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Blank Fate

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  1. From his position in the stands, Daresso Artorius quirked an eyebrow and stood, making a respectful gesture to attract the attention of this self-styled 'prosecution'. "I must say," he began, "I did not expect to be a defendant at this hearing, though I do thank you for having the decency not to surround my Keep with soldiers." One of his guards gave the heir to House Artorius a questioning look, but was waved aside, unconcerned. "I would like to formally deny House Artorius' involvement in Lord Farrsolin's plan to extort Lord Tekiel. My father was approached by Lord Farrsolin with a request that our House either side with him or step aside and remain neutral, and we opted for the latter in no uncertain terms. We committed no soldiers or other resources to this scheme, and Farrsolin's claim to the contrary is, at best, a woeful misunderstanding on his part. Should anyone present have any compelling evidence to the contrary, they are welcome to present it."
  2. Seems like this week's been tough on a lot of people for time, me included D: 1st Action (Public) Who: Daresso Artorius, as the successor to the Artorius line What: Obtaining a bride from an NPC house Where: Luthadel When: Generation 3, Turn 4, Action 1 Why: To succeed his parents as the leader of House Artorius ...Also, to whoever attacked my House last turn, while I was declared to be on holiday? Shame on you, I expected better
  3. I'm sorry to say that I'm disappearing off on holiday in a couple hours, and my internet access will be spotty at best until next Sunday. House Artorius will still be about, but don't expect me to be answering PMs very reliably next turn Wyrm is aware of my situation, and we've prepared accordingly so I will still be taking actions next turn. Now, without further ado, my public action:
  4. "I had no idea that Luthadel's so-called 'high society' took themselves so seriously," Calisca's musings had an edge to them, as she sat on the windowsill of Lord Doran's study, swirling a glass of Urbain Reserve in her hand as the ash swirled outside. "Are you naturally so humourless, or do you practise?" Doran said nothing, biting down on his response. His wife had come from a minor family who had fallen from a prominent position in Urteau following its annexation, and had clearly never stopped pining for the decadence and luxury of their former position. Calisca's world had been one full of lavish parties and opulent feasts - indeed, that was all she had talked about prior to their marriage. Clearly notions of 'responsibility' and 'leadership' had not been on her mind, but with luck that would change with time. How could I make her see, though? Among the writings of his forebears, the previous Lords Artorius, there had been a saying that looked as though it had originated with Cyrus himself. "We hunger lest we be consumed." Doran had grown to appreciate the value of the saying - besides, it rolled off the tongue nicely. There was a value to hunger, to being merely sated rather than filled: it gave you the desire for more... knowledge, power, riches. After all, once you had all that you desired, how would you grow and better yourself? Cyrus had understood that - he had seen the power of Allomancy and had craved it for his successors. His hunger had made House Artorius one of the most Allomantically powerful Houses in the Empire, and Valden's machinations had only further cemented that position. And yet, Doran knew that Allomancy was beginning to dilute, all across the Empire - these 'Mistings' had appeared steadily, to the consternation of many. Certainly, his sister Nirana had protested when she had learned that her husband-to-be was a mere Soother. And here was Calisca without any Allomancy at all... but there was no desire for it in her eyes, no wish for the personal power that the Lord Ruler's chosen possessed. Perhaps that could be changed too, in time. And now, a public action:
  5. Surely this defeats the point of a public action, if you're concealing a significant part of the information that the GM requires you to put forth?
  6. Struggling to come up with some decent/relevant RP, I'm afraid Hopefully I'll be able to rectify this later!
  7. Thunk. The copper clip buried itself in the tree's bark with a dull sound, and Shavronne gave an unimpressed grunt. "We are nobility, Lord Valden, not circus performers. What do you take us for?" The coin lurched free at the touch of her allomancy, returning to press flat against her palm. "Come now, Shavronne," Valden's voice was warm and amused, in contrast to the other Mistborn's usual dourness. "Did you never compete with your siblings, as a child? Surely you must see the appeal." He looked to the tree, "Again." Thunk. The coin buckled as it hit a knot, bending out of shape as it lodged in the bark again. "I was an only child, my Lord." The damaged coin returned, and Shavronne scooped it into her palm as it approached. "Besides, what do we have to prove to the other Houses? We are as we are. The pageantry and ceremony that Lord Uethorn suggests is meaningless." Valden smiled wryly, "You see, Shavronne, I have to disagree. The display of power has a power of its own - a commander that displays his courage would inspire his men and sow doubt in the minds of his enemies. A wolf that shows his dominance would lead, while a stronger but meeker creature would be doomed to follow." He gave Shavronne a predatory smile, a look that she remembered Lord Cyrus wearing on several occasions - it was a look that could mask many possible thoughts. "More than that, it is the exercise of power that maintains our strength. Without conflict, or competition, our powers wane and we grow complacent, weak, dull." He Pulled on the coin in Shavronne's hand, and saw her grimace as she tried to Pull in kind. "For instance, the House knows of your talents with Bronze and Copper, but what of your other metals?" Valden saw droplets of blood fall from his subject's hand, squeezed from between clenched fingers. "Lacking... your skills have been blunted, Shavronne. Are you so sure that you have nothing to prove?" Her words were venom as she spat, "You... are unfit... to judge me!" She let her fingers relax, and sent the coin shooting at Valden's chest. The bloody clip slowed to a laboured halt as it approached Lord Artorius, spinning wildly as his own allomancy held it steady. A tense silence fell between them. Shavronne blinked several times, seemingly more shocked than him at the crack in her composure. "...You were Rioting me." Valden nodded. "I was, yes. Your weaknesses make you vulnerable in more ways than you know - you became fixated on them to the point that you no longer played to your strengths. And in failing to exercise your strengths, you permitted yourself to be overpowered." His voice was calm, as though he had exactly predicted the course of this conversation before he had even begun it. "We are all of us required to compete, my dear - only the strong survive in this world." Shavronne gave Valden a measured look, "Very well... what would you have me do?" Valden took the blood-stained coin between two fingers, and handed it to Shavronne who, after a moment's hesitation, took it. "Assemble the others, and inform them that we shall be out in force for the Allomantic Games. Lady Noerin and myself will also be attending, and will be observing your performances with interest. We have been given an opportunity to compete, and it would be remiss of us to give anything less than our best."
