Young Bard

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About Young Bard

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    Young Bard
  • Birthday 12/29/1999

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    Reading, Writing, and Understanding the Hidden Secrets of the Universe.

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  1. MR33: Denouement The camp reached the cave entrance close to sundown. The mists swirled around them, chilling the air to freezing. On the horizon, storm clouds boomed - they beat the storm by a matter of minutes. Alendi peered into the tunnel - it seemed to go on for some distance, and Alendi couldn’t see the end. “Get inside. We’ll take shelter here.” Alendi said. The group, huddled and significantly shrunk from its original size, shuffled in. They can’t take much more like this. I can’t take much more like this. They’d started out with a medium sized party, but they now had less than half that number. There was a sense of despair in the air, as though people were just waiting for the news of the next deaths to arrive. At least it’s almost over. Please, Terr, let it be almost over. Rashek walked up to Alendi. “Should we make camp for the night? Make the final journey in the morning?” Alendi considered it. There was nothing more he wanted to do, then to get some rest, just a couple hours sleep, before continuing on. But… no. He could not allow someone to betray him at this final moment, after they’d come so far. “No. Make camp here - I’ll head in ahead. With luck, we can get this over with tonight. I’ll bring Duilin along for security - he’s proven his trustworthiness.” There was a brief pause. “Where is Duilin?” Duilin stood outside, watching the oncoming storm. “I know you’re there.” The storm didn’t reply. “You think I don’t realise what you’re doing? Pitting us against each other, for your own personal amusement? Pairing us into groups, then seeing who survives?” The wind gusted, making Duilin shiver, and it began to snow lightly. “I know you’re there. I’ve played your little games - I caught the traitors. What now? When will this end?” The snow began to intensify, combining with the mist to obscure Duilin’s vision, and there was another thunderclap. “Hey! Answer me!” Frustrated, Duilin grabbed some snow from the ground, roughly packed it into a ball, and lobbed it into the storm. He didn’t see where it landed, but he could have sworn that it impacted something - or someone - nearby. Duilin began to turn back towards camp, and saw the mists nearby beginning to swirl, as they slowly coalesced into a solid form. “Oh, it’s you again.” The figure had been remarkably friendly to him, but Duilin wasn’t in a mood to talk. Duilin casually took out a carving fork and tossed it through the mist figure, watching it dissipate away. Duilin knew by now that wouldn’t harm it - but in some ways it was fun to try all the same. By now, the storm was bad enough that Duilin realised he couldn’t see the entrance anymore. Slowly, he began to trek back towards the entrance, keeping careful mind of the cliff edge to avoid falling off. Behind Duilin, someone picked up the carving fork. Among the howling of the wind, Duilin failed to hear the crunching of snow as they approached Duilin from behind. The figure raised his hand behind Duilin, and Duilin turned, too late, as the carving fork lunged towards him and pierced straight through their chest. The deed done, the figure dashed back to the camp, leaving Duilin alone, as they slowly collapsed on the ground. The white snow turned red as the sun set. “Where’s Duilin?” There was a pause. “He’s probably fine.” Rashek said eventually. “Maybe he went for a walk. He’ll probably be back soon.” “A walk? In this weather?” Rashek shrugged. “We shouldn’t give up hope, anyway.” In the silence, unnoticed, one of the party silently rejoined the back of the group. Rashek paused. “But really, it’s better to sleep. We don’t know what lies ahead, and there may still be the Deepness to deal with. I can stand guard.” He said it almost perfectly - friendly, gently guiding advice. But it was a little too incongruous. Alendi had seen the looks Rahek had given him, when Rashek thought Alendi wasn’t watching. A fiery, burning anger for what Rashek felt was a wrong to his people. A disgust for leading them on the mission that Kwaan had inexplicably begun to decry as doomed. This Rashek, the one standing before him now, was a facade. Alendi sighed. He’d seen this coming for long enough, but he’d hoped it wouldn’t be necessary. He grabbed the dagger on his belt, and in one fluid motion, stabbed Rashek through the chest. “Are there any other objections?” None were raised. “Good. Let’s finish this.” The walk was taken in silence, except for the echoing footsteps. Glances were made between the small group, every accidentally kicked pebble causing the group to tense up. Half an hour went by, then an hour. Slowly, the group became aware that the air around them was