IC Mafia 56: Fire and Blood

The second Hidden Role has been activated!

Codin Farwynd - this role would only be activated upon the deaths of either both cops, both doctors, or both bodyguards (with him replacing the role which disappeared first) - Codin, a Praetor in the Crimson Legion, has now taken on the mantle of command and will be allowed 1 investigation every night phase. He will have a ONE TIME night kill available, and will be immune to night kills himself, but only ONCE.

For clarification, the hidden role is now a Cop.

It is now DAY PHASE. You have until 05:00 GMT to vote on who you feel should be lynched.

You can do so in IC Mafia server, there is a voting channel for that effect. You can join here

Upon voting, please provide a short reason. Also remember editting and deleting posts is NOT allowed. If you wish to vote again, just post a new vote. Editted votes will be counted as NO VOTE.

Friendly reminder that if you miss two votes in a row, you will be auto-killed!

Final Tied Vote - Day 5

[6] Warsie - Sushi, Missy, Lethal, Luker, KT, TIF
[6] TBO - You_Fool, Metrex, The_Unknown, Dukey, Undeath, Warsie
[2] MrBlonde - MrBlonde, TBO
[1] Gwynedd - Gwynedd
[1] thirdrock - thirdrock

Still to Vote

[0]


Final Votes after Tie - Day 5

[8] TBO - You_Fool, Metrex, The_Unknown, Dukey, Undeath, Warsie, Gwynedd, TBO
[6] Warsie - Sushi, Missy, Lethal, Luker, KT, TIF


[2] MrBlonde - MrBlonde,
[1] thirdrock - thirdrock


DAY 5

Engulfment

5 years ago

“No! Try again!” Silena snapped at Maro Vhassinar (TBO), as she forced him to the ground with an invisible force. “If you cannot even do this, you will never progress!” she commanded.

“I’ve had enough! I’ve been training for an eternity and continue to be abused by you! I am ready! And I can prove it!” Maro picked himself up, and started the now familiar incantations to beckon the Flame of Iranyr."

Silena, who had mentored Maro for a number of years, stood with her mouth agape. She could not believe it and this was not something she had taught him. She wondered to herself if Maro finally surpassed her? But deep down, she knew he was not ready yet. He had still too much to learn!

But it was too late. Silena was stuck gazing at this amazing blue, so deep and attractive. As she involuntarily moved closer to it, it consumed her.


Present time

Maro had done much work over the past few weeks. He felt exhausted, yet the need for continuing existed. His home land was not only a great distance away, but now also starting to be a distant memory.

As was his norm, he would release the Flame of Iranyr tonight. Maro waved his hand and released the blue glow. However, this time he noted a slight flicker in the flame.

Did he lose his concentration for a brief moment? Maro shook his head, trying to shake the feeling. Something did not feel right, but he could not allow himself the liberty to divert his attention.

As the blue flame grew more intense, Maro sensed the danger. “No!” he urged himself. “Focus!” he exclaimed, but it was too late. The instability was too much for him to control. His forehead had beads of sweat forming and the stress was evident. All of a sudden, the blue grew to a blinding white, that stretched far into the sky and the surrounding area. It completely consumed Maro and erased all evidence of existence.


Elsewhere

King Karron was walking along the parapet of his castle, deep in thought. The battle was coming to a head, and he must focus his efforts.

Just then he noted a bright light coming from a distance, that released the most awe-inspiring flash across the whole open sky. He had seen nothing like it before! It was intensely white, with a tinge of blue.

Strange arts were at play here… he thought to himself, as he gazed out into the openness, watching the light diminish.


TBO (Maro Vhassinar) was LYNCHED Day 5


It is now NIGHT PHASE. Night roles have until 17:00 GMT to submit their actions to Genesis and myself.

Night 6

The cunning Carsen Tarlor

Davith Mertyns (Metrex) had barely escaped with his life last night. The King’s personal physician, he had been lecturing his students on the benefits of ginger and bat kidney potion, when he felt a glancing strike on his neck and fell to the floor, blood pouring over his robes. Luckily for him, one of his students had inadvertly given him a small push when looking over at the cauldron in front of them, and it had been enough to spare the old master’s life. Still, it had been a swift blow, and he was now confined to his chambers, his recovery likely, but slow.

