦𝔪 𝔬𝔲𝔱? 𝔗𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔴𝔞𝔰 𝔦𝔪𝔭𝔯𝔢𝔰𝔰𝔦𝔳𝔢. 𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔞𝔯𝔱𝔦𝔰𝔱 𝔡𝔦𝔡 𝔫𝔬𝔱 𝔰𝔢𝔢 𝔦𝔱 𝔣𝔦𝔱 𝔱𝔬 𝔮𝔲𝔢𝔰𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔉𝔦𝔯𝔰𝔱 𝔖𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔡’𝔰 𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔰𝔬𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤, 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔰𝔥𝔢 𝔣𝔢𝔩𝔱 𝔫𝔬 𝔫𝔢𝔢𝔡 𝔱𝔬. 𝔗𝔥𝔦𝔰 𝔴𝔞𝔰 𝔦𝔫𝔡𝔢𝔢𝔡 𝔞 𝔤𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔱 𝔭𝔯𝔦𝔷𝔢. 𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔞𝔯𝔱𝔦𝔰𝔱 𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔨𝔢𝔡, 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔰𝔩𝔞𝔳𝔢 𝔠𝔞𝔩𝔩𝔢𝔡 ℭ𝔞𝔦𝔯𝔫 𝔴𝔞𝔱𝔠𝔥𝔢𝔡. ℑ𝔫 𝔱𝔦𝔪𝔢, 𝔥𝔢𝔯 𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔨 𝔴𝔞𝔰 𝔠𝔬𝔪𝔭𝔩𝔢𝔱𝔢𝔡. 𝔖𝔥𝔢 𝔟𝔲𝔦𝔩𝔱 𝔞 𝔪𝔞𝔠𝔥𝔦𝔫𝔢, 𝔞 𝔤𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔱 𝔪𝔞𝔠𝔥𝔦𝔫𝔢 𝔬𝔣 𝔦𝔯𝔬𝔫 𝔟𝔞𝔯𝔟𝔰 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔢𝔩 𝔰𝔭𝔦𝔨𝔢𝔰 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔣𝔩𝔬𝔴𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔰𝔲𝔩𝔣𝔲𝔯, 𝔞𝔫𝔦𝔪𝔞𝔱𝔢𝔡 𝔟𝔶 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔱𝔥𝔯𝔢𝔢 𝔥𝔲𝔫𝔡𝔯𝔢𝔡 𝔰𝔠𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔪𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔣𝔩𝔢𝔰𝔥𝔶 𝔣𝔯𝔲𝔦𝔱𝔰 𝔦𝔪𝔭𝔞𝔩𝔢𝔡 𝔲𝔭𝔬𝔫 𝔦𝔱𝔰 𝔱𝔥𝔬𝔯𝔫𝔰, 𝔱𝔴𝔦𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔡 𝔬𝔲𝔱 𝔬𝔣 𝔰𝔥𝔞𝔭𝔢. 𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔣𝔯𝔲𝔦𝔱𝔰 𝔴𝔢𝔯𝔢 𝔭𝔞𝔦𝔯𝔢𝔡, 𝔪𝔞𝔩𝔢 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔣𝔢𝔪𝔞𝔩𝔢, 𝔰𝔢𝔱 𝔱𝔬𝔤𝔢𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯, 𝔦𝔫 𝔞 𝔟𝔬𝔲𝔮𝔲𝔢𝔱 𝔬𝔣 𝔣𝔩𝔢𝔰𝔥 𝔟𝔲𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔰𝔠𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔪𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔣𝔲𝔠𝔨𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔥𝔞𝔱𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔡𝔶𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔩𝔦𝔳𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔴𝔥𝔦𝔩𝔢 𝔟𝔩𝔬𝔬𝔡 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔰𝔢𝔪𝔢𝔫 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔟𝔦𝔩𝔢 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔰𝔲𝔩𝔣𝔲𝔯 𝔣𝔩𝔬𝔴𝔢𝔡 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔟𝔬𝔦𝔩𝔢𝔡 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔟𝔲𝔟𝔟𝔩𝔢𝔡 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔣𝔩𝔢𝔰𝔥 𝔴𝔯𝔦𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔡 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔣𝔩𝔢𝔰𝔥 𝔪𝔬𝔳𝔢𝔡 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔣𝔩𝔢𝔰𝔥 𝔥𝔞𝔱𝔢𝔡. 𝔄𝔩𝔩 𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔰 𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔰 𝔴𝔞𝔰 𝔭𝔩𝔢𝔞𝔰𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔱𝔬 𝔐𝔬𝔩𝔲𝔠𝔥, 𝔱𝔥𝔢 ℌ𝔬𝔯𝔫𝔢𝔡 𝔎𝔦𝔫𝔤 ℭ𝔯𝔬𝔴𝔫𝔢𝔡 𝔦𝔫 𝔖𝔥𝔞𝔪𝔢. 𝔇𝔞𝔢𝔳𝔬𝔫 𝔟𝔲𝔯𝔫𝔢𝔡. 𝔖𝔪𝔬𝔨𝔢 𝔟𝔩𝔬𝔱𝔱𝔢𝔡 𝔬𝔲𝔱 𝔞 𝔠𝔬𝔩𝔡 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔲𝔫𝔠𝔞𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔰𝔲𝔫 𝔞𝔰 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔰𝔱𝔯𝔢𝔢𝔱𝔰 𝔣𝔩𝔬𝔬𝔡𝔢𝔡 𝔴𝔦𝔱𝔥 𝔣𝔢𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔣𝔩𝔢𝔰𝔥 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔰𝔠𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔪𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔤𝔯𝔦𝔰𝔱𝔩𝔢. 𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔰𝔩𝔞𝔳𝔢 𝔭𝔦𝔱𝔰 𝔟𝔲𝔯𝔫𝔢𝔡, 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔪𝔞𝔫𝔬𝔯𝔰 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔤𝔞𝔯𝔡𝔢𝔫𝔰 𝔟𝔲𝔯𝔫𝔢𝔡, 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔭𝔩𝔞𝔷𝔞𝔰 𝔰𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔪𝔢𝔡 𝔴𝔦𝔱𝔥 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔞𝔟𝔢𝔯𝔯𝔞𝔫𝔱 𝔱𝔥𝔯𝔬𝔫𝔤𝔰. 𝔉𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱𝔞𝔦𝔫𝔰 𝔯𝔞𝔫 𝔯𝔢𝔡 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔟𝔯𝔬𝔴𝔫. 𝔓𝔦𝔩𝔩𝔞𝔯𝔰 𝔬𝔣 𝔣𝔩𝔢𝔰𝔥 𝔠𝔬𝔦𝔩𝔢𝔡 𝔞𝔯𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔡 𝔬𝔟𝔢𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔨𝔰 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔱𝔢𝔪𝔭𝔩𝔢𝔰, 𝔟𝔢𝔩𝔠𝔥𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔠𝔩𝔬𝔲𝔡𝔰 𝔬𝔣 𝔟𝔯𝔬𝔴𝔫 𝔪𝔦𝔰𝔱 𝔦𝔫𝔱𝔬 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔞𝔦𝔯. 𝔒𝔠𝔠𝔞𝔰𝔦𝔬𝔫𝔞𝔩𝔩𝔶, 𝔠𝔯𝔞𝔠𝔨𝔰 𝔬𝔣 𝔪𝔲𝔰𝔨𝔢𝔱 𝔣𝔦𝔯𝔢 𝔬𝔯 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔱𝔯𝔲𝔪𝔭𝔢𝔱𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔬𝔣 𝔞 𝔪𝔞𝔪𝔪𝔬𝔱𝔥 𝔬𝔳𝔢𝔯𝔱𝔞𝔨𝔢𝔫 𝔟𝔶 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔥𝔬𝔯𝔡𝔢 𝔴𝔬𝔲𝔩𝔡 𝔢𝔠𝔥𝔬 𝔣𝔯𝔬𝔪 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔡𝔦𝔰𝔱𝔞𝔫𝔠𝔢 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔫 𝔤𝔬 𝔰𝔦𝔩𝔢𝔫𝔱. ℑ𝔱 𝔰𝔢𝔢𝔪𝔢𝔡 𝔞𝔰 𝔦𝔣 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔢𝔫𝔱𝔦𝔯𝔢 𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔩𝔡 𝔴𝔞𝔰 𝔡𝔶𝔦𝔫𝔤. 𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔰𝔩𝔞𝔳𝔢 𝔠𝔞𝔩𝔩𝔢𝔡 ℭ𝔞𝔦𝔯𝔫 𝔰𝔱𝔬𝔬𝔡 𝔬𝔫 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔱𝔬𝔭 𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔭 𝔬𝔣 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔥𝔦𝔤𝔥 𝔱𝔢𝔪𝔭𝔩𝔢, 𝔩𝔬𝔬𝔨𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔬𝔲𝔱 𝔞𝔠𝔯𝔬𝔰𝔰 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔠𝔦𝔱𝔶, 𝔴𝔞𝔱𝔠𝔥𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔦𝔱 𝔡𝔦𝔢. 𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔢𝔪𝔭𝔦𝔯𝔢 𝔴𝔞𝔰 𝔭𝔞𝔰𝔰𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔱𝔥𝔯𝔬𝔲𝔤𝔥 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔩𝔞𝔰𝔱 𝔳𝔦𝔬𝔩𝔢𝔫𝔱 𝔱𝔥𝔯𝔬𝔢𝔰 𝔬𝔣 𝔦𝔱𝔰 𝔡𝔢𝔞𝔱𝔥. 𝔖𝔬𝔬𝔫 𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔢 𝔴𝔬𝔲𝔩𝔡 𝔟𝔢 𝔫𝔬𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔩𝔢𝔣𝔱 𝔟𝔲𝔱 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔭𝔞𝔩𝔢 𝔤𝔯𝔢𝔶 𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔭𝔭𝔢𝔰 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔬𝔩𝔡, 𝔰𝔦𝔠𝔨 𝔴𝔦𝔫𝔡𝔰. ℭ𝔞𝔦𝔯𝔫 𝔥𝔞𝔡 𝔫𝔬 𝔪𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔯 𝔫𝔬𝔴: 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔞𝔯𝔱𝔦𝔰𝔱 𝔫𝔬𝔴 𝔴𝔯𝔦𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔡 𝔞𝔱𝔬𝔭 𝔞 𝔰𝔦𝔩𝔨 𝔟𝔢𝔡 𝔰𝔥𝔢𝔢𝔱 𝔴𝔦𝔱𝔥 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔰𝔩𝔞𝔳𝔢-𝔟𝔯𝔬𝔨𝔢𝔯, 𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔦𝔯 𝔟𝔬𝔡𝔦𝔢𝔰 𝔣𝔲𝔰𝔢𝔡 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔟𝔩𝔬𝔞𝔱𝔢𝔡. 𝔄 𝔱𝔯𝔦𝔟𝔲𝔱𝔢 𝔦𝔫 𝔲𝔫𝔡𝔶𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔞𝔯𝔱 𝔱𝔬 𝔱𝔥𝔢 ℌ𝔬𝔯𝔫𝔢𝔡 𝔎𝔦𝔫𝔤 ℭ𝔯𝔬𝔴𝔫𝔢𝔡 𝔦𝔫 𝔖𝔥𝔞𝔪𝔢. 𝔗𝔥𝔦𝔰 𝔮𝔲𝔦𝔢𝔱 𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔢 𝔬𝔫 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔭𝔰 𝔴𝔞𝔰 𝔬𝔫𝔩𝔶 𝔞 𝔟𝔯𝔦𝔢𝔣 𝔯𝔢𝔰𝔭𝔦𝔱𝔢. 𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔭𝔢𝔞𝔠𝔢 𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔢 𝔴𝔬𝔲𝔩𝔡 𝔫𝔬𝔱 𝔩𝔞𝔰𝔱 𝔩𝔬𝔫𝔤. ℌ𝔢 𝔱𝔲𝔯𝔫𝔢𝔡 𝔣𝔯𝔬𝔪 𝔩𝔬𝔬𝔨𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔞𝔱 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔠𝔦𝔱𝔶, 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔭𝔞𝔰𝔰𝔢𝔡 𝔱𝔥𝔯𝔬𝔲𝔤𝔥 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔤𝔞𝔭𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔥𝔬𝔩𝔢 𝔴𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔢 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔤𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔱 𝔦𝔯𝔬𝔫 𝔡𝔬𝔬𝔯𝔰 𝔥𝔞𝔡 𝔬𝔫𝔠𝔢 𝔟𝔢𝔢𝔫 𝔰𝔢𝔱. 𝔗𝔥𝔬𝔰𝔢 𝔡𝔬𝔬𝔯𝔰 𝔥𝔞𝔡 𝔟𝔢𝔢𝔫 𝔱𝔬𝔯𝔫 𝔞𝔭𝔞𝔯𝔱, 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔪𝔢𝔱𝔞𝔩 𝔠𝔯𝔲𝔪𝔭𝔩𝔢𝔡 𝔩𝔦𝔨𝔢 𝔱𝔦𝔰𝔰𝔲𝔢. 𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔦𝔫𝔰𝔦𝔡𝔢 𝔬𝔣 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔱𝔢𝔪𝔭𝔩𝔢 𝔴𝔞𝔰 𝔰𝔱𝔞𝔦𝔫𝔢𝔡 𝔴𝔦𝔱𝔥 𝔟𝔩𝔬𝔬𝔡 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔳𝔦𝔰𝔠𝔢𝔯𝔞, 𝔰𝔱𝔯𝔢𝔴𝔫 𝔴𝔦𝔱𝔥 𝔰𝔥𝔞𝔱𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔢𝔡 𝔴𝔢𝔞𝔭𝔬𝔫𝔰 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔱𝔬𝔯𝔫 𝔠𝔩𝔬𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔰𝔱𝔬𝔫𝔢 𝔠𝔬𝔯𝔭𝔰𝔢𝔰 𝔬𝔣 𝔰𝔥𝔞𝔱𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔢𝔡 𝔦𝔡𝔬𝔩𝔰. 𝔗𝔢𝔪𝔭𝔩𝔢 𝔤𝔲𝔞𝔯𝔡𝔰, 𝔞𝔠𝔬𝔩𝔶𝔱𝔢𝔰 𝔦𝔫 𝔴𝔥𝔦𝔱𝔢, 𝔭𝔯𝔦𝔢𝔰𝔱𝔰, 𝔢𝔳𝔢𝔫 𝔥𝔦𝔤𝔥 𝔭𝔯𝔦𝔢𝔰𝔱𝔰 𝔦𝔫 𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔦𝔯 𝔯𝔢𝔡 𝔯𝔬𝔟𝔢𝔰, 𝔞𝔩𝔩 𝔬𝔣 𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔪 𝔦𝔫 𝔭𝔦𝔢𝔠𝔢𝔰, 𝔥𝔞𝔠𝔨𝔢𝔡 𝔞𝔭𝔞𝔯𝔱. “𝔅𝔯𝔬𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯,” 𝔞 𝔳𝔬𝔦𝔠𝔢 𝔟𝔬𝔬𝔪𝔢𝔡 𝔣𝔯𝔬𝔪 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔱𝔥𝔯𝔬𝔫𝔢 𝔞𝔟𝔬𝔳𝔢 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔥𝔦𝔤𝔥 𝔞𝔩𝔱𝔞𝔯. “ℑ 𝔰𝔢𝔢 𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔶 𝔤𝔞𝔳𝔢 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔫𝔢𝔴 𝔞𝔯𝔪𝔰.” “𝔜𝔢𝔰,” ℭ𝔞𝔦𝔯𝔫 𝔰𝔞𝔦𝔡. “𝔄𝔫𝔡 ℑ 𝔰𝔢𝔢 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔯𝔢𝔤𝔯𝔢𝔴 𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔯𝔰.” 𝔗𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔢 𝔴𝔞𝔰 𝔞 𝔣𝔞𝔦𝔫𝔱, 𝔰𝔞𝔡 𝔫𝔬𝔰𝔱𝔞𝔩𝔤𝔦𝔞 𝔞𝔟𝔬𝔲𝔱 𝔲𝔰𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔥𝔦𝔰 𝔫𝔞𝔱𝔦𝔳𝔢 𝔱𝔬𝔫𝔤𝔲𝔢 𝔞𝔤𝔞𝔦𝔫. ℌ𝔢 𝔥𝔞𝔡 𝔫𝔬𝔱 𝔰𝔭𝔬𝔨𝔢𝔫 𝔦𝔱 𝔦𝔫 𝔰𝔬 𝔩𝔬𝔫𝔤… 𝔄 𝔣𝔦𝔤𝔲𝔯𝔢 𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔭𝔭𝔢𝔡 𝔡𝔬𝔴𝔫 𝔣𝔯𝔬𝔪 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔱𝔥𝔯𝔬𝔫𝔢, 𝔴𝔞𝔩𝔨𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔭𝔞𝔰𝔱 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔥𝔦𝔤𝔥 𝔞𝔩𝔱𝔞𝔯 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔬𝔲𝔱 𝔬𝔣 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔤𝔩𝔬𝔬𝔪. 𝔄𝔟-𝔏𝔢𝔰𝔥𝔞𝔩, 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔉𝔦𝔯𝔰𝔱 𝔖𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔡 𝔬𝔣 𝔇𝔞𝔢𝔳𝔬𝔫 𝔰𝔱𝔬𝔬𝔡 𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔢: 𝔢𝔦𝔤𝔥𝔱 𝔣𝔢𝔢𝔱 𝔬𝔣 𝔴𝔢𝔞𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯-𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔫 𝔪𝔲𝔰𝔠𝔩𝔢, 𝔰𝔠𝔞𝔯𝔯𝔢𝔡 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔱𝔞𝔱𝔱𝔬𝔬𝔢𝔡. 𝔚𝔦𝔡𝔢 𝔫𝔬𝔰𝔢 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔥𝔞𝔡 𝔟𝔢𝔢𝔫 𝔟𝔯𝔬𝔨𝔢𝔫 𝔱𝔬𝔬 𝔪𝔞𝔫𝔶 𝔱𝔦𝔪𝔢𝔰, 𝔰𝔱𝔯𝔬𝔫𝔤 𝔧𝔞𝔴, 𝔠𝔯𝔬𝔬𝔨𝔢𝔡 𝔱𝔢𝔢𝔱𝔥, 𝔰𝔱𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔶 𝔥𝔞𝔦𝔯, 𝔞𝔩𝔩 𝔣𝔢𝔞𝔱𝔲𝔯𝔢𝔰 𝔬𝔣 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔟𝔬𝔶 ℭ𝔞𝔦𝔯𝔫 𝔥𝔞𝔡 𝔭𝔩𝔞𝔶𝔢𝔡 𝔟𝔞𝔩𝔩 𝔴𝔦𝔱𝔥 𝔬𝔫 𝔱𝔥𝔢 ℜ𝔦𝔳𝔢𝔯’𝔰 𝔟𝔞𝔫𝔨. “ℑ 𝔡𝔦𝔡 𝔫𝔬𝔱 𝔢𝔵𝔭𝔢𝔠𝔱 𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔪 𝔱𝔬 𝔱𝔞𝔨𝔢 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔞𝔰 𝔟𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱𝔶.” “𝔗𝔥𝔢𝔶 𝔠𝔬𝔫𝔰𝔦𝔡𝔢𝔯𝔢𝔡 𝔪𝔢 𝔞 𝔱𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔨𝔢𝔱. 𝔄 𝔩𝔦𝔱𝔱𝔩𝔢 𝔠𝔲𝔯𝔦𝔬𝔰𝔦𝔱𝔶 𝔱𝔬 𝔨𝔢𝔢𝔭 𝔞𝔯𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔡. 𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔪𝔞𝔫 𝔴𝔥𝔬 𝔱𝔥𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔱𝔢𝔫𝔢𝔡 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔉𝔦𝔯𝔰𝔱 𝔖𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔡 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔴𝔞𝔰 𝔰𝔭𝔞𝔯𝔢𝔡.” ℭ𝔞𝔦𝔯𝔫 𝔟𝔯𝔲𝔰𝔥𝔢𝔡 𝔞𝔰𝔦𝔡𝔢 𝔥𝔦𝔰 𝔥𝔞𝔦𝔯, 𝔯𝔢𝔳𝔢𝔞𝔩𝔢𝔡 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔟𝔯𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔬𝔫 𝔥𝔦𝔰 𝔣𝔬𝔯𝔢𝔥𝔢𝔞𝔡: 𝔨𝔥𝔲𝔨, 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔥𝔦𝔤𝔥𝔢𝔰𝔱 𝔯𝔞𝔱𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔞 𝔰𝔩𝔞𝔳𝔢 𝔠𝔬𝔲𝔩𝔡 𝔥𝔞𝔳𝔢. “𝔄𝔭𝔭𝔞𝔯𝔢𝔫𝔱𝔩𝔶 ℑ 𝔴𝔞𝔰 𝔞𝔫 𝔢𝔵𝔠𝔢𝔩𝔩𝔢𝔫𝔱 𝔠𝔬𝔫𝔳𝔢𝔯𝔰𝔞𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫 𝔭𝔦𝔢𝔠𝔢.” “ℑ𝔫𝔡𝔢𝔢𝔡.” 𝔄𝔟-𝔏𝔢𝔰𝔥𝔞𝔩 𝔭𝔞𝔲𝔰𝔢𝔡 𝔣𝔬𝔯 𝔞 𝔪𝔬𝔪𝔢𝔫𝔱, 𝔡𝔦𝔰𝔱𝔯𝔞𝔠𝔱𝔢𝔡 𝔟𝔶 𝔰𝔬𝔪𝔢 𝔣𝔩𝔢𝔢𝔱𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔱𝔥𝔬𝔲𝔤𝔥𝔱. “𝔚𝔥𝔶 𝔞𝔯𝔢 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔢, 𝔟𝔯𝔬𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯?” “𝔗𝔬 𝔟𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔥𝔬𝔪𝔢.” 𝔄𝔟-𝔏𝔢𝔰𝔥𝔞𝔩 𝔰𝔥𝔬𝔬𝔨 𝔥𝔦𝔰 𝔥𝔢𝔞𝔡. “ℑ 𝔥𝔞𝔳𝔢 𝔴𝔯𝔦𝔱𝔱𝔢𝔫 𝔱𝔥𝔢 ℌ𝔬𝔯𝔫𝔢𝔡 𝔎𝔦𝔫𝔤’𝔰 𝔤𝔬𝔰𝔭𝔢𝔩 𝔦𝔫 𝔟𝔩𝔬𝔬𝔡 𝔞𝔠𝔯𝔬𝔰𝔰 𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔰 𝔠𝔬𝔫𝔱𝔦𝔫𝔢𝔫𝔱, 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔢𝔳𝔢𝔯𝔶 𝔩𝔦𝔣𝔢 ℑ 𝔱𝔞𝔨𝔢 𝔫𝔬𝔴 𝔣𝔢𝔢𝔡𝔰 𝔥𝔦𝔪 𝔣𝔲𝔯𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯. ℑ 𝔣𝔢𝔢𝔩 𝔪𝔶 𝔪𝔦𝔫𝔡 𝔰𝔩𝔦𝔭𝔭𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔦𝔫𝔱𝔬 𝔞𝔫 𝔞𝔟𝔶𝔰𝔰, 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔰𝔬𝔬𝔫 𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔢 𝔴𝔦𝔩𝔩 𝔟𝔢 𝔫𝔬𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔩𝔢𝔣𝔱 𝔟𝔲𝔱 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔰𝔞𝔳𝔞𝔤𝔢, 𝔪𝔦𝔫𝔡𝔩𝔢𝔰𝔰 𝔞𝔫𝔦𝔪𝔞𝔩. ℑ 𝔞𝔪 𝔡𝔞𝔪𝔫𝔢𝔡, 𝔟𝔯𝔬𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯. 𝔅𝔲𝔱 ℑ 𝔴𝔦𝔩𝔩 𝔡𝔬 𝔴𝔥𝔞𝔱 ℑ 𝔠𝔞𝔫 𝔴𝔦𝔱𝔥 𝔴𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔱𝔦𝔪𝔢 ℑ 𝔥𝔞𝔳𝔢 𝔩𝔢𝔣𝔱. ℑ 𝔴𝔦𝔩𝔩 𝔱𝔞𝔨𝔢 𝔱𝔥𝔦𝔰 𝔢𝔪𝔭𝔦𝔯𝔢 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔞𝔩𝔩 𝔦𝔱𝔰 𝔤𝔬𝔡𝔰 𝔱𝔬 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔟𝔲𝔷𝔷𝔦𝔫𝔤, 𝔡𝔯𝔬𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔪𝔞𝔡𝔫𝔢𝔰𝔰 𝔬𝔣 𝔥𝔢𝔩𝔩 𝔴𝔦𝔱𝔥 𝔪𝔢.” “𝔗𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔢 𝔦𝔰 𝔰𝔱𝔦𝔩𝔩 𝔥𝔬𝔭𝔢.” “𝔗𝔥𝔦𝔰 𝔦𝔰 𝔴𝔥𝔞𝔱 ℑ 𝔡𝔢𝔰𝔢𝔯𝔳𝔢. 𝔐𝔦𝔫𝔡𝔩𝔢𝔰𝔰𝔫𝔢𝔰𝔰 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔡𝔞𝔪𝔫𝔞𝔱𝔦𝔬𝔫. ℑ 𝔥𝔞𝔳𝔢 𝔩𝔞𝔦𝔡 𝔴𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔢 𝔱𝔬 𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔥𝔬𝔪𝔢, 𝔡𝔢𝔰𝔱𝔯𝔬𝔶𝔢𝔡 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔙𝔬𝔦𝔠𝔢, 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔗𝔯𝔢𝔢 𝔬𝔣 𝔏𝔦𝔣𝔢 𝔦𝔰 𝔡𝔢𝔞𝔡. 𝔑𝔬. 