somehow strange. Thicker, somehow, lazier. And, much as each of them tried to shake off the feeling, it felt strangely as though the very air was watching them approach, silently monitoring their progress. “Dr. Snip, may I speak with you? In private?” Daedi’s voice echoed through the path, reverberating back and forth several times before eventually dissipating. Everyone looked back. “What is this about?” Roadwalker asked. He looked down at his Tinmind, suddenly very regretful he’d used his entire supply the previous night. “A quick matter, that is all. You may all carry on.” Everyone quickly looked at one another. “I assure you, we’ll only be a moment. You have no need to worry.” Reluctantly, the group continued on, Alendi leading the way, while Daedi and Dr. Snip stayed behind. “What’s this about?” Dr. Snip asked. “I know you killed Duilin.” There was a pause. “You’re lying. Someone else must have killed Duilin.” Daedi smiled. “You’re good. You managed to hide from even my gaze for a while. But everyone makes a mistake eventually.” “I honestly don’t know what you’re talking about. I’m going to rejoin the group now.” Daedi held up the carving fork, prongs red with blood. Dr. Snip paused, momentarily stunned. “But… how…” Daedi smiled. “Look. I know Duilin may have been your friend, but there’s so much more at play here. Alendi’s intentions are good, but they. Look here.” Snip said, pulling out a thin, engraved metal sheet from under his shirt. “The prophecies - they’ve been changed. The power, that Alendi wants to release, to stop there - it’s been manipulating things, in front of all of us. Whatever it is, it’s trapped for a very good reason.” Daedi gave Snip a completely neutral stare. “I see no problem with what Alendi is doing. You’re just one of the traitors. I should report you to the group.” “Look. Please. I know you’re angry with me right now because of Duilin, and you have every right to be, but -” “I don’t care that you killed Duilin.” Dr. Snip, for the second time, stopped, stunned. “What?” A mist began to rise from Daedi. “You’re the Deepness? Perhaps we can work together. We have a chance to stop what Alendi’s going to do, you and I. Will you work with me?” “I don’t care that you killed Duilin. I just wish you’d done it a little earlier.” And with that Daedi, mist streaming from their form, lifted up Dr. Snip, pinning him up against the wall and choking them. Dr. Snip kicked out, futilely trying to get Daedi to drop the smaller figure, but his legs passed through the largely incorporeal figure. However, the hand continued to clench down on Dr. Snip’s throat, slowly cutting off air. “If you’d killed him earlier, I’d have had time. Time to whittle the party down. Make them desperate. Time to make sure that Alendi would have no choice but to release me, and then be weak enough to be disposed of afterwards. You could have guaranteed my success.” Daedi’s face remained perfectly neutral, like a puppeteer with cut strings, but his voice was anything but. Snip’s face was bright red, and slowly turning a shade of purple. “Duilin learned my identity, and used me like a dog doing his bidding. I bore it, because I figured between you and I, we’d be able to achieve so much chaos together, even if my hands were tied.” Snip lashed out again, in desperation, but it passed through the figure harmlessly. “But no. You decided to play the pacifist. You didn’t kill, and went storing your Pewter instead. You thought the mob was who you had to worry about, boy? Oh, no. You had to worry about me. And no amount of Pewter is going to help with that.” Snip wasn’t moving. Daedi left him there for a few more seconds, to make sure they weren’t pretending, then dissolved into the mist. The group saw Daedi round the corner, alone, puffing and panting. “Where’s Snip?” “The Deepness attacked us - he killed Snip. I barely escaped.” Daedi paused. “I think I’m safe now, though.” There were glances between Dietrich Drake and Itiah. Daedi paused, then continued. “I don’t think they attacked groups before - they must be getting desperate. We’re on the right path.” Daedi moved to rejoin the group, then watched as Dietrich put a hand on his spear. Daedi paused. “Dietrich? We’re on the same side, right?” “The people behind me are on the same side. You, I’m not so sure about.” Daedi paused. “Fine.” He smiled, and slowly dissolved away, leaving nothing behind. They reached the pool soon after. Glowing with a white light, and surrounded by a ring of clay stones with some strange metal embedded in them. There was a moments silence, as the thick air slid around them, watching, gazing, judging. Alendi sighed. “Well, best get this over with.” He stripped down to his breeches, then entered the pool. Slowly, he walked to the middle, pausing there for a moment. Then he dunked his head below the water. Alendi felt all of his bones and muscles at once begin to tense up as the energy began to absorb into him, as though on fire. All the pores of his skin