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Found 21 results

  1. Finale: Pragmatism Waern looked over his desk at them, drumming his fingers as he thought about what to do. They looked so confident, and in truth they had every right to be. They outnumbered him, and there was no Allomancy to even the odds. On either side, really. Not unless Nickel got creative with some Soothing. "This is... an awkward position we are in," Waern said with a sigh, finally. "Everyone knows it's you two - Well, everyone alive, at any rate," he corrected himself, "but we can't really do anything about you. I could threaten to turn you over to the Inquisition, but you would just kill me. Obviously, I'd quite like to prevent that. You have no real reason to keep me alive either, for that matter, which is something I would quite like to change." "So what are you offering?" Hadrian asked. "A truce," Waern said, though it hurt him to suggest it. "We can continue this merry dance for a bit longer, but all that will happen is that more people will die. Most likely people on my side. The intelligent thing to do would be to call an end to it now, while there are still people alive. We surrender; you win." "Just like that?" Hadrian raised an eyebrow. "Just like that," Waern nodded in agreement. "I have always prided myself on being a practical man. If fighting is sure to result in a loss, then it must be avoided if possible. We'll state that the state of emergency is over with, and the traitors have been cause. With Sheon's death, there are none left who would speak out against you. Perhaps they don't know, perhaps they don't care. Either way, the only ones willing to take action over this debacle are us three in this room." "And what about Jaina? You expect her to remain silent?" Nickel asked. "I've already dealt with her," Waern said, darkly. "Consider it a gesture of good faith. She will be implicated as the final member of the traitor's group, and the matter will be closed. We will forget this ever happened, and get on with our lives." "What evidence do we have that you'll keep quiet though?" Hadrian asked. "All very well to say it's an amnesty for now, but what about tomorrow? Or next week?" "We'll fashion a dead drop," Waern suggested. "If either party dies, or attempts to publicise what has happened this past week and a half, the incriminating evidence on that party will find its way into the hands of our higher ups. And I don't think they would be pleased with any of us if any of it became public. We would all be implicated and become wanted men, regardless of who broke the truce." Nickel smiled a bit. "Ah yes. I don't think you want that being made public. We'd just be executed, but you'd be tortured first, wouldn't you?" He looked to Hadrian. "I think we can trust this amnesty." "Sure?" Hadrian asked, still hesitant. "What about the atium we were given? From the vault, I mean?" "Sell it," Waern shrugged. "A bit of creative accounting here and there, and I'll replenish our atium stock soon enough, with no-one any the wiser. As for the beads in your possession, I'm sure there's a black market somewhere around this city that will buy it. If not, at some point I will send you to another Dominance under the guise of being there for work, so you can find a better market." "You've thought this through, haven't you?" Nickel said with a chuckle. "It was an event I planned for from the start," Waern said. "Contingency plans are always useful. Besides, I feel goodwill towards you, after all this is done with. This whole event has brought to light a painful thorn in my side that I wasn't aware of, and then even better, it has also removed it in swift succession. It may not be due to you two specifically, but I am feeling rather generous at present. So please, consider it - We call an end to it, and I swear of your innocence, or we see this through, the rest of us die, and you live out the rest of your lives wanted by the Inquisition." Hadrian and Nickel considered the matter, and then both nodded. "Very well, we'll accept your terms." "Good." Waern raised his hand across the desk, and shook both of their hands in turn. "I think that this will be the start of a very long and worthwhile friendship. And incidentally, if you haven't had your fulfillment of subterfuge and skullduggery, I might have an opportunity open for you in the near future..." There were some people back in Luthadel who had to pay for what they'd done to him. Perhaps he had found someone to help him with that matter. Internally he was seething, putting all his effort into maintaining the mask, but that didn't mean he couldn't spot potential assets all the same. "We will consider it," Nickel nodded, as they both stood up from their chairs. "In the meantime, it has been a pleasure doing business with you sir." "Yes, thank you sir," Hadrian said with a small bow, just enough to be polite, "for your generous terms." "The pleasure is mine," Waern said, as he opened the door for them, ever the gracious host. He closed the door gently after they had left, and sat back down in his office chair. He was thankful that his office was soundproofed, as it meant that no-one could hear him swear. The Eliminators win! Eliminator Doc Master Spreadsheet Dead Doc Spec Doc
  2. LG39: Blood Money In the safety, even if not comfort, of his office, Praelan Waern read by the dim light of a candle. The Farmost Dominance was not known for having the trappings of modern civilisation readily available, even for one of the most important people within it. The mists washed across the open window like a wave, never entering but ushering in more cold. He shivered, reaching over his shoulder and covering more of himself with his coat. Lord Ruler, he felt old at times. Stress of the job, rather than actual age though. He shrugged off the cold as best he could and continued to read the missive he had been sent from Luthadel. The letter was signed by the High Prelan himself, and even if they were of different Cantons, it was no less an honour to have a letter written by the man addressed to him personally. Well, perhaps not written, more likely dictated. But it was regardless an important moment in his career. Perhaps his exile from the capital might soon be over, if he played his cards right. How best to start loosening The Lord Ruler’s grip on The Final Empire than by removing His agents from the most lawless and displaced parts within it? The Farmost Dominance was a nightmare to control, especially with all the tiny little communities that had fled there and never been brought fully to heel. Settlements dotted the near-wasteland like flies on excrement, each one eking out a feeble existence in some kind of act of defiance against The Lord Ruler and against the world. It had been, lamentably, his home for many years now. Unfortunately, being as he was the highest ranking member of the Canton of Inquisition here, it fell to him to counter this insidious attempt at rebellion. All the Inquisitors he could have called upon were in distant lands, and while they were not unreachable, they would take time to get here. Time he may not have. Besides which, how best to prove he should be looked upon more favourably than if he dealt with this problem himself? He might never become an Inquisitor, his lack of Allomancy sadly a black mark he could not overcome, but at the very least he might be able to return to Luthadel with his head held high. He reached over for a rope connected to a bell outside his office. He rang it three times, and then waited. A lower ranked Obligator knocked on the door shortly afterwards. Waern smiled a bit. He had respect here at least. “You rang, sir?” they asked, letting themselves in and closing the door behind them. “Yes. Tomorrow, I will see all the Obligators for a meeting, first thing in the morning. And I do mean all of them,” he added. “Effective immediately, I am cancelling all holiday and annual leave. Understood?” The Obligator winced, but then reluctantly nodded. “Understood, Prelan.” They bowed and left the room. Waern sighed and returned to the letter. A single person was not a threat, this much he knew, especially not a Skaa. But if they had gone unnoticed here for as long as the letter suggested, then who knew how much information they had at their disposal? How much leverage they could bear against those who considered them a peer? An Obligator’s life was given to The Lord Ruler and his Empire, and none would easily betray Him. But the problem with people is always that they are simply people. The Canton of Inquisition wouldn’t exist if they didn’t stray from their duty and purpose and their laws. And some might be lax in their understanding of the rules, especially when circumstance made it seem like a good thing for them to do. Maybe a long friendship would exploited to provide an alibi. Perhaps a small bit of blackmail would convince someone to do something they consider minor, but that was ultimately part of an unknown, larger plan. And then there were those Waern was sure would betray the Canton for something as base as financial gain. Those were the most detestable people of all. They considered there to be only one higher power in the world, but it wasn't The Lord Ruler. Waern sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose to ward off a headache. It looked like he would have to add ‘executioner’ to his list of duties. Rules The rules for this game are fairly standard for a Conversion game. There are two teams, the Obligators and the Traitors. The Obligators win if all the Traitors are dead. The Traitors win if they have the capability to prevent the Obligators from getting a successful lynch again, usually by the Traitors outnumbering the Obligators. As this is a Conversion game, the Traitor faction consists of just one person to begin with – The Seer. All other players are Obligators. The game is broken down into two Turns across each Cycle of play – The Day Turn, and the Night Turn. The game begins on a Day Turn. Day Turns last 48 hours, Night turns 24 hours. The end of each turn will be 9PM in the GM’s timezone (currently BST, will be GMT from 29th October). During the Day Turn, players vote for another player to lynch. As long as a player has two or more votes, the player with the most votes dies. If there is a tie, or no player has two or more votes, no lynch occurs. During the Day Turn, Rioters and Soothers may use their abilities. Players