𝔜𝔬𝔲 𝔯𝔢𝔱𝔲𝔯𝔫, 𝔱𝔬 𝔤𝔲𝔦𝔡𝔢 𝔴𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔯𝔢𝔪𝔞𝔦𝔫𝔰 𝔬𝔣 𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔭𝔢𝔬𝔭𝔩𝔢. 𝔗𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔦𝔰 𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔭𝔩𝔞𝔠𝔢. 𝔐𝔦𝔫𝔢 𝔦𝔰 𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔢. 𝔗𝔬 𝔰𝔢𝔢𝔨 𝔞𝔫 𝔞𝔱𝔬𝔫𝔢𝔪𝔢𝔫𝔱 ℑ 𝔠𝔞𝔫𝔫𝔬𝔱 𝔞𝔠𝔥𝔦𝔢𝔳𝔢.” 𝔄𝔟-𝔏𝔢𝔰𝔥𝔞𝔩 𝔰𝔦𝔤𝔥𝔢𝔡. “𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔖𝔢𝔳𝔢𝔫 𝔅𝔯𝔦𝔡𝔢𝔰 𝔞𝔯𝔢 𝔡𝔢𝔞𝔡. 𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔰𝔠𝔯𝔦𝔟𝔢𝔰 𝔬𝔣 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔗𝔢𝔵𝔱𝔰 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔱𝔥𝔢 ℌ𝔞𝔫𝔤𝔢𝔡 𝔎𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔞𝔯𝔢 𝔡𝔢𝔞𝔡. 𝔗𝔥𝔢 𝔚𝔬𝔫𝔡𝔢𝔯-𝔪𝔞𝔨𝔢𝔯 𝔞𝔫𝔡 ℭ𝔥𝔬𝔲-𝔡𝔞𝔥-𝔠𝔩𝔢𝔭𝔥 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔞𝔩𝔩 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔬𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔰 𝔥𝔞𝔳𝔢 𝔣𝔩𝔢𝔡. 𝔒𝔫𝔩𝔶 𝔐𝔬𝔩𝔲𝔠𝔥 𝔯𝔢𝔪𝔞𝔦𝔫𝔰. ℌ𝔢 𝔴𝔦𝔩𝔩 𝔤𝔞𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔩𝔢𝔤𝔦𝔬𝔫𝔰, 𝔩𝔢𝔞𝔡 𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔪 𝔥𝔢𝔯𝔢 𝔱𝔬 𝔪𝔢…𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔶 𝔴𝔦𝔩𝔩 𝔟𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔨 𝔲𝔭𝔬𝔫 𝔪𝔢.” 𝔄 𝔭𝔞𝔲𝔰𝔢. “ℑ𝔱 𝔴𝔬𝔲𝔩𝔡 𝔟𝔢 𝔟𝔢𝔰𝔱 𝔣𝔬𝔯 𝔶𝔬𝔲 𝔱𝔬 𝔩𝔢𝔞𝔳𝔢 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔠𝔦𝔱𝔶 𝔫𝔬𝔴. 𝔅𝔢𝔣𝔬𝔯𝔢 𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔶 𝔞𝔯𝔯𝔦𝔳𝔢.” ℭ𝔞𝔦𝔯𝔫 𝔫𝔬𝔡𝔡𝔢𝔡. 𝔚𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔥𝔞𝔡 𝔱𝔬 𝔟𝔢 𝔰𝔞𝔦𝔡 𝔴𝔞𝔰 𝔰𝔞𝔦𝔡. 𝔗𝔥𝔢𝔶 𝔴𝔬𝔲𝔩𝔡 𝔪𝔢𝔢𝔱 𝔞𝔤𝔞𝔦𝔫, 𝔥𝔢 𝔨𝔫𝔢𝔴, 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔱𝔥𝔞𝔱 𝔴𝔬𝔲𝔩𝔡 𝔟𝔢 𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔦𝔯 𝔣𝔦𝔫𝔞𝔩 𝔪𝔢𝔢𝔱𝔦𝔫𝔤. 𝔚𝔥𝔢𝔫 𝔞𝔩𝔩 𝔥𝔞𝔡 𝔟𝔢𝔢𝔫 𝔞𝔠𝔠𝔬𝔪𝔭𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔥𝔢𝔡, 𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔶 𝔴𝔬𝔲𝔩𝔡 𝔰𝔱𝔯𝔦𝔨𝔢 𝔢𝔞𝔠𝔥 𝔬𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯 𝔡𝔬𝔴𝔫. ℌ𝔢 𝔪𝔞𝔡𝔢 𝔥𝔦𝔰 𝔴𝔞𝔶 𝔟𝔞𝔠𝔨 𝔱𝔬 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔢𝔪𝔭𝔱𝔶 𝔡𝔬𝔬𝔯𝔴𝔞𝔶, 𝔣𝔢𝔢𝔱 𝔠𝔩𝔞𝔭𝔭𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔬𝔫 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔪𝔬𝔰𝔞𝔦𝔠 𝔣𝔩𝔬𝔬𝔯. “𝔅𝔯𝔬𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔯.” ℭ𝔞𝔦𝔯𝔫 𝔩𝔬𝔬𝔨𝔢𝔡 𝔟𝔢𝔥𝔦𝔫𝔡 𝔥𝔦𝔪. “𝔊𝔬𝔡 𝔤𝔲𝔦𝔡𝔢 𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔯 𝔭𝔞𝔱𝔥,” 𝔄𝔟-𝔏𝔢𝔰𝔥𝔞𝔩 𝔰𝔞𝔦𝔡. “𝔄𝔫𝔡 𝔶𝔬𝔲𝔯𝔰.” ℭ𝔞𝔦𝔯𝔫, 𝔰𝔬𝔫 𝔬𝔣 𝔄𝔡𝔞𝔪𝔞𝔫 𝔱𝔥𝔢 ℌ𝔢𝔞𝔯𝔢𝔯 𝔬𝔣 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔙𝔬𝔦𝔠𝔢, ℭ𝔥𝔦𝔢𝔣 𝔓𝔯𝔦𝔢𝔰𝔱 𝔬𝔣 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔓𝔢𝔬𝔭𝔩𝔢 𝔬𝔣 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔙𝔞𝔩𝔩𝔢𝔶, 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔉𝔦𝔯𝔰𝔱 𝔐𝔲𝔯𝔡𝔢𝔯𝔢𝔯, 𝔱𝔥𝔢 ℭ𝔲𝔯𝔰𝔢𝔡 𝔚𝔞𝔫𝔡𝔢𝔯𝔢𝔯, 𝔡𝔦𝔰𝔞𝔭𝔭𝔢𝔞𝔯𝔢𝔡 𝔣𝔯𝔬𝔪 𝔰𝔦𝔤𝔥𝔱, 𝔪𝔬𝔳𝔦𝔫𝔤 𝔱𝔬𝔴𝔞𝔯𝔡𝔰 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔴𝔢𝔰𝔱. 𝔄𝔟-𝔏𝔢𝔰𝔥𝔞𝔩, 𝔰𝔬𝔫 𝔬𝔣 𝔄𝔡𝔞𝔪𝔞𝔫 𝔱𝔥𝔢 ℌ𝔢𝔞𝔯𝔢𝔯 𝔬𝔣 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔙𝔬𝔦𝔠𝔢, 𝔓𝔯𝔬𝔱𝔢𝔠𝔱𝔬𝔯 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔖𝔥𝔦𝔢𝔩𝔡 𝔬𝔣 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔓𝔢𝔬𝔭𝔩𝔢 𝔬𝔣 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔙𝔞𝔩𝔩𝔢𝔶, 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔊𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔱 𝔗𝔯𝔞𝔦𝔱𝔬𝔯, 𝔅𝔯𝔢𝔞𝔨𝔢𝔯 𝔬𝔣 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔅𝔯𝔬𝔫𝔷𝔢 𝔊𝔬𝔡, 𝔉𝔦𝔯𝔰𝔱 𝔖𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔡 𝔬𝔣 𝔇𝔞𝔢𝔳𝔬𝔫, 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔅𝔲𝔱𝔠𝔥𝔢𝔯 𝔬𝔣 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔚𝔢𝔰𝔱, 𝔯𝔢𝔱𝔲𝔯𝔫𝔢𝔡 𝔱𝔬 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔟𝔩𝔞𝔠𝔨 𝔱𝔥𝔯𝔬𝔫𝔢 𝔬𝔣 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔥𝔦𝔤𝔥 𝔭𝔯𝔦𝔢𝔰𝔱, 𝔰𝔞𝔱 𝔡𝔬𝔴𝔫, 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔠𝔩𝔬𝔰𝔢𝔡 𝔥𝔦𝔰 𝔢𝔶𝔢𝔰. 𝔖𝔲𝔫 𝔰𝔢𝔱, 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔰𝔲𝔫 𝔯𝔬𝔰𝔢. 𝔖𝔲𝔫 𝔰𝔢𝔱, 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔰𝔲𝔫 𝔯𝔬𝔰𝔢. 𝔖𝔲𝔫 𝔰𝔢𝔱, 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔰𝔲𝔫 𝔯𝔬𝔰𝔢. 𝔖𝔲𝔫 𝔰𝔢𝔱, 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔰𝔲𝔫 𝔯𝔬𝔰𝔢. 𝔗𝔥𝔢𝔶 𝔥𝔞𝔡 𝔠𝔬𝔪𝔢. 𝔐𝔢𝔫 𝔴𝔦𝔱𝔥 𝔰𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔡𝔰 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔪𝔲𝔰𝔨𝔢𝔱𝔰 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔴𝔞𝔯-𝔟𝔢𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔰 𝔣𝔩𝔬𝔬𝔡𝔢𝔡 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔥𝔦𝔤𝔥 𝔱𝔢𝔪𝔭𝔩𝔢, 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔞𝔱 𝔱𝔥𝔢 𝔥𝔢𝔞𝔡 𝔬𝔣 𝔱𝔥𝔢𝔦𝔯 𝔠𝔬𝔩𝔲𝔪𝔫, 𝔞 𝔤𝔬𝔡. 𝔄𝔟-𝔏𝔢𝔰𝔥𝔞𝔩 𝔬𝔭𝔢𝔫𝔢𝔡 𝔥𝔦𝔰 𝔢𝔶𝔢𝔰, 𝔯𝔬𝔰𝔢, 𝔞𝔫𝔡 𝔱𝔬𝔬𝔨 𝔲𝔭 𝔥𝔦𝔰 𝔰𝔴𝔬𝔯𝔡. 𝔐𝔬𝔩𝔲𝔠𝔥, 𝔱𝔥𝔢 ℌ𝔬𝔯𝔫𝔢𝔡 𝔎𝔦𝔫𝔤 ℭ𝔯𝔬𝔴𝔫𝔢𝔡 𝔦𝔫 𝔖𝔥𝔞𝔪𝔢, 𝔴𝔞𝔰 𝔭𝔩𝔢𝔞𝔰𝔢𝔡. Father, After searching for months or perhaps years, I have found dozens of them. Lost among the Nälkän pigs, they cowered fearfully before their slave-god, unaware of the glory of their birthright. I have no doubt that these acolytes will serve our purposes well. Promises of knowledge and wisdom excite and enthrall them. How many of our people has time erased? How many more are shackled in the darkness of the jailers' vaults? How long have we labored under the yokes of lesser men whose greatest achievement is the mere division of motes of dust in the furnace of being? I do my best to remember patience, but I hunger for the days to come. The Tome may be lost to us, but there are copies which are bound to it. If one can be found, it may yet be possible to bring about the future we were promised. Father, Rome was ever an enemy of us. Their stolen gods mocked our legacy. And by their ascension was our final fall ensured. Curse their names eternally. I shall yet paint red the pages of history and cleanse them of the Roman perversion. Pity that the good work before mine must be discarded in darkness eternal. There must be a way to open that rift again. Those former Nälkä who reside with me now may know something, but the hatred of their slave-god is more likely by half to have twisted the truth above preserving it. But there are other adherents of the ancient rites in this world which remain… Father, My instincts have been confirmed and my faith grows yet stronger. I have found a copy of the Sacred Tome in the hands of the Broken. Seven of their rank joined our number today and delivered it as an offering to their Priest. These Broken are suspicious of the Nälkä; an old hatred stirs in their hearts. But they can be directed. From the fires of that hatred I will reforge that which was lost. Of the Tome: it ends with Rome's ascent, as I had feared. But it hints at a place where the wheel of fate may be tipped. The man Hannibal and his armies held the nascent Romans over their knee and nearly destroyed that bastard republic. If he can be reached - strengthened, brought into the fold - then we may ride the tide of history to the present; our influence will be as absolute as the stepchildren of the Latin tongue. I am certain of it. Father, The Broken know the sacred bronze. Not merely how to craft it but how to forge it and mold it into whatever shape they desire. Of this the Nälkä are cautious; so used to flesh and bone are they that they have forgotten. I have instructed them to sleep with an ingot each beneath their pillows that they might come to understand it as I have. Those which do not? Well… our temple will need a foundation… Father, Groundbreaking today. I have my foundation. Five souls ought to do it, one in the center and one at each cardinal point. I hope Daevon will look upon this blood offering with favor in the time ahead. The heat which rises from our little pits assures me that he does. The Broken continue their work on the divine machine their ancestors forbade them from building, and the remaining Nälkä are working with them on the arts of flesh. I wish you could see it, Father. The things they are creating. It's everything you've ever told to me and better. I can hear the spheres singing in the presence of their handiwork. Colors I had but imagined in dreams and visions before now dance in our workshops daily as the children ready themselves for the rite ahead. For I have done it, Father. I've divined the secret of the Tome. Our solution is less elegant, perhaps, but draws from the same rhythmic music of the sacred bronze, powered by creation, and struck in concert to actualize the prayer. A suitable offering, however, and setting… This may perhaps be more difficult to obtain. Father, The genius of the ancients was boundless. I had suspected the answer lay somewhere in the collected memories of ourselves and our bastard children, and fate has proven me correct. It is an ancient prayer, in a language lost to time. But squirreled away in the minds of the flesh-crafters and the machinists, its purpose has been found. The Harvest of Bone, that ancient year end rite, is a vehicle of manifestation. Those offerings of flesh and blood did no such paltry thing as win us favor with the gods, but manifested our Empire's destiny in spite of them. With proper alignment, my life's work will be completed, and my glory shall surpass even yours. Father, It is done. The offering has been plucked from the herd of man. She exceeds perfection. And with the flesh-crafters' eye to anatomy and the machinists' divine artifice, we cannot lose. Papa, Blackness. Rot. Our triumph dashed to rubble. All is ash. The sky is broken, I was sure it would herald our victory. Instead, we have been defiled. I saw it so clearly… Why? Why hast Daevon left me?Father, Daevon hast heard my cries, the great suffering is no more, we're once more victorious. My glory has granted me Immortality. My acolytes, whispers of the old gods, shall begin the holy reclamation, a new era for the great empire. Daevon lives! RP-Name: Bataar Al-QaherJob-Name: Acolyte of The ChosenModel: Trench Coat - CultistEquipment: Knife - Avem Syringe Abilities: Whispers Of Daevon - Great ShiftingPurpose:A never done before character [I hope] of the Daevite empire, High Priest Khazaard Bin Alarath has been chosen to be the next Immortal of the god Daevon after the events of SCP-5711 have been reverted by a copy of SCP-140 that allowed their fate to change rather than get ultimately killed, the first page shows the tale of the old Daevite empire before it's collapse, in this happening the ritual of Khazaard has been ruined, but revived by the copy of SCP-140.Khazaard would continue his duties by sending his acolytes to multiple regions of the world from the Middle East, Asia and America to fulfil the duties, revert the world to a new Daevite Empire, enslave the Sarkics, free the high lords of Alagadaa and more.This character will interact with every single player on the server, whether it's a normal Security Guard to SCP-076, SCP-682 and more. With coordination with Event Planners, Daevite events might occur to bring interesting concepts to the server. To make the abilities fair and not random (Avem Syringe) The Great Shifting will require 2 Sacrifices/Offerings to Daevon for a single use. While Whispers Of Daevon will require 4 Sacrifices/Offerings to Daevon to fully affect a person and let them be under the control until dismissed. If these requirements are not fulfilled, after a certain amount of time the magic will no longer work and the affected victim will return back to their normal state. Meaning if 3 Sacrifices are given and Whispers are attempted, they're only for a certain amount of time and not fully/till dismissed. Same thing with the Shifting, if only 1 Sacrifice is given then after a certain amount of time they'll return back to their original form. Edited July 29, 2021 by Qas MI13.net, Oswald Bruner, Nell and 5 others 7 1 Link to comment
MI13.net 216 Share Posted August 2, 2021 Accepted @Mark Kuntson @Linxio Dm me On Discord, Houston Benton#8644 rest can re-apply whenever they wish to Mahalo Linxio 1 Link to comment
Josh Richardson 30 Share Posted August 2, 2021 As you enter the store you see an old man sitting on a bench You join him Link to comment