seemed alight with fire and the veins coursed red-hot. Alendi gasped at the sheer power that was flowing through him - far superior to anything he’d imagined possible - superior to anything that he could have imagined possible. With this power, this energy, he could flatten cities, level continents. He could banish the mists, could make world peace, could provide food and shelter for all, with a wave of his hand. He could bring back his companions. No. Alendi paused. You can not hold this power forever. And Alendi saw that this was true. He could hold the power for only a few minutes, before he had to give it up. He saw the Deepness returning, and Alendi having failed his mission. He saw those who had held hope for Alendi, back in Khlennium, wide-eyed, watching as the Deepness returns, and now with nothing stopping it from returning in full force and conquering all it sees. You can not abandon your mission now. Alendi saw those who had died, silently watching him, judging him. What were their lives for? Alendi heard the voices of his people, quietly waiting out the days, slowly trying to ration an ever-dwindling supply of food. What do they want you to do? Alendi felt a memory, of his past self, standing before the Terris Priests at Khlennium, as Kwaan proclaimed him the Hero of Ages, and the saviour from the Deepness. What are you here to do? Alendi paused. Then he exhaled, letting the power go. It began to drain away from his body, faster and faster. He screamed, a torrent of energy flowing out of him, and he collapsed down into the now empty pool. He heard a voice, in the back of his mind. I am FREE! Snipexe died. They were a Pewter Feruchemist Rashek's Lackey. Fifth Scholar died. They were a Pewter Feruchemist Alendi Loyalist. The game is over! The Alendi Loyalists have won. Special credit goes to Devotary as The Deepness, who missed out on breaking the SK(-ish) curse by one player. Thanks goes to CadCom, Elandara, and Walin who wrote write-ups for this game, and then proceeded to conveniently die the following cycle. GM Spreadsheet Elim Doc Dead Doc GM thoughts: Comparison to LG27: As the only other game I've run, that was my chief comparison to this game. And... MR33 was significantly better than LG27 was, at least - it avoided a lot of the same traps that the last game fell into. Partly, this was because I was deliberately trying to run a fairly ordinary game - part of the problem with LG27 is that I tried throwing too many wacky things into that game at the same time - I feel like at the core of LG27 there was probably a good game - where players have the option of working towards a couple different goals, and have to be paranoid that their other 'factionmates' aren't working towards the same goals that they are. But this got distracted by everything superfluous added on top of that, so it just became a confusing, bloated mess that wasn't actually fun to play (or run). There were a few other things wrong with it (in particular, a few mechanisms that relied on randomness, which really doesn't belong in an SE game - see my notes about luck in the Balance section.) In this respect, MR33 was certainly better. It seems like the players had more fun playing it, and I had more fun running it. It wasn't perfect, by any means, but I can walk away from this one actually feeling like I had a good time and that I want to do this again. Setting/Story: I knew I wanted to run a game set in pre-Final Empire Scadrial before almost anything else in this game. This was for 2 main reasons - 1) I wanted to try out a game based around the idea of Feruchemy, and having to make temporary sacrifices for more powerful benefits later (this will be discussed in the Mechanics section), and 2) I figured if this game was popular/fun, maybe I could run a couple sequels, and functionally create an alt-Scadrial history that was dependent on the results of various games (which... may or may not happen - I'd be interested in hearing peoples thoughts.) Overall, I think I liked the setting - it was new and something that hadn't been done before, and fitted in fairly easily to the format of an SE game. Honestly, I'm surprised no-one's done this before. It also gave me the chance to try out the diary format in the various cycles, which... kind of worked? The main problems I ended up facing was that deaths and stuff were always included in a separate part of the write-up, so the diary was usually just filler of "We are very concerned about this thing that happened". If I were to use a diary format again, I'd probably stick to it more than I did this game - try and write some deaths through the diary format, instead of separately. Mechanics: I still like the idea of the Feruchemist, but the devil is in the details. Part of the problem was that the Feruchemist took a while to become a powerful role, and this was a really short game - when people stored charges (particularly Pewter), they were wasting precious actions. There are 2 remedies I can think to