  8. "You know, Valden... I worry about Maligaro. I feel you are unwise to trust him." Noerin's face was marked with worry, as her husband leafed through a dispatch of the Mistborn's research notes. As he read, his face seemed to flicker between showing keen interest, slight worry and outright bewilderment. Lord Artorius' desk had become a growing mess of loose leaves and half-stacked books ever since he'd commissioned the young, lanky-haired Mistborn to begin his research - Noerin made a mental note to get him a new adjutant if only to prevent them both from being buried alive under mounds of paperwork. "If it eases your worry, my dear, I understand your concern. He is... well..." He let the notes drop back onto the table, "He is intelligent, surpassingly so. And I would be a fool if I didn't make use of his intellect. As for his stability, his sanity... that remains to be seen." "If you can still find it among your archives," Noerin eyed the desk quizzically, "the latest correspondence from the mill owners came in this morning, as well. It would be good to finally lay this matter to rest." She rose, and gave Valden something of a warning look as she went to leave, "And I would advise you to speak with Maligaro soon, my husband, before he does something unwise." As the study door closed loudly, Valden waited for a moment for quiet to return to the study before his hand crept toward Maligaro's notes once more - he was nearly finished with them, after all. But Noerin's presence had distracted him, and alerted him to the aches he'd been accumulating while sat at the desk. He rose himself, then, casting one last glance over the notes before discarding them. At the bottom of the page, in Maligaro's spidery hand, he saw the Mistborn's closing thoughts and wondered if Noerin's concern was merited after all. "Damnation is a small price to pay for immortality, is it not?"
  9. If I were you guys, I wouldn't base any argument on the write-up: Just putting that out there
  10. "I am pleasantly surprised that Lord Valden has entrusted us with this task." If Shavronne was telling the truth, her stern voice didn't betray the relevant emotion - her tone was as cold as their echoing footsteps as the three of them walked the halls of Keep Artorius. "He seemed keen for us to get started." Maligaro gave a laconic shrug and a wan smile, "Can you blame him? He knows as well as we do the importance of this power... I gather Lord Cyrus, rest his soul, went to considerable lengths to obtain it." Shavronne did not so much as look around at him, and so the second Mistborn continued to talk. "And we are living proof of his success! Isn't that right, sister?" His eyes turned to the third member of their group, who until now had remained silent. She contented herself to smile and nod, as was her custom when her brother was in such an exuberant mood. Shavronne and Maligaro didn't so much as break stride as they approached a team of servants in the corridor, causing them to scatter and weave as best they could as the Mistborn passed. "Do you know if the pewter has arrived yet, Shavronne?" Maligaro ignored his colleague's apparent disinterest in his words, "We shall need to be fortified, if we are using our own bodies as experimental stock. After all, I have seen first-hand what ingesting metals can do to the unprepared body, the unwise mind..." His voice was almost lyrical as he recalled, "Foolish skaa, who were ignorant of the fact that Allomancy is inherited rather than simply appearing from nothing... or perhaps simply desperate enough to advance their station that they would simply..." he looked perplexed, "...eat the metals, and hope?" "It seems unlike you to spend time among the skaa, Maligaro." There was no inflection of a question in Shavronne's voice, though the other two knew that there was one implied. "Hardly among them, my dear," he smiled archly, "They were found by the city watch, half-dead from the resulting poisoning, blood and vomit staining their clothes... I took the liberty of investigating, at the duty officer's request. They made a... fascinating study." "So if we fail in our efforts, we are entrusted to your care and expertise?" Shavronne's voice cut clear across him, "Then we had best succeed."
  11. The grounds and corridors of Keep Artorius were teeming with activity, and Cyrus was pleased. He was not often given to sentimentality, but it was safe to say that, whatever he had imagined his life to be before Rashek's coming... this was not it. He was now the head of a noble house that was, by all accounts, thriving... and while he knew that his own time was short, he had provided well for his children. "How are we doing, Alvina?" The skaa beside him was small, and quiet, but she'd proven to be worth her weight in boxings for her organisational ability. She gave a quick but unnecessary bow, avoiding his gaze as she responded. "The invitations have been sent out, my Lord, the awnings are in position, the kitchens are at work for the feast even now. Lord Izenry and his entourage will be here soon, I imagine." "Good... yes, good." He continued to walk along the corridor, and while Alvina obediently kept pace with him, he knew that he had gotten slower with age. An old grey wolf, he thought ruefully, long past his prime. It's long past time for someone younger and stronger to lead. But this was not a day for regret, or brooding. It was time to check on Valden, and see if he had any worries or fears to be put to rest. It was a daunting thing, after all, to have such responsibility upon one's shoulders... when Rashek had offered such a thing to Cyrus, he had seized it with little in the way of second thoughts. Those had come later, but they had not lasted - he hoped it would be so for his children as well. Whether they had their father's sternness or their mother's fire, they would be well-suited for the many tasks ahead of them. And while the ash still fell outside, Cyrus felt that he had never breathed more easily than he did today.
  12. Cyrus' feet were propped upon his desk as he leafed through the reports from the scouts and runners that had filtered back to him from the Eastern Dominance. Now this was something he could appreciate, and engage with - it had been many years now since he had ever fought below another's banner, and by now his life as one of Rashek's nobles was far greater in scope than his previous calling had ever been. But reading military reports and surveys, imagining what sights the writers' eyes must have seen... that had been what Cyrus had missed the most. And the reports themselves were not without merit, either... Who: Cyrus Artorius, on his authority as House Lord What: Constructing a mine Where: The Eastern Dominance, at the site uncovered during the expedition When: Generation 1, Turn 3, Action 1 Why: To take advantage of the discovery made during the expedition
  13. The reports from Fadrex had been interesting, to say the least. Cyrus paced the floor of his study, once again deep in thought. It seemed that the world had not been blasted as thoroughly bare as he had initially suspected. Then again, perhaps it had been naive to think that their fortified shelter had been the only one made prior to Rashek's rise to power. He hadn't heard anything to suggest they wielded the power that the Lord Ruler did, and so it was inevitable that they'd fall in line eventually. But these green shoots of other powers, other cities, were only a part of what occupied Cyrus' mind. What of the old world is still out there, I wonder? It had been many years already since they had emerged, blinking and disoriented, into the harsh light of the new world. But still so much of it lay unexplored, unknown. Perhaps it was time to address that? Age had begun to weigh on Lord Artorius' shoulders, but there were times when he would still feel a flush of youthful exuberance. Now was just such a time, as he snapped his fingers to alert his scribe. "My lord?" Cyrus smiled as he began to dictate his plans; he was already curious as to what a thorough expedition might find out there, in the wild unknown...
  14. The fall of ash outside his window was still a curiosity to Cyrus, rather than a mundane annoyance. It blew like blackened snow, gusting and floating on fickle winds. Was this all that was left of much of their world, after the Lord Ruler had brought their world too close to the sun? Had it been accidental, as he implied, or had he meant to scorch the world clear of its old trappings, ready to be made anew? Regardless, the collected works of the noble houses here in Luthadel were a long way yet from matching what had been lost to the Deepness. The world, Cyrus mused, had never been as empty as it was currently. No... that sounded bleak, when he let it circle in his head. Better to say, rather, that it had never been so uncluttered as it was now – with so much of the old order lost, and the Lord Ruler's new world forming before his very eyes, now was the ideal time to put things in order. After all, the Empire would not remain small for long, and any attempt at a system of cataloguing and chronicling would be farcical were it left too late. Prior to Rashek's return, he would never have considered such a thing – he was not accustomed to leadership, and yet he felt he might acquire a taste for it in time. But in this uncertain time, sowing the seeds of order could potentially have its uses. Perhaps there were some among his retinue that would have an insight into this matter – if so, he would see that they were justly rewarded...
  15. As Rashek spoke of his new world, his 'Final Empire', Cyrus' eyes ranged across the room. For a time, they lingered on the blade embedded in the rock, and he smiled ruefully. In his younger, rasher days, he might have been the one to suffer such an abrupt fate... His good hand flexed absently as he considered Rashek's casual demonstration. The others in the cave seemed fixated on the man before them, some being quicker to swear allegiance than others... Cyrus could only guess what emotions raged in their minds as they knelt, one by one. And why would they not, when they were being offered such greatness? But most of all, his gaze was drawn to the shattered door and the savage, sun-scorched world beyond it. What remained of the old world, he wondered, and what had been swept away? What Rashek truly spoke of was not power, nor prestige... it was raw, unshaped opportunity. This 'Lord Ruler' had been the one to carve this new world, but these few here would be the ones to sculpt it. And, Cyrus told himself, I shall be among them. Stepping forward, he looked upon Rashek at last, and spoke his piece.
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