NoylDestroyer 3 Share Posted August 2, 2021 (edited) Majestic 12 is a purported organization that appears in many UFO conspiracy theories.The organization is claimed to be the the code name of an alleged secret committee of scientists, military leaders, and government officials, formed in 1947 by an executive order by US President Harry S. Truman to facilitate recovery and investigation of alien spacecraft. The concept of "Majestic 12" emerged during a period in the 1980s when ufologists believed there had been a cover-up of the Roswell UFO incident and speculated some secretive upper tier of the United States government was responsible.Their suppositions appeared to be confirmed in 1984 when ufologist Jaime Shandera received an envelope containing film which, when developed, showed images of eight pages of documents that appeared to be briefing papers describing "Operation Majestic 12".The documents purported to reveal a secret committee of 12, supposedly authorized by United States President Harry S. Truman in 1952, and explain how the crash of an alien spacecraft at Roswell in July 1947 had been concealed, how the recovered alien technology could be exploited, and how the United States should engage with extraterrestrial life in the future.Claiming to be connected to the United States Air Force Office of Special Investigations, a man named Richard Doty told filmmaker Linda Moulton Howe that the MJ-12 story was true, and showed Howe unspecified documents purporting to prove the existence of small, grey humanoid aliens originating from the Zeta Reticuli star system. Doty reportedly promised to supply Howe with film footage of UFOs and an interview with an alien being, although no footage ever materialized.(This is the original story) IG it should be:The Majestic Council of the Twelve (more commonly called Majestic 12 or MJ12, and also known as Those Who Rule in Majesty, the Twelve and They Who Rule the World in Majesty) is a secretive group of people conspiring to control the world.Majestic 12 is a division of the Illuminati focused on controlling technology and communications.During the mid 20th century, the Illuminati leadership realized that it would need to control both financial matters and technology. To this end they created two new branches of the Illuminati: the Bilderberg Group and Majestic 12.The establishment of Majestic 12 dates back to the year 1947. During this year, a UFO was reported to have crashed, intact, at Roswell, New Mexico. After being seized by the military, a blue-ribbon panel (code named Majestic 12) was commissioned by the President of the United States to study the alien artefacts.(IN THIS CASE WE WILL USE SCPS AS ALIENS) Branch of the Illuminati In the 21st century, Majestic 12 is the most vital arm of the Illuminati. This is due to the enormous power and influence obtainable through technology. Majestic 12 gives out and suppresses technology, controls both legal and illegal drug distribution, and introduces diseases. MJ12 is also tasked with influencing (and if possible, managing) the world's intelligence organizations.(In this case FAKE NEWS or NEWS in general that can compromise SCPs).Majestic 12 use high technology as nano-augmentations suits,body,guns ecc...(like mechs,or robotic MIB(MIB:Man In Black) MJ12 custom job should be provided with: -CL4/5 -Weapons:HAMR,MP5,MP9.AUG A3,M16A4,P90,MAC11,VSS,M3 SUPER90,B23R,Riotshield,Player and Anomaly Detector,Lockpicks,Keypad Cracker,Battery Ram(if possible) -Sweaps:Cloak and Shapeshifter Enemy and Allies -SCP Foundation (ALLY) As MJ12 will coop with them as capturing people or deny fake news -PD (Neutral(Depends on RP)) -MCND (Neutral(Depends on RP)) -CI (Enemy(As Enemy of the Foundation and CI lore)) -FEMA is a former Ally(Even if it doesnt exist in RP)) Edited August 3, 2021 by NoylDestroyer Missed something Link to comment
Evan Dark 3 Share Posted August 6, 2021 (edited) My ??? character app OOC Name of Character: Stalker Job name: Boogeyman (SCP-015-IT) Abilities: Cloacking device, SCP-939 swep and self healing swep Playermodel: bloodsucker HP-700 no armor Spawn on surface Purpose: My character would make some good Surface,Research and Containment RP.I would spread fear in to Civilians and other GOIs on surface. It would make GOIs cooperate more and it could make CI players think about capturing me and using me as weapon because thats what Chaos Insurgency do they capture Anomalies for there own gain. Foundation would have very interesting SCP that would be interesting to Research and Contain if they captured me Rules:1. I can attack only people when they are alone or when they are in dark places 2. I cant eneter building with closed doors 3. I cant abuse my invisibility to get in to bases 4. I can only hunt in Night or if the person is in dark place IC Quote Description:SCP-015-IT is a humanoid being about 1.9 meters tall, with hairless skin and capable of absorbing 98% of incident light. The face has no nose or auricles and the eyes can emit light thanks to photophores on the iris. The mouth is equipped with 8 pointed and curved teeth per dental arch, while the tongue (28 cm long) is forked; on both tips there are two hollow spines connected directly to the esophagus. SCP-015-IT's arms are disproportionately long in relation to the body and the hands end with four clawed fingers. Physically, SCP-015-IT has very little body musculature; in spite of this, he is surprisingly strong and can easily subdue a grown man. Quote SCP-015-IT is active mainly during the night hours and feeds exclusively on adrenaline produced by mammals or on dead body, preferring human ones. To obtain them, it has developed a hunting method that aims to scare its prey as much as possible: usually, SCP-015-IT hides in dark places trying to go unnoticed and stalks its victim. If not spotted, SCP-015-IT waits for the prey to distract itself and silently approaches it, then grabs it violently and bites it in the side. The bite does not serve to kill the victim in usual cases, but to anchor itself with the long teeth while the tongue snaps forward and sinks directly into the adrenal gland1; the blood rich in adrenaline generated in response to fear is sucked through one of the two quills, while the second expels it with the addition of a mild sedative. This allows SCP-015-IT to keep its prey immobile without wasting too much energy and to move away undisturbed after feeding. Quote Prolonged observation of SCP-015-IT causes psychic deterioration of exposed subjects, with visual and auditory hallucinations, panic attacks and, in the most sensitive individuals, damage to the cardiovascular system; the time it takes for the first symptoms to appear is two weeks, but it decreases if SCP-015-IT does not feed regularly. The cause of this phenomenon is currently unknown but it is hypothesized to be a method of making prey vulnerable that would otherwise be too strong or aggressive. Edited August 6, 2021 by Evan Dark Link to comment
xXtablespoonXx 1 Share Posted August 9, 2021 (edited) xXtablespoonXx ??? app Start of ooc Name of character: Pietro wilson Job name: SCP-5000 Player model: Tekken force soldier or Vector spawn: Surface HP: 1000 Armour: 500. Purpose: this character would allow for more roleplay on surface for ci to use as a weapon and foundation to test on. it could even make its own rp's about where it came from and possible cross testing with things like 076 and 682. Abilities: Cloaking swep self healing swep and Bypasser swep or lvl 3 keycard Steam id:STEAM_0:0:580831374 Discord: xXtablespoonXx#6696 Weapon: fists Warns: 1 For killing a guard as a LT without reason (not active) Playtime: 1w 15h 1m Rules: I wont attack people unless attacked.my allies and enemies are undecided until they are friendly or attack End of ooc Start of ic SCP-5000 is a non-functional mechanical suit identified within its internal schematics as an 'Absolute Exclusion Harness' designed by the SCP Foundation. Although SCP-5000 is believed to have once possessed a number of anomalous functions intended to protect and benefit its occupant, damage inflicted to it in the past means that it is currently only capable of basic file storage. For a record of files contained within SCP-5000 upon recovery, see Archive 5000-1.(http://scp-wiki.wikidot.com/scp-5000) scp-5000 was active during what seems to be a XK scenario where the scp foundation turned against the world what is also noticed is that it was on a journey with a briefcase also know as scp-### to visit scp-579 which ended the XK scenario but it also destroyed the suit and Pietro Wilson is deceased. scp-5000 while being transported to Ovis city site-23 after a Anomaly included in the transport made contact with scp-5000 it returned to its state before it was destroyed with Pietro Wilson alive inside the suit The Anomaly that did this what reported missing and possibly still out there somewhere the abilities of the Anomaly are unknown so how scp-5000 was repaired is unknown or Pietro Wilson being alive Edited August 9, 2021 by xXtablespoonXx Link to comment
Xan Wolf 2 Share Posted August 16, 2021 [:/SCP-███ file left open on screen] Wrote this at 3am so if anything is weird let me know! Link to comment
Nathan Dixon 76 Share Posted August 25, 2021 Before you read: yes, I have been in this job before. Yes, I was probably terrible at it. Can't really remember. But hey, it's been a long time and I've changed since then. My previous job, UIU, was a job at a time when everyone had a really cool SWEP made by Joshy. My character didn't have a super cool SWEP to do anything with and was built on doing RP, which I had seen quite a lot of though the job management saw otherwise. ??? job has changed since then and hopefully I can earn a second chance in it. I know I've changed since then: many people can vouch for me. Though some still live on the idea I'm a complete minge who doesn't understand what A-1 is. With that out of the way I can actually do the app. Spoiler Interview Log 1-A: Interviewing officer: Dr. ██████. Inverviewee: Dr. Vladimir Zukov[LOG BEGIN] Dr. ██████: Doctor. I hope you know what you are applying for? Zukov: Yes. I do, and have been briefed fully. Dr. ██████: Good. We'll begin then. You have your CV, correct? I hope you've been updating it, because we're going to need it now. Zukov: Right here. [ZUKOV proceeds to hand Document-A [attached below] to Dr. ██████] Dr. ██████: Bare with me then while I read through this. [Dr. ██████ begins to read Document-A] Dr. ██████: You have quite a long history, I see. Zukov: Yes. My parents worked here for several years. It was the family tradition that brought me here, I suppose. Dr. ██████: What brought you into your first job in the Foundation? Zukov: As stated before, my parents worked here. And so it happened that I was interested in their shared line of work. I liked experimenting, finding things out. And suddenly I found it all became possible very soon. Dr. ██████: How'd you get into becoming a field agent? Zukov: Field research. So yes, a field agent. The front line of discovery, finding objects before anyone else in the Foundation does. I recieved full training from it, as seen. Dr. ██████: Experience wise, very good. A lot more minor details I won't go over here and there. We'll meet again shortly. Zukov: Thank you, doctor. Dr. ██████: You too.[LOG END] Spoiler Document-A is the CV of Dr. Vladimir Zukov. It is restricted on a need-to-know basis as it contains personal details about an active agent. Some parts have been redacted.Vladimir ZukovPhD in theoretical physics17+ years at the FoundationExperience in research, espionage, disguises, amnestics, documentation etc. Currently working in Field Research as a scientist. Education Secondary School: ██████ ████ College: ████████████ - A* across maths, physics and chemistry University: ██████████ ██████ - Master degree in theoretical physics PhD in theoretical physics Volunteering Volunteered in a laboratory as a lab assistant - able to work in teams and safely Charity work with ██████████ - dedicated and used to working with othersWorkRecruited into the Foundation in 19██ as a junior researcher - 2 years in position - learnt about the Foundation and its operationsPromoted to Researcher - 4 years in position - Learnt about Foundation's structure, ultimate goals, several dangerous objects and enemy GOIsPromoted to Senior Researcher - 5 years in position - Conducted more tests and had more experience in the Foundation, learning more about its activitiesTransferred to field research department - 6 months training - Training includes amnestics, disguises, espionage, weapons, medical and other basic skills needed in the fieldField agent - 2 years in position - Working in the field and in espionage. Basic skills used a lot of the time, experience in many fields.Senior Researcher - Current, 4 years so far - Researching on new anomalies after an injury in the field. Now fully healed, but remaining in current position.Skills Trained in basic fields such as guns, amnestics, disguises, espionage etc. Loyalty to the Foundation and knowledge of its operations and goals Established position within the Foundation as a researcher. Well known among colleagues Field operation training Spoiler Interview Log 1-B: Interviewing officer: Dr. ██████. Inverviewee: Dr. Vladimir Zukov[LOG BEGIN] Dr. ██████: Take a seat, please. Zukov: Well? Dr. ██████: We've read through your CV, and all audits have been completed. Zukov: Meaning? Dr. ██████: We're willing to give you a position. You'll undergo basic training and then be back in your original position as a full time operative. Understood? Zukov: Yes, doctor. Dr. ██████: We'll get someone on you soon enough. Just wait here. And... Welcome. Welcome to the internal security department. It'll be a pleasure working with you. You can call me ██████. [LOG END] Spoiler Internal security department"ISD is a concealed "foundation within the Foundation", a secret police force responsible for filtering traitors as well as operational and information security risks among the Foundation's ranks."Goal on site?: Ensure there are no traitors in the Foundation's ranks. This being general traitors, or disguised CI. Ensure loyalty among staff within the facility and report traitors or hostiles on comms. Or, handle it yourself without a disguise. It's up to you, really. Work alongside CSB or alone. Both work in the end. See below for job and player info. Spoiler this is the last bit don't worry my common RP name: Nathan Dixon steamid: STEAM_0:0:35881919 i know i have 12 warns but most are old and I haven't had one in a long time 11w 4d playtime my discord is zonger55#0351, DM me any issues/questionsCharacter Name: Dr Vladimir Zukov Job title: Internal Security Department Ability: Disguises (researcher only probably) Weapons: MK23 (pistol), elastic restraint, tactical restraint Playermodel: male_07 trenchcoat (whenever not disguised, not very likely to use it) Goal etc. is above. I'm trying to show restraint within using weaponry, so I'll only use a pistol. No CSI swep because I don't actually need it to produce some sort of RP. Link to comment