this. 1) Start players off with some small supply of charges - enough that they'll still need to charge at some point in the game, but decreasing how much of a late-game role it is. 2) Speeding up the action cycle somehow (e.g. You can store and spend multiple charges a cycle.) Tin Feruchemists are a pain. Perhaps, if I had some kind of bot that could sweep through and format the transcript automatically, it would be easier, but it's a long, tedious process to transform a PM. If you just try to copy-paste it, it comes out almost unreadable. Pewter Feruchemists are... fine, but they're slow. Too slow, for a game that ends in 4 cycles. I still think that having one vote for 1 charge of Pewter will become too OP too quickly, but perhaps some combination of options one and two above could help. Bronze Feruchemists are... I have no idea, actually - the only Bronze Feruchemist died C1. At a guess, I'd say it has similar problems to the Pewter Feruchemist, and could use similar fixes. The not-being-able-to-perform-an-action-when-being-lynched thing is not unbalanced, but by the sounds of things, it was unfun, so I wouldn't recommend it. Obviously, most of the other roles are classics, so I don't feel the need to comment on them as much - they're staples of SE precisely because they're balanced. Balance: (Note: I'm distinguishing Mechanics from Balance because mechanics is about the structure of individual rules/roles, while balance is how it all fits together into a cohesive whole. Ultimately, you need both to have a really fun game.) The first two cycles of this game were... interesting, to say the least. 2 out of the 3 eliminators dead, functionally ruining the chances of the Elim team possibly winning (although Snip came a lot close than I was initially expecting, all things considered). The first and most obvious question is... why? There wasn't an obvious mistake I could spot where I went "The Eliminators really screwed up there". Alternatively, it might be that the rules were somehow village biased ... honestly, I'm not exactly sure whether that's the case. If anything, I'd expected such a small game to favour the Eliminators, since they only needed to hide for 3 or so cycles to get a good shot at the lynch, but clearly, that didn't happen. So, I really do think it was just bad luck. CadCom and Elandera decided in Cycle 1 they'd tie-up the vote and cause a no-lynch, knowing that vote manipulations could kill one of them, and that it might be viewed as suspicious. Unfortunately, they just had the worst possible luck, and lost two of their members because of it. If it had worked, they might have won the game. I did have some mechanisms in place in case something exactly like the first two cycles happened. The Deepness was shamelessly stolen from Aman's Red Rising MR as an attempt at auto-balancing once the game started - the theory was that if the game went towards the Eliminators, the Deepness would work to correct that and end up working with the villagers, and if the game went towards the villagers (as did happen), then the Deepness would work to correct that and end up working with the Eliminators. I still think that's a brilliant idea in theory, but in practice, that didn't work so well. Around Cycle 3, Devotary claimed to Fifth, a villager, and functionally their kills ended up working for the village (killing suspected Eliminators) in an already village-biased game. If I were to ever run this again, probably the first change I'd make would be to say both the Village and the Eliminators need to kill the Deepness in order to accomplish their wincons - that prevents this kind of situation from developing.I kind of like that this was almost role madness - I feel like that's more fun for the individual player, but the balance suffers as a whole, since a whole bunch of effects take place functionally by accident, it becomes less a game of chance and more a game of luck, which can cause problems in what is mostly a skill based game. E.g. Itiah, the Doctor, protects Roadwalker. Shane acts as a Decoy, deflecting all actions from Roadwalker onto Shane, and Devotary tries to kill Shane, which is blocked by Itiah's redirected protect action, and may have lost the game because of it. All of these actions were entirely separate, and happened largely accidentally. Not being afraid to add a few more vanilla roles both makes it harder to clear people (which this game could have used) and makes it less likely to have luck play a role as much as it did this game. Conclusion: While definitely not perfect, this game has a few interesting elements that worked to varying degrees of success, and it would be interesting to see how other GM's tackle similar problems in future.
  2. And that's the end of the cycle, and if I'm not mistaken, the game. The aftermath will be posted in a couple hours.
  3. There were a couple very minor changes made, however, you shouldn't read too much into the writeups, as I take significant creative license.