may send PMs to each other as long as a Tineye is alive (you will be told if they are not). During the Night Turn, the Traitor team can use an Action by one of their players to make a kill attempt. In addition, the Tineye, Coinshot, Lurcher, Seeker, Smoker and Seer may use their Role Actions at this time. Players may send PMs to each other as long as a Tineye is alive (you will be told if they are not). Players may only make one Action per Cycle (going Day-Night), regardless of how many Actions they might be able to perform. Sending a PM is not an Action. Roles Thug – The first time a Thug would die for any reason (whether at night or in the lynch), they instead survive. If it’s during the Night, their attack and survival will not be publicly noted. The Thug will know if they were attacked during the Night, however. This is a passive effect and does not require an Action to use. Tineye – As long as a Tineye is still alive, players can send and receive PMs to each other. Group PMs are allowed. If all Tineyes die, players cannot send messages to each other anymore. As an Action, Tineyes may also send a message at Night to the GM to include within the next Day’s writeup. Coinshot – A Coinshot can use their Action at Night to attempt to kill another player. Lurcher – A Lurcher can use their Action at Night to save another player from being killed. The Lurcher will be aware that their target was attacked, but no-one else, including the player being attacked, will know. Rioter – A Rioter can target a player in the Day with their Action, at the cost of nullifying their own vote, to change who another player has voted for. Soother – A Rioter can target a player in the Day with their Action to nullify their vote. Seeker – A Seeker can use their Action during the Night to discover what Role that player has. Smoker – By using their Action during the Night, a Smoker can protect themselves and up to one other player that Night and the following Day from Rioting, Soothing and Seeking. The Seer The Seer is the sole Traitor at the start of the game. The Seer begins with a number of beads of Atium depending on the number of players in the game. A Seer cannot be detected by a Seeker if they have no Atium left. Seers cannot give their Atium to other players other than as a bribe. Atium may be used in two ways: The Seer can use their Action during the Night to gift a bead of Atium to another player and bribe them onto the Elimiantor faction. This takes place at the end of the Night and will fail if the target dies, not costing the Seer any Atium. Coinshots will automatically cost 2 Atium. The Seer does not have to be aware that someone is a Coinshot to bribe them. If they don’t have enough Atium, the Action fails. If the Seer would die, they instead automatically burn one of their beads of Atium if they have any left to avoid the death, to all appearances in the same way as a Thug or as if they were saved by a Lurcher. This is a passive effect and does not require an Action to use. The game will begin on Sunday 8th at 9PM BST. Rollovers will be at the same time each day. Players: Quick Links:
  3. Night 10: Appeal For Calm Waern knocked on Sheon's door, fountain pen and clipboard in his other hand. When there was no response, he knocked again. A sleepy Sheon answered, covering his mouth as he yawned. "What-" he yawned again. "What's wrong, sir?" "Where is everyone?" Waern asked, frowning at him. "Why aren't you all in the atrium?" "Can't speak about everyone else, sir, but... I'm feeling a bit drained today." Waern sighed. "Fine. Give me a name." "Uh... Hadrian?" Sheon said, blinking a bit in confusion. Waern nodded and added a marker to his tally. "Fine, you're dismissed, or whatever." "Thanks sir... Night..." Sheon gave him a slow bow, and then closed the door. "Night?" Waern asked himself, "It's ten in the morning! Lord Ruler save me from these people..." He sighed and took a few breaths. "Right, let's see..." He looked at the table he had been jotting down, and groaned. His hand had smudged the ink, rendering it entirely unreadable. He yelled a wordless scream of fury and threw it down the corridor, storming off. No-one was lynched! Hadrian/Araris Valerian (1): Sheon/Seonid, Jaina/little wilson Sheon/Seonid (1): Hadrian/Araris Valerian Night 10 has begun! It will end at 21:00 PM GMT on Saturday. There is no longer a Tineye alive, so PMs may not continue. Players Quick Links:
  4. Night 9: Love of Money Once, twice, three times the body swung as a pendulum before it eventually came to a halt. Marsh's crazed grin leered down at them, light reflecting off his eyes and giving him an almost demonic look. It was as though he could spring back to life at any second, and leap down from the rafters, snapping the rope as he descended upon them like the supernatural horror that the skaa believed Mistwraiths to be. They all stood around the body, none of them superstitious but all very cautious, watching it for any sign of movement. Eventually one of the Obligators crept forward and shoved at his arm, jumping back as if it was going to snap back at them. But no, the body didn't make any attempt to exact revenge; it only swayed slightly from the push before once again coming to a stop. Waern leaned down and picked the chair up from the floor, setting it upright again. The sighed slightly at the damage done to the fine woodwork of the chair. Ah well, sacrifices must be made in the name of progress. At it was a very old chair anyway, already scarred from Joe's attempt at stacking them up to create a barricade. No great loss. "Locke, go and search his room. I'm sure you'll find further evidence there." Locke snapped a salute. "Yes sir," he said, before heading off. Waern waited until everyone else had left, and then followed him, his hand sliding down to the knife at his belt... Marsh/Darkness_ was a Traitor! Marsh/Darkness_ (2): Jaina/little wilson, Cyfna/Elbereth Sheon/Seonid (1): Hadrian/Araris Valerian. Night 9 has begun! It will end at 21:00 PM GMT on Wednesday. There is no longer a Tineye alive, so PMs may not continue. Players Quick Links:
  5. Day 9: Buried in Tin They found his body under a mountain of metal. "What the hell?" Darian asked, frowning. He pinched a bit of the metal shavings from the top of the heap, and played with the granules between his fingers, examining it closely. "Well... It's either iron or steel or tin..." "It's tin," Waern confirmed. "How do you know?" Darian said, standing back up straight and dusting his fingers down on his coat. "Drought was a Tineye," Waern replied. "If there's nothing else we've seen from these traitors, they like to be ironic in their killings." "I don't know if this counts as ironic..." Davus said, putting a hand into the heap and brushing a large chunk of it away, spilling the shavings onto he floor. "At the very least, it's not subtle." "Hm," Waern nodded in agreement. "Well, if they're betraying us for something as meager as material wealth, they can't be that bright. We can hardly expect murders on a grand philosophical scale can we?" He shrugged. "Well, keep looking for them, then." Droughtbringer was a Tineye! Day 9 has begun! It will end at 21:00 PM GMT on Tuesday. There is no longer a Tineye alive, so PMs must stop now! Players Quick Links:
  6. Night 8: Fruitless “Someone move the bed over, maybe there’s something underneath that!” Locke shouted, surveying the debris in the room. “Whatever you say boss,” Marsh said as he tipped the bed over and heaved it up to see underneath it. There was nothing underneath, other than a small collection of dust that had built up over a long period of time. “Fine,” Locke nodded to himself. “The bookshelf then!” “Right-o!” Jaina smiled as she carefully slid her fingers behind the shelf and tipped it forward. “Timber!” Books slid out of it and were crumpled under the weight of the wood. Locke winced. “I’d have preferred it if you didn’t break any spines while doing that. Oh well, no matter… All in a good cause. Has someone gone through her bags?” “Nothing in there,” Nickel shook his head as he poked at the scattered contents on the floor with his foot. “Not unless you want me to go through all these notes. Pretty sure they’re mostly just work-related. Also, this would go by quicker if you were helping.” “I am helping,” Locke responded, "I'm supervising. Besides, look through those notes. Perhaps there's something hidden away within in code." He turned to the fifth and final occupant of the room. “Cyfna, anything?” Cyfna turned to him, and then shook her head. “The chest of drawers just contains clothes, no atium to be found.” “We can’t discount that it wasn’t hidden here,” Locke said, nodding to himself. “Could simply be hidden elsewhere. But we're not dealing with someone who is thinking logically, remember. She betrayed The Final Empire, she obviously wasn't thinking clearly. I mean, who knows what went through her mind?” “I can tell you what went around Pix’s throat, if you’d prefer.” The five of them turned towards the door to see Waern there, an amused smirk on his face as he leant against the frame, watching them work. “No takers? Pity, it’s a breath-taking story. It'll leave you speechless.” “Sir!” Locke said, grimacing a little but pulling off a smart stand to attention nonetheless. “We are looking through Pix’s possessions to find-” “-to find nothing,” Waern cut him off, standing up straight and frowning at him. The trace of humour in his face was not gone, but it was certainly lessened now. “Yes, I can see that. Don’t feel so downhearted about not finding any evidence here, I wouldn't have expected you to.” “But sir, if not here, then where?” “Nowhere. Pix wasn’t one of them.” Locke felt his stomach drop. “Wh- No, sir. That’s impossible.” “Is it?” Waern smiled cruelly and took a step towards him. Locke took a step back. “Face it, Locke. You had a win yesterday, and all of a sudden, you’ve become arrogant. Moreso, even. Before, it was tolerable, but now it's aggrevating. And for that matter...” His hand grabbed Locke’s shirt around the collar. He pulled Locke towards him, causing the younger man to stumble off-balance in surprise. “...if you ever go above my head again and kill one of your fellow Obligators here without my say so…" He tugged on the shirt, tightening the collar around Locke's neck. "Nooses are one-size-fits-all, Obligator.” He pushed Locke back with a surprisingly strong shove. Locke fell down to the ground on his rear, looking up at the Prelan. “Do we have an understanding?” Waern asked, glaring back down at him. “...Understood, sir.” Locke said through gritted teeth, shifting the gaze to the floor and adjusting his collar. Appearances must be maintained. “Sorry, sir.” “Good. Let this be a lesson to you,” Waern said. He spared a glance at the others, and then he left the room. There was a silence in the room for a moment, as the four of them considered what had just transpired. “...So… What now boss?” Marsh finally asked, still supporting the weight of the bed on his shoulder. “I wouldn't normally rush you like this, it's just that this bed frame is really starting to dig into my collarbone.” “What are you asking me for?!” Locke snapped, jumping to his feet. “Keep searching! Find anything that can help, dammit!” Down the corridor, just within earshot, Waern chucked to himself. Then he started to whistle. It was going to be an excellent day. Pix/Lemonelon was an Obligator! Pix/Lemonelon (6): Locke/Orlok Tsubodai, Hadrian/Araris Valerian, Marsh/Darkness_, Jaina/little wilson, Cyfna/Elbereth, Nickel/Aonar Faileas Locke/Orlok Tsubodai (1): Pix/Lemonelon Night 8 has begun! It will end at 21:00 PM GMT on Saturday, but the next Day will not begin until 21:00 PM GMT on Sunday. There is still a Tineye alive, so PMs may be continue to be sent. Players Quick Links:
  7. Day 8: Pulling the Thread Waern whistled as he did his careful patrol that night. He didn't bother to keep the noise down; at this point in time, he felt untouchable. What could possibly hurt him now the one thorn in his side was dead? And with no-one alive knowing the truth, every problem in his life had simply disappeared. He was on the rise to greatness once again. And this situation could very well be what propelled him. No longer did he have to worry about his past coming back to bite him. It was no time for carelessness of course, and Locke troubled him somewhat, but he felt freer now than he had done in many years. The sword raised above his head had been vanquished. Everything was looking up. A rope lay across the floor before him, disappearing off into another room. Puzzled by this, Waern looked around before carefully picking it up. It had some give, but as he pulled back on it, it tightened up. He pulled with more strength, and gained a little ground from it. Setting himself into a sturdier, more stable stance, he pulled with yet more strength, and was rewarded for his efforts as he heard something snap. There was a thump from the room, behind the door. Waern slowly shuffled into the room, looking around carefully in case anyone used the chance to attack him. But no, the room was silent other than him. He lit a candle, which illuminated the body of Sony. Marks on the neck showed that he had been strangled before his death. The corpse also had a broken neck, if he was any judge. Waern knelt down and examined the body. He winced. The body was still warm. It also seemed as though the neck was the cause of death, not suffocation as he had first surmised. A broken neck he had just caused, as a matter of fact. He dropped the rope back onto the floor and hurried out of the room. Someone else could discover that tomorrow morning. Sony was an Obligator! Day 8 has begun! It will end at 21:00 PM GMT on Friday. There is still a Tineye alive, so PMs may be continue to be sent. Players Quick Links:
  8. Night 7: Foresight Locke, Assuming your similarity to a Koloss does not extend further than your looks, you will have noticed that I do not like you. And in case it does, I have stated it for you anyway. If this letter has found you, then I am dead, and one of my associates will have delivered this letter to you in secret, because I believe you to be the correct person for this. I'm not too surprised by this, I knew it was unlikely that I would survive all of my plans. But even from beyond the grave, I am glad to say that I will still be sowing chaos. And you will help me. So you may be asking yourself in this moment, ‘why me? Why has the talented, intelligent and beautiful – and sadly deceased - Armina seen fit to bless my worthless, pitiful, meaningless existence with this letter?’ The answer, o Obligator of little brain, is because I know you will avenge me, and happily at that. ‘Now Armina,’ you will be saying, in that incredulous tone you always take when someone has outsmarted you, ‘why would I avenge the death of a skaa? One that I spend most of my day hating, at that?’ You simply won’t be able to help yourself. This letter will give you everything you need to destroy Waern. Perhaps you think it’s odd for me to have my revenge be your success, but it’s only odd if you’re as self-centred as you are, and think that this particular revenge is all about you. It is not. You were at best an amusing distraction from my real enemy. You see, while I hate you, I hate Waern far more. I enclose within this letter the dirt you need on Waern. You will avenge me by making his life a living hell, playing him like a puppet on your strings. It makes me happy to know that you will torture yourself over the fact that I’m the one you owe any success in your life to. Though, I’m sure Waern will also try to stab you in the back at some point, so perhaps there’s a chance for you both to suffer at my hand. Unfortunately, this does mean you will need to find another hobby other than thinking about me. Armina Locke’s eyes skimmed the other information enclosed within the envelope. His eyes widened, and he couldn’t help but chuckle. Then he couldn’t contain it anymore, and started to laugh, not just at the letter’s contents, but the whole situation. She must have written this some time ago, before he started to call her out. Certainly he doubted she would be happy for him to have this now. “Perhaps you shouldn’t have forced me to do some cleaning,” Locke mused to himself, pocketing the letter he certainly was not meant to have found yet. He placed the book back on the shelf that he had been dusting. He’d found the book in the wrong place, and was going to put it back on the correct shelf, but suddenly he no longer cared about the library ordering system. Everything fell into place as he thought about yesterday, and the supposed ‘evidence’ that Waern had overruled them with. He knew she must have had something held over Waern’s head, but now he knew what it was. And it was certainly effective. But now he had information as well. All he had to do was take her out as carefully and quietly as possible… When Locke arrived in the atrium, a tad late to the meeting, here was already a heated discussion under way. Or more precisely, a discussion had already occurred, and he was here witnessing the aftermath. “-I’ll tell them what I’ve kept secret!” Armina was shouting at Waern and the other assembled Obligators. Locke began to panic. To hell with being careful! His blackmail was worthless, worthless, if it became public knowledge. He had to act fast. His hand went to the knife on his belt and he drew it, striding forwards quickly, up behind Armina. “My very last act shall be to destroy you and everything you’ve lived for, Waer-!” He buried the knife in the side of Armina’s neck, clamping a hand over her mouth to quiet her. He held her briefly in his arm, ensuring her silence with his hand, waiting until she expired. She bit at his hand, trying to get him to let go, but his hold on her was too strong for her to shake. When he could no longer feel her breath on his palm, he withdrew the knife and let her unceremoniously drop to the floor. He picked her arm up and wiped his knife on her sleeve, before letting it fall again. “...Apologies sir,” Locke then said, bowing to Waern and the rest of the crowd. “But I couldn’t stand by while she started to slander you. Who knows what lies she was going to create in her desperation?” “Hm...” Waern nodded, drawing a handkerchief out of his pocket and dabbing at the sweat on his forehead. “Yes, yes. You are forgiven, Obligator Locke. As she was a skaa heretic, your indignation at her continued existence is understandable. I think it is only right to commend you for your swift resolution of the situation. I promise you that your service today won't be forgotten.” Locke grinned. Armina (Arranae) was a Seer! Armina/Arranae (8): Sheon/Seonid, Locke/Orlok Tsubodai, Hadrian/Araris Valerian, John/Shqueeves, Variel/StrikeEZ, Marsh/Darkness_, Pix/Lemeonelon, Sony Locke/Orlok Tsubodai (1): Armina/Arranae Night 7 has begun! It will end at 21:00 PM GMT on Wednesday. There is still a Tineye alive, so PMs may be continue to be sent. Players Quick Links:
  9. Day 7: Hanged Waern arrived at the atrium to find everyone already there. Raised voices greeting him, an argument already in progress. "What is going on?" he asked, raising his own voice to be heard. He faltered slightly at Armina's presence, but mustered himself. "Why are you all yelling at each other? This is hardly professional!" Fine, now he was yelling. But it was different for him, he was allowed to yell. It was his damned building, and he'd do what he liked within it. "Why didn't you kill her?" Locke asked, gesturing at Armina. "You're the one who wanted us to turn on each other, what has suddenly changed that you aren't following through on your end of this deal?" "Nothing has changed," Waern said quickly. "And I'll thank you to remember your place here, Obligator. There was simply some... evidence... that trumped your accusations, nothing more than that. That will have to satisfy you, as I am not at liberty to divulge the nature of that evidence as of this moment in time." "Fine, sir, I suppose that will have to do," Locke replied, giving a dismissive wave of his hand. "Then if you'll forgive me, I'll go and do something more constructive than trying to find that skaa infiltrator. Which according to you, is apparently literally anything else." With that, he stormed off. "He seems angry, but that's never an excuse to raise your voice at your superior," Armina said, smiling sweetly at Waern. "Perhaps he should be reminded who's in charge here. Perhaps a week of cleaning duty will help him to remember where he stands?" Waern clenched his fist and gritted his teeth, nodding once, before turning his back on her and walking off. He was in no mood to deal with the degree of smugness Armina was displaying today. He was interrupted in his brooding by a shout from the hall. "Everyone, come here!" Locke's voice shouted from the hall. "And someone bring me a knife!" They found him in the hall, in front of a large window. Locke carefully tested his weight on the windowsill and lifted himself up, steadying himself against the glass. He stretched out his arm to the group, and Waern wordlessly passed Locke the knife from his belt. Locke busied himself cutting at the ropes that suspended Alrin from the heavy iron frame, looped around the handles. "Someone hung him there?" Variel asked, voice full of surprise. "They're mocking us. Mocking our efforts to catch them." "They hanged him," Waern said, absent-mindedly. "Paintings are hung, people are hanged," He shook himself out of his stupor. "I mean, yes, you're right. They are mocking us. But that just means we have all the more reason to find them, doesn't it?" "Got it!" Locke said from above them, as a few threads started to snap. "Look out below!" The final thread of the rope snapped under the blade of the knife, and there was a shriek of surprise from the group as the body fell on them. Almost all of them managed to get away in time. Hadrian stepped back towards Alrin, leaning down to examine him. "Is he-" he begun. "He's dead," John said quickly, "now please for the love of the Lord Ruler, help get him the hell off me. ...Oh, Lord Ruler, he's cold, and he's starting to smell. I think I'm going to be sick..." Alrin (Arinian) was an Obligator! Day 7 has begun! It will end at 21:00 PM GMT on Tuesday. There is still a Tineye alive, so PMs may be continue to be sent. Players Quick Links:
  10. Night 6: Blackmail They strapped Armina to the table in the torture chamber, and left her with Waern, trusting him to be able to get the answers they needed. Waern turned his back to her, selecting his tools. He turned back to her, and raised the simple scalpel he had decided to start with. “Did you get my letter?” Armina asked, surprisingly confident, and even cheerful, for someone in her position. Waern froze, the blade hovering slightly above her cheek. “What letter?” he asked, trying to feign ignorance. “The letter I delivered,” Armina replied. “Well, I suppose it was more of a note than a full letter. I didn’t want to waste too much ink on it. Not that it was mine, I stole Locke’s, but it’s the principle of the thing. Speaking of principles, how are yours holding up? Hiding out here, instead of doing your job and hunting that skaa child down...” Waern finally took the breath that he hadn’t realised he’d been holding. “There was no child,” he said sternly. “It was a rumour designed to discredit me, nothing more. In fact, it’s laughable to suggest that a member of the Canton of Inquisition would find themselves in that position.” “You’re right, it is laughable,” Armina nodded as best she could having a tie around her neck to keep her lying down, “and yet here we are. I wonder if they’d kill you immediately or tie you down here first?” “Listen here,” Waern said, the scalpel finding itself at her neck and digging in, drawing blood, “there is not one shred of evidence that this is something that happened, and I would know. I’ve spent my life looking over my shoulder, just in case. If there are any loose ends, I will silence them, and we can pretend it never happened, understood? And you’re looking like a loose end to me right now...” “If-” Armina winced as blood dripped down her face. It wasn’t deep, but it still stung and hurt. “If you kill me, I’ve made… arrangements… for certain details to fall into the hands of someone inclined to do something about it.” “...You’re bluffing,” Waern said, the blade piercing deeper. “And- and if I’m not?” Waern paused, internally weighing his options. Eventually, he let the scalpel drop down to the side, and sighed. He started to undo the ties that kept Armina on the table. “Fine. But the minute I find out where you’ve hidden this information...” “Of course,” she nodded as she sat up, rubbing her neck where the rope had rubbed against the skin. She wiped away the blood on her cheek. “Although, I have hidden it away rather well. I think this will be the start of a very profitable relationship for many years to come.” Waern grunted and sat down on a chair, the colour drained from his face. He looked lost, more than anything. “Cheer up,” Armina said with a smile, as she unlocked the door. “As long as you do what I say, no-one else needs to know.” She closed the door behind her, leaving Waern to sit there alone. Armina was lynched, but survived! Armina/Arranae (6): Alrin/Arinian, Sheon/Seonid, Locke/Orlok Tsuobdai, Marsh/Darkness_, Jaina/little wilson, Sony, Cyfna/Elbereth Pix/Lemonelon (2): Armina/Arranae, Nickel/Aonar Faileas Alrin/Arinian (1): Hadrian/Araris Valerian Locke/Orlok Tsuobdai (1): Pix/Lemonelon Night 6 has begun! It will end at 21:00 PM GMT on Sunday. This does mean that the Turn will be one hour longer, but I'm sure it will be fine . There is still a Tineye alive, so PMs may be continue to be sent. Players Quick Links:
  11. Day 6: Man of Straw Straw woke up to a pain in his chest, and a strange smell permeating his room. He opened his eyes, but it didn't seem to make things all that clearer. His candle had long since burnt out, and the only illumination was coming from the gap under the door. It gave everything a sort of haze, as though the room couldn't quite decide which way around it was going to be. He looked over towards the door, and then there was a sudden flash. Straw closed his eyes, but it was too late to protect them. Spots of light and darkness danced on the inside of his eyelids, and he winced, resisting the urge to rub at his eyes. He blinked a few times, and his eyesight slowly returned to normal. He carefully looked back over to the door, and was able to see a bright light flickering and waving at him. He pushed himself out of bed, groaning a bit at the pain in his chest. He coughed. Was it always this hard to breathe? Darkness masked his eyes even in front of the flame, and he batted it away, wisps of smoke dissipating as his hand cut through them. That would be why his lungs hurt, he realised, and why the room was spinning around. He coughed again, stumbling over to the door. He tripped on something in the darkness, but didn't get up. It was a good thing to be on the floor when there was smoke around. It was easier to breathe down here, and cooler. As he hit the floor, he realised what the fire was feeding on. Lying all around his room like a carpet were clumps of dried, dead plant matter. It crunched under his hand as he pushed himself up onto all-fours to crawl along to the door. "You're-" he coughed, and beat his hand against his chest to try and clear it. "You're kidding me. You're trying to murder me with straw?" The fire started to spread along the ground, finding plenty of fuel in its wake. He wondered when his attempted killer had managed to cover his room in the stuff, and how they'd even gotten in. He carefully pushed himself along to the door and reached up to unlock the door so he could leave. But there was one problem. The door certainly was locked, but the key was nowhere to be found. "Oh," he said, realising how that they'd gained access to the room. "You picked the lock and stole my key." He dropped to the ground so he could breath better, tossing the straw aside as quickly as he could. His hands hurt from the heat and the fire, but it ignored it as best he could; it was either that or start suffocating. His mind raced as he tried to figure another way out of the room. The window wasn't viable, the glass in this place was pretty solid and practically impossible to break. Maybe he could open it, get some more air in, but if they stole one key they would have stolen the window key as well. He'd have to get up and put his head in the smoke just to see if it was there, it would be a pretty big gamble which probably wouldn't pay off. There was a clatter from the other side of the doorway, followed by the sweeping of a foot on the stone floor. Metal rang as a key slipped through the gap between door and floor, before resting by Straw's hand. "You had a change of heart?" Straw asked, heart racing but thankful. Maybe they never intended to kill him, just to scare him. Well, they'd succeeded at that. It didn't mean he was feeling more leniant towards them though. He couldn't promise them the same mercy from himself at this point. He scrambled up to his feet and fit the key into the lock. He covered his mouth with his arm as he coughed. He twisted the key the wrong way first, then hurriedly tried the other way. He put the hand covering his face down to the doorhandle and pulled hard. The door didn't budge, and all he got was a sharp pain through his arm from his efforts. "W-what?" He coughed again, bringing his shaking hand up to look at the key. It was the wrong one. There was laughter on the other side of the door. "Y-you..." He spluttered, the key dropping out of his hand. "You bastard!" he yelled as he collapsed to the ground, every bit of strength left in him given over to his defiance. But he wasn't going to give up and die, not while he could still breathe the fresh air coming in from the corridor. Every second he survived was another second someone could potentially save him. The light from underneath the door started to disappear until it had all gone. Straw stretched out his hand, and prodded carefully. It was a soft fabric, but even as he tried to push it out of the way, it wouldn't budge. They'd locked him in and blocked off his only remaining air supply. Shadows danced in the light of the fire behind him, casting strange shapes on the wall. Sweat dripped down his forehead, splashing onto the stone. The room started to shimmer in and out of focus, and then, finally, it faded away for good. Straw was an Obligator! Night 5 has begun! It will end at 21:00 PM BST on Wednesday. There is still a Tineye alive, so PMs may be continue to be sent. Players Quick Links:
  12. Night 5: Apathy When Waern entered the atrium this morning, he was surprised to find everyone idling around, none of them really talking to each other, or even focusing on anything. Everyone seemed to be staring off into the distance, unable to bring themselves to concentrate. "What's going on here?" Waern asked. Sheon shrugged. "And what," Waern continued, "does that mean?" "...What's the point?" "I'm sorry?" "What's the point, sir?" Sheon repeated, finally looking up at Waern. "I mean... say that we find this person. What do we do then?" "Torture them, extract information, and then execute them?" Waern replied, almost confused. What else would they do? "And then what?" Sheon said. "What do we do then, sir?" "Then we get on with our lives," Waern said, gritting his teeth as if to bite down the irritation he was starting to feel creep up on him. "I know what this is, bloody Soothers," he muttered. "All right, all of you!" he shouted, hoping to draw their attentions. None of them looked up at him, finding fractionally more interest in ignoring the world around them. "Fine then," Waern muttered. "As you were." He groaned quietly to himself and left them to their ennui. If they were going to ignore the world, then it was only right that he could do the same. No-one was lynched! Jaina/little wilson (2): Pix/Lemonelon, Jaina/little wilson, Armina/Arranae Armina/Arranae (2): Alrin/Arinian, Locke/Orlok Tsubodai, Marsh/Darkness_ Edguardo/Paranoid King (1): Hadrian/Araris Valerian Night 5 has begun! It will end at 21:00 PM BST on Wednesday. There is still a Tineye alive, so PMs may be continue to be sent. Players Quick Links:
  13. Day 5: Shortsighted Mira sat in her room, on her bed, and listened. From outside, through the window, she could hear the rustling of the trees. She could hear snoring in the room next to her (Lord Ruler it was loud!), and the ping of the bedsprings as she shifted herself, trying to get a better view of the cup in her hand in the faint candlelight that slightly illuminated the dark. As she moved, she could feel the individual rough fibres of the blanket, each minor abrasion feeling slightly harsher, slightly sharper, than it should have. It was poor quality bedding, but it was good enough for Obligators. Comfort was not something they knew. They were not expected to leave a life of discomfort and self-denial, but they weren't going to have soft cotton sheets either. Mira examined the cup held in her hand. There was something off about it, she knew that. The cup contained water and powdered tin, or at least it should have. But appearance told her nothing was strange about it, there was no indication of tampering or contamination that she could see. So why did it make her feel uneasy? She sniffed the water lightly. Yes, there was something there. If it was anyone else that they had tried it on, they would have no doubt been successful. The poison was a clear liquid, she knew that much. Barely any smell. They had been subtle, but clearly they didn't know what sort of Misting she was. But still, she had to admit, if they had got her in that way, she would have deserved it for leaving the water aside to reach room temperature without supervision. She'd be more careful in future. She took the smallest, tiniest sip of the water. She immediately spat it out. Yes, odourless and colourless perhaps, but that didn't stop it from being absolutely rank in taste. But no doubt others would have simply gulped it down without testing it first, and only have noticed it too late. She sighed and got up to get another cup of water. The dimly-lit hallways did not terrify her as they would some others. It was still very bright to her eyes, and her ears were sensitive enough that she would hear anyone approaching long before they even knew she was there anyway. She was in her element, in such poor sensory conditions. She reached the kitchen without incident, and poured the cup of water out. She then threw the cup away, not wanting to have to deal with cleaning out the trace elements of the poison that might be lingering around, and instead poured herself a new glass. She tested that as well, and was satisfied with it. She returned to her room and closed and locked the door again, and not a moment too soon - She was practically run dry of her reserve. She put the water on the cabinet beside her bed and picked a vial from the draw. She removed the stopper and tipped the entire vial into the water, smiling a bit as she watched the silvery metal swirl around in the currents it created. It was always pleasing to watch, though she could never explain why. Somehow, just satisfying. Mira stirred the water with a spoon - Which she used the last of her tin to carefully check that it had no strange poisons on it - and waited for the metal to mix with the water. Then she drank the water, the harsh taste still making her wince even after all these years of ingesting metal shavings, and glad that her senses were dulled so she didn't have to taste it in excruciating detail at the moment. She started to burn tin again, and the world shot into focus. It was dangerous to ingest metals before sleeping, but at this point she considered it a small risk to take compared to being murdered in her sleep because she was surprised. The headache she had coming on would be a small price to pay for safety. The tin she was burning made it more painful, but she managed to block it out as best she could as she lay down on her bed. She felt a bit rough, actually. Nauseous more than anything. It was difficult, but eventually Mira managed to block off the feeling of wanting to vomit and drifted into an uneasy, weary, uncomfortable sleep. 'They poisoned the water,' she thought to herself, in a haze between sleeping and waking, 'why wouldn't they poison the tin as well?' Immediately she was awake again, getting out of bed in a shaky, delirious stumble. Feet trapped in the bedding, she tripped and fell to the ground. She tried to retch, to expel the poison, but the effort was too much for her stomach to produce anything. She crawled a distance towards the door, but every bit closer she got, she felt her strength wane. 'I'll just rest a bit', she said to herself, 'then I'll get help'. She never woke up. Mira (Frozen Mint) was a Tineye! Day 5 has begun! It will end at 21:00 PM BST on Tuesday. Despite Mira's death, there is still a Tineye alive, so PMs may be continue to be sent. Players Quick Links:
  14. Night 4: Traitor “You know, Quintus...” Waern said as he sat on the interrogation table, wiping the knife down with a cloth and placing it beside him. “I hate this place. Not specifically this place, mind. Just what it represents to me. I enjoy being the Prelan, I just wish it wasn’t here, so far away from decent civilisation. We’re all that’s here that stands between the rule of law and utter anarchy. It’s a heavy responsibility, but it’s not an enjoyable one.” He sighed and pushed himself off the table. He grabbed the knife and dropped it into a bucket of water. He watched the red mist rise from the blade, as it slowly ascended to the surface of the water. “And why is someone of my skills, of my talents, banished here? Because of some poxy, libellous rumour. Something that no-one in their right mind would believe. No-one did believe!” he corrected himself. “Which makes it even more of a mockery than it already is!” Quintus didn’t say anything, staring at him silently. Not that he could say anything, there was a cloth stuffed in his mouth to stop the screaming. Waern cupped his hands in another bucket of water and splashed water onto his face. He rubbed his hands together underwater to clear away more of the blood. “You’re wondering what it was, of course. Well, I see no harm in telling you. The rumour – utterly false, I might add – was that I fathered a child with a skaa. Of course, you can see how ridiculous it is that I, a Prelan of the Canton of Inquisition, would have been lax about that sort of thing.” “But, of course, even though there was not a shred of evidence, and I personally always made sure to kill any skaa women, it was taken as a sign of something. Perhaps that I was politically weak, to be accused of that in such a way. Maybe they did believe it, but couldn’t prove it, and didn’t want to make a move on me without being sure. Either way, I was considered a disgrace to the Canton and shipped out here.” “Of course, I suppose that makes it somewhat amusing that we find ourselves dealing with someone’s real bastard child. I hope that when we do find them, that’s a talker. I hope their noble parent is still alive, too. They won’t get the easy way out, I assure you. I’ll take my time, savouring the moment, the intense pleasure in wringing their heretical neck until their eyes pop out of their sockets and-” he paused, aware that he was clenching his fists around an imaginary neck. He took a breath and continued to wash the blood away. When he trusted himself to speak again with a level voice, he couldn't help but chuckle just a bit. “I’m glad you’re dead, Quintus. It makes it so much easier to talk about these things.” Quintus (Jondesu) was a Coinshot! Quintus/Jondesu (4): Hadrian/Araris Valerian, Variel/StrikerEZ, Jaina/little wilson, Armina/Arranae Locke/Orlok Tsubodai (2): Sheon/Seonid, Edguardo/Paranoid King Variel/StrikerEZ (1): DarianHammersmith Edguardo/Paranoid King (1): Alrin/Arinian Alrin/Arinian (1): Straw Night 4 has begun! It will end at 21:00 PM BST on Saturday; However, the next Day will not begin until Sunday at the same time, as I am busy GMing a Mistborn roleplaying group . There is a Tineye alive, so PMs may be continue to be sent. Players Quick Links:
  15. Day 4: Disappearing Act The knock on the door woke Waern up in the morning, the pounding breaking its way into his mind and slowly irritating him enough to see who it was. He opened the curtains, and grimaced at the light that flooded into the room. The sun stared down at him from above, cutting a beam through the ashen sky and shining intensely through the glass. Lord Ruler, was it already so late in the day? He shrugged on his clothes, and glared at the door as buttoned his coat. “I’m awake!” he shouted. “Lord Ruler, didn’t you hear me say not to wake me unless it’s urgent? What happened, did someone die?” “No, sir!” Variel said through the door, his voice muffled on the wood. “But well, we’ve been waiting for you to appear for some time now, sir, and I drew the short straw, so I’m here to wake you up.” “Oh are you indeed?” Waern asked, contemplating returning to bed. Well, he was dressed now, so no point trying to ignore the world any longer. “You are my Obligators, and I am not beholden to you. You will wait on my time if I say so, understood?” “Uh… Yes, sir.” “Good,” Waern nodded to himself. “Now, I will take a pleasant, leisurely breakfast before I grace you all with my presence, understood?” He opened the door, and shoved Variel out of his way. They had to remember their place. “Very good, sir,” Variel agreed, bowing swiftly. “Though I should probably remind you that we don’t exactly have much fare to work on. Your breakfast probably won’t be that appetising. Mostly beans and dried food, sir.” Waern chuckled and took a key out of his pocket, dangling it in between his index and ring fingers. “I have the key to the pantry, Variel. While it’s not much better, salted and cured meats are a world away from canned rations.” He flicked his fingers and the key disappeared. He smiled at the surprise on Variel’s face as he failed to follow the movement of the key. “Not bad for an increasingly old and arthritic hand, eh?” “Uh, no, sir,” Variel said, nodding again just to be safe. “Where did you hide that? Armina was... investigating your pockets while you slept. She didn’t find it.” “Do you think I would hide it where anyone could find it?” Waern asked. “Give me some credit. I wouldn’t have bothered hiding the key to the building if I didn’t think you wouldn’t find it. If nothing else, I pride myself on a bit of sleight of hand, and making all sorts of things disappear... It's surprisingly useful in our business. Though admittedly, more for field-work than for paperwork.” Variel smiled a little and made a mental note. Perhaps after this was done, it might be a way to ingratiate himself with the boss here, learning a few coin tricks. "I see, sir. So… I suppose we will see you in the atrium soon.” “Soon enough,” Waern said with a shrug as he walked away. “But by all means, don’t wait for me to start. I intend to take my time this morning.” Day 4 has begun! It will end at 21:00 BST on Friday 20th. There is a Tineye alive, so PMs may be continue to be sent. Players Quick Links:
  16. Night 3: Cast In Blood “Sir?” Someone shook him. He refused to budge, to acknowledge their existence. The darkness was cool, and quiet, and the wider world was not. “Sir, wake up.” He groaned and pushed the hand away, desperate for just another moment to recover from the lack of sleep last night. “Sir, we need you to be awake,” the voice said again, jolting him more harshly. He opened his eyes, ready to curse his awakener, and instead winced. The light was blinding, and Waern closed his eyes in futile protest. “What do you want?” he eventually said, forcing himself to keep his voice as calm as possible. “We’ve made a decision, sir,” Nickel said. “Variel and Straw are taking him to the chamber now.” “Oh, good.” Waern replied, wishing they’d just got on with it themselves. He hauled himself up, hands placed against the wall to steady himself. “Well… I suppose I’d better go and interrogate him… Who is it, anyway? Who do you think it is?” “Sart,” Cyfna said. “He’s been acting oddly lately. Could be something there.” “Could be,” Waern agreed. “And if it isn’t?” “At this point, sir, I think we’ve all accepted this is not going to be a clean victory,” Cyfna replied. “While some of us might be happier with this than others,” and at this, she spared a glare at Locke, “I don’t see any other way forward.” “No, that’s true,” Waern nodded. “Well, if Sart is a loyal servant of The Lord Ruler, then he should die happy, knowing that his death brings us one step closer to the truth.” He dusted his coat down and checked his belt for the dagger. Good, it was still there. He wasn’t going to leave it again, that was for certain. "The Final Empire was birthed in blood, and we must all be glad to give our own to let it continue." He rubbed the back of his neck, where it had gone stiff from how he was sitting. “Well, I suppose I’d better get to it,” he said. “Then I’m going to bed. And I don’t want to be disturbed tonight, you hear? Even if one of you is being murdered right outside my door and clawing the wood apart trying to get in, I’m not opening my bedroom door for anyone. I intend to sleep like the dead after this is done. Goodnight.” Sart was a Smoker! Sart (4): Locke (Orlok Tsubodai), Hadrian (Araris Valerian), Jaina (little wilson), Cyfna (Elbereth) Arranae (2): Sheon (Seonid), Sart Edguardo/Paranoid King (1): Alrin (Arinian), Pix (Lemonelon) Pix/Lemonelon (1): Edguardo/Paranoid King Night 3 has begun! It will end at 21:00 BST on Wednesday 18th. There is a Tineye alive, so PMs may be continue to be sent. Players Quick Links:
  17. Day 3: Canton Tea Party Waern wiped the sweat and some of the blood off his brow as he placed his instruments in a bucket of water to soak. He watched the still-wet blood swirl in the warm water for a moment, before realising he was dozing off, lost in the mesmerising patterns it was producing. It was late, and he was tired. He left the chamber and started locking up. There was nothing particularly dangerous or useful in there, but it was usually best to stop people stumbling on the room accidentally in the dark. They could injure themselves quite badly if they knocked over the bucket and stood on the tools, after all. He had just turned the key in the lock when he heard the cry for help. Immediately he broke into a run, heading to help the source. It was only when he found the cloaked figure withdrawing their knife (was that metal or obsidian? He couldn’t tell what material it was made from in the dark) from Eobard’s throat. Waern’s hand went to his belt, only to realise that he had taken his coat off in the torture chamber, and neglected to put it back on when he left. And now it was locked away. The figure watched his hand, and when they realised he was defenceless, they started to advance. Waern, for his part, started to retreat, a step for a step. Then the deadlock was broken, and he turned and ran. Cowardly perhaps, but Waern had always believed that discretion was the better part of valour. Besides, after being banished to this godforsaken place, Waern had very little pride remaining. He turned a corner, footsteps beating down on the stone floor in time with the footsteps of his pursuer some distance away. His sudden movement had given him some space, but not enough that he could sneak away from them without them knowing. He turned into another passageway, and then disaster – it was a dead end. Hurriedly, he grabbed the first doorknob and tried to open it. He gave up quickly, as it was apparent it was locked. He tried the next one, which was open. He flung himself through the door and slammed it shut. There was a key in the lock, so he turned it. Only then did he allow himself to breath and see which room he had escaped into. “Sir, this is a surprise,” Jaina said. “Of course, you’re more than welcome to join us, I’ve always said that to everyone, but I never thought anyone would actually take me up on it. But still, as I say, happy to have you here with us, there’s enough for everyone. Please, have a seat.” She gestured opposite her. Waern blinked and didn’t move. Jaina had changed out of the dour Obligator uniform they were required to wear, and was now wearing a light-coloured long sundress, with a matching wide-brimmed sunhat. She sat on the floor, presumably because Joe had broken all the chairs in the building, and in front of her was a table with three china cups on it, as well as a plate with biscuits. “...Us?” Waern said, knowing that was really not the question he wanted to ask, but it was the only one he was able to think of at the moment. “Yes-” Jaina said, before frowning and looking to the side of the table and then under it, and finally checking the pocket of her Obligator coat. “Oh, your loud entrance scared her into hiding. Well, it will just have to be us for a little bit, but I’m sure that’s fine.” “Right...” Waern nodded, though he wasn’t quite sure why. A strong smell of alcohol hit his nose, and he frowned. “Is that… That’s not tea in those cups, is it?” Jaina shook her head. “Unfortunately we seem to have run out of tea, so I have had to make do.” “Make do… with what?” “Whiskey,” she said, a small grin on her face. “It was the first thing I could find. Now are you going to sit down? It’s very rude and distracting, having you stand there like that. You loom, sir. Or you do when you’re standing and I’m not, anyway. Please sit and have a biscuit.” Waern didn’t immediately respond. Instead he crouched down, took the key out of the lock, and looked through the keyhole. An eye stared back at him, and he hurriedly jammed the key back in the lock, hoping that would at least scare his attacker. He turned back to the tea party, or rather whiskey party, apparently, and considered his options. Dealing with this madness, or death. Perhaps he was already mad, considering death seemed the more enticing of the two. He massaged his temple and slowly came to a decision. “I’ll stay,” he said, and hating himself for it. “Good!” Jaina smiled, removing the stopper from the glass bottle that was slightly out of his view, and pouring a third cup as full as one would normally fill it with tea. “Just have a seat over there, and I’ll introduce you...” When his Obligators turned up for the meeting the next day, they found a Waern with great black bags under his bloodshot eyes, wincing at the sound of every footstep. His face was pale and his gaze was unfocused. “Hehe,” Jaina giggled a little from a corner of the room, where she had sat down to stop the walls spinning so much. “He looks like a panda.” Waern grunted. “Tell me later who you think it is. You guys talk for a bit. For The Lord Ruler’s sake though, keep it down.” He leaned against the wall behind him and slid down until he was sitting against it. “I’m going to try and catch up on some sleep." He closed his eyes and folded his arms. "Wake me if you need me.” Eobard (Steeldancer) was a Lurcher! Day 3 has begun! It will end at 21:00 BST on Tuesday 15th. There is a Tineye alive, so PMs may be continue to be sent. Players Quick Links:
  18. Night 2: No Easy Chair “We,” Waern said to them all, “have a problem.” “What would that be, sir?” Eobard asked as he started to shift some of the wooden rubble with Marsh’s help. “This skaa is not just a spy, but also seems to be no better than a common thief,” Waern spat. “They have practically emptied our vaults. At least, I’m hoping it’s them, and not one of you.” “I’d be impressed by that,” Marsh chuckled as he tossed aside a broken chair leg. “Where would they put all those coins, in their trousers? It’s obvious, just check if anyone’s wandering around with them round their ankles!” “That is not what they stole,” Waern replied, through gritted teeth. “We also had money in the form of atium within the vault. They stole – as far as I can tell – None of the coinage, but practically all of our wealth.” “...Ah,” Marsh said, pausing as he dislodged more of the wood. “Yeah, that’s a bit different then, sir.” “Quite. There are a few possibilities here, but I think it seems odd to take what would be obviously incriminating evidence from the vault. Wherever they might hide it, if we can trace it back to them… No, I don’t think this is about material wealth. I believe they have stolen it because they can use it.” “You think they’re Mistborn?” Locke scoffed. “A skaa Mistborn?” “No, I didn’t say that.” Waern said. “That is such a remote possibility that I don’t think it is worth considering. Besides, I feel that if any of you were Mistborn, we would have discovered that secret after as many years. No, I believe them to be a Misting that can burn atium – a Seer. It’s rare that Seers discover what they are, since atium is expensive and the higher ups in this place tend to keep them close to our chest. However, it would not be impossible for such a secret to be discovered in this place. Everything points towards this possibility.” “So does that make them dangerous?” Davus asked. “If they can only burn atium, I mean. It’s not like they’re a Pewterarm or a Coinshot.” “Of course it does,” Locke said. “There’s a reason why the Great Houses live and die by the metal in Luthadel. Doesn’t matter who or what you are, if you face a Mistborn who has access to atium, even if they’re out of their other metals, you’re going to have a bad time.” “It is as Locke says,” Waern nodded. “Regardless of them not being Mistborn, regardless of some of you being Mistings, the Seer is by far and away the most dangerous person in this room. The worst part is that we don’t even know how many beads they have access to – We have a rough idea, but they may have had their own stash, and merely wished to supplement it.” He shook his head. “Regardless, you are informed now of the situation. Use that information as you will.” “Now then,” he continued, “you’ve all had a day to think about this. Which of you do you think is a spy?” “It’s suspicious that Joe was wandering around out here last night,” Sart said. “I think if we look anywhere, it should be at him.” “Him?” Waern asked. “I saw him last Night, he’s not the one who stole from the vault.” “Yes sir, and once again I apologise for the damage done to the furniture,” Joe said as Eobard and Marsh pulled him out from underneath and stood him to his feet. “Unless he was working for them, or had someone else steal for him,” Mira said. “Good point,” Waern nodded. “Wait, what?” Joe asked, as Eobard and Marsh’s hands suddenly held a tighter grip on him. “Good work capturing him, you two," Waern grinned. "Now take him to the chambers. I’ll be along shortly.” A Joe in the Bush was a Rioter! A Joe in the Bush (2): Sart, Mira/Frozen Mint Eobard/Steeldancer (1): Straw Jondesu (1): Edguardo/Paranoid King Mira/Frozen Mint (1): Armina/Arranae Cyfna/Elbereth (1): Droughtbringer Sart (1): Hadrian/Araris Valerian Night two has begun! It will end at 21:00 BST on Sunday 15th. There is a Tineye alive, so PMs may be continue to be sent. Players Quick Links:
  19. Day 2: Phantom Thief Waern was awoken by a crash in the night. An almighty thunderous smashing, shattering and splintering that reverberated through his ears and made him sit upright in his bed. “Lord Ruler, what was that?” he asked, throwing the duvet off and quickly throwing on a cloak over his nightclothes. Had they come for him? Did the skaa wish to try and face him for the key to escape? Well, he would not face them unprepared. From under his pillow, he grabbed a pair of obsidian daggers, tucking them in the belt, before unlocking his bedroom door and peering out. The corridor was empty, which was as much a relief to him as it was a disappointment. He lit a candle and crept out, following the source of the noise. He stepped carefully and slowly, every footstep on the cold stone ground prickling his skin. He shielded the light of the candle with his hand, every moment he remained hidden potentially crucial. A light shone ahead of him, as someone hooded and cloaked left a room and made to follow down the corridor in front of him. Waern crept down the corridor after them, and was pleased to be rewarded for his caution. As they turned to investigate the other light source in the corridor, he started to walk more briskly. The hooded figure was surprised and stood paralysed, as if unsure what to do. Then they dropped their candle to shroud them in darkness, and ran. Waern grinned and sped up into a run, relishing the pursuit. This was what he was here for, this was his purpose in life, the hunting of the enemies of The Final Empire. All that he could think of was the chase now, the fact that his prey was running before him, and the promotion that was dangling tantalisingly before him. There was a second crash as Waern tripped over a protruding chair leg in the atrium and collided with the wall of furniture. This was followed by a secondary crash as more wood shattered and fell on him, an avalanche of chairs falling down as if to bury him. “Lord Ruler, what the hell is this?!” he yelled, even though it was unlikely anyone would hear him and come to see what was happening. “Uh… sorry sir...” a voice said from under a few chairs. As his candle rolled towards Waern, it faintly illuminated the face of Joe underneath them.. “Obligator,” Waern said, mustering up as much indignation as he could manage in order to hide his embarrassment at the situation, being knocked to the floor and defeated by furniture, “I asked you already; what the hell is this? That racket was you earlier, I assume?” “Well, sir,” Joe said, his mouth rattling off, “seeing as you said no-one was to leave, I thought it would be a good idea to blockade the door as well, so that no-one could even try to pick the lock, sir… Unfortunately, while I was placing the last chair on top, sir, it kind of… Fell on me…” “It kind of fell on you,” Waern repeated, sighing as he shuffled around. Ah, good, there was some give here. He just needed a bit of exertion… Lord Ruler, it was far too early to deal with this. No, it was always too early to deal with this. “Yes, sir,” Joe nodded. “You’re just lucky I’m not stuck here.” He said, heaving himself up and dislodging more chairs. “Though you have stopped me from capturing our likely suspect.” He brushed off some splinters off his coat. “Sorry sir!” Joe said, groaning a little as more of the debris displaced by Waern fell on him. “Uh, sir?” “What?” Waern said, sighing as he picked the candle holder up, and then picked the candle up carefully to place within it. There was no point in running after them now. Whoever it was, they would have disappeared by now. “Can you help me out of here, sir?” Waern made a show of considering it, before walking away. “Sir!” “You can lie there and think about what you’ve cost us,” Waern yelled back. “Maybe someone will be sympathetic enough to free you in the morning.” “Uh… Very good sir!” Waern shook his head and returned to the room that the figure had appeared from. His face fell when he realised what room it was. “No, no!” The heavy metal door remained open, the lock damaged and jammed, displaying all that lay inside the vault. Boxings littered the floor haphazardly in a pile, a fortune tossed aside as though it was worthless. Waern ran inside, scooping up the coins and throwing them aside as he searched for the real prize this room was meant to securely contain. He found it eventually, a small wooden box. The lock was broken on the box too, and he futility tipped it upside down, as though that would make the atium it used to contain magically reappear. The thief had stolen their atium. That meant that either the skaa was just trying to hurt them financially, or they were going to use them as covert bribes. The first was annoying but seemed like a poor end to years of hiding amongst them, but it would certainly get him into trouble if anyone found out outside these walls. The second though was downright dangerous, and could lead to a cull of this outpost if every bead was not fully accounted for. No, there was a third potential use here, he realised, with dawning horror. While it was not common knowledge amongst the general nobility, the Steel Ministry knew a lot more about the allomantic arts than they did, and the Inquisition’s knowledge dwarfed even that. The most threatening possibility of all was that the skaa was a Seer, able to use the most powerful metal to see the future. Even without the use of other metals like a Mistborn, they would be almost impossible to kill, and could easily kill anyone here in a fight. Waern growled and glared at the box, and contemplated throwing it as hard as he could against the wall, just for the cathartic release. Instead, his rage gave way to a sigh of despair, and he let the box fall out of his hands to the ground. He stayed like that for a moment, before rising slowly to his feet. He contemplated calling everyone together to inform them, but dismissed it. There was little that could be done for now. He’d tell everyone else in the morning. Well, it already was the morning. He’d tell everyone else when it wasn’t quite so early, then. For now, he needed to go back to bed. He doubted though that he would get any sleep. Day 2 has begun! It will end at 21:00 BST on Saturday 14th. There is a Tineye alive, so PMs may be continue to be sent. For the new players who are unfamiliar with our/my writeups, I will just take a moment clarify that the presence of Joe in this writeup at the same time as a mysterious figure appearing means nothing for his alignment. These writeups are just a fun bit of story, and never contain any relevant information you need unless noted otherwise. As GM, the only times I will ever confirm the alignment of a player in this game are privately to the player in their PM at the start of the game, and publicly on the player's death. 