Peter Anderson 46 Share Posted August 28, 2021 https://docs.google.com/document/d/1yO1BzxoIo4jkzaOeS7Cr94SC9hxHnL-G4SrtSb-W_RA/edit?usp=sharing Feel Free to DM Himtler#8434 for any questions Charlie Robson 1 Link to comment
J0s4U8 2 Share Posted August 31, 2021 (edited) Roleplay names: Josh Martin Discord: J0s4U8#8806 Steam ID: STEAM_0:1:199792013 Warns/playtime: Music that fits well with him:https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AYiyBk8GIVE Character name: Hwane Kether (AKA the fixer of daybreak) Occupation: The fixer of daybreak About him and his Occupation: "From meaningless errands, to exploration, to contract killing; they will do whatever you wish, so long as you pay them sufficiently, They search constantly, be it for the Backers of the corporations, the Inventions of the Backstreets, the Reliques of the Outskirts, the Artefacts of the Ruins… The colossal underground complex was titled The Facility by only those who have heard of it. It is only natural for the Hwane to be drawn to such a mystic place of life and death to perhaps earn the fame, wealth and renown all fixers are after and maybe complete contracts for the civilians of ovis city along the way." Hwane wears a black suit and tie with a black mask that hides his entire face to hide his identity and equiped with a unique lightweight sword that is somehow powerful and quick to use. Why you would like this job?: because there are no characters that really work for themselves or take hits on people without waiting for someone who has the job to decide that you can do something. (like salesman selling their people to pull a hit or raid) also i think it would be interesting for having a character only using swords. in summary: like an agent without the salesman. Items?: Maybe if it gets approved a sword/katana and a 1911 Thank you for reading and have a safe day also please give some advice on how i can improve this in the comments Edited September 19, 2021 by J0s4U8 removed suggestion for addon Peter Anderson, Josh Richardson, Bread and 1 other 4 Link to comment
J0s4U8 2 Share Posted September 5, 2021 (edited) On 8/31/2021 at 7:28 PM, J0s4U8 said: Roleplay names: Josh Martin Discord: J0s4U8#8806 Steam ID: STEAM_0:1:199792013 Warns/playtime: Music that fits well with him:https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AYiyBk8GIVE Character name: Hwane Kether (AKA the fixer of daybreak) Occupation: The fixer of daybreak About him and his Occupation: "From meaningless errands, to exploration, to contract killing; they will do whatever you wish, so long as you pay them sufficiently, They search constantly, be it for the Backers of the corporations, the Inventions of the Backstreets, the Reliques of the Outskirts, the Artefacts of the Ruins… The colossal underground complex was titled The Facility by only those who have heard of it. It is only natural for the Hwane to be drawn to such a mystic place of life and death to perhaps earn the fame, wealth and renown all fixers are after and maybe complete contracts for the civilians of ovis city along the way." Hwane wears a black suit and tie with a black mask that hides his entire face to hide his identity and equiped with a unique lightweight sword that is somehow powerful and quick to use. Why you would like this job?: because there are no characters that really work for themselves or take hits on people without waiting for someone who has the job to decide that you can do something. (like salesman selling their people to pull a hit or raid) also i think it would be interesting for having a character only using swords. in summary: like an agent without the salesman. Custom swep?: Maybe if it gets approved a sword/katana (like this) https://steamcommunity.com/sharedfiles/filedetails/?id=2113671408 Thank you for reading and have a safe day also please give some advice on how i can improve this in the comments UPDATE: got 1 warning for RDMing a delta when uniforms were not comp Edited September 5, 2021 by J0s4U8 Link to comment
Kay Cooper 4 Share Posted September 12, 2021 Let me help you with the link you were searching for https://docs.google.com/document/d/11g_ap0dBkBEbTwLk3Xt4_k4xr9jPs61Xp-jtUccvagI/edit?usp=sharing Link to comment
Peter Anderson 46 Share Posted September 15, 2021 (edited) On 8/28/2021 at 10:49 AM, Peter Anderson said: https://docs.google.com/document/d/1yO1BzxoIo4jkzaOeS7Cr94SC9hxHnL-G4SrtSb-W_RA/edit?usp=sharing Feel Free to DM Himtler#8434 for any questions Update notice! AR-15 removed. ACR and Glock-18 added instead, Gen 2 cloak added instead of psychic vision (wall hacks). Once again if you have any following questions DM Himtler#8434. Edited September 15, 2021 by Peter Anderson Link to comment
Charlie Gutierrez 11 Share Posted September 18, 2021 SCP-3008-2: OOC: My IGN: Charlie Gutierrez Rank: PlatVIP/Moderator SteamID: STEAM_0:1:104854326 In game time: Job Name: SCP-3008-2 Outfit: models/player/Group02/male_02.mdl Loadout: Fists HP: 250 SCP-3008: Spoiler Item #: SCP-3008 Object Class: Euclid Special Containment Procedures: The retail park containing SCP-3008 has been purchased by the Foundation and converted into Site-██. All public roads leading to or passing by Site-██ have been redirected. The entrance to SCP-3008 is to be monitored at all times, and no one is to enter SCP-3008 outside of testing, as permitted by the Senior Researcher. Humans exiting SCP-3008 are to be detained and then debriefed prior to the administration of amnestics. Dependent upon the duration of their stay in SCP-3008, a cover story may need to be generated prior to their release. Any other entities exiting SCP-3008 are to be terminated. Description: SCP-3008 is a large retail unit previously owned by and branded as IKEA, a popular furniture retail chain. A person entering SCP-3008 through the main entrance and then passing out of sight of the doors will find themselves translocated to SCP-3008-1. This displacement will typically go unnoticed as no change will occur from the perspective of the victim; they will generally not become aware until they try to return to the entrance. SCP-3008-1 is a space resembling the inside of an IKEA furniture store, extending far beyond the limits of what could physically be contained within the dimensions of the retail unit. Current measurements indicate an area of at least 10km2 with no visible external terminators detected in any direction. Inconclusive results from the use of laser rangefinders has led to the speculation that the space may be infinite. SCP-3008-1 is inhabited by an unknown number of civilians trapped within prior to containment. Gathered data suggests they have formed a rudimentary civilisation within SCP-3008-1, including the construction of settlements and fortifications for the purpose of defending against SCP-3008-2. SCP-3008-2 are humanoid entities that exist within SCP-3008-1. While superficially resembling humans they possess exaggerated and inconsistent bodily proportions, often described as being too short or too tall. They possess no facial features and in all observed cases wear a yellow shirt and blue trousers consistent with the IKEA employee uniform. SCP-3008-1 has a rudimentary day-night cycle, determined by the overhead lighting within the space activating and deactivating at times consistent with the opening and closing times of the original retail store. During the "night" instances of SCP-3008-2 will become violent towards all other lifeforms within SCP-3008-1. During these bouts of violence they have been heard to vocalise phrases in English that are typically variations of "The store is now closed, please exit the building". Once "day" begins SCP-3008-2 instances immediately become passive and begin moving throughout SCP-3008-1 seemingly at random. They are unresponsive to questioning or other verbal cues in this state, though will react violently if attacked. SCP-3008-1 is known to have one or more exits located within, though these exits do not appear to have a fixed position, making it difficult to leave SCP-3008-1 once inside. Using any other door besides the main entrance to enter the structure or breaking through the walls of the retail unit leads into the non-anomalous interior of the original store. Since containment began 14 individuals have managed to exit SCP-3008. Following extensive debriefing all individuals have been administered amnestics and released. Incident 3008-1: At 00:37 on ██/██/200█ a human male exited SCP-3008, followed 10 seconds later by an instance of SCP-3008-2. SCP-3008-2 caught and killed the man before itself being terminated by armed response personnel. This incident represents the only time an instance of SCP-3008-2 has been seen exiting SCP-3008. A full autopsy on the corpse was performed; see 3008-2 Autopsy Log for more details. The man was carrying an IKEA-branded journal seeming to document his time in SCP-3008-1, transcribed below verbatim. Spoiler So, I'm writing this to document what I can only assume is my sudden descent into insanity. I can't possibly be THAT bad a navigator, and yet as I write this I've been trapped in Ikea for 2 days. I haven't seen another person in the entire time I've been here. I thought it was a prank at first. Turn the place into a maze, get all the people out and see how long it takes me to get lost, then everyone has a good old laugh. Realised that wasn't the case when I tried to backtrack. Everything had changed, so I ended up lost. Instead of the exit, it was just row after row of bookcases. So, I'm trapped in Ikea. Sounds like the setup for a bad joke. The lights went out at 10pm. Nearly gave me a fucking heart attack, that loud electrical THUNK sound and then pitch blackness. Place is full of beds though and my phone has a torch on it - but no damn signal - so I found a bed and went to sleep. Spent most of the next day trying to find my way out with no luck. Did find a restaurant serving those meatballs though, so at least I won't starve. That's probably the punchline to that joke. Anyway they were still warm and fresh, but I haven't seen anyone around who could have cooked them. Made my way back to the beds before the lights cut out again since it's too dark to search with them off. It's 9.10am now, the lights came back on a little while ago. I'm sure I've searched the entire area around where I came in now and the exit obviously isn't here, so I'm going to pick a direction and hope for the best. Day 3 of my magical Ikea mystery adventure. If I wasn't sure that there was something seriously weird about this place before, I am now. Walked for 3 hours in a more or less straight line (insert Ikea joke here) before I came across a ladder next to one of those huge stock shelves they have here. Climbed up to get my bearings, and it looks like this place just stretches on forever. Like that scene from the Lion King, except instead of trees and grass it was all shelves and tables and crap. I did see a person moving not too far away though, so I headed over. Thought it was a staff member at first - it was wearing the uniform. And hell maybe it was, maybe freakish 7ft tall monsters with long arms, short legs and no faces are just the kinds of thing they want working at Super Ikea. Damn thing completely ignored me though, and with no eyes or ears I can't even be sure it knew I was there. Thought about shoving it or something to get its attention, but its hands were big enough to crush a water melon so I decided against it. It just kept moving along and eventually I lost sight of it so I decided to carry on the way I was going. Anyway, no comfy bed for me tonight. Looks like I've entered the Improbably Hard and Pointy Table section of the store. Guess I'll have to make do with some bunched up tablecloths. Phone battery died during the day too. Didn't work anyway, but I feel like I've just lost some vital lifeline. You ever see one of those cartoons where they're going through doors in a hallway and they just pop out of another door in the same hallway? That's how I feel right now. I've seen nothing but the same identical bookshelf for 2 days now. Just row after row after row of them. I mean, come on. I love books as much as the next guy, but this is excessive. I'm obviously still moving forwards though, I can see the signs hanging overhead passing by. Too bad none of them say "Exit". Not sure who I was addressing that question to. Lets just say it was practice for the autobiography I'm going to write when I get out of here. I'll call it "My perfectly normal trip to a regular old Ikea". If I ever get out o Finally found some other people! Yeah, turns out I'm not the only poor bastard trapped in here. Lucky for me, I guess. My 6th night here, 2 of those staff things came at me in the dark. Different from the first one I saw, but still messed up. Heard them coming, they were saying that the store was closed and I had to leave the building, all nice and polite like. I'm not sure which part of that was weirder, that they don't have mouths or that they were apparently trying to kill me while they were saying it. Came at me like rabid dogs. So, I legged it. Sprinting through ikea in the dark like a fucking madman. I saw it when I cleared another stand of those giant stock shelves, all lit up with torches and floodlights. They've built a whole town in here! Got a massive wall built out of shelves and beds and tables and whatever else. I swear to god it was the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. Anyway I guess they saw me coming (or maybe they heard my girlish manly bellows of fear), because they had a gate open and 2 people were there waving me in. Heard the staff things slam into the gate behind me after it closed, still politely informing us all that the store was now closed. They wandered off eventually though. They call the town Exchange, because that's whats on the sign hanging from the ceiling directly above it. Exchange and Returns. All lit up against the night using lights they've found and plugged into the power lines. And there are beds and food and people. Over 50 wonderful people with regular sized limbs and a full set of facial features. It's now my 7th night here, and the first one not spent in darkness. A full week living in Ikea. There's probably a TV show in that somewhere. Now that I'm around other people, I'm starting to feel more normal. Maybe normal isn't the word. But after a week with only the sound of my own footsteps for company, I was becoming increasingly sure that I'd just gone nuts. That I was tied up in some padded room somewhere, banging my head against the wall. But no, I feel quite sane now, thank you very much! Apparently there are other towns out there. Some with more people, some with less. I found that fairly mind-boggling - how can that many people go missing with no one noticing. Surely someone would have noticed that everyone who goes to ikea seems to fucking vanish. Or maybe it's not everyone. Maybe we're just the lucky ones. The people here just call those staff monster things the Staff. Apparently they are fine during the day, minding their own business walking the aisles. As soon as those lights go out though, they go fucking bonkers. So during the day people go out to find food, water and whatever else they need. Apparently there are restaurants and shops around that randomly get restocked. No one knows how. Maybe the staff do it. Apparently they aren't very good at their jobs though because the restocking sometimes takes a while, which means the food needs to be rationed. Maybe if they weren't so busy chasing people around in the dark they'd get more done. Anyway when night comes the staff go nuts and everyone holds up inside the walls. Apparently it's the same everywhere in this place, whatever this place is. The Ur-Ikea, from whence all other Ikeas sprang. Or maybe we're all still just in the regular ikea and this is all some fever dream brought on by mind-numbing boredom. Who knows. Been here for 10 days now. Most of the people I asked said they stopped keeping track a long time ago and one guy, Chris, said he'd been in here for years. Years. [ILLEGIBLE SCRIBBLES] Apparently there are rumours of people who do manage to get out. And of people who see the exit, only to have it vanish before their very eyes. I get the feeling not everyone believes that, but I do. Explains how we got stuck in here in the first place (sort of). And I mean, come on. Staff monsters, row after endless row of high quality Swedish furniture. I don't know why they would find a disappearing door so hard to believe in. Anyway, I went out scavenging for food at a nearby shop with Sandra and Jerry today. Once you learn the landmarks of this place it's not so hard to navigate. The overhead signs help a lot, but there are others; not too far in the distance a huge section of those giant stock shelves has collapsed against each other and way off in the east (we all assume it's east anyway - apparently Ikea doesn't sell compasses) is some kind of tower that looks like its made of wood, reaches all the way to the ceiling. Maybe they were trying to break out through the roof. Lights up at night so there must be people there, but its apparently a few days walk (which means it must be miles away) so no one here really knows for sure. Apparently I got incredibly lucky sleeping out in the open for a week without getting ripped to bits by the staff. That's me. Lucky lucky lucky. We found some food in the shop. Guess the staff restocked it during the night, which was nice of them. There was a telephone on the wall, so I figured I'd try it out. There was a voice on the other end, but they were just talking nonsense. Random words strung together with no real meaning. You ever see a video of someone with aphasia? Kind of sounded like that. Didn't answer me when I spoke to them anyway. Sandra says all the phones in here are the same. Oops, asking the journal questions again! I was thinking last night. The ceiling on this place is pretty high and as far as anyone can tell it goes on forever. Shouldn't there be some kind of weather in here? I'm sure I read about some NASA building that was so big it had its own weather patterns, with clouds and stuff. This place is definitely bigger than that, but now that I think about it I'm pretty sure I've never felt so much as a temperature change in here. I'll add it to the Grand List of Weird Bullshit. The staff attacked the Exchange last night. Must have been 20 or 30 of them all just asking us to leave the store calm as you like, while trying to smash the walls down with their bare hands. Apparently this happens pretty regularly, so everyone is prepared for it. Knives from the restaurants, lawn mower blades made into hatchets, a fire axe. One guy, Wasim, even made a functional crossbow. Anyway the walls have holes in them, which I hadn't noticed before, specifically so we can stab out at the staff when they attack. Took a couple of them down myself. They don't seem to bleed, which is weird, but they go down as easy as a regular person once you start sticking holes in them. We had to haul the bodies away in the morning. Apparently the dead ones will attract more during the night, so we had to get them away from Exchange. We have a couple of those trolley things they use to move big boxes around, so we loaded them up and took them over to Pickup. Apparently people just name everything in here after whatever sign is hanging overhead. Pickup was grisly. There were hundreds, maybe thousands of dead staff all piled up. There was no smell, which was a blessing. Apparently in addition to not bleeding, these things don't rot either. My curiosity got the better of me while we were unloading them, so I took a look at one of the more cut-up ones. They're just skin, or something that looks like skin, all the way through. No muscle, no bone, no organs. Are they even really alive in the first place? They certainly seem like they have bones when they are moving around, pounding on the walls. And I'm sure I felt more resistance than just skin when the knife went in during the night. Maybe something happens to them when they die. Just one more thing on the ever-increasing list of Weird Shit that goes on in here, I guess. Something occurred to me, after the staff attack the other night. Every time you see a situation like this on TV or in a film, like its the end of the world or everyone is trapped on an island or whatever, once groups like ours start to form people always seem to turn on each other. Fighting for food or dominance or whatever else. That hasn't happened here. Apparently people from other towns come by from time to time, just to check in or occasionally to trade if they are short on something. But everything is always cordial. Friendly, even. Maybe its the threat of the staff, or perhaps the constant restocking of supplies in the shops means there's nothing much to fight over. Maybe people are just better than they are generally given credit for. That's a nice thought. I think I'll go with that one. A dozen people showed up at the gates this afternoon from a town called Trolleys. Apparently the staff broke through the walls and tore the town apart during the night. These 12 are the only survivors out of over a hundred. We let them in, obviously. One more point in the human decency column. Later, I asked if anyone knew how many of these towns there were out there. Between us and the new folks, we managed to come up with over 20 names. 20 towns filled with people, and who knows how many beyond that. The motto for this place should be "How Is That Even Possible". Surely someone, somewhere must be looking for the thousands of people that must be in here. I've been here for a little over 2 months now. Not that much changes, as it turns out. A couple of new people showed up, same story as the rest of us. Nice little trip to Ikea and suddenly they're trapped in Billy Bookcase's House of Faceless Weirdos. The staff attack the Exchange once or twice a week. We kill them and haul their bodies off, sometimes they hurt some of us first. They killed a guy called Jared a couple of weeks back. It was awful, frankly. Turns out regular humans still bleed in here, even if the staff don't. We tried our best, but none of us are doctors. Jared was a good guy. He deserved better. We all do. It occurred to me a couple of days after that, none of us were really looking for a way out of here. I don't even know where we'd start. One of those quad copter things with a camera attached buzzed passed Exchange today. I thought it meant that someone was finally looking for us, that help was on the way. Apparently it's not the first time this has happened, though. Same thing happened a few months ago, and everyone is still here. No idea if it saw us, it didn't stop if it did. Just kept flying until we could no longer see it. Note: Based on recovery time of the journal, this entry appears to line up approximately with our first successful test piloting a drone inside SCP-3008-1. Analysis of footage shows a walled settlement under a sign labelled "Exchange and Returns". Attempts to relocate the settlement failed. Origin of previously sighted drones is unknown. I started talking to people about the stuff they miss from home during dinner today. Probably not the best idea I've ever had, everyone seemed pretty down after. A bunch of people here have families. Husbands and wives, kids. Dogs. Franklin apparently has a pet llama, though I'm not sure I buy that. But apparently some of the people here have some seriously odd gaps in their knowledge. 3 of them had never heard of the International Space Station, 2 of them seemed to think █████ ███████ was the Prime Minister, and one of them had apparently never heard of the Statue of Liberty. I believe them, too. They seemed just as confused as the rest of us. The more I thought about it though, the more it started to explain a few things. What if the reason no one is looking for all us missing people is because we haven't all come from the same place. This is going to sound weird (maybe that should be the motto for this place) but what if all the people here have come from different dimensions? Realities? Whatever you call it. I've seen enough TV shows to know the drill. Sarah comes from a place where there is no Statue of Liberty. They didn't launch a space station where Wasim is from. If everyone here came from different places, even from ones that seem identical, there'd be no huge missing persons panic. No mass search. We'd just be a blip, a single missing person in a world of non-stop news. Well. That was a fun train of thought. Just realised that yesterday was the six month anniversary of my arrival here. I wonder if Ikea sells party hats. The routine around here has remained more or less the same. More new folk show up, one every couple of weeks or so. Food supplies go up and down, but we've never actually had a major shortage. Occasionally we get a visitor from one of the nearby towns, usually Checkouts or Aisle 630. We check in with each other from time to time, occasionally trade supplies if someone gets particularly low on something. It's comforting, in a way. A reminder that we aren't alone in here, some small glimmer of civilisation. Sometimes they bring medical supplies. Apparently there's a pharmacy a few towns down from Checkouts that gets restocked every now and then, so they share out what they can. I've never heard of an Ikea with a pharmacy before but at this point I wouldn't be surprised if someone stumbled on an Ikea Organ Harvesting Lab. Would certainly explain the staff. Speaking of our faceless jailers, their attacks have been getting worse lately. 3 or 4 times a week now, with twice as many staff as there used to be. No idea where they all come from, or why the attacks have increased. We tried following one of them during the day a few weeks ago, me and Sarah. Wanted to see if they lead back to a staff room or something. Didn't seem to go anywhere though, just randomly walked through the aisles. We had to turn back before we found anything. We've been reinforcing the walls, trying to arm ourselves better. Certainly no lack of materials to use. Wasim has been making more crossbows, but it's pretty slow going. Too bad Ikea doesn't sell guns. Note: No new personnel have entered SCP-3008 at Site-██ in the time span indicated in this entry. The attacks are getting bad now. Almost every night, and with so many staff that the bodies almost pile high enough for others to climb the walls. I think we're in real trouble here. Exchange is I think Exchange is done. We got hit pretty bad last night. Not many casualties, but the wall is wrecked. We finally figured out why the attacks had been escalating, too. A box of supplies had a chunk of one of the staff in there. No idea how it happened but apparently a piece of one will draw them as well as a full body. Too late now in any case, there's too many bodies for us to haul away and still have time to fix the wall before night. Candace has called a meeting. I suspect there will be talk of abandoning Exchange, maybe try and get shelter at Checkouts or something. It's already getting late though. I don't think we'll have time to make it. Maybe some of us will. I was fine for that first week out in the dark, after all. But then, how often can I keep getting lucky. I'm only writing this for a sense of closure, I guess. For me, or for anyone who finds this. If this is the final entry here, I hope whoever is reading this is doing so from outside of this place. My biggest fear? If I do die tonight, I'll just wake up here again in the morning. Note: This is the last entry. It is assumed that while attempting to reach the "Checkouts" settlement he was separated from the rest of his group by a pursuing SCP-3008-2 instance and happened upon the exit. SCP-3008-2(The character I will play as): I will play as a humanoid entity with no face who lives in SCP-3008-1. I will have stronger fists to attack people and will use pac-3 to change my head and increase the length of my limbs as SCP-3008-2 is known to be abnormally tall.The idea of playing as SCP-3008-2 is to be located in an IKEA shop(built by me either in car shop or warehouse on surface) and to act like a normal IKEA shop during the day, but at night I become extremely hostile and attack anyone who enters whilst repeating "Please leave the building, the store is now closed". To cycle day and night I will turn the inside and outside lights off every 10 mins or so to create this effect. I believe that this SCP will hopefully bring an interesting roleplay element to the server where the foundation and GOI's will be researching this SCP whilst keeping civilians away. The goal of this character is quite simple: to keep the shop closed and secure during the night and to patrol IKEA during the daytime, performing various tasks such as restocking shelves or moving various furniture around. Kaneki Fujimoto and Walter Webb 2 Link to comment
Serrt 113 Share Posted September 18, 2021 (edited) (If there are any questions about this ???, please direct them to me on discord at Serrt#5717.) They often say that curiosity is what killed the cat. Well, my dear fellow, I am inclined to disagree. It is what lurks in that bitter darkness that killed the cat. And that very darkness is what I intend to lift over this great mystery that involves the Foundation and so many more. Perhaps you would consider joining me on this quest to unveil the truth and discover that which lies within the Veil? Good. Come, sit by the fire and read a story with me. Let us set the scene for this, a tale of betrayal and most crucially, of course: Memory. Spoiler OOC INFO: RP-Name and Job Title: A Fleeting Feather/Consultancy Detective. Steam Name/Server Name: Serrt/Cameron Stoker Warns: 1 for Accidental RDM. SteamID: STEAM_0:1:128962199 Playermodels: Standard stuff, probably the ones that are available to the O5-2 slot. SWEPs: Probably none. Loadout: A weak pistol or two, cuffs and a civilian keycard. IC INFO: Backstory: Certain individuals of the Foundation's history have simply been lost to time. As the ever ticking seconds pass by, those who die alone, whether it be in pain or at peace, are often forgotten. A plaque on a wall, a small funeral service, nothing to dignify their work. Such is the natural course of servitude to an organisation of paramount danger. However... In this constant cycle of death, sacrifice and honor to a cause above ones self, a single bullet is fired that changes the course of history for twelve individuals. Eleven mourn, one fades from existence. The highest amount of service and yet he vanishes without a trace. A search is conducted and no body is ever recovered. Time moves again and eleven become twelve in mere moments. And so, that, my dear friends, is that. Or so it should be. Drifting through liminal space with no concept of time, thirst, hunger or even a sense of self, the man feels his body constantly fade in and out of existence. An agonizing half-death that never ends, the space itself he wanders becoming as red as the blood he provides an endless supply of. How does he escape this situation, you may ask? That's a question even I can't answer, my friend. It is said that the man, clinging to the most feeble traces of memory, wrenched out a scream so loud that even the heavens themselves stopped and listened. Visceral anger at the betrayer, unending pain from his half-death. And then...there was light. The man wakes up in a silken sheet, sprawling and throwing it to the floor with the panic of a deer in headlights. His surroundings become clear to him. A wooden thatch house, on the outskirts of a small town that has the name "Ovis." Strange, how familiar such a name was to a man with seemingly no memories. A compulsion, almost agonizing in it's intensity, pounds the skull of the man as he stares at the name. He walks forward. He never stops walking, in fact, until all of a sudden, a blue door stands in his path. Strange how familiar this is, too. So many questions, not enough answers. All the man can find is a business card that lists him as a Detective. He did assist those gentlemen with the murder case, rather efficient at that. But why does that tug at his heart as a case of woeful, dramatic irony? More questions, blast it! The man fumbles with the door, budging at it and forcing it open. One moment, he stands before an iron gate, the next he finds himself hiding in a warehouse container as he tries to piece together the truth. The Foundation means something, but the ability to figure out what? It simply lies beyond him at this time. He can only pull at the familiar grey of his suit, breathe and step into the open. He must find answers. No matter the cost. Present: Well, that's the start of this story, my friend. It has no ending yet, of course, because it is still writing itself! Memory, betrayal, death itself. All a rather perfect setting for a story of the macabre! But only you can assist to write the further pages of this story. Come, let us move forward and write the ending of this story, no matter the route it takes. The game is afoot, dear fellows, I expect you to assist me in solving it! NOTES: This character is not designed to be a permanent character that would be PK'd when an RP situation arises. This character exists solely to act out the saga on the server that I have planned for it and will only persist on the ??? slot if the Foundation and other server members are able to roleplay in such a fashion that it would make it feasible. Once the character reaches the conclusion of the arc that I have in mind, I will decide if I simply get rid of it or keep it. This character is not likely to use any SWEPs. Edited September 18, 2021 by Serrt Word changes for readability Link to comment
ban ban ban ban ban ban 0 Share Posted September 18, 2021 hey can i get unbanned on scp serveR? Link to comment
Kaneki Fujimoto 106 Share Posted September 18, 2021 8 minutes ago, ban ban ban ban ban ban said: hey can i get unbanned on scp serveR? There's a million other tabs on this website and you decide to place it here... I'm losing my mind. Here you go fella! https://werwolfgaming.net/forums/forum/43-unban-requests/ hello Link to comment
ban ban ban ban ban ban 0 Share Posted September 18, 2021 don't lose it, already got denied. Link to comment
MI13.net 216 Share Posted September 18, 2021 3 hours ago, bobjeffman123 said: SCP-3008-2: OOC: My IGN: Charlie Gutierrez Rank: PlatVIP/Moderator SteamID: STEAM_0:1:104854326 In game time: Job Name: SCP-3008-2 Outfit: models/player/Group02/male_02.mdl Loadout: Fists HP: 250 SCP-3008: Reveal hidden contents Item #: SCP-3008 Object Class: Euclid Special Containment Procedures: The retail park containing SCP-3008 has been purchased by the Foundation and converted into Site-██. All public roads leading to or passing by Site-██ have been redirected. The entrance to SCP-3008 is to be monitored at all times, and no one is to enter SCP-3008 outside of testing, as permitted by the Senior Researcher. Humans exiting SCP-3008 are to be detained and then debriefed prior to the administration of amnestics. Dependent upon the duration of their stay in SCP-3008, a cover story may need to be generated prior to their release. Any other entities exiting SCP-3008 are to be terminated. Description: SCP-3008 is a large retail unit previously owned by and branded as IKEA, a popular furniture retail chain. A person entering SCP-3008 through the main entrance and then passing out of sight of the doors will find themselves translocated to SCP-3008-1. This displacement will typically go unnoticed as no change will occur from the perspective of the victim; they will generally not become aware until they try to return to the entrance. SCP-3008-1 is a space resembling the inside of an IKEA furniture store, extending far beyond the limits of what could physically be contained within the dimensions of the retail unit. Current measurements indicate an area of at least 10km2 with no visible external terminators detected in any direction. Inconclusive results from the use of laser rangefinders has led to the speculation that the space may be infinite. SCP-3008-1 is inhabited by an unknown number of civilians trapped within prior to containment. Gathered data suggests they have formed a rudimentary civilisation within SCP-3008-1, including the construction of settlements and fortifications for the purpose of defending against SCP-3008-2. SCP-3008-2 are humanoid entities that exist within SCP-3008-1. While superficially resembling humans they possess exaggerated and inconsistent bodily proportions, often described as being too short or too tall. They possess no facial features and in all observed cases wear a yellow shirt and blue trousers consistent with the IKEA employee uniform. SCP-3008-1 has a rudimentary day-night cycle, determined by the overhead lighting within the space activating and deactivating at times consistent with the opening and closing times of the original retail store. During the "night" instances of SCP-3008-2 will become violent towards all other lifeforms within SCP-3008-1. During these bouts of violence they have been heard to vocalise phrases in English that are typically variations of "The store is now closed, please exit the building". Once "day" begins SCP-3008-2 instances immediately become passive and begin moving throughout SCP-3008-1 seemingly at random. They are unresponsive to questioning or other verbal cues in this state, though will react violently if attacked. SCP-3008-1 is known to have one or more exits located within, though these exits do not appear to have a fixed position, making it difficult to leave SCP-3008-1 once inside. Using any other door besides the main entrance to enter the structure or breaking through the walls of the retail unit leads into the non-anomalous interior of the original store. Since containment began 14 individuals have managed to exit SCP-3008. Following extensive debriefing all individuals have been administered amnestics and released. Incident 3008-1: At 00:37 on ██/██/200█ a human male exited SCP-3008, followed 10 seconds later by an instance of SCP-3008-2. SCP-3008-2 caught and killed the man before itself being terminated by armed response personnel. This incident represents the only time an instance of SCP-3008-2 has been seen exiting SCP-3008. A full autopsy on the corpse was performed; see 3008-2 Autopsy Log for more details. The man was carrying an IKEA-branded journal seeming to document his time in SCP-3008-1, transcribed below verbatim. Reveal hidden contents So, I'm writing this to document what I can only assume is my sudden descent into insanity. I can't possibly be THAT bad a navigator, and yet as I write this I've been trapped in Ikea for 2 days. I haven't seen another person in the entire time I've been here. I thought it was a prank at first. Turn the place into a maze, get all the people out and see how long it takes me to get lost, then everyone has a good old laugh. Realised that wasn't the case when I tried to backtrack. Everything had changed, so I ended up lost. Instead of the exit, it was just row after row of bookcases. So, I'm trapped in Ikea. Sounds like the setup for a bad joke. The lights went out at 10pm. Nearly gave me a fucking heart attack, that loud electrical THUNK sound and then pitch blackness. Place is full of beds though and my phone has a torch on it - but no damn signal - so I found a bed and went to sleep. Spent most of the next day trying to find my way out with no luck. Did find a restaurant serving those meatballs though, so at least I won't starve. That's probably the punchline to that joke. Anyway they were still warm and fresh, but I haven't seen anyone around who could have cooked them. Made my way back to the beds before the lights cut out again since it's too dark to search with them off. It's 9.10am now, the lights came back on a little while ago. I'm sure I've searched the entire area around where I came in now and the exit obviously isn't here, so I'm going to pick a direction and hope for the best. Day 3 of my magical Ikea mystery adventure. If I wasn't sure that there was something seriously weird about this place before, I am now. Walked for 3 hours in a more or less straight line (insert Ikea joke here) before I came across a ladder next to one of those huge stock shelves they have here. Climbed up to get my bearings, and it looks like this place just stretches on forever. Like that scene from the Lion King, except instead of trees and grass it was all shelves and tables and crap. I did see a person moving not too far away though, so I headed over. Thought it was a staff member at first - it was wearing the uniform. And hell maybe it was, maybe freakish 7ft tall monsters with long arms, short legs and no faces are just the kinds of thing they want working at Super Ikea. Damn thing completely ignored me though, and with no eyes or ears I can't even be sure it knew I was there. Thought about shoving it or something to get its attention, but its hands were big enough to crush a water melon so I decided against it. It just kept moving along and eventually I lost sight of it so I decided to carry on the way I was going. Anyway, no comfy bed for me tonight. Looks like I've entered the Improbably Hard and Pointy Table section of the store. Guess I'll have to make do with some bunched up tablecloths. Phone battery died during the day too. Didn't work anyway, but I feel like I've just lost some vital lifeline. You ever see one of those cartoons where they're going through doors in a hallway and they just pop out of another door in the same hallway? That's how I feel right now. I've seen nothing but the same identical bookshelf for 2 days now. Just row after row after row of them. I mean, come on. I love books as much as the next guy, but this is excessive. I'm obviously still moving forwards though, I can see the signs hanging overhead passing by. Too bad none of them say "Exit". Not sure who I was addressing that question to. Lets just say it was practice for the autobiography I'm going to write when I get out of here. I'll call it "My perfectly normal trip to a regular old Ikea". If I ever get out o Finally found some other people! Yeah, turns out I'm not the only poor bastard trapped in here. Lucky for me, I guess. My 6th night here, 2 of those staff things came at me in the dark. Different from the first one I saw, but still messed up. Heard them coming, they were saying that the store was closed and I had to leave the building, all nice and polite like. I'm not sure which part of that was weirder, that they don't have mouths or that they were apparently trying to kill me while they were saying it. Came at me like rabid dogs. So, I legged it. Sprinting through ikea in the dark like a fucking madman. I saw it when I cleared another stand of those giant stock shelves, all lit up with torches and floodlights. They've built a whole town in here! Got a massive wall built out of shelves and beds and tables and whatever else. I swear to god it was the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. Anyway I guess they saw me coming (or maybe they heard my girlish manly bellows of fear), because they had a gate open and 2 people were there waving me in. Heard the staff things slam into the gate behind me after it closed, still politely informing us all that the store was now closed. They wandered off eventually though. They call the town Exchange, because that's whats on the sign hanging from the ceiling directly above it. Exchange and Returns. All lit up against the night using lights they've found and plugged into the power lines. And there are beds and food and people. Over 50 wonderful people with regular sized limbs and a full set of facial features. It's now my 7th night here, and the first one not spent in darkness. A full week living in Ikea. There's probably a TV show in that somewhere. Now that I'm around other people, I'm starting to feel more normal. Maybe normal isn't the word. But after a week with only the sound of my own footsteps for company, I was becoming increasingly sure that I'd just gone nuts. That I was tied up in some padded room somewhere, banging my head against the wall. But no, I feel quite sane now, thank you very much! Apparently there are other towns out there. Some with more people, some with less. I found that fairly mind-boggling - how can that many people go missing with no one noticing. Surely someone would have noticed that everyone who goes to ikea seems to fucking vanish. Or maybe it's not everyone. Maybe we're just the lucky ones. The people here just call those staff monster things the Staff. Apparently they are fine during the day, minding their own business walking the aisles. As soon as those lights go out though, they go fucking bonkers. So during the day people go out to find food, water and whatever else they need. Apparently there are restaurants and shops around that randomly get restocked. No one knows how. Maybe the staff do it. Apparently they aren't very good at their jobs though because the restocking sometimes takes a while, which means the food needs to be rationed. Maybe if they weren't so busy chasing people around in the dark they'd get more done. Anyway when night comes the staff go nuts and everyone holds up inside the walls. Apparently it's the same everywhere in this place, whatever this place is. The Ur-Ikea, from whence all other Ikeas sprang. Or maybe we're all still just in the regular ikea and this is all some fever dream brought on by mind-numbing boredom. Who knows. Been here for 10 days now. Most of the people I asked said they stopped keeping track a long time ago and one guy, Chris, said he'd been in here for years. Years. [ILLEGIBLE SCRIBBLES] Apparently there are rumours of people who do manage to get out. And of people who see the exit, only to have it vanish before their very eyes. I get the feeling not everyone believes that, but I do. Explains how we got stuck in here in the first place (sort of). And I mean, come on. Staff monsters, row after endless row of high quality Swedish furniture. I don't know why they would find a disappearing door so hard to believe in. Anyway, I went out scavenging for food at a nearby shop with Sandra and Jerry today. Once you learn the landmarks of this place it's not so hard to navigate. The overhead signs help a lot, but there are others; not too far in the distance a huge section of those giant stock shelves has collapsed against each other and way off in the east (we all assume it's east anyway - apparently Ikea doesn't sell compasses) is some kind of tower that looks like its made of wood, reaches all the way to the ceiling. Maybe they were trying to break out through the roof. Lights up at night so there must be people there, but its apparently a few days walk (which means it must be miles away) so no one here really knows for sure. Apparently I got incredibly lucky sleeping out in the open for a week without getting ripped to bits by the staff. That's me. Lucky lucky lucky. We found some food in the shop. Guess the staff restocked it during the night, which was nice of them. There was a telephone on the wall, so I figured I'd try it out. There was a voice on the other end, but they were just talking nonsense. Random words strung together with no real meaning. You ever see a video of someone with aphasia? Kind of sounded like that. Didn't answer me when I spoke to them anyway. Sandra says all the phones in here are the same. Oops, asking the journal questions again! I was thinking last night. The ceiling on this place is pretty high and as far as anyone can tell it goes on forever. Shouldn't there be some kind of weather in here? I'm sure I read about some NASA building that was so big it had its own weather patterns, with clouds and stuff. This place is definitely bigger than that, but now that I think about it I'm pretty sure I've never felt so much as a temperature change in here. I'll add it to the Grand List of Weird Bullshit. The staff attacked the Exchange last night. Must have been 20 or 30 of them all just asking us to leave the store calm as you like, while trying to smash the walls down with their bare hands. Apparently this happens pretty regularly, so everyone is prepared for it. Knives from the restaurants, lawn mower blades made into hatchets, a fire axe. One guy, Wasim, even made a functional crossbow. Anyway the walls have holes in them, which I hadn't noticed before, specifically so we can stab out at the staff when they attack. Took a couple of them down myself. They don't seem to bleed, which is weird, but they go down as easy as a regular person once you start sticking holes in them. We had to haul the bodies away in the morning. Apparently the dead ones will attract more during the night, so we had to get them away from Exchange. We have a couple of those trolley things they use to move big boxes around, so we loaded them up and took them over to Pickup. Apparently people just name everything in here after whatever sign is hanging overhead. Pickup was grisly. There were hundreds, maybe thousands of dead staff all piled up. There was no smell, which was a blessing. Apparently in addition to not bleeding, these things don't rot either. My curiosity got the better of me while we were unloading them, so I took a look at one of the more cut-up ones. They're just skin, or something that looks like skin, all the way through. No muscle, no bone, no organs. Are they even really alive in the first place? They certainly seem like they have bones when they are moving around, pounding on the walls. And I'm sure I felt more resistance than just skin when the knife went in during the night. Maybe something happens to them when they die. Just one more thing on the ever-increasing list of Weird Shit that goes on in here, I guess. Something occurred to me, after the staff attack the other night. Every time you see a situation like this on TV or in a film, like its the end of the world or everyone is trapped on an island or whatever, once groups like ours start to form people always seem to turn on each other. Fighting for food or dominance or whatever else. That hasn't happened here. Apparently people from other towns come by from time to time, just to check in or occasionally to trade if they are short on something. But everything is always cordial. Friendly, even. Maybe its the threat of the staff, or perhaps the constant restocking of supplies in the shops means there's nothing much to fight over. Maybe people are just better than they are generally given credit for. That's a nice thought. I think I'll go with that one. A dozen people showed up at the gates this afternoon from a town called Trolleys. Apparently the staff broke through the walls and tore the town apart during the night. These 12 are the only survivors out of over a hundred. We let them in, obviously. One more point in the human decency column. Later, I asked if anyone knew how many of these towns there were out there. Between us and the new folks, we managed to come up with over 20 names. 20 towns filled with people, and who knows how many beyond that. The motto for this place should be "How Is That Even Possible". Surely someone, somewhere must be looking for the thousands of people that must be in here. I've been here for a little over 2 months now. Not that much changes, as it turns out. A couple of new people showed up, same story as the rest of us. Nice little trip to Ikea and suddenly they're trapped in Billy Bookcase's House of Faceless Weirdos. The staff attack the Exchange once or twice a week. We kill them and haul their bodies off, sometimes they hurt some of us first. They killed a guy called Jared a couple of weeks back. It was awful, frankly. Turns out regular humans still bleed in here, even if the staff don't. We tried our best, but none of us are doctors. Jared was a good guy. He deserved better. We all do. It occurred to me a couple of days after that, none of us were really looking for a way out of here. I don't even know where we'd start. One of those quad copter things with a camera attached buzzed passed Exchange today. I thought it meant that someone was finally looking for us, that help was on the way. Apparently it's not the first time this has happened, though. Same thing happened a few months ago, and everyone is still here. No idea if it saw us, it didn't stop if it did. Just kept flying until we could no longer see it. Note: Based on recovery time of the journal, this entry appears to line up approximately with our first successful test piloting a drone inside SCP-3008-1. Analysis of footage shows a walled settlement under a sign labelled "Exchange and Returns". Attempts to relocate the settlement failed. Origin of previously sighted drones is unknown. I started talking to people about the stuff they miss from home during dinner today. Probably not the best idea I've ever had, everyone seemed pretty down after. A bunch of people here have families. Husbands and wives, kids. Dogs. Franklin apparently has a pet llama, though I'm not sure I buy that. But apparently some of the people here have some seriously odd gaps in their knowledge. 3 of them had never heard of the International Space Station, 2 of them seemed to think █████ ███████ was the Prime Minister, and one of them had apparently never heard of the Statue of Liberty. I believe them, too. They seemed just as confused as the rest of us. The more I thought about it though, the more it started to explain a few things. What if the reason no one is looking for all us missing people is because we haven't all come from the same place. This is going to sound weird (maybe that should be the motto for this place) but what if all the people here have come from different dimensions? Realities? Whatever you call it. I've seen enough TV shows to know the drill. Sarah comes from a place where there is no Statue of Liberty. They didn't launch a space station where Wasim is from. If everyone here came from different places, even from ones that seem identical, there'd be no huge missing persons panic. No mass search. We'd just be a blip, a single missing person in a world of non-stop news. Well. That was a fun train of thought. Just realised that yesterday was the six month anniversary of my arrival here. I wonder if Ikea sells party hats. The routine around here has remained more or less the same. More new folk show up, one every couple of weeks or so. Food supplies go up and down, but we've never actually had a major shortage. Occasionally we get a visitor from one of the nearby towns, usually Checkouts or Aisle 630. We check in with each other from time to time, occasionally trade supplies if someone gets particularly low on something. It's comforting, in a way. A reminder that we aren't alone in here, some small glimmer of civilisation. Sometimes they bring medical supplies. Apparently there's a pharmacy a few towns down from Checkouts that gets restocked every now and then, so they share out what they can. I've never heard of an Ikea with a pharmacy before but at this point I wouldn't be surprised if someone stumbled on an Ikea Organ Harvesting Lab. Would certainly explain the staff. Speaking of our faceless jailers, their attacks have been getting worse lately. 3 or 4 times a week now, with twice as many staff as there used to be. No idea where they all come from, or why the attacks have increased. We tried following one of them during the day a few weeks ago, me and Sarah. Wanted to see if they lead back to a staff room or something. Didn't seem to go anywhere though, just randomly walked through the aisles. We had to turn back before we found anything. We've been reinforcing the walls, trying to arm ourselves better. Certainly no lack of materials to use. Wasim has been making more crossbows, but it's pretty slow going. Too bad Ikea doesn't sell guns. Note: No new personnel have entered SCP-3008 at Site-██ in the time span indicated in this entry. The attacks are getting bad now. Almost every night, and with so many staff that the bodies almost pile high enough for others to climb the walls. I think we're in real trouble here. Exchange is I think Exchange is done. We got hit pretty bad last night. Not many casualties, but the wall is wrecked. We finally figured out why the attacks had been escalating, too. A box of supplies had a chunk of one of the staff in there. No idea how it happened but apparently a piece of one will draw them as well as a full body. Too late now in any case, there's too many bodies for us to haul away and still have time to fix the wall before night. Candace has called a meeting. I suspect there will be talk of abandoning Exchange, maybe try and get shelter at Checkouts or something. It's already getting late though. I don't think we'll have time to make it. Maybe some of us will. I was fine for that first week out in the dark, after all. But then, how often can I keep getting lucky. I'm only writing this for a sense of closure, I guess. For me, or for anyone who finds this. If this is the final entry here, I hope whoever is reading this is doing so from outside of this place. My biggest fear? If I do die tonight, I'll just wake up here again in the morning. Note: This is the last entry. It is assumed that while attempting to reach the "Checkouts" settlement he was separated from the rest of his group by a pursuing SCP-3008-2 instance and happened upon the exit. SCP-3008-2(The character I will play as): I will play as a humanoid entity with no face who lives in SCP-3008-1. I will have stronger fists to attack people and will use pac-3 to change my head and increase the length of my limbs as SCP-3008-2 is known to be abnormally tall.The idea of playing as SCP-3008-2 is to be located in an IKEA shop(built by me either in car shop or warehouse on surface) and to act like a normal IKEA shop during the day, but at night I become extremely hostile and attack anyone who enters whilst repeating "Please leave the building, the store is now closed". To cycle day and night I will turn the inside and outside lights off every 10 mins or so to create this effect. I believe that this SCP will hopefully bring an interesting roleplay element to the server where the foundation and GOI's will be researching this SCP whilst keeping civilians away. The goal of this character is quite simple: to keep the shop closed and secure during the night and to patrol IKEA during the daytime, performing various tasks such as restocking shelves or moving various furniture around. https://en-global-jobs.about.ikea.com/ apply here for your ??? character. Qas, Josh Richardson, Oil and 4 others 5 2 Link to comment
kararishere 4 Share Posted September 20, 2021 (edited) Edited September 20, 2021 by kararishere Link to comment
J0s4U8 2 Share Posted September 24, 2021 On 8/31/2021 at 7:28 PM, J0s4U8 said: Roleplay names: Josh Martin Discord: J0s4U8#8806 Steam ID: STEAM_0:1:199792013 Warns/playtime: Music that fits well with him:https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AYiyBk8GIVE Character name: Hwane Kether (AKA the fixer of daybreak) Occupation: The fixer of daybreak About him and his Occupation: "From meaningless errands, to exploration, to contract killing; they will do whatever you wish, so long as you pay them sufficiently, They search constantly, be it for the Backers of the corporations, the Inventions of the Backstreets, the Reliques of the Outskirts, the Artefacts of the Ruins… The colossal underground complex was titled The Facility by only those who have heard of it. It is only natural for the Hwane to be drawn to such a mystic place of life and death to perhaps earn the fame, wealth and renown all fixers are after and maybe complete contracts for the civilians of ovis city along the way." Hwane wears a black suit and tie with a black mask that hides his entire face to hide his identity and equiped with a unique lightweight sword that is somehow powerful and quick to use. Why you would like this job?: because there are no characters that really work for themselves or take hits on people without waiting for someone who has the job to decide that you can do something. (like salesman selling their people to pull a hit or raid) also i think it would be interesting for having a character only using swords. in summary: like an agent without the salesman. Items?: Maybe if it gets approved a sword/katana and a 1911 Thank you for reading and have a safe day also please give some advice on how i can improve this in the comments BUMP! Link to comment
Nathan Kennedy 442 Share Posted September 25, 2021 El Chacho Santos During the 1940s El Chacho was an employee of the Special Security Commission. He travelled across war torn Europe attempting to obtain any anomalies he could in the chaos to bring back to Spain. Lots of his history is shrouded in mystery but it is also believed he was an active participant within the Yugoslavia war and across Afghanistan over numerous decades. Not much his known about his child hood other than that they were likely raised in Madrid. El Chacho has become infamous within the anomalous world for his escapades within Europe and Yugoslavia. Foundation agents have collected some documents about him from other GOIs. Chachos Hymn Wandsmen Document We believe it to be largely fictional but due to Wandsmen capabilities who knows what could have been made up. The story follows Chacho trying to secure COTBG anomalies from a farmhouse in rural France. The COTBG are moving anomalies away when OBSCURA attacks and in the chaos Chacho tries to steal some anomalies. https://docs.google.com/document/d/1yXDjWUVzU9-Zu47C0cVEBTtInCwi2g1lIycMovmck1k/edit El Chacho dont fuck with no sweps just the ability that he is smooooth as fuck. He has a revolver as well which he shoots. Make sure to pay attention for the expanding Chacho cinematic universe Peter Anderson and Fricky Hecks 2 I am here to launder money Link to comment