  4. No. There is at least one of Rashek's lackeys left alive, otherwise the game would have ended.
  5. Cycle Four - Distaste and Distrust Nawl woke up in the middle of the night. He had always been a deep sleeper, but as this expedition grew more intense by the day, he found it hard not to stay awake. He got out of his tent, nervous. He suspected there were several people just as awake as he was right now. Feruchemists tapping their bronze metalminds, light sleepers, and those whose paranoia woke them up. Moving about as quietly as he could, he tried to find his way through the camp. He saw a shadow. They would be dangerous, no matter who. He made sure to watch out for where the figure was moving. He didn't want to get stabbed in the back, after all, or accused of sneaking around and stabbed in the front. A thought struck him. Fourth Letir was dead, but his possessions, including his tent, were buried with him. His metalminds lay untouched with the rest of his belongings...was it really so reprehensible to take from a murderer? While Nawl was having trouble justifying "calling dibs" in public, especially right after one's death, in the middle of the night the only shame he'd have to deal with was private. And seeing as Fourth Letir was a traitor, there was none. No guilt, no worries except hiding. The man had killed and sought to help the Deepness. History must be preserved, after all, and if Nawl got guilty, well...He could just drop the metalminds somewhere else sometime later. Using the landmarks around him, Nawl found the tent he was looking for. Checking one more time for the shadow in camp, he found two--but they were far away from him, and he had no sources of light on him. And he was being very quiet. He didn't forget that the group thought he was a traitor; if they undug the body before him, he'd have to check for them being around. Maybe Nawl could just leave, wait until he was sure all suspicions were gone, and rejoin the group when victory was assured. And of course, that Alendi was alive. If one of the group had to enter the Well of Ascension, Nawl didn't want to be the one to draw the wrong straw. No. He'd stick this through to the end. It looked like the spot was still covered up; he started digging everything back up. Shuddering at the body, he looked for the pack. Rifling through it. Hearing a light chink of metal brushing metal. Content with his spoils, he pocketed the smaller metalminds and turned around. Halfway to camp, he remembered there was another traitor for certain. They might be killing tonight...if Nawl was going to die at the hands of someone in the group, he would do it saving someone else. He started hurrying as fast as he could. And crashed into a wall of people. "I knew it! Nawl, you've been a traitor from the start. You've tried to cover your tracks, coming here to destroy any evidence. Bluffing that you wanted to use it, so you would have an alibi for leaving in the night. But we knew better. You're not going to sabotage this expedition," Duilin said. "No! I was just...looting. I know how it sounds. But I'm not going down until I explain myself." "Your actions explain enough. Die, traitor." Duilin gestured to Dietrich Drake, who was carrying a spear. "That's not how I die! I trusted you! I was going to take a dagger for you!" "Well, how about you take a spear. For all of us." A thrust, and Nawl was too weak to move. They searched his pockets as he died, finding some bloody paper and assuming it to be the list. As he fell, Nawl could vaguely see two figures atop two of the nearby peaks, standing and watching from afar. One seemed only semi-corporeal, a swirling figure, which could only barely be made out from the surroundings. And the other… the other was familiar. “No! ...No…” He fell asleep in the mists. Dave paced the tent nervously. Back and forth, back and forth. Below him, the dirt crunched in a rhythmic pattern. What am I doing? I don’t belong here - this mission to save the world, everything hanging in the balance… I should have stayed behind in Khlennium. This is far too dangerous. Back and forth, back and forth, the creaking of the floorboards continued. So many dead… We barely have half the group we set out with, and we’re beginning to turn in on each other. Soon, there will be nobody left. Someone has to be the protector, someone has to lead this group, to try and save us, and the rest of the world. But… that someone isn’t me. It would be so easy… I could walk out right here, right now, and no-one would be the wiser. Let the others figure it out - I don’t have to stay here. Back and forth, back and… the pacing stopped. Dave slowly