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  20. Night 1: Dead Man's Boots “You’re joking,” Nickel said, with a frown. “Have you ever known me to joke?” Waern asked, with a frown. “This is entirely serious business, I assure you.” “We can’t just turn on each other like that!” Gaskon said. “For a start, we’d practically be guessing. How can we just point at someone and magically decide that this person that we’ve known for years is actually secretly someone that has been lying to us all that time? Lying to us well enough that we don’t know that, despite having worked with them closely for so long?” “I’m afraid you don’t have a choice in the matter anymore,” Waern replied, crossing his arms. “No-one’s getting out of here until we find out who it is. I’ve made sure of that. And since this place is locked, and I can promise you that no-one will find the key, there is only one way any of us are getting out – Either this spy kills us all, or we kill them and any of the people here they have subverted… Do I make myself clear?” “We… we will need to think about this, I suppose,” Sony said. “Talk to each other and figure out which of us is the weirdest.” Waern shrugged. “That’s fine by me. As far as I’m concerned, this is your work now for the next however long it takes. And if two dozen of the Empire’s Obligators can’t solve this mystery, then there truly is no hope. I would like to believe that we’re better than this. So, go on.” He waved them away with his hand. “Go discuss. At the very least, consider that the death of those standing beside you offers some interesting opportunities.” “You- You can’t seriously suggest that any of us would put our own advancement over the good of the Empire?” Joe said, mouth dropping open. “That would defy everything we stand for!” “Would it?” Locke asked, folding his arms over his chests and leaning against the wall. “You forget your history, and even your present, Joe. The Final Empire is built on climbing ever higher by treading on the fingers of your peers. It is practically an unspoken tenant of our society - no, our very religion - that the strong rise up and the weak are rightfully crushed below. Why else would The Lord Ruler turn a blind eye or even encourage the infighting within the Great Houses in Luthadel? It helps to strengthen ourselves and the Empire, that's why.” “And yet,” Joe said, clenching and speaking through his teeth, “We are meant to be professionals and to work together. You might think it’s all very well for this little bit of chaos to propel you to greater heights, but what about what comes after? When we all start to see knives at our backs, and we cannot trust that our co-workers aren’t secretly trying to kill us all?” “Simple,” Locke shrugged. “Lose the naivety and idealism. Become pragmatic. Realise that this is a unique situation that does not reflect life as we know it here. For what it’s worth, if anyone does try to kill me for the sake of their own career and fails, there will be no hard feelings. I would do the same in your position.” He grinned, chuckling a little. “Though if you do succeed, I can’t promise I won’t hold a grudge.” “Madness,” Joe muttered, “Absolute bloody madness.” “Agreed,” Gaskon said. “Madness.” “It seems to me,” Edguardo said, “that we should look to those least keen on the idea for our first suspect.” “Wait, what?” Gaskon rounded on him. “Makes sense to me,” Mira nodded. “What would a skaa spy want to do more than delay any action?” “Anyone have a better suggestion?” Waern asked. “I-” Gaskon began. “No? Very well,” Waern said. He pointed at Mira and Edguardo. “You two accused him, so you can help me bundle him into the chamber.” “Wait!” Gaskon tried, before the pair put their hands on his arms and started dragging him away. “I’m not a bloody skaa!” He tried to fight against them, but if there was one thing the Obligators of the Inquisition were trained in, it was how to hold down people and drag them away. “Well, hopefully then your death will point us in the right direction,” Waern said, as he watched Gaskon being pulled away. “If it’s not him, then you all will need to do some thinking,” he added to the rest of the assembled. “I’ll let you know if the questioning brings anything up that you need to know.” And with that, he followed Mira and Edguardo to the torture chamber. Duty called. Gaskon Renaud (Amanuensis) was an Obligator! Gaskon Renaud/Amanuensis (2): Edguardo/Paranoid King, Mira/Frozen Mint Joe/A Joe in the Bush (1): Hadrian/Araris Valerian Rin/doc12 (1): Sart Edguardo/Paranoid King (1): Jaina/little wilson Night 1 has begun! It will end at 21:00 BST on Thursday 12th. There is a Tineye alive, so PMs may be continue to be sent. Players Quick Links:
  21. Day 1: The Formerly-Of-House-Heron Inquisition Almost two dozen Obligators were assembled in the meeting room the next morning. Male or female, there was very little difference between them in appearance – All were bald-headed and had tattoos around their eyes to denote their job and rank, and they all wore the similar clothes of the priesthood, though tailored to be slightly more practical. Some had obsidian daggers in their belt. They might not have been Inquisitors, but they might be called upon to perform similar tasks in their role as low-ranking members of the Canton of Inquisition. The mood in the room was generally frustrated. While most of them would have been present regardless of whether the Prelan had called them in, one or two were complaining about it being their day off. “I was going to go visit some friends,” Edguardo muttered. “We were going to have lunch together. They were paying,” he capped his complaint off with. It was a great honour and privilege to be asked to serve in the most important and exclusive branch of the Steel Ministry, of course, but it wasn’t always well compensated. “I’ve half a mind to walk off now. To hell with this meeting.” “I’m sure that will go down well with the Prelan,” Jaina said, digging into her pocket and pulling out a few leaves. She deposited them in another pocket inside her coat. There was a chewing noise. “What?” she asked, raising an eyebrow at Edguardo’s disbelief and daring him to say anything. “...Nevermind,” Edguardo sighed. “I just hope this is worth it.” “Oh, I’m sure it will be,” Locke said, clapping Edguardo on the back enthusiastically. “If nothing else, Waern isn’t the kind of man to jump at the shadows, is he? If he’s called us all here for a purpose, well… He’s called us here for a purpose. There’s not much that would require everyone to be here, that’s for sure. Maybe a rogue Mistborn, but what are the chances of that out here?” “Maybe not as low as you think,” Marsh interjected, a grimace on his face. “I have heard of someone causing havoc in the capital. Definitely a Mistborn of some kind, maybe more. Doesn’t seem like they belong to one of the Great Houses though, from what the rumours say.” “I don’t know of any rumours,” Locke said, frowning. “I have had no important news from Luthadel, especially not of this nature. My House has not spoken of this.” “Perhaps they simply don’t see the point of telling you of it,” Marsh said. “Since we are so distant from them. Besides,” he added, “we are meant to cut ties with our families, are we not? Or are you of the opinion that the High Prelan being a Tekiel affords you the opportunity to flout the rules?” “I simply get news from them, nothing more,” Locke said firmly, raising a hand to cut the conversation off. “But, it is as you say, we are remote. So whatever it is, I doubt it is related to Luthadel in any way.” “Perhaps best to leave speculation aside?” Jaina said, patting the outside of a lumpy coat pocket in a soothing manner. “We of all people should know not to simply guess the answer to problems. It would be terribly embarrassing if we were wrong. Regardless of what the problem is, and what we were meant to be doing today,” she added, throwing Edguardo a glance, “we were called here, and we are here. I’m sure we can all wait a few more minutes.” “Fair,” Marsh said, shrugging. “Must be a pretty big announcement either way though. Waern’s late, and that’s not like him.” “Is there a problem if I am running slightly behind?” Waern asked, closing the door behind him. “If you wish to complain, Marsh, feel free. We will all wait for you to be done.” “No sir,” Marsh said, wincing at being discovered. “What is the problem?” “The problem,” Waern said, turning to everyone in the room, “is that one of you is a damned spy! A damned skaa at that!” “You think a skaa could infiltrate our ranks?” Hadrian asked, scoffing at the very idea. “We would know. They would not know what we know, would not look how we do.” “It’s not impossible,” Waern said. “There’s not much difference physically between us and them, and while such knowledge might be hard to come by, we cannot discount corruption elsewhere causing us this problem. No, I have it on good authority: one of you is definitely a skaa spy.” The room was quiet for a moment. “...Well, who is it?” Alrin asked. “I hardly see why this needs us all here, let’s take them down to the dungeons, torture them a bit to see who they’re working for, and continue on with our lives.” Waern sighed. “That’s the problem, we don’t know who it is. I received a letter yesterday from the High Prelan...’s office.” Honesty won over pride. “They intercepted a messenger from here, bound for a known skaa thieving group. Neither the messenger or the message could tell us who it was from, only that it was from someone in this building.” “So what do we do?” Straw said. “Most of us have been working here for a good while, so if you aren’t sure about them, then… They must have been here for some time. They know a lot about us, about us all. We’ve not had any suspicion about each other in that time either. How are we meant to figure that out now?” "Not now, necessarily,” Waern shook his head. “I understand that it will take time to unfold this treachery from within us. As such, I have made two provisions today – Firstly, that no-one else is present within the building. Secondly, the building is locked, and I have hidden the key.” At their surprise, disbelief and even outrage, he smiled. “We won’t starve, I have ensured that there are enough provisions to keep us going for many weeks. I’m afraid it will be canned food for some time, but perhaps that will serve as extra motivation.” “No-one leaves this building until we have removed all stain of corruption from it. All other work is suspended. Do I make myself clear?” “Yes, Prelan,” they all said, through gritted teeth. “Good,” Waern smiled, “I look forward to seeing the Canton of Inquisition work.” Day 1 has begun! Roles have been sent out! There is a Tineye alive! Players may send out PMs without restriction until further notice. The Day will end at 9PM BST (or 8PM GMT) on Tuesday. Player List: Quick Links: Questions: