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Hey! I'll sign up as Annix, a Scholarly Terrisman whose hobby is collecting and sharing whatever information he can. (I can alternate between which trait I express in each post, right? If not, I might need to cut one :P)

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4 minutes ago, Bugsy6912 said:

Hey! I'll sign up as Annix, a Scholarly Terrisman whose hobby is collecting and sharing whatever information he can. (I can alternate between which trait I express in each post, right? If not, I might need to cut one :P)

Everything I give you will be useless. Speak with caution.

Unexpected squeak.

"Shut up, Rat!"

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More villagersh? Grrrrrr!

More villagersh, more shushpishuns, more people to drag poor Matilda out of her bed and try an' burn her at the shtake. Matilda knowsh at her age she'sh too old to make friendsh, sho she thinksh everyone she meetsh is an enemy who is going to tie her to the ducking shtool or burn her at the shtake or shteal her catsh.

Look, Matilda will do her besht to find the shpiked before the shpiked shteal her catsh and then shteal all her whishkey and make poor Matilda go catshless and shober at the shame time, but don't expect her to remember, like, ANY of your namesh. You're all jusht filthy non-catsh to Matilda.

Also GET OFF HER LAWN. The lawn is for the catsh!

*Matilda hunches over and scurries from shadow to shadow, clutching an empty whiskey bottle in her arms and petting it like a kitten*

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Grumbles sat at his desk as he did every night, following the same routine. He ran his callused fingers across the smooth, worn down wooden surface, etched with the countless scars and nicks that comes with age and fine, hard use. Each scratch and bump sung a memory for him, the forgotten chorus of a song long ago faded from memory. He couldn't remember the words, but he knew the steps for the dance. It was a brand new waltz, following all of the same movements; of the same song he had heard a thousand times before. 

Run his hand along the surface of the desk, checking each blemish and imperfection, making sure everything had stayed the same and nothing had changed and knocked on the wood three times. Check. Check. Check. 
Reach up and scratch the spot behind his ear three times for good luck. Check. Check. Check.
He stood up, planting his weight on his left leg, pivoting into a half-turn and walking three steps to go distinguish the candle on the table next to his bead. 
Check. Check. Check. 

He muttered a curse, cursing the mists, cursing the ashfall, cursing the town and the Lord Ruler for going on and dying, leaving him and everybody in these rusting circumstances. He went to go and lie down, blinking three times to clear his head before closing his eyes for good and finally giving the long sigh of relief of finishing the day without making any mistakes. 

He couldn't but held have the nagging feeling of having experienced something similar at least once before, but not really understanding how or why. Even stranger was the fact that the sensation came and faded without triggering his nervous itches and making him start his whole routine over again.

He finally reached his hand up to his mouth, giving three  final prayers and one more - the final blessing. Three sets of five sets of three, and one more for good measure. 

16. 

He never knew why the number had pleased him so much, but it always did. And as long as he could complete the day in sets of 16, he could rest easy, without a care in the world for what tomorrow's dawn would bring. 

Well, if anything could bring me out of my hiatus again, it would be the AG. So let's see what happens, shall we? 
Sign me up as Grumbles, the town crazy who nobody seems to ever understand....

Edited by Gamma Fiend
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Whistler whistled as he scrubbed the ash off the floor. He pushed the bucket along with him, moving across the floor, dipping the brush in the bucket and scrubbing. Scoot, slosh, scrub; scoot, slosh, scrub. There was a rhythm and it worked. After a while, the floor was sparkling clean and he sighed in relief. Such dirtiness always grated at his nerves, especially when it was within his own home and shop. No, his things had to be neat and clean. Always. Everything in its rightful place. Nothing out of order. Of course, with the ashmounts acting up since the fiasco with the Lord Ruler down in Luthadel, his life was a little more....difficult. Bloody hard to keep the floors clean when someone tracked ash in every time they walked through the door into his shop.

The door to the outside creaked as it opened and closed with a bang. He glanced up from his position in the corner and groaned softly. Sure enough, a trail of ash marred his floor.

"Whistler? Are you here?"

Whistler stood to help his customer, bustling around his little shop to get the ingredients the man requested.

"You heard the news yet?" His customer asked as he placed a handful of boxings on the counter.

"What news?"

"The koloss. There's supposed to be an army of koloss heading for us."

Whistler laughed. "I'll believe that when I see it. What would koloss want with our little town? I'd bet 5 of these here boxings that it's all just a tall tale. You'll see."

"I'd take you up on the bet, but I don't reckon I want to bet against us. We'd never survive a koloss attack."

The man walked out with his goods, and the soft breeze blew more ash in while the door was open. Whistler sighed and walked to the back of his shop, whistling as he went. Time to get that bucket again. His floor needed cleaning.

-

Whistler is in. He's the shopkeeper, who is very neat and a compulsive gambler. One could also say he's a hobbyist, if you count his obsession for whistling as a hobby.

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12 hours ago, Bugsy6912 said:

Hey! I'll sign up as Annix, a Scholarly Terrisman whose hobby is collecting and sharing whatever information he can. (I can alternate between which trait I express in each post, right? If not, I might need to cut one :P)

"Greetings, Vaht Annix," Herwynbe said, "It is good to see another Terrismen in this place. Please, come into the lounge and rest yourself. My master will not mind. Might I get you something to quench your thirst? Some cool water, or fine wine, perhaps? Or if cool is not to your liking, there is a kettle for tea already heated. 

"As for the matter you asked about, you are required to use each trait in every post, I think."

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Unofficial Player List:

  1. Assassin in Burgundy: Fuzzy - Jaist
  2. Elenion: Cassius - Cassanova
  3. Seonid: Senn Conrad - Past Lives
  4. A Joe in the Bush: Jack Tormander - Past Lives
  5. Jondesu: Remart - Glutton and Handicapped
  6. Manukos: Enias - Neat
  7. I_am_a_Stick: Stick - Forgetful
  8. Wyrmhero: Wyl Sharpe - Guardsman
  9. Nyali: Nyah - Mistwraith ate my Parents
  10. Herowannabe: Herwynbe - Steward
  11. Arinian: Arinian - Forgetful and Past Lives
  12. Conquestor: Mr. Hoid - Joker, Forgetful and Prophetic
  13. Silverblade5: Ryth - Excitable and Gollum
  14. Magestar: Carmichael - Narcissist and Compulsive Gambler
  15. Arraenae: Nicki - Theorist
  16. Straw: The Puddle of Vomit - Mistwraiths ate my Parents and Gossip
  17. Doc12: Rin - Tinker and Neat
  18. Hemalurgic_Headshot: Joe - Useless
  19. Araris Valerian: Aralis - Cynic, Elderly and Bearer of a Large Thwacking Staff
  20. DroughtBringer: Drought - Handicapped
  21. Stink: Stink - Insane
  22. Ecthelion III: Unknown 1 - Elderly
  23. Kipper: Kip Pikker - Narcissist
  24. TheMightyLopen: Sothe - Unlucky
  25. Madagascar: Matilda the Mad - Drunk
  26. Dalinar Kholin: Reginald Canuck - Kleptomaniac
  27. Drake Marshall: Felix - Survivor Priest and Scholarly
  28. Bugsy6912: Annix - Scholarly, Terrisman and Hobbyist
  29. Gamma Fiend: Grumbles - Insane
  30. little wilson: Whistler - Neat, Compulsive Gambler and Hobbyist
  31. Sart: Sart - High Imperial
  32. OrlokTsubodai: Locke Tekiel - House Lord
  33. Wonko the Sane: The Abundance - Organization
  34. Elbereth: El - Hopeful Orphan and Past Lives


No Cooks?  Really?  Who's going to keep the town fed? :P Poor Remet is going to have to eat his other leg just to live.

Edited by Alvron
Found Matilda's Sanity. One of her cats was using it as a chew toy.
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5 minutes ago, Nyali said:

What time does this game start, by the way? I can't find it in the OP. Is it at midnight EST? If so, that makes sense - mistwraiths only come out at night, after all.

Yeah, The game should start roughly around then. That's when I have the most free time to get all of the PMs and stuff sent out. That is definitely the reason. It has nothing whatsoever to do with me possibly being a Mistwraith; no matter what anyone tells you. ;)

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I shall sign up as Locke Tekiel, a nobleman with holdings in Tyrian Falls. Fourth son of the reigning Lord Tekiel, and so cut-off from the inheritance, Locke is resentful of a society that never saw him as valuable, but fiercely defensive of his lineage to those he sees as lesser beings.

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Sorry for the late sign-up. It's been kind of up in the air whether I would play this game or not. I am now confident that I can manage at least a minimum level of participation.


Dr. Nowko Lestibournes, Leader of the Abundance, surveyed the three-dimensional map in front of him. Like anything made by Len's expert hands, the diorama was beautiful, a work of art. The perfectly sculpted terrain, not a stone out of place. The miniature brown plants, so detailed as to seem nearly alive. The intricately constructed models, each hand-stained with flecks of black ash. In another place, this might have been some sculptor's finest masterpiece. Here in this room, though, the deathly silence told a different story.

There was nothing beautiful about Tyrian Falls.

Everyone present knew the stories. The Immortal Blight. The Divine Nightmare. The neverending field of slaughter, doomed by powers beyond any Shard to live and die and live again, on, and on, and on, until even the blackened husk of eternity had withered away before its malice.

Nowko stood back from the model. "Not this time."

The others looked up as he spoke. Their eyes were haunted, their faces haggard, their expressions grim -- but for all that, they held firm, shoulders set, eyes unwavering. They were prepared to stand with him against the dark, no matter where that path took them. Nowko felt a fierce surge of pride.

"Well, you all know the score," he said aloud. "Scout reports indicate that, as of 18 hours ago CST, the anomaly known as Tyrian Falls has resurfaced on Scadrial. The Koloss, my friends, are coming.

"All known prior appearances of the town have led to large-scale disasters involving the slaughter of thousands. It is not clear why or how Tyrian Falls behaves the way it does, but one thing is certain -- wherever it goes, catastrophe follows in its wake."

Nowko paused here, looking his audience in the eyes. They each nodded; they understood the severity of the situation. He took a breath.

"I intend to make my way to the village, and do everything in my power to prevent this from happening again.

"I cannot and will not ask any of you to come with me. No evidence exists to suggest that it is even possible to stop the cycle -- there is every chance that my quest is impossible, a suicide mission without even the slightest hope of success.

"I go, because I have debts that I must pay -- things I owe to the cosmere. None of you have any such obligations. If you choose to follow me, it will be because you abhor the senseless massacre of innocents, and are willing to give your life for a chance at stopping it. That is a sacrifice no one can ask of you but yourselves."

As Nowko settled back, silence stretched across the room. Finally, Len spoke up.

"I mean... You don't actually expect any of us to stay behind, do you?"

Nowko smiled. Tyrian Falls had quite a challenge headed it's way.


The Abundance joins the fight!

Organization - Your name is Legion, for you are many. Instead of just one character, you have a whole team of them! Just make sure they all get represented -- in each post, you must write from the perspective of at least two different characters.

Current Cast of Characters:

Dr. Nowko Lestibournes - Leader of The Abundance. Hemalurgic spike granting high-strength Bronze Allomancy. Bronze Savant. Possesses a deadspren Shardscalpel. Accomplished leader and thinker; cosmere's only Realmatic surgeon and foremost expert on Bronzepulses.

Won LenReen - Assistant to Dr. Lestibournes. SoulForger. Bonded to Seon Ena. Master artisan; very strong interpersonal skills.

Dr. Konwa Arelle - Experienced lab researcher; new field operative. Iron Allomancy. Expert on Awakening, BioChroma, and Innate Investiture. Unbeknownst to her, has been chosen by Endowment to Return upon her death.

Dr. Bres Kalei - Experienced field operative. Pewter/Iron Twinborn. Trained medical doctor. Skilled at "parkour"-style acrobatic movement. Explorer and adventurer.

And introducing...

Dr. Renedal Gentry - New member; others are still unfamiliar with him (i.e. I'm still writing his character). Has whatever powers the dice see fit to give me this game. Scadrian born, noble descent.


Quick notes -- I may add more characters as the game goes on; this is hardly the full Abundance, after all -- just the characters I've spent time developing. Also, since I'm playing multiple characters, I reserve the right to save some of them in the event of my death, if I feel it's appropriate. The exception is Renedal, who I promise not to save. Lastly, yes, I know -- Nowko has a spike. I may or may not choose to ignore the implications of that for the purposes of this game. :P

Edited by Wonko the Sane
Forgot Nowko's Shardscalpel
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Grumbles sat behind the bar, doing what he did best and maintaining his namesake by muttering and grumbling under his breath at every chance he got. The Letter Sixteen was his pride and joy, the most prominent -- and only -- inn that the entire cursed town had, and complaining was the only stress relief Grumbles had at having to constantly clean and reorganize the place. His wildly unreliable customers always complained to him that he was cleaning too much, that he was wiping down a mess or fixing a problem that wasn't there. 

Scrub. Scrub. Scrub. 
Wipe. Wipe. Wipe. 
Rinse. Rinse. Rinse.


How could they not see the bloodstains soaked into the grain of the wood, the over-turned tables and broken glass? The Letter Sixteen was supposed to be a place of perfection, not this disheveled mess he couldn't help but constantly see no matter how hard he tried to keep it all clean and neat. He finished wiping the wall, trying to get the blurred and faded words to finally disappear, even though he would paint the wall fresh every week. The cryptic message would still bleed through, taunting Grumbles with it's illegible warning. 

Scrub. Scrub. Scrub. 
Wipe. Wipe. Wipe. 
Rinse. 

Grumbles sighed a breath of relief as he squeezed the cloth dry, finishing the final, sixteenth motion. He relished the splendid, fleeting moments, however rare they came. Then he took a look around the bar, seeing as night started to fall, the ash outside still falling well past twilight as the mists started to creep out of nowhere, slowly blanketing the town as it did every night, as it always had and always will. But with nightfall, and the rampaging rumours of the koloss and talks of curses and end of days, Grumbles knew that everybody would need a place to congregate and calmly, patiently talk things through. 

The last thing everybody needed was people making wild assumptions, believing lies and false promises, or whatever people would do to try and take advantage of others in such dire times as these. 

Grumbles muttered under his breath, looking around at the mess that still filled the inn, knowing that there was not nearly enough time to clean and properly prepare in time for people to start showing up. His stomach rumbled, and he idly wondered if there were any chefs he could hire in the town to help out with things around here.... 


 

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3 minutes ago, Gamma Fiend said:

Grumbles muttered under his breath, looking around at the mess that still filled the inn, knowing that there was not nearly enough time to clean and properly prepare in time for people to start showing up. His stomach rumbled, and he idly wondered if there were any chefs he could hire in the town to help out with things around here.... 

Seeing the incorporeal Help Wanted poster appear faintly outside The Letter Sixteen, Joe knew that for some reason, his uselessness would be needed. He confidently strutted through the door, but rolled his ankle, so his swagger was reduced to a pitiful limp. Painfully, he shuffled over to the bar, where a man frowning deeply stood scrubbing methodically. 

"Say, is there any need for a cook? I make a killer ash taco..."

Cook ability unlocked! Gains the ability to make random food items of dubious quality. Not certified by the FDA.

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The mist was coalescing. She didn’t have much time. 

El frantically shifted through her memories. This had happened before, yes, yes, something to do with time looping. She’d known of it before. Before… what had she been, before? She remembered finding this place, somehow, stumbling into the village alone and without home, family, or memory of either. Kassien, taking her in, dying, dying… But no. That was forward. She needed to go back. Who was she? She pushed against the mist still infiltrating her mind. I need to remember.  She strained, and…. something broke. She was pushed back, repelled away from those memories into entirely different images, moving too fast to make out. 

She tried to focus, tried to find something that could help her escape this- this what? She’d nearly thought ‘trap’, but how was a town that El had known for years a trap? Everything looked the same as it always had. What had she been thinking? It was daytime. There was no mist yet, not for a few hours still. 

El shook herself, touching the locket at her neck to reassure herself that it was still there. The only important piece left, that. The last memory of her parents, whoever they had been and whyever they’d left her here. 

Perhaps that was why she’d thought this was a trap, in her apparent delirium moments ago. This was home, yet it kept her here. It kept her from searching out her parents. Someday, she thought. Someday she would find them, and ask why they’d left. Demand to know why they'd left her here, alone. 

Her grip clenched on the locket for a moment, before her hand fell to her side. 

Someday. 


Signing up as El (the same El as AG2, of course, though sadly without a Kassien yet). She’s a Hopeful Orphan/Past Lives mix (primarily Hopeful Orphan, as Past Lives may not be referenced in every post and is only kind of past lives). I will note that I intend to prioritize RP above game talk (for myriad reasons, including the prize for cosmetic roles but by no means limited to that), so I’ll be RPing at least once a Turn (hopefully once a day), but game talk might only be once a cycle. 

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2 hours ago, Drake Marshall said:

By the survivor! Cooks can be dangerous.

If you prick us do we not bleed? If you tickle us do we not laugh? If you poison us do we not die?

There are plenty of poisons that won't kill you. :ph34r:  But the stomach cramps will make you wish you were dead. :o

Just imagine the fun that could be had with a Cook serving everyone poisoned food that keeps them in bed for a day or two. :) 

Edited by Alvron
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