turned, and looked at the door. A flaming arrow soared by, narrowly skimming in front of Dave as they watched. The tent burst into flames, quickly filling up with smoke. Dave coughed, as his eyes began to water. In moments, he was practically blind. Smoke filled up his nose and mouth, and he coughed. Blearily, he looked around. I… I have to get out! I have to… Where’s the door? Where’s the door! He coughed again, trying to find breath, and failing. Outside, he could hear shouts begin to rise, as news of the fire spread. “Water! Where’s the rusting water!” Too late… It’s burning up too quickly. I need to get out… But he couldn’t find the door. He reached out almost at random, and yanked his hand back away from the heat of the flame. I… I’m going to die here. Caught up in things too big for me… Too big for anyone. He fell to his knees as another coughing splutter hit him, his brain at war with his lungs trying to breathe in the smoky air. I’d hoped… I’d thought… I guess it doesn’t matter now… He felt himself being lifted up. This is it. This is me moving above to Trell’s realm… I hope I will be judged wisely… But… no. Dave could still feel his body, could still feel his lungs screaming for air. He could feel the arm dragging him forward out of the tent, into fresh air. Shane heaved in a breath, relieving the screaming in his lungs. The figure, seeing he was conscious, placed him down onto the ground. “Run. Run, you fool!” Then, the person who saved him, too blurry to make out, dashed off into the night. Dave took a few deep breaths, slowly letting the oxygen return to his brain. Then the panic hit him. Someone… Someone tried to kill me! Dave, sore and barely conscious, slowly clambered up, and fled the camp. Another day, another life was snuffed out, this time by our own internal squabbling - everyone views everyone else with distaste and distrust. We didn’t see any murders from the traitors - perhaps we can hope they have been banished for good, but I fear they may just be biding their time. Apparently, a tent has gone up in flames - is this something that happened naturally, or is this part of the many attempts on the members of our party? Even a few days ago, I may have told myself not to jump to conclusions, but I can not see any other conclusions at this point except to assume a deliberate intent. I do not yet know whether any have died - it is my strong hope not - we can ill afford to shrink our party any further. From where we set up camp in the evening, we saw for the first time the cave entrance where the Well is supposed to be located. I can feel it, pulsing, waiting. We will probably arrive there tomorrow, or possibly the day after. It is just my hope that I or someone loyal to me is still alive when that happens. Please find a post of Walin's and give them an upvote for their death write-up! Walin was lynched! They were a Decoy Alendi Loyalist. Shanerockes was attacked, but they were protected! The next Cycle will end at 6:00PM Friday 15th February AEDT. Vote Count: Walin(5): Devotary, Roadwalker, Itiah, Snipexe, Fifth Ark(1): Shanerockes Shanerockes(1): Ark Player List: Roadwalker - Honorable Dietrich DrakeItiah - De Itiah au PowerfulArk - SoahcShqueeves - {Delinquent without a name} - Roleless Alendi LoyalistFifth Scholar - DuilinDroughtbringer - Droughtbringer - Desperate Packman Alendi LoyalistXinoehp - Dedne - Roleless Alendi LoyalistElandara - Declan, the Detailed - Roleless Rashek's LackeyDevotary - DaediCadCom - Fourth Letir - Bronze Feruchemist/Desperate Packman Rashek's LackeyShaneRockes - Dave, the Terrible LiarSnipexe - Dr. SnipWalin - Nawl - Decoy Alendi Loyalist
  6. This was ambiguous wording on my part. Fifth is correct. The full order of actions is: Desperate Packman Redirects Vote Manipulations Lynch PM Spying Protection Kills
  7. This is true. Also, people are speculating about Snip getting saved by a Doctor - that was just a screw-up on my part. Nothing of particular note (at least, that would be included in the write-up) happened to Snip last night. The writeup was meant for Shqueeves, who is very much dead. This is now being corrected. EDIT: For the inevitable follow-up question - if a Doctor did save someone, there'd be a writeup, and a mention below the writeup - E.g. Joe was attacked, but survived!
  8. Cycle Three - Demonstrations As Shqueeves sat around the campfire, listening to people tell stories of home, and what they would do if they defeated the Deepness, someone, almost imperceptible, upended a tiny vial into Snip’s soup. “... and so, me and Jem, sopping wet from the river and looking like drowned rats, wearing nothing but a couple towels, had to walk through the entire town while the whole village watched on.” He chuckled. “Serves us right for what we tried to pull, I suppose.” There was some chuckling as the speaker finished off his speech. Shqueeves looked down at his soup, and slowly lifted up a spoonful. Something seems… different, about this. Shqueeves paused. I like it. At last, something I can actually eat. I’ll have to thank the chef afterwards. He finished up the soup, and slowly began to get up to thank the chef, before nearly collapsing. His vision seemed… strange, like his eyes weren’t focusing. It reminded Shqueeves of that time he’d snuck into the brewery and sampled some of the drinks there. Maybe that’s why the… why the soup tasted so nice. Snip thought idly. With a bit of help, he stood up. “Time to get back to your tent, I think.” someone said, gently trying to shoulder him and slowly drag him away from the campfire. “Wait…” Shqueeves said. “Wait.” Shqueeves paused. “My… my compliments to the chef.” And with that, Shqueeves keeled over into the dirt, and didn’t stand up again. There was a silence in the campfire. The chef glanced up “It was the same recipe as usual - I don’t know what that was about.” "Perhaps Dietrich did it!" someone shouted. "Yeah, Dietrich did it!" someone else picked up. The mob swarmed towards Dietrich. Meanwhile, in the shadows, a figure began to slip away. "Or what about Declan?" There was a pause. "What about Declan?" "He's been acting... strangely, don't you think?" "Yeah, but... we're all strange! Isn't he just figuring out when the storms are meant to arrive, or summat like that?" "That's not what I mean. When a few of us suggested bringing Fourth Letir out as a traitor, he seems a little too eager to join in, and split us right down the middle." "You know..." "Now that I think about it..." And, for the second night in a row, a party set out to find and eliminate the traitors. Declan stared at the paper. Something was very wrong. Something had been changed. The writing was unmarred, and the lettering in his perfect script. But it wasn’t his. At least, not how he remembered it, and they didn’t call him Declan, the Detailed for nothing. “Kwaan is right,” he whispered. “Alendi must be stopped.” There was one problem, though. Declan was no good at lying. His whole world was based in fact. Numbers didn’t lie - except when changed by forces he didn’t understand - and Declan like numbers best. The others - those who believed in Alendi - suspected him. He’d tried to act naturally, to blend in. But nothing he did ever worked. They didn’t believe his words, and any calculations he tried to show would just be changed by the power supporting Alendi. He heard a commotion outside his tent. They were finally coming for him. They’d finally had enough of his poorly crafted lies. Declan, the Detailed was now to be Declan, the Dead instead. We seem to have found two of the traitors in our midst now - with luck, that may mean the end of our troubles, but I fear that is not so. Even if all the traitors have been found (and it is my strong belief that there is at least one more), then we must still worry about the Deepness, who continues to pick at us, to gnaw at our numbers, to make us desperate. I think, perhaps, its goal is to make us take up the power at the Well, not release it. But I can not allow that. If I, Alendi, make it to the Well alive, then I will not give in to this being. And if I fall, then any of those who remain loyal to me would do the same. Today's events have brought much fear to the camp. But also, perhaps, it has brought something else, too. Where before we had hope in the success of our quest, now we have belief. Please go and upvote something of Elandera's for his Death write-up in the second last section. Shqueeves has died! They were a roleless Alendi Loyalist. Elandera was lynched! They were a roleless Rashek's Lackey. The next cycle will end at 6:00PM 13th February AEDT. Player List: Roadwalker - Honorable Dietrich DrakeItiah - De Itiah au PowerfulArk - SoahcShqueeves - {Delinquent without a name} - Roleless Alendi LoyalistFifth Scholar - DuilinDroughtbringer - Droughtbringer - Desperate Packman Alendi LoyalistXinoehp - Dedne - Roleless Alendi LoyalistElandara - Declan, the Detailed - Roleless Rashek's LackeyDevotary - DaediCadCom - Fourth Letir - Bronze Feruchemist/Desperate Packman Rashek's LackeyShaneRockes - Dave, the Terrible LiarSnipexe - Dr. SnipWalin - Nawl
  9. There's 6 hours left in the day! Get your actions and votes in! Unfortunately, I might be an hour or two late for figuring out rollover today, but the Cycle will still end at the regular time.
  10. Slowly, members of the travelling crew began to assemble in the centre of camp. When a sufficient number of them had arrived, one of them lifted themselves up on top of an overturned cauldron, using it as a pedestal. "There are traitors in our midst. We need to stop them." There was a smattering of applause. "To this end, we need to turn out the first of these traitors - Dietrich Drake!" The crowd looked at each other, slightly confused. "Who? Why?" "What's the point?" "How do we know you aren't the traitor?" "Are any of you interested in participating in an Alcoholics Anonymous Meeting?" The crowd began to debate amongst themselves. "You must be the traitor!" "No, you are!" "What about him? He has a particularly traitorous face, wouldn't you say?" "Meetings are at six o'clock, for anyone interested. Feel free to come along." The man on the cauldron looked around. "Everyone! We must present a united front in order to stop these traitors! If we can not do that, we may as well return to our tents." There was a brief pause. Then people returned to their tents. However, a few people had a different plan. This person handing out "Alcoholics Anonymous" leaflets seemed strangely unconcerned about the traitors. Perhaps they would show up to this meeting after all... D didn't decide his domestically endowed designation. D did despise his domestically endowed designation. D didn't desire Domestic dependency. D Desired deliverance from domestic duties, discharge from dull day to day grinds, and to be emancipated from dad and other juridical guardians.During the second of Doxil, D Did the duty, signed the declaration, and ended dependency on his juridical guardians. D now lived Independently. D was dismissed from residency in the domicile of his departed juridical guradians. D didn't have a trade, and didn't derive dollars doing daily doings. D found different directions to derive dollars. D undertook peddling prohibited drugs. Additionally, D started doing drugs. D did his darndest and decieved many detectives and disregarded dicated decrees.D detected that D was in a dilemma. D couldn't deceive detectives directly nowadays. D had entangled himself redundantly. D developed a different deception. D feigned his death and disguised his identity. D changed his domestic designation to an endogeneous designation.D was now named Fourth Letir, an individually established designation, and a different identity. D had a decision to proceed anew. D decided to do good. During the first days, D did good. D found decent directions to derive daily dollars. Disastrously, D's addictions dismally rebounded. D became a drunk, and a drug addict. D started using dark terris magicks in devilish ways. Destroying Alendi's friends and developing devious designs of destruction.D died unattended and abandoned, a desolate and deserted drunk druggie in his decrepit abode. Dedne sat on a rock, looking out over the cliff face, brooding. "What is the purpose of life? What is the purpose of our mortal existence? If there is none, what is the purpose in fulfilling our journey? What is the purpose of anything in life?" Unfortunately for Dedne, the person standing behind him had no such philosophical troubles. With a quick push over the cliff face, Dedne's mortal existence was snuffed out. Droughtbringer decided to go for a walk. Behind, he heard someone shout his name, which he ignored - he had other things to be doing. He walked for several hours, mulling over his thoughts, and so was completely caught by surprise when one of his feet stepped down and splashed into water, immediately seeping into his boot. Cursing, and coming back into the present, Drought looked out, noticing for the first time the large pool of water in front of them. Well, Drought thought it was water - it was an inky black, about 20 feet across, and Drought couldn't see the bottom. Moving his foot back, he sighed. He took his boot off, and set it atop a nearby rock to dry. Then, he moved to the edge of the pool to inspect it further, until his nose was a few inches from the water. Which is when he felt a force behind him grab and force his head under the water. As the party trekked out the next day, the only sign they saw of Droughtbringer was one solitary boot, resting atop a rock. We lost two of our members today - if we continue at this rate, we will all surely perish before we make it to the pool. In many ways, we have been brought up against an impossibly Herculean task. Stop an impossibly powerful enemy, with enemies within and without. There is a part of me that fears the scholars at Khlennium may have gotten it wrong - what would be the consequences if I fail? I fear for the future of this motley crew. I fear for the future of all my people. And I fear for the people of all of Scadrial. IMPORTANT NOTE: If you are a Feruchemist storing a charge this cycle, please send that in as an action, rather than just leaving it implied. I may not have made that clear before, so I will give people the benefit of the doubt this cycle. Also, a massive thanks to CadCom for his death write-up, which made me burst out laughing when he sent it to me - please go find something he posted and upvote that. Xinoehp has died. They were a roleless Alendi Loyalist. Droughtbringer has died. They were a Desperate Packman Alendi Loyalist. CadCom was lynched! They were a Bronze Feruchemist and a Desperate Packman, and a member of Kwaan's Lackeys. Vote Count: CadCom(2): Elandera, Roadwalker Elandera(2): Devotary, Fifth Scholar Roadwalker(1): CadCom Player List: Roadwalker - Honorable Dietrich DrakeItiah - De Itiah au PowerfulArk - SoahcShqueeves - {Delinquent without a name}Fifth Scholar - DuilinDroughtbringer - Droughtbringer - Desperate Packman Alendi LoyalistXinoehp - Dedne - Roleless Alendi LoyalistElandara - Declan, the DetailedDevotary - DaediCadCom - Fourth Letir - Bronze Feruchemist/Desperate Packman Kwaan's LackeyShaneRockes - Dave, the Terrible LiarSnipexe - Dr. SnipWalin - Nawl
  11. I had been considering it. It really came down to whether we had the possibility of winning. And... we nearly did. It's also worth noting that if I had suicided, I might have extended the game by another turn, but I'd also have probably put my own factions goals out of reach (we really needed as many players as possible to pull it off), so I was viewing it as an action of last resort.