Devotary of Spontaneity

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585 Dakhor Monk

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  1. The vote count was on the same page. I was thinking you were doing that on purpose to get votes but apparently not.
  2. If your role only requires you to be in the top 3 in the first half of the cycle, why wouldn't you want to avoid votes in the second half? Why did you vote for Walin over Wizard? Hoping that Wizard would 1. Win the 1/3 chance and 2. Be the same alignment as you doesn't seem like good odds.
  3. Finale: Hope Prevails “We will slay you all.” Afandor felt his metal vials rip free, pulling painfully at his broken bones. Ignoring the pain for the moment, he pushed himself up and turned to watch what was happening. Avil was surrounded, blood dripping down his clothing. Yet he stood strong. Wood creaked as he gripped his axe with an unnatural strength, ready to fell anyone who approached. Then he turned. Two metal spikes jutted through what used to be his eye sockets. Avil was no longer a simple resident of Tyrian Falls. He had become a Steel Inquisitor—one of Ruin’s own puppets. Afandor Pushed off a coin. Pain screamed through his body, but he pushed through. When he was upright, he balanced on one leg, using the scattered metal around Scimon Tlagg’s last stand to keep him stable. No matter the pain, he would not go down without more of a fight. He only hoped Oleinda was safe. Then he spotted her. She stood at the edges of the crowd surrounding Avil, a hardness to the way she held herself. Afandor groaned and said a silent prayer to whatever gods might listen, begging for her to be protected. To be saved. ~~~ Oleinda burned copper, hoping against hope that it was enough to protect those around her. It wasn’t much, but it was an edge they may hold if Avil could burn brass. She had heard his voice. Heard him fighting with Afandor. And then she heard the other voices. Whispers and movements in the night. She hadn’t needed to go for help. It was already there. The people of Tyrian had finally joined together, found the final threat to their city, and had gathered against it. And she would stand with them. So Oleinda had turned around. Returned just in time to hear Afandor fall, to hear Onidsen confront Avil. And then to hear Avil drive metal into his own body. She shuddered as she faced him, listening to his yells. We will slay you all. It was no longer Avil. Not fully. There was something else controlling him. And then he attacked. ~~~ Linaan was the first to react. Finally, an enemy that could be fought head-on with no concerns of innocence. With Oleinda at her back protecting her from any soothing, she dug her claws into the ground and sprung at Avil’s unprotected side, teeth poised to crush his neck. Avil alone might have fallen, but Ruin was not so easily fooled. “You can do better than that. Release your inhibitions. Kill me.” In one smooth motion, he pivoted around his left foot and swung his axe two-handed at Linaan. She flinched instinctively; no weapon could kill her but fear of those obsidian axes and the people who carried them had been etched deep. She was right to dodge back, for at the last second Avil switched to a one-handed grip, the extended reach allowing him to lop off her front left paw with pewter-enhanced strength. Landing awkwardly on three legs, Linnan hissed and regrew a paw from pure muscle and fat and began to prowl around in a circle, searching for openings. Before she took more than a few steps, Avil lost interest and charged at the group of villagers who had dispersed to regain their lost metal. ~~~ Luciel was the first target, having advanced towards danger as thugs were wont to do. Avail swung his axe down for a decapitation strike only for it to lodge deep in Sidor’s upraised shield. Snarling, he wrenched the axe free, shield coming with it as Sidor abandoned her shield for a glass dagger, sliding it between Avil’s rib spikes. The wound caused no apparent harm to Avil as he flared pewter. It drew both his and Ruin’s attention as he freed his axe from the shield and swung at Sidor with all his might. She blocked by sliding her left hand up the haft of her own axe and stepping in, trying to shove Avil backwards. Mere human strength was no match for the power of pewter, but Avil was so focused on Sidor that he didn’t notice Luciel crashing into his side. Avil stumbled, and by the time he regained his footing, Luciel was already crunching down on the pewter vial he’d snatched from Avil’s robes. “Mighty fine trick Guy had there. You’ll have to thank him for me in the next life,” Luciel said, taking a fighting stance. “Now s’much fun as being Luciel is, I don’t reckon I was much good as sheriff. Beatin’ down unruly bar patrons? That I can do. How much pewter ya got left?” Avail declined to answer and disengaged from the melee, turning his sights on Onidsen, WitLees, and Char Treuce, clustered together to take cover in the latter’s dwindling coppercloud. Smoking proved no protection against the enhanced ironpull that ripped through them, targeting not their