Carsen Tarlor had learned of Mertyn’s survival, and he was most displeased. Lauded as one of the most skilled killers in the land, he did not take kindly to failure. He would do whatever it took to correct his mistake, but it was no easy task: the Royal Physcian’s chambers were inside Bailin’s Keep, a fortress atop a hill overlooking the Capital, Westermere. The King’s own chambers were there, albeit in a different tower. It was the most heavily guarded structure in the Kingdom, but Carsen had one thing going for him: the city was reeling from the Crimson Legion’s defeat at the hands of Lord Rhysling just a day prior, and many of the soldiers had been posted along the streets of the Capital in order to prevent looting or riots. There were also vast celebrations underway in honor of the late Lord Broden Perry, former First Knight of the Crimson Legion.

It was in this confusion that Carsen Tarlor strived the most; he followed a guard of the Legion into an alley and, making sure they were unseen, cut the soldier’s throat. He put on his outfit and made his way into the Keep. Even then he had to be careful, as there were strict proceedings for everyone who walked within in. He found his way into the Legion’s common room and made inquiries about the Physician’s health and whereabouts. Learning that he would not be permitted entry into the physicians’ tower, he made his way to its’ entrance and, after adressing a healer and inquiring of his master’s health, grabbed him by the mouth and chest and quickly snapped the healer’s neck. Once again he changed his garment, and finally made his way into the tower.

Once inside, it was easy. He disposed of the guard by the Physician’s bedchambers, killed the two healers inside and approached Davith Mertyn’s bedside. He was fast asleep, probably under the influence of some sleeping potion. Carsen Tarlor grabbed a pillow and forced over the physician’s face, snuffing his life away in quiet fashion. “No one gets the best of me.”, he whispered quietly, as he made his way out of the tower and disappeared into the streets once more.


Alavin Ridman was in utter disbelief. His master, Davith Mertyns, who had been attacked in the Capital, in broad day light, was now dead. He could not quite believe it, but the truth made itself present regardless. He was now Royal Physician to King Karron, and every morning, when he opened his eyes, he hoped he could be someplace else. There was fear in the air, and Alavin felt it all too strongly.


Davith Mertyns (Metrex) has been killed by Carsen Tarlor (Mafia)

It is now DAY PHASE. You have until 05:00 GMT to vote on who you feel should be lynched.

You can do so in IC Mafia server, there is a voting channel for that effect. You can join here

Upon voting, please provide a short reason. Also remember editting and deleting posts is NOT allowed. If you wish to vote again, just post a new vote. Editted votes will be counted as NO VOTE.

Friendly reminder that if you miss two votes in a row, you will be auto-killed!

Final Votes - Day 6

[8] Warsie - thirdrock, KT, The_Unknown, Lethal, Missy, Dukey, Gwynedd, Undeath, TIF
[2] MrBlonde - MrBlonde, You_Fool
[1] Gwynedd - Luker
[1] thidrock - Warsie

Still to Vote

[1] Sushi


DAY 6

The Silenced Song

The war was still ongoing, and it was clear that although both King Karron and the Lord Paramount had opportunities to sieze the upperhand, neither were committed enough to do so. Battles raged throughout the land, and neither faction seems to be have been able to take the initiative.

Warsie (Townie) was a veteran and who wanted to see results. He was a seasoned campaigner, who decided to re-enlist to make a difference.

As he walked up to the edge of one of King Karron’s encampment, he approached a soldier, looking somewhat dishevelled.

“G’day sir. I would like to join the efforts in honor of King Karron!” as Warsie offered up his services.

“Excellent! We need more soldiers like your goodself. Just come up with me to the sign up tent, and we will get you all sorted”, replied the soldier.

As Warsie entered the tent, he picked up the parchment to write down his details. The soldier walked up behind Warsie, knife in hand. Without delay, he grabbed Warsie’s head and slit his throat in one swift movement.

There would be no additional recruits today.


Warsong (Townie) was LYNCHED Day 6


It is now NIGHT PHASE. Night roles have until 17:00 GMT to submit their actions to Genesis and
myself.

