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View Likes PostPosted: Mon Jan 11, 2016 4:34 pm 
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Thump, thump, thump, thump.

The sound of boots hitting tilled ground marched endlessly on as the sun ended it's descent through the skies. The men and women garbed in the blackness of night to come remained quiet and in order as they approached the forests edge. Each of them were armored head to toe in this color, with as little of their white skin showing as possible. Some bore swords, others maces, and other still carried nought but their gaunleted fists. The farmers in the area, as apposed to anger at their fields being tread so roughly, gave them all a wide berth. The air hung heavier with each marched step, but they pressed on, ignoring the feeling of dread that clung to their throats. The commander of this group, a Phillipe Browning, Led on horseback until they finally reached their rallying point.

Among this group of soldiers, warriors, and mages was a young mage by the name of Trent Godfrey. Drafted into service like many among those here, Trent had found himself unfortunate to be considered sub-par in terms of magic. Branded a front-line mage. Deadly in their wild spell-flinging, but also short-lived, and Trent could not claim to be good at the spell-flinging by a wide margin. Deflecting attacks with powerful gusts of wind were the most impressive feats he had managed thus-far. To say that he was afraid would be an understatement.

The men and women Trent traveled with were a varied group of people. Not your usual rank and file masses, it seemed almost all the mages here were novices accompanied by equally green soldiers. It seemed this would be a scouting mission. Among them, quite a few stood out to Trent as odd. First, a mage by the name of Harrison White. Trent liked this man, for he was quiet. A trait not shared by the more rabble loving soldiers in the group, but thanks to this he did not know the mage too well. Then there was the bulky young man Jorran Kallressi. For such a large man he seemed to carry a heavy regret upon his soldiers. Trent did not wish to pry in the few chances he had to speak with him.

Next would be Syed Amir, an aged man who looked more skilled in the sword than in the arcane. Nevertheless he wore the garb of a mage. Intimidated by the experience he had, Trent dared not go near this man for fear of him being like the other soldiers in their group. Hard, crude, and lovers of the drink they were. Next, a very out of place sort for such a military outing. A young girl, no older than sixteen, by the name Kalessi Braunes. Though garbed as a mage mostly, she was also the only mage who carried a bow and quiver. In practice Trent had come to realize that this woman may be the only one in camp less skilled in magic than he, and he formed a sort of mental bond with the girl, though he had never spoken with her. Then, there was Centienne Elwyn, a middle aged woman fairly skilled in magic, Trent admitted he had a schoolboy crush on her, but that was nothing to think about at the moment, for their commander was speaking. Finally there was the pair of mages, Maggie, and her "wild mage" friend. This wild mage was something of a mystery when Trent looked into it. A girl more beast than man when others spoke of her, but Maggie seemed to care for the girl. Perhaps it was pity? Trent did not know, but he kept his distance. Fearful of what powers a "wild" mage could unleash.

"Alright runts. We enter into these woods at the towns edge on a long march. We are headed to the foot of the Sulu mountains." Mild shock ran through some of the younger of the group. "Yes this is behind their territorial lines. Our leaders are betting on the elder dragons to be among the frontlines and we are to strike at the heart of this brood. We are not the only attack, this will be a giant blow to this winged menace!" Some hurrah's were heard amongst the soldiers and some mages. "Now this is a very dangerous mission and the chances of us coming back alive are slim. However We do not fear the beasts do we?!" The no that resounded was loud and confident. "We will not cower before these demons will we?!" The no was louder still. "Are horses for their feast or the very storm that makes them shiver in fear?!"

"WE ARE A STORM TO BRING AN END TO THEIR FIRE!"

"THAT'S RIGHT!" Phillipe shouted. "MARCH!" And as one the group marched forward into the outlying forest towards the sulu mountains. Trent's marching feet created more sound than he did during the speech, for the terror was set deep in his heart now. 'They've sent us all to our deaths.'

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View Likes PostPosted: Tue Jan 26, 2016 10:57 am 

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Life was simple now. Or at least, a different kind of simple. Food was regularly provided and she no longer had to toil in the hot fields or experience the sharp bite of the man’s whip anymore. If it were not for the chains and her cage at night, Ardessi might have enjoyed it all a bit more. Especially now that she had a friend. Maggie was kind, the young woman spoke to her like she mattered and made her feel more human and less like a monster. When she was forced to walk behind the other’s, her hands shackled as she was tethered to the saddle of one of the officers, Maggie walked with her. The woman would coo to her and tell her tales of a world that was better.

Where a heroine, who funny enough looked just like Ardessi, would challenge the wrong and save the innocent. Ardessi always wanted to be a hero, wanted to have people love her and care for her, to just belong rather than be a thing for people to use and mistreat. Maggie made her hopeful and had started to teach her to read as well as write. It was slow, very slow and sometimes she would get frustrated and the familiar rage would begin to set in. In those moments Maggie was, even more, valuable for she was able to soothe her, to calm her and allow Ardessi to keep control of her magic. This war was of no importance to the wild mage, but she tried her best for Maggie’s sake. Beating from the officers and other soldiers were nothing to her and did little to motivate her to work any harder.

Life had been about abuse and pain. It was all she had ever known until Maggie stepped in and made her see how it could be. No one else mattered. Not even the other mages who seemed to avoid her whenever possible, which was just fine with her. People were scared of her and hurt her, so if they wanted to stir clear of her, that was just fine for the giant. At the edge of the woods they stopped and Maggie offered her some water, which Ardessi happily drank up. Their leader spoke again though she could not hear him enough to care because she knew she did not have a choice in whatever it was he spoke about. As the other’s around her shouted, she just polished off the offered waterskin and handed it back to Maggie.

Hands bound, she still managed to gesture forward and shrug and Maggie understood her request for more information. “We march to kill dragons,” the woman spoke and gestured with her hands at the same time. “Behind their lines, we are to strike at the heart of the territory and win big,” those in front began to hurry off so Maggie rushed to finish. “Don’t worry. I will stay with you and protect you.”

Ardessi smiled at the comment and shook her head. Thumbed at herself and then pointed to Maggie. She was strong and brave, like the heroes in the stories so she would protect her friend. After all, everyone seemed to be afraid of her, even the dragons.

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View Likes PostPosted: Sat Feb 06, 2016 7:22 am 

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They had been marching for a very long time now, who knew how long. Harrison mostly kept to himself and ended up losing track. It seemed like a long time, though. Exhaustion had not caught up to him yet, he made sure to always be well rested during the trip, but he wasn’t really feeling too lively. Then again, who could blame him? This was no casual hike through the woods.

He wished he was positioned a little more behind the group. The pressure to keep up was what prevented him from tuning everything out and being in his own little world. It would be embarrassing if he was called out for lagging behind, and didn’t want to think about what kind of example would be made of him.

When they stopped at the edge of the forest, Harrison let out a shaky breath and licked his lips. The moment’s reprieve made him realize how tense he was.

"Alright runts. We enter into these woods at the towns edge on a long march. We are headed to the foot of the Sulu mountains."

The leader of their group said. Harrison grew rigid as he listened. The one thing in particular that stood out was that they would be taking on dragons… It took everything he had not to show fear though he knew his face had probably gone pale. His mind was screaming at him to run. But on the other hand, this life had been better than being used for entertainment, quick money, he had no choice but to stay here and fight.

He belonged here with the group. That was what he was trying to convince himself at least. For nearly all of his life, people barely paid attention to him. Even if he didn’t know everyone that well, the feeling ignited something within him. He wanted to nurture it as best he could, dragons or no dragons.

"WE ARE A STORM TO BRING AN END TO THEIR FIRE!"

Harrison shivered slightly, mostly from the anxiety he was feeling about going up the mountains. He has heard stories of dragons. He has never seen one in person, but he knew they came in all shapes and sizes. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t fully prepare himself for the encounter.

He hoped he would make it out of this alive.

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View Likes PostPosted: Sat Feb 27, 2016 11:14 am 

Wandering through uncharted space...

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Syed Amir was wondering for perhaps the thousandth time what in hells name he was even doing here. His cold blue eyes were like ice focused forwards and his movements smooth and practiced. The hard set to his shoulders, the straight back and head held high all speaking of a dispassion and uncaring nature he didn't really feel. Cold. Distant. That's what he wanted to project. Like he didn't care one wit if he lived or died. The truth was far removed from that. He cared a great deal. He didn't want to die. He just wasn't afraid to. He wasn't afraid to kill, or defend or do what it took to survive. He'd live through this. That's all he cared about. His loyalties were simple. Survive. Live. Move on. Always moving. Do what it takes and just keep going.

Syed looked old he knew that, even at thirty he looked more like he was forty. The lines worn into his face from the many years and weather beaten from the work of his life. The long blond hair that cascaded down his shoulders. Tinged almost white from the sun's bleaching. The scars that were evident on his thick frame. The solid muscles that were more like those of soldiers then mages. It all gave him an appearance of battle readiness. An appearance that this wasn't a man to mess with. That he was for all intensive purpose a man of action. In a way he was. Having spent his years working before he was drafted into this cursed war Syed had always been muscular and strong. He used it to his advantage here.

He might not like the war, might not like the life of a soldier, but he liked to fight. He was good at it. He enjoyed the skill and power it required. The dominance. It was glorious. He enjoyed it. He found that he even enjoyed this walking. The trek and the adventure. The camps and life in general that was never really the same. Always on edge. Always weary. Always watching. Always ready. He didn't' however like war. The pure physical training of his body he had enjoyed. The pure physical skill of a soldier, the discipline and stamina. It had been to his liking. But the war. The killing. It wasn't what he wanted. It wasn't some grand adventure as he'd believed it would be. How wrong he had been. How foolish and naif.

He still found himself daydream at times as he'd travel with the group. At night by the fires listening to the banter and talk. Not always participating in it even if he wanted to. He was drawn by the wayward thoughts that streamed through his mind even now as they made their way towards their goal. He was daydreaming of open skies and freedom. What he'd always wanted. Yearned for. Freedom. He wanted to fly away like the birds in the distance. Fly free. To be completely and utterly free. To wheel in great circles over the open fields they walked through. To dive for that elusive prey just on the edge of vision...

His thoughts were suddenly slammed back to the present by the voice of their leader speaking of their mission. Syed had to listen. Listening hard to focus on the words rather then the tantalizing images his mind so easily provided. He kept those cold blue eyes focused on the bird's flight even as he paid attention. The thrill of the hunt becoming to mix with his dreary weariness. He was just beginning to sort out those thoughts when the thundered words echoed in his ears.

WE ARE A STORM TO BRING AN END TO THEIR FIRE!
THAT'S RIGHT!'
MARCH!


So this was the beginning of his end. He sighed to himself. And as he began to march. As always before. He let the cold deadly smile curve his sharp angular features until he looked as though he ached for the blood of his enemies. Far from the truth that may be, but the look suited his appearance well. The look was like a shield behind which he could hide his trepidation at this endeavour and it's likelihood of death. Syed did not want to die. He wanted to live and he would survive. That is after all what he was good at. Surviving.

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View Likes PostPosted: Sun Feb 28, 2016 9:48 am 
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Left foot. right foot. left foot. right foot. A head full of limp blond hair lolled, eyes staring vacantly at the head in front of her even as she followed the march. Where was she? She didn’t care. Why was she marching? She didn’t care. What was she doing? Just following the tide. Once upon a time, she might have cared. Once upon a time, she didn’t just follow, she led. But that had been a long time ago. Now the world was just a mass of bodies she followed blindly because why did it matter? Only Matisse mattered; only dear Nathan mattered; and they were--

The familiar tendrils of dread crept up her throat, threatening to strangle her, and she pushed the thought away as she summoned a happier thought: Matisse’s fourth birthday party. Matisse had just screamed in delight at the sight of her birthday cake when the tide around her transformed into a teeming collection of shock and excitement. The unexpected swing in emotion from the normal sullen acceptance snapped Centienne into the present.

Something bumped into her from behind, almost bowling her over to the ground, but she paid no attention to it, her wide green eyes too busy sweeping around her as the mouths around her screamed: “WE ARE A STORM TO BRING AN END TO THEIR FIRE!” What in the world…? Before she could understand what was happening, the group surged forward as they resumed their march. As always, the blonde followed unquestioningly, the months of training having driven the instinct into her. It was easier to simply follow; less people interrupted her memories when she mimicked the others’ actions.

Centienne contemplated the merits of asking her neighbor--some tall, scruffy dirty blond--what had happened but before she could do so, the repetition of the walking lulled her back into her memories. Nathaniel had loved playing in the gardens. She couldn’t even count the number of times he’d returned with dirt smeared to his cherubic face. Oh, how she had ever despaired…

When she woke, it was to find she was lying on the ground, bedroll pulled high to her chin. The world around her was dark though the stars and moon offered enough illumination to see she was in a camp. They must have stopped for the night sometime when she had been lost in her memories. Pressing a hand to her stomach, she didn’t feel the pangs of an empty stomach; she must have eaten then. She pushed the bedroll back and she sat up; around her laid her sleeping neighbors. She could see no sentries.

She could escape. The absent-minded thought floated by like one of those soap bubbles Matisse liked to chase after, drifting whimsically through the air. Everyone was asleep. It was possible. Instead, her hand reached for her covers and pulled them back over her lap. What was the point? Here nor there--neither had her Matisse or her Nathaniel. She was just about to lie back down when an shiver slithered down her back. Green eyes flicked upwards, frown already forming at the idea of rain. There was no cloud in sight but instead..

Large wings beat slowly, exerting just enough motion to keep the beast moving forwards. In the yellow moonlight, it was a blood orange in color. The lone dragon flapped its wings again, never once looking down at the forest and the humans below, and passed out of Centienne’s sight.

An indeterminate amount of time passed as Centienne stared in befuddlement at the direction the dragon had flown off in. That had been odd. Why hadn’t the dragon attacked them? Deciding she had no interest in the answer, she instead slid back into her bedroll and closed her eyes, letting memories of reciting bedtime stories lull her back to sleep.

_________________
i say crier. i say liar. i say rise in hell. i stand gazing down at death as they say --
WAR.
i'll wage war. i hate war. they say fight for peace but what is that?

i turn from the mirror, that desperate plea! i refuse and can't believe those eyes belong to me!


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View Likes PostPosted: Fri Mar 11, 2016 3:37 pm 

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It was a strange kind of freedom that he felt now as he marched forever forward with his fellow conscripts. The freedom from choice; the freedom from responsibility where their only duty was to fight and die at the hands of the winged beasts, and so it was that Jorran prepared himself for this fate. The only thing that remained truly his were his memories. They had become his escape from the vastly unchanging terrain of the mountains.

A distant memory of Morgan, his sister as well as his best friend, kept him far from being swallowed by the exhaustion that had taken more than a few of his brothers-in-arms. The fear of forgetting her face was still ever-present as it had been since the day he was taken over a year ago. He made it something of a ritual to remember the moments he held most dear so that she would never be erased. It stung enough to know that he had forgotten his brother's face in the years since his death and he did not wish to compound the feeling.

He was taken from his reminiscing by the shouts that went up around him. Mages and soldiers alike rejoiced with their leader's speech, but Jorran was not alone in seeing them for what they were; just another hollow eulogy. "We're a storm to bring and end to their fire!" They shouted, as if their words could bring down the draconic menace alone. It was the soldier to his right that encapsulated Jorran's thoughts with nothing but a whisper.

"We're just the next storm fool enough to try…" He said. There was no fear in his voice, just the quiet acceptance of a man on his death bed. "A little rain can't quench the fires of hell."

Though he didn't respond, Jorran knew he spoke truth and, in his heart, he had already begun mourning for their inevitable doom. He struggled to remember why he needed to stay alive, why he needed to be victorious, but hope was a fleeting thing. Despair was far stronger than its brighter counterpart. He brought his beloved sister to the surface of his thoughts. It drove the despair back some, but it was still there. It still lingered in the recesses of his mind.

They made camp and Jorran chose to sleep beneath the barren branches of a long dead tree. All was quiet as he sat, back against the graying trunk, watching the world around him. Most were sleeping while others still huddled around campfires waiting for their own fits of exhaustion to take hold. Others of his company wandered off to find some kind of private solace. He wondered if they would return from their sojourn into the surrounding mountains. One woman in particular, he had come to know her as Centienne, sat up from whatever sleep she had managed to find. Jorran watched through drooping eyelids as she scanned the area. For a long moment she gazed into the distance and he could see the same thought that crossed the minds of every soldier on this march; to stay, Or to run. Was it bravery to stay and die in this war? Or was it bravery to run and live as long as one could with their families? No answer came to him as his eyes closed, delivering him to a dreamless, restless sleep that had become to familiar in the recent months.

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PostPosted: Sun Apr 03, 2016 3:17 pm 

Slowly getting back to normal

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The world around me pulsed in my ears. Sounding in an echo that beat against my my sense. It didn't matter what the roars were for, or why we we marched. Nothing mattered. Not anymore. Whispers from my parents in the back of my head told me to push forward, to survive, but all I felt was a vast hole where my heart used to be. Still, the memory of them had me lifting my head and turning to hear was was being said. A sinking feeling in my gut.

We were meant to kill their babies. We were meant to die. I couldn't help the tear of dismay that slipped down my cheek, nor could I raise my voice and arm in celebration. Who celebrates their own funeral march? We would die in a pyre of fury, and justice. Not for our own people, but for the dragons. We would take the lives of those innocent of this war, and seperate families. Thoughts that if they had been spoken outloud would have me drawn and quartered, at worst, and placed into a suicide squad at best. A squad I was already in it appeared.

I remained silent. Who would speak out against those whom were forced to march with them on their own journey to death's domain? My words mattered not at all. My head turned to look around and take in the few faces and names I had actually bothered to memorize. Why I had done so... I wasn't sure. Perhaps it was a reflection of similar pain, but everyone on this march had some kind of shadow haunting the light reflected in their eyes.

I mouthed their names, as if I were whispering a silent prayer, as I observed each. Trent, Maggie and Ardessi, Harrison, Syed, Centienne, and... Jorran. My eyes lingered upon his features the longest, the faint stirrings of some kine of emotion I didn't want to investigate blooming at a frightening way. My heart quickened, and I quickly turned my eyes away, facing forward. Always facing forward. The call to march came and as one, even awkwardly, we did. We stepped forward into the thick forests and began our journey to death's door. Perhaps, if I was lucky, I would not see my Parents there waiting for me on the other side.

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PostPosted: Thu May 05, 2016 2:20 pm 
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Camp was made, and Ardessi was yanked along toward where her cage was to be set up. The metal collar about her neck chaffed and choked her slightly, but when she complained or protested she was met with a swift kick or shove to the ground. Hands bound before her as they were she did not have an easy time when it came to catching herself, so more often than not, the fall caused more pain than the collar. So, with a set jaw and her usual dead expression, she ignored the pain in her throat as she choked down the stale air and tried not to get in trouble.

However, as usual, that was never the case. No matter what she did or tried to do, she often was the center of some commotion. This time, it had to do with one of the guards copping a feel on her friend Maggie, again. Instantly, she reacted and managed to backhand the bastard before his buddies could stop her. Years or toiling away on the farm left her with much strength, even without the use of magic. So, he was left unconscious on the ground while she too was forced to the field for a beating. There she laid, through the gaps in her arms that were raised to protect her face she watched Maggie scream and shout at the men though that did nothing to halt their actions nor soften their blows.


Huddled among a group of similar young mages such as himself, Trent made himself as small as possible in this mass of warriors and powerful mages. Perhaps then he could avoid the death that so many here seemed to expect in their future. This coming prediction did not stop the hardier men and women from reveling in their baser pleasures. Singing, fighting and general, rough, merry-making was had throughout camp.

Among the rough-housing was a much louder shouting match going on centered on where he recalled that Maggie was marching with her wild mage friend. It had caught the attention of a large crowd and while no adventure seeker, Trent was a curious sort. Walking closer he then heard the screams, and picked up his pace. Maggie was crying out and trying to push them off her friend who was taking one hell of a beating on the ground. Thinking quickly he looked around the battlements and scanned for a certain figure on horseback. 'There, the captain!' Jogging a ways, he searched into himself for the his power, and latched ahold of it with his mind. Thrusting his hand forward with as much strength as his small body had, he cried out "Captain! Assistance!" And with his cry, a large gust of wind burst from his fingertips, carrying the shout with the flow of air.

A tent toppled over near the man, but no other damage, it being no more than a gust of wind, but the message was heard and the captain swiveled his mount towards the noise. Satisfied, Trent backed into the crowd trying to think of a way to get the men off the girl, but thinking of none, took a place near Maggie seeing if their combined strength could pry the men off. The attempts would gain nothing but a black eye before the captain arrived, men finally scattering.

"On your feet you sacks of ****! You want to be put in cages like her? Get the hell of the ground and back to your posts!" Throwing his gaze at Maggie now. "And you! Keep your charge in line, If she knocks out any more of these men she'll be costing us more than she might gain. Do I make myself clear?"

“Ye…Yes sir,” Maggie stuttered and waited for the Captain to be gone before she helped Ardessi to her feet.

The wild Mage suffered from some bruises on the surface and some of her ribs well. Though she was happy that Maggie was all right and demonstrated as much with a hug that was awkward no less filled with emotion. The big toothy smile and gave along with the few signs that she knew had Maggie smiling and nodding as she pointed to Trent.

“He helped. Brought the Captain. Got hurt,” she pointed to his eye and spoke the words as she signed.

The giant of a man leaned down to get a closer look at the young man and his wound. A low grunt like growl started in her throat and were it not for Maggie’s hand on her arm she would have likely gone to find the man who hurt him as well.

“No. We get to your cage now and then you get some rest. Yes?”

Ardessi appeared distressed but relented only after she patted Trent on the head as a form of thanks.


"Y-You're ah, welcome." He stuttered out. She was far larger on her feet than sprawled in the dirt, and that would be intimidating enough if it weren't for how easily she did with so many bruises and cuts. He looked to Maggie, bewildered that any of this was happening, and simply followed. His eye stung, but keeping it closed made it bearable, and he kept quiet as he followed as close as he dared.

At her cage, the shackles and collar were removed as she ducked through the entrance way and headed over to her cot to lie down. “Had they pushed her any further she could have killed them all, without even a thought,” Maggie commented to Trent. “You have some power yourself, but you lack the confidence. Commit to it and it may help you a bit .” Friendly advice with a friendly smile as she watched her friend try to get settled on the bed that was no better than the ground.

A bit shocked at how calm she said all that, Trent continued the conversation. "Is she really that powerful?" He ignored the bit his own power. He had heard the same thing from many trainers so once more from this woman would be no different. "This must truly be a desperate mission if they are sending such a wild card with us. You make it sound as if she has no control." He said without thinking.

“Because she doesn’t,” the fact given with a bit of amusement. “She is a wild mage because she is indeed wild. Her magic is triggered in times of great stress and need. In an instant, she can become a violent and dangerous being whose goal is to eliminate the threat. The earth opens and swallows her foes, lightning rains down from the skies. Nothing is left when she is done and she barely recalls what happened herself.”

"The power of an Arch-mage, thrown randomly about. It makes more sense now why they would send her here. They see us in possession of a explosion of power, and we are the casing to deliver it safely." His voice droned down into a mono-tone as he continued, falling down into his own black state. He looked about at all the men and women whom would join him in this final journey, and his mind grew blank. "I should get back to my post." He stood shakily at first, and then set off for his previous seat. Whatever hope there was to be had in the camp would be far from Trent's sight.

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