vials but the very metal within their bodies. ~~~ As Avil hurtled towards their combined greater masses, axe at the ready, WitLees stepped in the way. Obsidian cleaved effortlessly through muscle and sinew and bone as WitLees fell to the ground in two pieces, bleeding not blood but Horneater White. “Turned out I still had a couple bottles left of the stuff! I’ve been looking to make a change recently, and going out in an explosion is a fitting sendoff to this body.” Avil tried to avoid the spreading alcohol, but he was too slow. WitLees had already melted down to his base form and wrapped himself around his legs, holding him in place. Avail resisted, but the loss of his spare pewter vial and his untreated injuries meant he couldn’t afford to flare pewter again. Ruin let him struggle alone and slowly but surely Avil began to break free, but too late, for Char Treuce had already grabbed a torch. “No more running. Don Quixote would stay and fight, and so shall I.” He charged right at Avil, who screamed out in desperation. Pewter was being used to keep himself standing. Brass would not pierce the coppercloud that Char Treuce still emitted. Tin could only make his onrushing death more apparent. Iron would only hasten the end. He had just managed to kick away a piece of WitLees when the torch hit Horneater White. At the last second, WitLees stretched out his body into a semicircular cylinder, shielding Char Treuce from the full force of the explosion. He still went flying backwards, unconscious before he hit the ground. Bits and pieces of WitLees’s body scattered through the air as Avil took one staggering step forward and collapsed halfway through, body barely holding itself together. ~~~ Both he and Ruin still had one card left to play. With Char Treuce unconscious, his coppercloud vanished and a blanket soothing once more surged through the village square, deadening the emotions of everyone outside Oleinda’s range. Linaan was not affected as she rushed forwards to end the battle once and for all, but Ruin’s words filled her mind. “No matter how often you change bodies, no matter what form you take, you belong to me. I am the deepest and most essential version of you. My voice reflects your true desires, the actions you long to take, barely restrained by your facade of humanity. You WILL serve by my side, daughter. Kill them all, and become the monster you were always meant to be.” Linaan cackled as she continued her charge, the high pitched sound forcing its way out of her mangled vocal cords. “All these centuries and you still understand nothing. You prey on my deepest fears, yet you cannot comprehend my desires. I am a monster, red in tooth and claw. I have never been human, and hate pretending to be one. None of that prevents me from caring about other people. I will oppose you for the rest of my life, no, the rest of yours. For the woman I love, for a community that accepts me, for a world not ruled by bloodline or metallic arts, where everyone is given the resources they need to live a fulfilling life.” Speaking back to Ruin provoked no response, as always, but across the square, more movement took place. ~~~ A flaring heat burned inside Oleinda as she burned copper. Her vials were gone, but she had a large enough store. She listened to the sounds of the fight, doing her best to stay out of the way. And then someone’s hands were on her. Oleinda screamed. “It’s me.” Pain laced each of Afandor’s words. “This way.” Then he lifted her off the ground and pulled her to his chest. “What are you doing?” She couldn’t keep the panic out of her voice. She couldn’t leave. Not yet. “Keep burning. I’m getting you closer.” “You’re hurt.” Afandor grunted. “I’m fine. We need to finish this.” Just out of range, Sidor and Sidor’ struggled against the blanket soothing. “Former High Prelan Ferac lauded lack of emotion as the highest virtue. [He was convinced that in its absence lay pure efficiency.] He mapped out as many details of human emotion in his test subjects as he could think of. [All in the name of an empire built on cruelty.] In all his experiments, he never considered himself as a biased observer. [His beliefs stripped of emotion, he took for truth.] His conclusions that the empire was necessary were wrong. [Not just for neglecting the value of emotional judgements, but for considering what was best for a man the empire was made for to be what was best for everyone.] Feelings are an important tool for relating to others. [But even without emotion, we are able to care.] With halting, jerky movements that became smoother with every step,she picked up her shield and moved into the coppercloud. From there, it was easy to direct a badly injured Afandor and Oleinda in his arms into range of Onidsen, who had paused hovering over his fallen coins, mind assaulted by waves of nothingness. He snapped to attention as the coppercloud enveloped him and reached down for the coins, but hesitated. “I don’t need these.” He turned to face Avil, who was trying and failing to stand up, his body too badly damaged for Ruin to control. He gazed up at the approaching form of