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Mishiro

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About Mishiro

  • Birthday 11/22/2001

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  • Guild Name
    Solo Player

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  • Skill Points
    24

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  1. Seconds ticked by. The room remained still. Slowly easing out of her rigid stance, Mishiro reached down and met empty air where her teleport crystal usually hung from a hook on her belt. She fixed a careful eye on the restaurant's interior and took quick note of its layout as she quietly inched backwards until her gauntleted hand met the knob. She tried the door. It was locked. She jiggled the knob and twisted it again to be sure. It was locked. She took her eyes off the room to peer at the keyhole. Could she pick it somehow? She kept a lockpick in her inventory, and perhaps she could send Claude a quick message informing him about the situation. Her hesitation with the latter wasn't exactly a factor when there were too many unknown variables in the equation. Mishiro swiped her hand down. Once, twice, then another try with her opposite hand. Disabled menu access. A cold chill crept up her spine, and she clenched her gauntleted hand into a fist with grim determination. One last option. If she could punch a boulder into oblivion, she could do the same for a flimsy wooden door. She swung. [Immortal Object]
  2. Truth be told, Mishiro hadn't been expecting to blast through the tree creature's remaining HP. As the head of her warhammer crashed to the ground at the end of its swing, the Tree of the Spring's data crystals exploded into the air like confetti and gently rained down on the bewildered girl and her weapon. Another surprise — but perhaps the only nice one she would have today. Rumbling laughter echoed from the looming Tree of Summer. "Too close." Paralyze had no effect. Confused and caught off-guard, Mishiro collected her warhammer and made a dash for safety. (It was more of a rapid side shuffle, but don't call her out on that). Though she was the closest, the Tree of the Summer ignored her; Bunny Suit A received a soft tap on the head and took around a fourth of his health bar in damage. The Tree of the Fall slammed its wooden appendages into the ground and the earth trembled. She steadied herself and held onto her weapon tightly, keeping a careful eye on the mobs until the minor earthquake subsided. The plant creatures appeared to be shedding bark. No, more like it was peeling off; a lot of it. A vanity effect? She looked further up and caught a glimpse of a second bar, this time colored blue. What would happen if it was fully depleted? Mishiro startled. Tugged her leg free from a creeping tendril, then crushed it under her boot. From the small cracks that had opened up from the minor earthquake, vines burst to life and lashed out at any player within reach. Her eyes narrowed in distaste when more appeared, and she dropped the head of her warhammer onto the crawling branches with a series of satisfying snaps. She didn't expect to have to look down of all places. Tossing her hair over her shoulder, she retrieved her hammer and swiftly moved on. The player in red called out another order. She circled behind the attacking players as they all followed and kept a close eye on the mobs' blue bars. One sword-wielder and Bunny Suit B successfully landed blows and a Stun on Tree of the Fall. Her gray eyes flicked to the axe-wielding bunny knight's HP, and Mishiro promptly switched targets. She broke from the group and slammed her hammer down on the hulking mass's knee. ...or what looked like it. Sometimes, one had to guess with all these fantasy monsters.
  3. A paved path cutting through a garden of delicate white flowers and crystal ice statues. And a door to the towering building at the end, placed between two windows — with tinted glass panes she carelessly overlooked. Shelter from the frigid cold. Mishiro was still shivering when she grasped the knob with a gauntleted hand covered in a thin layer of frost. Caught in the middle of a sudden snowstorm, even layers of Claude's fluffiest coats could do nothing to stave off the bitter cold when she herself lacked the [Survival] skill. The tower was a beacon of warmth amid bleak snow-covered hills and the freezing girl craved nothing more than a few minutes spent by a warm fire. She'll continue her trek later. She had to. Mishiro twisted the knob. With a long and loud creak, the door swung open and a pleasant draft of warmth welcomed her. She was peering into a hotel restaurant. And it was eerily still and empty. The door slammed. It echoed, the sound bouncing on and off the room's walls. Mishiro stood deathly still in the middle of the room, gauntleted hands curled into fists. She looked behind her. She didn't remember walking forward.
  4. Satisfied, the selection window vanished. A simple iron warhammer with a curved spike on the backside of the head manifested before her, and when she reached out to grasp it with both hands, the sudden weight almost set her toppling off the tall ruin. Heavy. She'd slipped on a pair of thin gloves but, as she took advantage of the short moment of calm before the approaching storm to get accustomed to her temporary weapon, she still felt a touch uncomfortable with the idea of rushing into battle without the usual gauntlets weighing down on her hands. Perhaps clubbing her opponents on the head would prove a simple enough task for a girl who was hopeless with held weapons. Imagine playing whack-a-mole. But with a bigger hammer. And a mole that could whack you right back, or maybe crush your head under its foot for good measure. Mishiro less-than-gracefully skidded down the ruins with her hammer in one hand and the other extended for balance, leaving crumbling rocks in her wake. When she reached the base, she had to stumble a few steps forward to regain her balance. She dusted herself off, appearing largely unphased. If she could manage sliding down the rocky hill with hardly a screw-up, she could— Thud-thud-thud. A larger stone piece had peeled off the ruin and rolled down after her, disturbing more debris and sending slight tremors through the ground. She threw herself forward as the mini-avalanche crashed to a halt on the spot she had been standing in seconds ago. When the dust settled, the girl gave a small huff of embarrassment then strode over to the Trading Post's volunteer defenders. Nothing to see here~. In the center of attention was the frontliner, leader of the Aincrad Trading Post, Zandra. Mishiro inched close enough to hear her express how little she knew of the field boss coming their way. Hence, the call for help. It had summoned a fair amount of players, two players who confidently held their selected swords... and a man and two women in what appeared to be bunny outfits. Complete with the cute ears and fluffy tail and everything. Mishiro opened her mouth. Mishiro closed her mouth. Nothing to see there, either. [Hostile Encounter] A large root exploded from the ground, rising meters tall and sending a shower of dirt to nearby players. Zandra raced to the front line of the defenders and held her staff up. Shifting into an imitation of the guild leader's stance, Mishiro watched as the root curled backwards for a moment then delivered a devastating blow against their first line of defense. Her head snapped to follow the frontliner. Zandra slammed against a pillar, her health dropping to — zero. The Berserk Healer herself, taken out by one hit. Mishiro felt the cold chill of dread crawl up her spine, but unexpectedly, Zandra's motionless body didn't vanish. The symbol of a status effect floated over her HP bar, and as a player barked out orders, another rushed over to attend to her. Pulse quickening, the girl turned her cold gray eyes to the nearest mob. Bunny Suit A caught all three mobs in an AoE paralyze, leaving Spring Tree ripe for a clubbing. Awkwardly shifting her warhammer's weight from one side to the other, Mishiro spared no more hesitation and locked onto her target. She hefted the weapon high above her head and f-cking slammed the paralyzed tree to the ground. Like playing whack-a-mole—!
  5. This blasted event didn't even give her the option to equip a pair of unenhanced gauntlets. Mishiro's lips were set in a thin line and, for as long as she held out on her decision, she kept her hands shoved into her coat pockets. The game had automatically unequipped her gauntlets. Preserved every player's dignity by nullifying armor and accessory enhancements instead of taking them off. Then presented her with four options, none of which she liked. The girl had half a mind to turn around and return to the sole reason she was in one of the higher floors in the first place -- a calming walk, in a settlement which she rarely visited and was as far from home as she could possibly want, to ease off her hidden frustration with Claude's very... disruptive lodger -- but the scene that played out before her icy gray eyes compelled her otherwise. A considerable distance from the vine-infested remnants of the collapsed stone structure beneath her feet, the battle was already underway. Players went in to attack, yet their blows were inconsequential to the behemoth's massive HP bar. Undaunted, the field boss would continue its steady advance. Certainly the sort of situation that would warrant for a frontliner to send a floor-wide call for reinforcements. Guild halls could be rebuilt, yet the time, effort, and Col dedicated would be lost forever. A collective movement to defend the Trading Post from a hostile event with mechanics most had never encountered before was a daunting task, yet, if they succeeded, it was less detrimental than leaving it to crumble like Floor 19's ruined cities. Gathering by the town gates were players who likely thought the same as her, and as Mishiro watched them from afar, she felt obliged to see this event through. She lifted a pale hand to the semi-transparent window that floated squarely in the middle of her vision and pressed an option. [Selected Weapon: Warhammer]
  6. Mishiro

    [NYL-PP-F11] Of Snowflakes and Mistletoe

    "'Clemency,'" the girl clarified, her voice devoid of opinion. She looked back at him for a brief moment, and after a pause of consideration, she acknowledged his quiet words with a nod. 'Materialism.' A misalignment -- of giving importance to material possessions, unnecessary comforts, over one's values. Was a pardon 'asking for too much?' Did mercy lie in conflict to what he believed in? She thought she understood, if only a little. It felt strange, having to make a very specific request to a generous elder whom they had never met before -- and the offered gift on his part appeared to candidly reflect something more personal. Mishiro didn't look back at him again as she spoke, dismissively, "You made your choice." Receiving something despite being undeserving of it and asking for it were two very different things. There were heartfelt wishes she wouldn't dare to voice; they were best kept close to herself. But she wouldn't go down that road. It was Christmas. "If I may ask," Mishiro began. Amid the stream of festival-goers, the pair trudged on at the middle of the street where the crowd was thinnest. Calls from NPC vendors resounded from nearby stalls where players hadn't yet queued, but her attention was only briefly caught by one: another game stall rewarding small stuffed animals with Santa hats. She kept walking. They were hardly halfway down the street. "What do you like most about this season?"
  7. Mishiro

    [NYL-PP-F11] Of Snowflakes and Mistletoe

    An expression of mild perplexity etched onto its wrinkled face. It held off on manifesting her request, if only to clarify. Attributes; she understood the expectation but it wasn't anything she was in need of at the moment... or so she believed. Resisting the sudden inclination to ask the snow-haired boy's opinion, she dipped her head in a small nod. "None." What she was met with was a small silver box, drawn from its pocket like it had been there all along. Like magic, she thought. Mishiro accepted the item and, following the NPC's prompt, she gently lifted the lid and peered in through its small opening. "It's better than I imagined," she said. "Thank you." --And she immediately slid it closed when the orange player beside her spoke up, a reminder that he had been beside her the entire time. Mishiro tugged her scarf up and tucked the small box into the inside pocket of her coat. She listened closely, half-wondering if she was intruding, yet she remained in place until he began to stutter. By the time he glanced up, she was a respectable few steps away from the two, partially hidden behind a translucent menu floating before her. "It's--" Mishiro dismissed the window and tucked her hand into her coat pocket. She fixed her gaze somewhere else and her free hand went to tug on her scarf. "I don't mind waiting." The old priest's expression hardened, and it spoke to the player in a reprimand. As she looked on quietly, Father Wuotan triggered a notification pop-up for the other and departed from the pair with a dismissiveness that came as abruptly as its arrival. Their strange encounter with the Event NPC was over. Mishiro plucked her hot chocolate from the ledge she'd left it on and approached him. "Let's go." Uncharacteristically, that hadn't sounded like a question. Other end of the fair, she recalled. Mishiro led him in the opposite direction without looking back. She brought her mug close to her lips as she walked a step ahead of him. "Why did you turn it down? It gave you a choice, as far as my understanding goes."
  8. Mishiro

    [NYL-PP-F11] Of Snowflakes and Mistletoe

    "Mercy. Lenience," she filled in. "In legal terms, mercy extended by a member of the government to someone who has already been convicted. It can take the form of a reprieve or a commutation, both of which lighten the offender's sentence, or..." Her gray eyes met the orange player's for a short moment before she drew back to look up at the NPC. "Full pardon." Unlikely. After all this time, could the game just wipe one player's infractions like that? Though it seemed unbecoming to think suspiciously of the old man who had introduced itself as Father Wuotan with a smile that held all the warmth of an hearth, its sudden appearance and the vagueness left over from its explanation painted a rather unconvincing picture. Mishiro drank from her hot chocolate. She was drawing blanks in her mind and the repeated ringing at the back of her head wasn't of any help. What did she want? Many things; surprisingly, she had an entire list at home. From an NPC that offered something as large as clemency... and at this present moment -- what did she need? Mishiro eyed the orange player in her peripherals. He was still conflicted, genuine offer or not. She wondered if she would ever understand why. "You can try it and see what happens," she advised. And she finally opened the notification. Arabelle: Good day. Is that an orange player beside you? You really have a terrible taste in men. The semi-transparent message window followed her as Mishiro turned and made a quick search of the immediate vicinity. And she spotted her, seated alone on a wooden table for two set out in front of a food stand. Swinging her legs carelessly, the small purple-haired girl was faced away from them and her hands were a blur across the virtual keyboard of her own message window. Arabelle: I met that event NPC earlier. Tell him what you want and he'll pull it out of nowhere. Well, that had been the implication of 'Father Wuotan's prompt earlier. Mishiro: Define anything. Arabelle: Based on my experience, the limit has to be something like: 'nothing that would break the game.' I got a voucher that let me replace an enhancement with another, but only for regular enhancements. The person I was with got SP, but only enough to step up a level. T2, mind you. And An requested and got some light armor. I didn't understand much over her gushing, but I do know it wasn't as special as her Halloween stuff. Going by that pattern, the request that was forming in her mind was a long ways away from being 'too much.' But, the same couldn't be said of his request. Arabelle: You might want to move to the other end of the fair. Claude's otw. I'll send you a PM if we walk around. Have fun on your date <3 And the girl sent a wink their way before making a show of closing her message window and returning to her own business. Typical of her to end on that note. Mishiro dismissed hers as well. It had to be vanity, something that could be worn even with all three equipment slots filled. It had to be fairly small and simple... a trinket? She remembered the guild discussing a quest that awarded a vanity trinket once -- one whose appearance varied based on the player who looted it. Instead of selling their quest rewards, a few of them had put it on display in the lower shelf of the lone trophy case in their guild hall as a sort of competition on who brought back the best-looking pendant. She had passed by that little collection a few times to take a look. Mishiro scribbled down her request on the back of a spare order form. Approaching the NPC, she held out her slip, faced down. "May I also ask for it to be wrapped?"
  9. Mishiro

    [NYL-PP-F11] Of Snowflakes and Mistletoe

    Anywhere? Suddenly, the Christmas fair felt leagues bigger than it actually was. As they stepped back into the festivities of the main plaza, her eyes wandered from stall to stall. There were various souvenir shops selling Christmas ornaments and other bits and bobbles (she couldn't distinguish among any of them and gave up entirely). A small kiosk where an NPC sold bags of freshly-roasted nuts (why were there players pointing and laughing? perhaps it wasn't the best choice). And what might be the most interesting of the lot was a tent attendes to by three players who offered suspicious-looking potions and fortune telling (too bad, she didn't believe in any of that). The festival was as lively as before, with newly-arrived players replacing the ones who had finished their rounds. And Mishiro was hit with the depressing realization that she had absolutely no idea where to go from here. "Is that so? I thought you would have been," she said conversationally. They passed a game stall offering plushies for rewards and Mishiro didn't entirely realize that her gaze lingered on that one longer than most. "I overheard a few of the stronger players complaining about the lack of activity. That, and the other game stall, was the best part of the fair... according to them, anyway." She just liked the snow. And she had downed an LD buff herself. "Two of that one." Mishiro immediately pointed to the largest size when they arrived at the hot chocolate stand. Then she tilted her head and looked to the small board propped up on the stall's counter. "Oh, you mean they aren't free after the first time? I must have forgotten. I'll pay." She still had enough left over to indulge herself after that shopping trip. With the quick Col transaction done, Mishiro trudged back to where she left him near the stall and gently pushed a mug of steaming hot chocolate to his hands. "You... looked a bit cold. So I thought it might help." She blew gently on the steam that rose from her own and took a step forward to let another player pass. What would he possibly like? Her choice, he had told her, but she felt it was selfish to simply visit the places she found interesting without any consideration for his part. It was impossible to like something just because someone else did, she knew that much. Mishiro considered asking him again -- but he had an odd disinterested air about him the last time she did. With the festival, but somehow -- somehow, he was still here. Well, this was fine too. A shift in the air close to them heralded a new, unexpected arrival. The Event NPC, she recognized. Her memory of that small burst of childish wonder she felt when snowflakes started to fall from the sky -- seemingly at its command -- still remained fresh. But what was it doing here, approaching players of its own volition? Mishiro drank from her hot chocolate, appearing unperturbed as it seemed to fix its attention on the orange cursor beside her. Then when it drew back to address the both of them with a warm smile, she offered the (probably) confused boy a quiet explanation, "He's the one in charge of this event, if I'm not mistaken." Or the one who made the opening remarks, anyway. Mishiro curiously turned to the NPC and tugged her scarf down. "A wish? For any... sort of item?" And clemency. It offered clemency. She could only wonder how the person beside her would react. And could you possibly grant it?
  10. Mishiro

    [NYL-PP-F11] Of Snowflakes and Mistletoe

    His hand was warm and soft, like any other person's. And at first, her touch was barely even there -- her own hand hovering just underneath his, like a gentle brush with a ghost. So he wasn't any different after all. That thought brought her comfort. "Then, it's settled." Her hand closed around his and she pulled herself up from the bench. She took a small step forward as she did, still holding onto his hand, and she stopped -- her feet, just a few inches away from his. He was tall, she silently observed. And Mishiro let out a small white puff of embarrassment before she cordially let go of his hand and stepped over to the side. "Did you already have a place in mind? Anywhere you haven't visited?" she inquired. Mishiro plucked the empty mug from the bench and held it close to her as she fell into step with him, both beginning their aimless walk back into the festivities. "I want to pass by that hot chocolate stand. If you haven't already, they're giving away an event-limited buff for free."
  11. Mishiro

    [NYL-PP-F11] Of Snowflakes and Mistletoe

    If he were anything more than a stranger, it would have torn her heart to shreds. You don't get it. You don't need to know, you wouldn't understand. Would she ever? Would she ever be anything more than the girl who could just observe from the side, unable to comprehend anything as it all happened on its own? Ironically, Mishiro thought she understood the same plight she questioned in that very moment. "You might be right." -- She tugged her scarf up and talked quietly, hesitantly. -- "I spoke without knowing anything. That was rude of me. I apologize. "But... can I ask you a question?" Mishiro took a moment to collect her thoughts and when he stood in front of her -- strangely enough, with his hand held out (was she supposed to shake it? she understood formalities, but it felt out-of-place) -- she pulled her hand from her scarf and finally looked him in the eye. "Just based on what you said. You yourself already know what's wrong. So why aren't you looking for a way to resolve it?" Suddenly conscious, she tore her gaze from him and fixated herself on the watching the people passing by their bench. "Forgive me for my ignorance. I just thought it would have logically followed, but I guess there must be something missing." But he kept talking. He went close -- too close to a possibility they had both been shying away from ever since he sat at the other end of the bench. And whether he went to check or not, Mishiro's composure didn't falter. She smiled. "Are you sure you're talking to the right person?" ["I don't understand him."] ["I don't think I ever did."] "My name is Mishiro. It's written with the kanji for 'white' and 'depth'--" No matter what came to his mind at her question, he would know her well enough to tell: the girl on the bench spoke with her utmost sincerity. "-- and I don't think I know you." This time, she was the one who held her hand out. "I didn't come here with anyone. Would you like to walk around together?"
  12. Mishiro

    [F17] Obsidian Invasion

    Objective: Move Debris ID: 133318 Final LD: 18 + 7(bonus) = 25 She took a break. Opening her inventory with a flick of her hand, she withdrew another bottle of water and drank. Her throat felt parched. Was it from all the smoke and ash or the exertion? Mishiro had never been this close to a fire before -- not when she was conscious -- and it wasn't something she would have wanted to experience in her lifetime. Ten minutes should be enough. Going down the last line of houses, this one less affected by the attack than most, she frowned slightly at the thought of letting Claude leave before the job was finished. He had his own task, but with every seemingly unconcerning pile of rubble she passed, Mishiro wondered if he would have detected a trapped NPC where she didn't. She found another when she entered a damaged but still-standing house near the end of the line and freeing them was a surprisingly easier task than the rest. "I'm here to help," she stated. Heaving up the large piece of debris they were trapped underneath, she held it up long enough for the citizen to crawl out of the rubble then allowed it to drop back to the ground with a loud crash. Pebbles rolled off the top of the pile and her surroundings were quiet again. The cries for help and the screaming had stopped maybe a few minutes ago. "We have a medical tent set up. I'll lead you back there." The city was in a better state than it had been before the players arrived, but it only reminded her of the fact that something -- something that actually left a safe zone in this state -- had never happened before... the same way invasion events had been unheard of until the Star Festival many months ago. Were SAO's events becoming more destructive as they progressed?
  13. Mishiro

    [F17] Obsidian Invasion

    Objective: Move Debris ID: 133308 Final LD: 20 + 7(bonus) = 27 This... this was terrible. Walking down rows of collapsed houses, she squinted past remaining smoke and coughed into the back of her armored hand. With all this destruction, the four she rescued couldn't be all there was, right? Mishiro was tired and the only respite she allowed herself was a few minutes' rest and a bottle of water she pulled from her inventory earlier, but she was sure she could do much more before SAO's stamina mechanic was at its limit. At least the fires were finally out. "Shiro?" Tugging at what looked like fallen rafters. That was how he spotted her while in the middle of a patrol... though Mishiro was sure no one else was around when she checked earlier. He drew closer, watching her pull again with genuine confusion. "What are you--?" "I think there's someone trapped in there. An NPC," she explained. "You have better eyes than me, Aniki. Can you go down the street and check if there's more?" A tinge of realization appeared in his eyes before they shone gold with the activation of a higher-leveled [Detect] skill and he walked past her to survey the area she was pointing. "That's really like you. I don't think Leah would mind if I took some time off." Mishiro smiled. With their combined efforts, three more citizens were freed from the debris before Claude gave the all-clear. "Alright, now she's blowing up my inbox," he chuckled. The scout turned back to Mishiro and gestured to the citizens, "Good work there! I never would have thought about them. I'm supposed to pass by the tent on my rounds, so leave them to me. And--" He walked up to her and flicked her on the forehead. "You look like you're about to drop. I'm trusting you to get a rest before looking for more. Stay safe, alright?" "I will." She watched him leave and, as promised, she sat down on a stone bench that had been left standing by the attack.
  14. Mishiro

    [F17] Obsidian Invasion

    Objective: Move Debris ID: 133306 Final LD: 8 + 7(bonus) = 15 Mishiro heaved off the last of the debris and almost fell into another coughing fit at the ash and the smoke that rose up to greet her. The NPC was beyond grateful and wouldn't stop thanking her as soon as she helped them onto their feet. She noticed they were covered in cuts and limping--their leg had seen the worst part of the collapse of their house. "Let's get you healed," the girl said after she recovered her breath. "The people who came to help, they set up a medical tent. Lean on me if you need to." They talked as they made the arduous trip to the tent. She wasn't the most talkative, but perhaps the rescued NPC just needed someone to vent their fears and frustrations to. "I thought it was just a normal night, you know? The kids were in the dining room and I was preparing dinner at the kitchen... oh, God," the NPC wrapped their arms around themself, as if they just realized. "I-I don't know where they are." "The others will find them," she assured, somewhat uselessly. She knew--for whatever reason--that she hadn't seen anyone else in the rubble of the collapsed house. Along the way, she persuaded them to stand by and wait as she freed another citizen she spotted and pointed them both in the direction of the tent.
  15. Mishiro

    [F17] Obsidian Invasion

    Objective: Move Debris ID: 133303 Final LD: 1 + 7(bonus) = 8 Where was that NPC? With the two citizens dropped off safely at the medical tent, Mishiro had taken to patrolling the streets in search of others who might still be trapped. So far, she was the only one. The wall efforts were going well and she had seen another player putting out the fires, but for some reason, she had resolved herself to a different task. One citizen's death would be a great loss to the town. Perhaps it was a sentiment the players in the tent also shared. She finally found the source of the cry she heard earlier. Circling around a collapsed house where the roof and foundation had caved in while a small fire still burned at one of its corners, she stopped near where the back door should have been and knelt down. "Is someone there?" "Yes, yes!" the NPC's reply was shouted, frantic. "T-the wall, it fell when they attacked and--" She thought she saw something shift. "Please, save me!" Mishiro stepped back and studied the collapsed portion the citizen was underneath. There was no doubt in her capability in lifting the debris, but if she was too hasty and took out the wrong piece... the rest could come crushing down the NPC underneath. She carefully picked one that could be moved without disturbing the others and set to work. It was slow and steady work.
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