Night 7

The Knights of the Realm

If you had just arrived in this once prosperous kingdom, this day would appear to have started just like any other sunny Spring day; the Sun rising, the sky clear of clouds, but there was a morning chill, and signs of frost could still be found on the hardened ground, the last traces of a stiff Winter which was now subsiding. However, this was not any day. Nithan Rhysling’s forces marched ahead to Westermere, the high walls of the Capital still out sight, but closing with every step. The Lord Paramount had decided to end this conflict once and for all, and he was determined to storm the city and root out the man who had become his mortal enemy, King Karron Blackmyre.

After the defeat at Mirfield, Karron was pensive. His own Queen had almost been killed by the villain Robart Foral, the false knight they called Lord Ice, but Ser Ryden Chandyll, the Good Knight, had seen that justice had been meted out. Still, those had been the only glad tidings he had received in what seemed like forever now. He had been told the city would hold a 2 year siege if need be, but Karron thought hiding behind his walls would not be very kingly of him. Gathering all forces still available to him, he decided to march and meet his foe head on in the field. It was thus both armies came within sight of each other, not far from the convergence of the Three Streams, the three shallow rivers which meandered throughout the Westermere Peninsula.

The Royal Army had arrived first, and it was a sight to see: the Lords bannermen to the Crown had answered the call, Houses Coldwater and Fowler chief among them, but other minor Houses such as House Solover and the old Lord Nightwell could be seen as well. The center of the line would be held by the Crimson Legion, their First Knight Codin Farwyn at the head of the army. Overlooking the preparations was King Karron himself, mounted on his black stallion, his armor the colour of pure silver. With him stood the Guard, headed by Ser Ryden Chandyll, the Good knight, their golden suits of armour unmistakable for anyone in the Realm. All accounted for, a solid five thousand soldiers awaited to give battle.

Those were still 2 thousand fewer than Lord Rhysling’s army though. He had marched out in force, and would stake his claim to the Throne today. His bannermen were faithful, and the arrival of his brother Braeden had bolstered morale troughout the common soldiery: Ser Braeden was a force to be reckoned with on the battlefield, a skilled commander and no less a fighter. The drums were soon heard, and the arrows started flying. They were not as effective as they had been though, as broader shields were now being used as well as other tactics such as spacing out their forces. It was soon clear only the strenght of arms would settle this dispute, and the rumbling of thousands of soldiers marching into each others would be enough to give even the bravest man the shivers.

The singers would immortalise this day, but if you had been there you may as well do your best to have forgotten it. There was nothing poetic about the carnage that followed, the dead and dying or the scars the living would bare for the rest their lives. The Crimson Legion pushed forward, their coordinated maneuvering taking a toll on their enemies. The Royal bannermen followed their lead, and the rebel army would soon be in a perilous situation, their numbers crumbling before the onslaught. At this critical juncture, Lord Nithan decided to interve; he ordered his cavalry to charge, and charge they did, their Lord at the head of the rush. They aimed right at the heart of the fight, where Codin Farwynd, the Just, now found himself, bringing the Crimson Legion to bear on their fleeing foes.

Nithan took note of the First Knight, and rode for him. Having recently killed his predecessor, he could only imagine how terrible it would be for the Legion to lose yet another commander. The riders cut through the rank and file, friend and foe alike, to make way for the doom that awaited Codin. It was a slow advance though, mud and blood and bodies making it difficult for the horses to make much headway. Codin had recognised the danger and ordered the spearmen of the Legion to block the cavalry’s path as well, making it nigh impossible for Lord Rhysling’s men to claim yet another First Knight. A few more thrusts and it became clear they would not take Codin Farwynd’s life today, so Nithan, much to his chagrin, ordered his cavalry to fall back.

Across the battlefield…

King Karron had also sensed the danger, and had ordered his own cavalry to come to the aid of the Legion. Headed by his own Sentinel, Ser Ryden Chandyll, his forces galloped over the shallow Wolf’s Branch, the river which delimited the battlefield to the North. Faced with this situation, Ser Braeden Rhysling was forced to make a tactical decision: press the flanks so a victory could still be claimed from the jaws or defeat, or come to the rescue of his brother, Nithan? “There is no victory without a King, and we can scarcely lose ours.”, he thought. He directed his forces inwards, as they came to block the path of Ser Ryden’s cavalry. The Good Knight hesitated, but it was too late. Braeden was on him, and the fighting was fierce and savage once more. The Good Knight was the bravest man in the land though, and he did not back down.

Through the fury of man and horse they came to face each other, Ser Braeden swinging his morningstar at his foe with such ferocity that he broke through his shield. “Hear me, Good Knight! You die today!”, Braeden roared at the top of his lungs. “That may be Ser, but I will not go alone” Ryden repied, and they charged at each other, sword and shield and morningstar entangled in a deadly debate. Braeden’s fury could not be contained, and he swung at the shield of his enemy time and again, until Ser Ryden’s arm was broken and bloody. He tried to defend himself with his longsword, but in his mind he was lost. If the Good Knight had to fall, he could hardly imagine a braver death than this. Just as all seemed lost for Ser Ryden, the trumpets sang in the distance, calling for the retreat of Lord Rhysling’s forces. Fearing capture, Ser Braeden hastily departed. “We shall meet again, and next time, one of us will fall!”, he promised.


After the battle was done, burying the dead and caring for the living were the priorities, but there were others as well. Desertion was not tolerated, and more than a few soldiers had lost their mettle in the face of the carnage they had witnessed. The pain for desertion was death, but not any death. Deserters were nailed head-down to two beams of wood in the shape of an X. Then their guts were sliced open with a longsword, and they would taste their own blood and guts as a reminder of what they had failed to give for their King. This was called simply “The Fate” by the smallfolk, and it awaited quite a few deserters today.

Codin Farwynd had decided to mete out this punishment by himself, as he tried to make an example of these cravens for all to see, and remember. The King needed them, and cowardice would not be tolerated! Codin made his way through the line of X’s planted by the road, sword in hand, tearing them open, one after the other. He showed no mercy, and as Undeath’s turn came to taste his own blood and shit, he wondered if a brave death in the field wouldn’t have been better after all.


Undeath (Townie) has been killed by Codin Farwynd, the Just (special Cop kill)

It is now DAY PHASE. You have until 05:00 GMT to vote on who you feel should be lynched.

You can do so in IC Mafia server, there is a voting channel for that effect. You can join here

Upon voting, please provide a short reason. Also remember editting and deleting posts is NOT allowed. If you wish to vote again, just post a new vote. Editted votes will be counted as NO VOTE.

Friendly reminder that if you miss two votes in a row, you will be auto-killed!

Final Votes - Day 7

[6] KT - thirdrock, Mrblonde, Dukey, Missy, TIF, KT

[5] Lethal - Gwynedd, The_Unknown, Luker, You_Fool
[1] MrBlonde - Sushi
[1] You_Fool - Lethal

All votes in


Day 7

The Cost of Defeat

Carsen Tarlor (KT) would not abandon his Lord, Nithan Rhysling. As he covered his retreat after the disastrous cavalry charge that had precipitated their defeat, he wondered if he had made the right choice all those years ago, when he had entered into Lord Nithan’s service.

He had been nothing but a cutthroat, he thought. A sellsword, master assassin who handled his Lord’s dirty business, yet he could not fail to realise there was some honor to his proceeding. He would butcher and maim in Lord Nithan’s name, yes, but his victims had always been men of little honor, rebels and traitors to the Crown. Funny his Lord should be branded a traitor now, he who had sacrificed the most to preserve the Crown on King Karron’s head.

Carsen tried to cut his way through the quivering mass of humanity which sprawled out in front of him, barring their escape at every turn. Their army’s retreat had turned into a rout, and the Crimson Legion gave chase, no quarter given.

As Carsen pleaded with Lord Nithan to follow him, a spear flew through the air and hit the sellsword on his back, puncturing his heart and killing him instantly. Lord Nithan stopped for a second, but he could not linger. “You have served me well, friend. Rest now.” he said to himself, and rode away.


KT (Carsen Tarlor) was LYNCHED Day 7


It is now NIGHT PHASE. Night roles have until 17:00 GMT to submit their actions to Torqez and myself.

Night 8

Dream of a Better Day

Best with Soundtrack! https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pS-gbqbVd8c

The Three Streams

The battle was over, and Nithan Rhysling, Lord Paramount (Lethal), suffered the indignity of defeat. The most powerful Lord in the Kingdom, the best commander, some said the finest soldier as well. How could this have happened? What had he done wrong? He was troubled so, but the arrows flying overhead brought him back to reality. His forces had tried to retreat, but the Royal Army had given chase, and retreat had quickly turned into a rout. Men were run down by horses, others pulled riders out of their saddles and tried to steal their mounts, more were cut down and slain by the enemy. Many laid down their arms, hoping for nothing but to see their families once more; most would not.

Nithan had been involved in the charge of the heavy cavalry, and found it hard to navigate the chaos. His loyal soldiers, heads held high, singing and cheering for their lords not an hour ago, were now fleeing before him, tossing the helmets and swords they once carried proudly so they could make a quicker escape. His trusted sellsword Carsen Tarlor had just been slain in front of him, while trying his best to lead his Lord away from the battefield. Nithan feared for his life, but felt suddenly overtaken by memories of his childhood, even as blood and screams clouded his perception. He saw the training ground at Ravenfall, where he sparred with his brothers under the watchful eye of Ser Gerrar, the old master-at-arms. He remembered his mother, fair Lady Marleya, whose embrace soothed him unlike any other.

“Nithan! This way!” Nithan looked up at his brother Braeden (Sushi), who was pleading with him to ride ahead, furiously swinging his sword from one side of his horse to the other, clearing a path for his Lord. Nithan followed, but in the blink of an eye found himself tumbling down on the mud along with his mount, its left hind quarter punctured by two arrows. He found himself thinking of his sister Taryne, who had died of the pox, only a child of 6. Braeden tried to bring the Lord Paramount back to his feet, but his armour was heavy, helping to mask Nithan’s resignation to a fate long awaited. He thought of his brothers Ruban and Marvion, slain in the service of their King.

As Braeden pleaded with Lord Nithan to stand up and escape, the King’s Guard came upon them, the valiant Ser Ryden Chandyll, the Good Knight (The_Unknown) first among them. His left arm had been broken not an instant ago by Ser Braeden, but he had not lost heart. Victory was at hand, and he would not let it slip through his fingers. The Good Knight engaged with Braeden once more, his sword raining down on his foe, blow after blow. Braeden tried to protect his brother, but almost lost balance and fell. In a move of desperation, he swung for the Good Knight’s saddle and cut it apart, causing Ser Ryden to come crashing down from his mount. Like a cat, Braeden jumped on him and buried his sword in Ser Ryden’s neck, killing the King’s Sentinel.

Braeden, blood smeared all over his armor, grabbed Nithan by the arm and tried to get him on his feet, but Lord Rhysling would not move. Nithan looked up at Braeden, his lips moving, an expression of urgency and panic on his face, but Nithan could not hear what his older brother was saying. It was as if time itself had slowed down; he could smell the wet grass of the battlefield, the mud, the smell of the horses and the blood; he saw soldiers running, others dragging themselves across the field, limbs severed, horses quivering as they lay in agony; yet the sounds did not come to him.

“Nithan! You have to get up! Please!” Braeden pleaded with his brother, but as he turned around, he was run down by a stray horse, the animal fleeing in terror. He tried to get up, but was stepped on by man after man, poor farmers and fishermen who had been given a sword and asked to die for their Lord. Now, they fled, a mindless rabble once more. His armor afforded him some protection, but soon even the hardened metal gave way under the weight of boot and hoof, as they trampled Braeden to death.

Nithan saw as his brother fell, but his expressionless face did not give away his emotions. He looked up at the blue sky and thought of his King, Karron. They had once been as close as brothers, their paths turned to one, the Kingdom their cause, honor their purpose. How had it come to this? Nithan slowly rose to his feet, and looked around. The Crimson Legion inched closer, tearing through the routing remnants of Lord Rhysling’s once proud army. He drew his greatsword, Hollow, so called due to its’ blade’s seemingly indiscernible edges, so fine they were. And then, Nithan thought of his father.

Lord Garrat Rhysling loomed ever so large over his son. He was the one he had tried to emulate, a goal he had found harder and harder to achieve as the years went by. Still, he was his father’s son, and he would not dishonor his memory by fleeing the field. He pulled down the visor on his helmet, held Hollow high above his head and yelled out “To me, soldiers! Ravenfall!!”. Nithan charged, roaring, the few soldiers who had rallied to him by his side, valiant and valorous, the stuff of legend. Nithan felled 5 soldiers of the Legion before even a single blow was delivered to him. As his loyal soldiers were cut down around him, he held his ground as best he could, Hollow claiming victim after victim, its’ sharp blade claiming limb and head, muscle and bone, armor and shield.

A spear cut him behind his left knee. He turned around and cut down his agressor. A sword found its’ way into into the opening of his armor right above his right shoulder. He groaned in pain, Hollow almost dropping to the mud. He swung it once more in a circle around him, trying to keep his assailants at bay, but the numbers were too great. A kick to the back of his armor and he tumbled forward, being hit by what felt like dozens of blows, each cutting into his flesh, his armor a bloody mess.

Nithan fell down, mortally wounded. He saw his father before him, the Sun at his back as he knelt down before him and stretched out his arm, offering his hand to his son. Nithan tried to speak, but all he could muster was a faint whisper. “F-father…”, he uttered, a single tear running across his face. “Come lad, take my hand. Let us rest and dream of a better day.” he heard his father say, a faint smile upon his lips as life abandoned Nithan Rhysling.


Epilogue

Westermere

Bailin’s Keep

King Karron Blackmyre (TIF) watched as the celebrations unfolded before him, the city below filled to the brim with peasants and merchants, whores and thieves from all across the land. There was peace in the Realm after nearly 20 years, and Karron’s reign was now unchallenged. He had Codin Farwynd (thirdrock) raised to Lord and made him a member of his Privy Council, along with Alavin Ridman (Missy), the King’s Physician. Of all his closest advisors, they alone had survived the onslaught brought forth by Nithan Rhysling, the late Lord Paramount. Karron had not annointed a new Lord Paramount yet, and he doubted he would ever do so again.

Dukey, the Royal Cook, was hard at work in the kitchens of the Keep. He had never had to deal with such a large crowd of cooks and helpers, but the banquets in honor of the King’s victory had to be just perfect. However, as he laid eyes on dozens of ducks being slaughtered and plucked for the feast, if for a moment, he was forced to reconsider his line of work. Luker had been the butcher, and soon found himself thrown out of the kitchens.

You_Fool, of course the King’s Fool, was a tremendous success with the Ladies of the court. The Fool’s apprentice, MrBlonde, was better known to entertain the Lords, however. As he was performing a juggling trick for the Royal party with knives and forks, he clumsily tripped over himself and stuck a fork in King Karron’s left thigh. The King would have his head, but the Queen was able to convince His Majesty into exiling MrBlonde instead.

Gwynedd was wandering the streets of the Capital, trying to stay unnoticed. He was a thief after all, and a good one at that. He would not pay for a pigeon pie he could steal, but as he did the deed once more, the baker caught sight of it and chased him down the street, wooden cane in hand.

As King Karron adressed the crowds from the Keep’s balcony, he looked a hero of the songs, all clad in gold and silver, ruby and sapphire alike. “We have won this war!”, he proclaimed, “But we must win the peace now as well! As your King, I will see that no harm comes to any of you ever again! And now, let us feast!”, he said, as the crowed erupted into cheers for their King.


GAME OVER!

Congrats to the Town for winning! Good game everyone!

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Epilogue 2

Ser Jorah Mormont walked into his master’s chambers in the Free City of Mereen. “Khaleesi.” he announced himself, and bowed. “What is it, Ser Jorah?” “There is a new arrival, a Fool who claims to have been exiled from King Karron Blackmyre’s Court, for no good reason.” Daenarys Targaryen considered this, and ordered: “Bring him in. I would see this Fool perform.” As MrBlonde made his way in, she was not impressed. A poor figure, not worthy of a Court position, she thought.

She ordered him to perform, but after a minute she closed her eyes and raised her voice: “Stop. You may be a fool, but you are no Fool.” she said, as her Dothraki handmaidens giggled. “Blonde fools make the worse Fools.” one of them offered. “It is known.” “It is known.”, added the other girl.

Daenarys had MrBlonde brought to the courtyard, bound and gagged at long last. As Drogon landed before them, she uttered the word we had all hoped for, for so long: “Dracarys!”. No more memes.


Epilogue 3

Thanos was displeased. His quest for the Infinity Stones had yielded him only the Time Stone so far, and he had used it to search for the other Gems, but to no avail. He had, however, come across a singular point in time where Kings and Lords butchered each other for the illusion of power. He considered his goal, and smiled. Death was coming.


You can sign up for more death and mayhem right here:

Thanos awaits you!

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