Onidsen, the man beneath the Shard reasserting control for the last moments of his life. Onidsen embraced him, his hands looping around Avil’s neck to grab hold of the spikes that jutted from his eyes. Selig sind die Toten Ja, der Geist spricht, daß sie ruhen Selig sind die Toten He stepped backwards, pulling the iron spikes with him. The final Spiked fell to the ground, free at last. ~~~ The morning air bit at Oleinda’s exposed skin. Afandor shuffled up beside her, a strange pattern to his footsteps. Step. Thump-step. His leg had been bound and as much as she’d tried, he wouldn’t stop walking on it. At least she’d convinced him to use a crutch. “Are you sure about this?” he asked as he stopped beside her. “No, but Tyrian has nothing left for me.” Oleinda chewed her lip as she listened to the town come to life. It was too quiet. Too still. Even as the work began to clean up after the night’s battle, there was not enough life in the wind. But there was a hint of something else drifting through on that cold breeze. Hope. As the world changed around them, she knew the people of Tyrian would keep the flame of hope burning inside, flaring stronger than any metal. She wanted to be with them, rebuild with them, but no. They would have no use for her. Afandor rested his hand on her shoulder. “Are you ready?” She took a deep breath, trying to settle her nerves. This was her last chance. After one last brush of her fingers across the doorframe, she stepped into the street. “Yes.” Thus ends another season of Sanderson Elimination! The AG is officially over, and the village succeeds again! Congratulations to all of you who helped keep the curse away. The winners of the three Non-Sanderson Game passes for this year are: Madagascar - Amethyst Scorpion Kasimir - Salmon Meerkas biplet - Azure Mouse We want to thank each of you for participating in the Anniversary Game! We look forward to another year of Sanderson Elimination and all the future games to stab, plot against, and RP. Player Identities: Spreadsheet
  4. Is this a normal level of activity? No. Far more talkative than normal. Who are we banning? Striker. His words and actions are inconsistent. We're voting Striker. (Archer). Mentioning a suspicion of Wizard and then voting Walin despite not mentioning him before and Wizard and Walin having the same number of votes before then feels wrong.
  5. SK that can only kill villagers and neutrals doesn't make a lot of sense. SKs are supposed to be balancers even if they don't win.
  6. If you're suggesting not-village, who are you interacting with? Trying to uncover roles, alignments, whichever? But now it's a bit?
  7. Also! Troll-role was elim in LG 53. I expect similar to this: Temptation: Absolutely terrifying with Code. They get into the code and corrupt it. If they target you, your action will do exactly what you didn’t want. You will accidently ban a player instead of protect them. Or you will accidentally reveal your IP address instead of PM them. Or something. And then they will know what and who you are. So we can't count on roles to do what they're supposed to.
  8. Hey girls! o7 This is my wife, Saponin. Only for you <3 For everyone else, I'm her spouse. Nice to meet you! Saponin or Persimmon Hippocampus? Anything is fine. Have you made any progress in catching bots? I don't have access to site permissions yet. Can you explain the problem? Accounts are being hacked o.O Long-term users are being replaced. Like me and Deliquescent, but unfriendly Where is she? Resting :/ Don't worry, I'll share these memories with her. Right. We'll start with a blanket password reset But if there's an underlying security vulnerability or their emails are also hacked that won't work. Sounds good <3 How much do you know about flavor More than one person's worth? @Channelknight Fadran what sorts of interactions are you making with the game? If Ada's role is somewhat correct, elims might kill him if he gives one of their members a yellow card.
  9. I wouldn't put it past him to lie about that but we should assume there are elims unless roles etc. suggest otherwise. Had the village killed me when they had the chance, they would have won.
  10. Welcome to SE, Ruby Dragon! Your pfp looks fierce. Just Ruby is fine. Thanks for inviting me here, Sunset Unicorn. Those colors are very pretty. Thanks! We're usually addressed as Unicorn, but you may also use my name, Deliquescent. The woman whose name you know from work doesn't want her name to be used online since it's our legal name. Right, that's me We both agree on Unicorn. Are there two of you? One body, one account, two of us. We use underlining and italics to differentiate ourselves. You'll understand when you hear her speak Unless you didn't share the memory (>.<) I'd love to hear from you both. Perhaps this weekend? I haven't gotten to know many of my newer colleagues. Oof. We'll be busy this weekend. This subforum's getting hit by a wave of bots. I'll invite my wife to take a look. She's an expert on cybersecurity. You will? Thanks to you both! If we're going to ban Archer for having two accounts, might as well hope he's a bot.
  11. What kind of test :eyes: ........................ [Devo] Don't worry about it. I've figured out how images work.
  12. We can only vote for one person. Let's make it Kas. I say Stick is evil. The balance must be preserved: Orlok
  13. Since the game is over, feel free to update the Guestbook PM (or start a new one if your account doesn't have one) for your anonymous account with some details about the game. The general format of an entry is shown below.
  14. Aftermath: Streaked with Blood “Tonight is the last,” Oleinda said with a sad kind of finality lacing her voice. After hearing poor Ciril fall to an axe, and then to learn he was free of any spikes, she had decided she could stay no longer. One more night of searching and that was it. “We’ll go to your home tomorrow.” Even if they found and rid the town of all the spiked, Tyrian Falls was no longer what it had been. It would not rebuild easily, and she could do little to help in that process. “Are you certain?” Afandor asked. Vials of metal clinked and fabric rustled as he prepared for their last patrol. “As you said, learning somewhere new will be difficult.” “I won’t be alone, though. Right?” Her voice broke, knowing how difficult the future would be. She heard footsteps, then Afandor pulled her into a hug. “Never.” “Then let’s see what we can do for Tyrian before we leave. One last gift for the town I loved.” ~~~ The mists hung heavy over Tyrian Falls. Afandor held little love for the place. He’d only known it to bring trouble for Oleinda over the years—especially in the last two years. But he knew what it meant for her. He knew what it meant that she was willing to leave. His heart had broken for hers, just a fraction, when he’d heard her decision. Most of her friends were gone. Long buried by the remnants of a broken city. Afandor looked out over that city, clouded by the mists, seeing the scaffolding and broken buildings from the Scimon’s last stand. The one that had nearly taken his Oleinda. They had made great strides towards rebuilding. “What is out there,” Oleinda asked. They sat next to each other on the roof of her home. They’d decided that standing vigil might be better. They might see or hear something if they stilled long enough. “Mists. And stillness. No one is—” Movement. A flickering of light a few streets away, barely noticeable through the mist. Afandor burned steel to traced the movement of blue lines snaking through the streets towards the town center. “Let’s go,” Afandor said as he stood. He grabbed Oleinda’s hand and pulled her to her feet and then to his side. Trusting that she was burning copper, he leaped into the mists, Pushing off the nails of her home. He landed on the ground, staying in the shadows but close enough to make out the figure—no, figures—walking in the mist. One was clearly following the other, who appeared oblivious. Could this be it? Could this be the spiked? Afandor didn’t want to act too quickly. “There are two people. I don’t recognize—” “Morrow,” the one behind shouted from below. “I know what you did.” “That’s Koros,” Oleinda whispered. The figure in front turned, shoulders bunching as if they were preparing for a fight. “You know so little.” “You need to come with me. Back to the agency,” Koros said. “Don’t make this difficult.” Morrow laughed. It was low and harsh. Afandor paused. This was strange. Agency? Maybe their problems had nothing to do with the spiked. “Morrow, please. We were friends once, but I’ll do what I must.” “This is so much more than your petty files and lives.” Morrow stepped toward Koros. “I could show you, if you’d like. Introduce you to a world beyond your imagining. There is more in this world than us, friend.” Morrow looked beyond Koros, into the darkness of the alley. A flash of flame reflecting pulled Afandor’s attention in the same direction. A figure carrying a large obsidian axe. He cursed. Only a spiked would carry such a weapon. Morrow grinned and pulled free his own obsidian knife. “Tyrian will fall to Ruin. Tonight.” “Ruin will fall, and so will you.” Koros launched forward, unsheathing his own weapon. “I’m going in,” Afandor said to Oleinda as he ran to the edge of the roof. “Go find help.” “Stay safe,” she said as battle broke out in the old town square. The same place Scimon Tlag made his last stand. Afandor ran past Koros and Morrow. They were locked in a battle and Koros seemed to have the upperhand. He wouldn’t be able to handle two, though. Throwing coins before him, he sprayed them towards the oncoming figure with the obsidian axe. The figure swiped at just the right moment, knocking each coin from its path. But the figure’s hood fell. Avil Ejir. He recognized him from the town gatherings. He had seemed so honest in pursuing the spiked. With a curse, Afandor pulled free his daggers and ran forward. He would fight. For those who had died. For those who had been unjustly killed in pursuit of this traitor. For Oleinda, who loved this place so much. Avil was skilled, easily dodging his attacks. Even when he launched more coins, Avil shook off the attacks. Pain sliced across his side as he caught him with his axe. Then he kicked his knee, bones crunching as it was forced in the wrong direction. He crumpled to the ground and waited for the killing blow. “I’m not here for you,” he said. Then he stepped away, towards Koros. Afandor breathed in through ragged breaths, trying to ignore the pain as it tried to pull him into unconsciousness. He saw another crumpled figure, blood seeping across the ground. In his hand, Koros held a thin spike. He’d defeated Morrow, and found a spike. “ Then Avil was there, burying his axe into Koros’s back. He fell without a sound onto the stones. Just before Afandor succumbed to the darkness, he noticed another in the mists, lurking above the scene. Watching. Waiting. ~~~ The Coinshot launched into view and hovered over the scene, watching the blood flowing from Koros’s body slow to a trickle and confirming that Afandor yet drew breath. Rather than launching an attack, the Coinshot removed his hood to reveal the face of Onidsen. He then launched a small projectile directly upwards where it exploded in a burst of light. Linaan and Onidsen, who had been expecting it, were able to cover their ears against the sound from the explosion, but Avil was caught off guard long enough for a ring of torchlight to erupt around him. Sidor and her agents directed the remaining villagers to close off Avil’s retreat, forming a second circle behind them. “Avil?” WitLees questioned. “How can this be? He’s literally a villager.” “I am,” Avil protested. “I came out here to take notes and saw Koros there fighting with this other person. I rushed to intervene, but I was too late. Onidsen caught me trying in vain to patch up his wounds.” “You’re not carrying a notebook,” Luciel observed, stepping closer with the heavy, deliberate footfalls of a man burning pewter. Avil sneered. “I don’t have to explain myself to a Spiked, but I’ll grant your last request. I dropped it in my panic to save Koros. I’ll have plenty of time to retrieve it after Onidsen executes you.” “Only one more person will die tonight,” Onidsen intoned, grabbing a handful of coins in his hands and readying to launch them at Avil before he suddenly stopped and lowered his hands. “That’s right,” Avil said. “I don’t fear dying for the village, but killing me now is a waste. Let’s reason it out. I can’t have killed Wessle, nor could you or Donn Keihote. Koros was innocent, so that leaves WitLees and Luciel. We can kill them both now and guarantee the safety of our village.” WitLees and Luciel objected, but made no sudden movements, warily eying not just the coins in Onidsen’s hands but Sidor’s ring of agents circling behind them and the hyena prowling just outside the ring of torchlight. Onidsen’s hands dropped, as if considering Avil’s words. Only Donn Keihote was ready to take action. “He’s soothing us! I’ll take care of it!” An invisible coppercloud burst out in a radius around him, freeing everyone from the effects of Avil’s soothing. Avil began to panic, eyes darting in the direction where he’d thrown his axe into the darkness. Onidsen was quicker. Coins ripped through Avil’s torso, mixing his blood in with the already bloodstained street. ~~~ “Such a waste,” Ruin’s voice echoed in Linaan’s head. “It’s time for me to resolve this situation myself.” On the ground where Avil lay dying, he suddenly had a final burst of strength. He drew four steel spikes from the inside of his robes, embedding two in his eyes and two between his ribs. He burned pewter, and immediately the fatal wounds inflicted by the coins proved no impediment at all. He burned iron, and his enhanced ironpull easily ripped away Onidsen’s remaining coins, along with the metal vials of Onidsen, Donn Keihote, and Luciel. He burned tin, and suddenly the obscuring blackness of night was as day. He leapt directly to his axe and picked it up, brandishing it at the crowd of villagers. “All our enemies gathered in one place!” Avil declared, in a voice that was both his and Ruin’s. “We will slay you all.” Sunburst Toucan was killed by a Coinshot! They were a Spiked Soother! Fuchsia Ostrich was killed by the Spiked! They were a Village Soother! The game has ended, and the Villagers have won! Player List: Hello everyone! The game is over, and it's voting time! Every year we award three non-Sanderson passes to AG players, and this year will be no different. Please PM us your top three choices in order. The traditional criterion is "best Cosmetic Role adherent", but if you would like to pick based on something else you are free to do so. You can PM us in your GM PM on your anon account or in the PM where you received your login details on your regular account. (Both the original player and pinch-hitter for an account can cast votes if they so desire.) Also, as a reminder to those logging in to their anon account for the first time in a while, please do not authenticate it. We will not be revealing identities yet. That will happen when the votes are done at which point we will post part 2 of the aftermath, post the master spreadsheet , announce pass winners, and make any other announcements . We will also try to put up our post mortems at that point; in the meantime, feel free to talk here on your anon account. Doc Links: Dead Doc Dead Doc 2.0 Elim Doc