Long Game 86: A Stricken Match

[Mat]

Thanks. Shame you got my quote before I fixed the emote though  

I might still reread tomorrow but probably will just submit an action, write some RP, and call it a Night :P.

[Steeldancer]

IF SHE WEIGHS MORE THAN A DUCK SHES A WITCH

If only my kills on Ashbringer had worked I really could have clutched the game dangit. 

[Mat]

Just now, Steeldancer said:

IF SHE WEIGHS MORE THAN A DUCK SHES A WITCH

If only my kills on Ashbringer had worked I really could have clutched the game dangit. 

…Sorry xD

This game has basically been me repeatedly messing up, but just barely not bad enough to ruin anything  

[Kasimir]

25 minutes ago, Steeldancer said:

IF SHE WEIGHS MORE THAN A DUCK SHES A WITCH

Spoiler

 

[Elandera]

2 hours ago, Kasimir said:

As X has been killed, she leaves behind four bloodhounds who are now bereft of a caretaker. Any player who wishes to adopt the bloodhounds should make a case as to why you deserve to care for wonderful doggos

Eran is lonely. She misses her sister and feels bad for leaving the doggos without their caretaker. She will gladly take the bloodhounds and give them all the hugs and cuddles and scratches they could want

[Ashbringer]

Spoiler

 

Edited June 8, 2022 by Ashbringer

[Fifth Scholar]

Dawn take you all, and be stone to you! 

[Fifth Scholar]

 

Day Four: Brief Candle

Night fell on a sombre settlement.

Eran kindled a light, and set the candle to the lamp, which burned bright and clean. Then, she set about tending to her four new acquisitions.

There had been no other alternative, not really. One of the dogs dozed on the floorboards, legs flailing as though it dreamed of rabbits, perhaps, and was giving chase in its sleep. Another two were chasing each other about the kitchen, as though you could get used to anything, Eran supposed, even the death of X.

The last lay its head down and whined, softly.

Frebarind had executed X, and it had seemed like the right thing to do, the sensible thing, because the agents of the Inquisition were turning out to be canny and dangerous.

But X had been innocent, after all. They hadn’t found a single spike on her, only her ironminds. And as much as X’s bloodthirst was terrifying, she’d left behind four forlorn dogs, all of whom needed tending to, and that was something Eran could do. 

A sense of responsibility, perhaps. She’d had a dog, when she was younger, she and her sister growing up together in the outskirts of Tathingdwen, and something about X’s dogs had drawn out that thread of memory. 

And she was older now, and Era was far away enough in Tathingdwen, and for all Eran’d thought of paying her a visit, things happened, they always did, and she was old enough and tired enough that the canal trip to Tathingdwen seemed an insurmountable distance.

And she was lonely, and she missed Era, and perhaps that was reason enough.

If this ended, Eran thought, half-prayer, if this ended, if she was still alive, if she saw through the end of this, she would make the trip down to Tathingdwen after all. No matter how tiring it was. No matter how Tathingdwen felt like a world away. She would visit her sister.

And—faint surprise flavouring the thought—she would take the dogs with her. 

All four of them.

Leidene was running out of places to hide. The operation had been a complete failure so far. The Steel Inquisition was expecting results, but she hadn’t managed to collect a single charged spike from any of the many Ferrings in this miserable town. All she’d had to do was collect one Feruchemical power in a Spike, just one to prove that this town was a hotbed of Feruchemists, and the Steel Inquisition would have all the reason they needed to come pouring in, but even that simple task was beyond her grasp. 

It was time to plan out her next steps. The last time she’d left her quarters was cleaning out the evidence from Stick’s and Sparky’s homes and collecting the spikes from their corpses. With all the townsfolk patrolling the streets day and night, the risk of being seen and recognised as an outsider was far too high. She had to leave now, before the net became inescapable, and tie off any loose ends before then.

Anyone caught leaving would be subject to as much scrutiny and suspicion as the new visitor had received. Only the fact that Landis had personally vouched for him had saved him from X’s fate, and quite a few villagers had voiced support for executing both of them. Nobody would be voicing support for her anytime soon, even if she sold out every last Spiked in this town. They were useless colleagues and security risks besides, but perhaps they could still prove useful, as a distraction if nothing else. If there was any possibility that continuing to ally with them would net her a charged Spike, she couldn’t afford to sever ties yet.

There was one other thing she could try besides trusting in the skills of the Spiked she’d been assigned to work with. She recognised the newcomer as Kais, a trusted member of House Jerzy. She’d been estranged from her House for years, but Jerzy was a staunch ally and perhaps Kais would be as well. Him being friendly with Landis was a bad sign, but he wouldn’t be the first Steel Inquisition agent to establish a rapport with Terris leadership. If she could get him on her side, they could see how well Landis’s gold stood up to methylmercury before claiming a spike from him. If Kais opposed her then or later, well, two corpses were better than one.

Now where to look for Landis and Kais? The Synod chamber was out of the question. His antiquities store was a fine place to start. The only other place that came to mind was the infirmary. Landis had been observed travelling there with Stann in tow, and every member of the Synod had left shortly afterwards. Even if she didn’t find Landis, any of the other Synod members could be used as proof if she managed to slay one. Where to go? Even disguised, being out at night would be hazardous. She could only risk visiting one location. With a heavy cloak obscuring all her features, a pair of uncharged spikes, a poisoned dart loaded with ten more and their vial of poison stored away, and her goldminds as filled as much as they could get, Leiden left the safety of her lodgings, hoping she’d made the right choice.

“What the hell was that?” Kais wanted to know.

He’d dealt with his share of angry people, but dealing with a crowd in a killing mood was a complication beyond what he had expected when the Synod had first instructed him to ascertain the situation in Frebarind. 

Landis sighed. “The mood in that square…I’ve not seen anything quite like it in a long time.”

Kais had presented his documents to Landis—the ordinary ones, and the ones etched with the marks for authenticity and for authority, meant to indicate that Kais in this situation was moving with the full blessing of the Synod.

“They killed her,” Kais said, flatly. “They killed her without arrest, without trial, without any investigation. What I saw in that square…it was a witch burning, Landis.”

“Don’t be dramatic,” Landis snapped. “We’ve been dealing with killings for weeks now, and the Spiked were getting bolder.” He ran a frazzled hand through his hair. “Ias, Pashan, Radur, and Hazen were weeks apart, and then days. And then they began killing every night. No one in Frebarind felt safe.”

“And do they feel safe now?”

“No,” Landis said, dismissively. “But that’s good. Fear is what kept us alive. Fear of the Spiked, of their machinations, of their ability to hide among us, like worms infesting the rotten core of an apple…Fear kept us vigilant. And fear kept us strong. Frebarind has identified two of the Steel Inquisition’s agents now, and is ready to find the last one.”

He could have argued. Should have argued, in fact. There was a proper way to do things, and Landis’s methods were harsh, and even if Kais respected the fact they were effective, you had to draw the line somewhere.

But those last words. They caught his attention, and drew it, and held it.

“The last one?” Kais asked. “What do you mean?”

“What else would I mean?” Landis asked, irritably. “We’re closing in on the last Spiked.”

“Didn’t you know?” Kais asked, slowly. “I suppose that document was lost, or destroyed—it was enciphered, at least, so it wouldn’t be the end of the world if it was intercepted, but…”

“What?” demanded Landis. “What is it?”

“There is a fourth,” Kais said. “A noblewoman. We haven’t been able to discover her name, but we have become aware of her presence in the region surrounding Frebarind.” He shook his head. “It isn’t over yet, Landis. In fact, I’m afraid it’s only just begun.”

After the mob had died down and X had been…taken away, Artwyn felt the tiredness he had shaken off last night creep back into his bones. He really was too old to be going around solving murders and getting tangled up in the affairs of the youth that ran the Synod nowadays. No Laughing Salmon for him tonight. No checking up on orders, hoping that the Synod would do some of the work to give him a timetable on when he’d be paid his boxings, in the midst of a structural collapse in the fabric of this small Terris village. None of that. He wouldn’t even think about it. It was back to his shop, up to the bedroom on his creaky joints, and then down into his bed.

Plan made, he strode along the street. He was in no particular rush that night, so he stored a bit of speed and strength, leaning on his walking-cane as he hobbled back. He saw Eran herding her new acquisitions and smiled slightly, not knowing whether at her or himself. The bloodhounds would have been fun for him thirty years ago. Now? He’d be flatlined if they caught so much as the whiff of a squirrel. Eran would too. She was probably older than he was, if some of her more outlandish claims were to be believed. 

Still, he was happy for her. Had to be happy for someone, and after watching her for a while with Tin, she showed none of the tell-tale indicators of being Spiked, so Artwyn figured he’d make as much an ally of her as he could. He slowed briefly, wondering if he should talk, then realised she probably had her own hands full. He stomped back to his shop. Some people could rejoice in animal companionship. Others would have to settle for living alone. Artwyn thought he knew what type of person he was. 

He turned a simple brass key in the lock and let himself in, letting it close behind him with a soft click. In the excitement of the day, he’d left many of his tools sitting out, which he quickly put back in their places, humming to himself as he worked by the light of the dim candle in the corner. Once his benches were cleared, he braced himself to ascend the ladder. Pinching out the candle—no need to leave fire hazards around—he tapped senses and strength, preparing himself mentally. 

He reached out his hand to grab one side of the ladder, and paused. It had brushed against a finished piece of wood—one he hadn’t gotten out in a long while. It was crammed into the shelving unit next to the stairs, intentionally forgotten, as Artwyn didn’t particularly like the memory. But it had surfaced, so, with reluctance, he withdrew the square box, as he always did when he touched it.

It was, of course, a finely carved chess set. His son’s favourite hobby. He’d designed and cut and sanded and finished the board, as well as each of the thirty-two pieces. They were still smooth and glossy. Never really used. But that was what happened when you made gifts which couldn’t be delivered. Would never be delivered. The chessmen sat in their holsters, anticipating a day when they could roam free to be sacrificed and die and win a glorious battle. Artwyn had seen the beauty in it, himself, when he was younger. He’d seen the beauty when he’d introduced the game to his son, even if the younger man thrashed him every time once he turned nine. 

Now that he’d been reported missing in a war down south? 

Artwyn could see nothing redeeming in warfare.

He’d tried to learn, of course. Tried to understand why a boy raised in the Terris Dominance would want to seek glory and adventure in the feuding rivalries which had their epicentre in Luthadel. But Artwyn hadn’t wanted to be one of those overbearing fathers. He had let his son carve his own path, make his choices and his own way forward. He had let him do what he thought to be right. If that meant being a soldier further south? He would accept it.

And it had cost him his life. 

Sighing, he went to put the set back on the shelf and just store every ounce of wakefulness in him to get to sleep. Work was exhausting. Work, plus the guilt of killing a woman who had likely done nothing at all, plus guilt from having survived his son, was triply exhausting, and it didn’t let you sleep. It was all really quite unfair. But something gave him pause, his thoughts wandering as he stood on the middle rung of the ladder. He couldn’t afford to keep ignoring such messages from the past. 

Frebarind, his home, had begun to tear itself apart. It was losing precious lives. Sundering families. Perhaps that was what had always bothered Artwyn about the daily proceedings, even when they found Spiked. Of course, it was equally bad the Spiked themselves were robbing Terrisman of their senses, and sometimes their lives. It had to stop. He would never let that happen again to anyone he knew. And he would not let the families, or the town, wallow in despair. He could do something, make something. He jotted a note to himself, then stuck it to the top of the chess set, placing it squarely in the centre of his workbench. He would take his short rest. But tomorrow, the work of consolation began. 

---

No one was attacked!

Eran (Elandera) has received four bloodhounds, and promises to take extra good care of the doggos.  

Day Four has begun! It will end in about 46 hours, on Friday 10 June at 10:00 PM EDT (-4:00 UTC). 

There is an Exe today, with no vote minimum. Once again, if you wish to tap or fill, please PM us sooner rather than later.

Two important votes, in addition to the red exe vote:

1. If players wish, I will shorten this Day turn (or any subsequent Day turn) by 24 hours with supermajority agreement (2/3rds or more of players). If you wish the Day turn to be shortened, please make this request known in purple. If today is shortened, it will end at 10:00 PM EDT (-4:00 UTC) tonight, Thursday 9 June.

2. A memorial for the slain of Frebarind is being created. Any design suggestions may be placed in orange and will be taken into consideration. No direct adversarial voting here unless y’all want to.

Good luck!

Player List:

1. Ashbringer as Faleast, a town crier surprisingly enthusiastic about announcing woeful tidings and most bitter lamentation as the destroyer comes upon us

2. The Unknown Novel as ExMach Inadeus, an otherworldly visitor and luck epic who claims power over chromium…at the very least Village Brute

3. Matrim’s Dice as Jeral, a older gentleman who recklessly flouts the local gambling laws in hope of one day buying that gold-hilted cane-sword he covets

4. Steeldancer as Steel, a street beggar with a shadowy past and a desire to one day join the Tathingdwen Tautological Society of Tautology 

5. Archer as Stann, a clerk with patchily dyed blue hair and immaculately maintained blue flipbooks Village Sparker; Synod

6. _Stick_ as Stick, Treasurer of the Tathingdwen Tautological Society of Tautology Spiked Full Feruchemist

7. Elandera as Eran, an old woman who misses her twin sister who lives outside Tathingdwen and hopes her garden is doing okay

8. StrikerEZ as Vardenwith, a Terris steward in training who is sadly not catching on very well Village Brute; Synod

9. JNV as Venel “Sparky,” a noble kid who occasionally gets too emotional for their own good Spiked Sentry

10. Araris Valerian as Artwyn, a tired old carpenter

11. xinoehp512 as X the Executioner, a middle-aged lady who yells at her four bloodhounds in a thick accent Village Skimmer 

12. Alvron as Izzy Dedyet, who promises she has reformed her ways

13. Illwei as Eiwlil, an avid Jaist missionary who emphasises vigorous head-shaking in her preaching Village Skimmer; Synod

[Mat]

Alv missed  

I roleblocked Ashbringer successfully though, so I guess that’s double confirmed. Shorter day is fine with me.

Design suggestions… I’ll have to think on that.

[Araris Valerian]

Ashbringer.

I propose the memorial should be a coppermind engraved with the names of the fallen and standing over a field of discarded spikes.

[Alvron]

10 minutes ago, Matrim's Dice said:

Alv missed  

I have displeased the Gods of Luck and Chance.  Rest assured that I fully intend to sacrifice many boxes of animal crackers at the earliest opportunity.

[Steeldancer]

Alvron I was counting on you! I didn't even take an action lol. 

Ashbringer lol

And let's go ahead and shorten this turn (and end the dang game)

[Elandera]

Ashbringer

Shorten the day

[Ashbringer]

Ashbringer!

... wait a minute.

I'm gonna vote not to end the day early because I have work tomorrow (okay you caught me it's today I'll go to sleep I promise) but not Friday but I appear to be slightly outvoted. Which is probably fine, I've got no clue how and why I'm still alive anyway 

[Araris Valerian]

Guess I’ll also vote to Shorten the day.

[Alvron]

Ashbringer.

Shortened day. Sorry Ash but I have work both today and tomorrow so it’s irrelevant when this cycle ends for me.

[Ashbringer]

It was so... quiet.

"Lamentation! Joyful Lamentation! Final friend to Frebarind Finisher found! Town meeting and announcement to be held at nightfall!"

Faleast gave one of his grins. Nobody seemed to really be listening, anymore, or talking, or doing much of anything. To the normal visible eye. But Faleast could hear the whispers, see the sharp glances given whenever he moved an arm around. They knew the Synod's decision. So did he. For now, it was just... formalities. Why they were still bothering with those, Faleast wasn't sure, but they were.

Nothing he could do now, nothing that wouldn't be too drastic. So perhaps it was time to put on a show.

"Lamentation!"

[Mat]

Jeral sat at his table, feeling almost numb.

It was hard to believe he’d survived. Many hadn’t, and they were people Jeral had known. Whether he’d liked them or not didn’t seem to matter now that they were gone. Death had an interesting way of putting disagreements into perspective.

It might have been his mind grasping for a bright side— despite the final Spiked being caught, the recent events had left a bad taste in everyone’s mouth— but Jeral thought he was closer to being able to purchase the golden cane-sword than he had been before this whole mess had started. Economy suffered in times of crisis, it appeared. Just a short time ago, Jeral would’ve been thrilled, but he’d since taken a life. Now he didn’t even want his regular cane-sword.

Perhaps… perhaps if he ever managed to buy it, he’d donate the weapon to the monument being built for the Fallen. Somehow, that seemed far more appropriate than keeping it for himself.

What a thought. Jeral revised his opinion. Death didn’t just put arguments into perspective, it put everything into perspective.

Soon it would be time for Faleast to be taken away. He rose, figuring he should probably be there. For a moment his mind wandered to his dice; the ones he never left home without. He even got as far as to pick them up from off the table and toss them, revealing a perfect roll. As they were designed to do.

Then Jeral spun, leaving them where they had landed, and left.

[Fifth Scholar]

Game is over! Stay tuned for the aftermath, which will last…however long it needs to.  Kas is busy and I am tired. But we hope to have it up as soon as possible. Thank you to everyone for playing!

[Fifth Scholar]

Leidene had visited the infirmary when she’d first arrived to scope it out. Anyone with severe injuries or illness could be so easily put out of their misery with spike, and with sufficient guile nobody would ever know. Sadly, there had not been an opportunity to do anything of the sort then, but she had noted a door in the back marked for employee use only. Trying the door now, she found it swung open readily to reveal a stone staircase heading down under the ground.

The air was noticeably cooler even through her cloak as Leidene followed the steps downwards. At the bottom was another door. She put her ear against it to listen and heard two people talking.

“I’m familiar with poisons of course, but I haven’t heard of this one.”

Something about his voice was familiar, but Leidene couldn’t place it. Not Landis, and she didn’t think it was Steel. Could it be Kais? She listened closer.

“I hadn’t either,” came a second voice, unfamiliar. “Its primary ingredient is mercury, which you’d know about. Boiling it to separate the components also produced a colourless, odourless gas that burst into flame when exposed to fire.”

So her use of poison had been discovered. Leidene wasn’t quite sure how it worked herself, but she knew it contained mercury. She had to kill that second person and anyone else who knew before word could be spread of a poison that induced heart attacks. With a spike in her right hand and a loaded dart gun in her left, she eased the door open as quietly as she could.

Thwack! As soon as she entered the room, the dart gun was slapped out of her hand by a duelling cane. The dart skittered harmlessly across the stone floor as Leidene instinctively lunged forwards and to the left to avoid another blow. There was Kais all right, standing towards the back of the room near a hooded bench. 

The wielder of the duelling cane was much closer, a woman Leidene had seen in the infirmary when she’d first visited. Judging from all the metalminds she wore, she was a Full Feruchemist, one that had not been in her records and not a foe she could defeat without the element of surprise. Raising her spike, she gestured to Kais. His eyes widened and he nodded. Leidene grinned. She just had to distract her opponent long enough for him to strike. She hurled her first spike, which was easily deflected and lunged forwards with a second, aiming for Raven’s heart.

Thwack! Leidene stumbled and nearly fell. That blow had come from her side. Glancing over, she saw that Kais too held a duelling cane, and he’d struck at her instead of Raven. Leidene’s moment of distraction cost her dearly, and with two more swings of the cane, Raven disarmed her and knocked her to the floor.

“So it was you,” Kais said, his eyes narrowed. “The one the reports spoke of. The final Spiked.”

“Final Spiked?” Leidene said. “No, no, there’s one more. He sent me down here, I had no choice. I can tell you who he is if you let me go.”

Raven laughed. “Having second thoughts now that your murder attempt’s failed, Leidene Zerrung? Don’t worry, we caught your Spiked. You can make sure this never happens again.”  

“Lamentation! Joyous, most excellent lamentation! Woe! Woe! The destroyer is come at last! The Frebarind Finisher (may she live for ever) has reached beyond the grave and struck! The time is upon us! Glorious, bitter tidings! Lamentation!”

Steel sighed as the town crier continued to holler. It was bad enough that the Synod was holding a special meeting specifically to execute him at nightfall. But the fact that the man saw a need to trumpet his own demise into the streets revealed a deep zealotry. He would say psychosis, were he feeling judgemental, but who knew what these spikes did to people? Wasn’t this bad enough? Bad enough that they’d brought him, who slept in the streets all day, had a history with the town watch, and was younger than most of the men who surrounded him, to be on the Synod and try to clean up this mess? But Faleast wasn’t about to let the town subside on rumours and quiet mutterings of a Spiked presence. He was going to air every last bit of his death for the world to see. Whether it would diffuse the paranoia, or enhance it, would remain to be seen.

He turned to Izzy, who stood beside him. “Why didn’t you just finish him last night? I told you the Synod would turn a blind eye to that. You got Stick, at any rate.” 

Izzy narrowed her lips. “The Stick thing was a relapse. I should have just brought her to you. Besides, I’m retired. Why would you want a vigilante with no heart in the affair? I might become friends with whomever you want me to murder.” She grinned, unable to keep up the act. “Tell you the truth, I couldn’t find him last night. He slipped out pretty quickly, and even though I found what I thought to be his house, I didn’t want to break in. Plus, he was outside.” He thumbed over at Jeral, who was fingering his cane thoughtfully. “Didn’t know how he’d take it.”

Steel guffawed. “Jeral? He ran through Sparky. He’d not have cared a whit.”

Izzy shook her head slowly, only acknowledging the remark with a grunt, and sat down to hear the rest of Faleast’s speech. Jeral, who seemed to have overheard the comment, tensed his shoulders and stalked away. Steel, feeling slightly foolish, decided to tap some spare wakefulness and tune in Faleast again.

“…the wrath of the Lord Ruler will come down upon you all! Great vengeance! Furious anger! Dreadful times will follow this brief respite. These tidings are certain. I have foreseen them. They will happen. Lament! Plead that the ashmounts fall upon you, that you may hide from the wrath to come!”

Steel finally could take no more. “Give it a rest, will you?”

Faleast grinned. “The joy of my lamentation cannot be contained!” He jumped up, snatching a dishcloth from the bar which was close at hand, and twirled it in the air. Combined with the sashes and bells on his cloak, which shimmered and twisted, the blur of colour and movement made for an impressive display. “Until the Synod should demand my death, I will always—whoa there!” He stumbled backwards as one of Eran’s bloodhounds jumped into the air, trying to catch a stray piece of fabric with its teeth.

“Steady,” Faleast said nervously. But the other dogs heard the commotion, too, and could sense his nervousness. They trotted over and circled him, sniffing, tails wagging, looking for something to tug or pull or play with. 

The first one leapt again, and Faleast pushed it away; instead of knocking him down, it grabbed a corner of the cloak and began pulling. The second seized the dishcloth in its teeth and yanked, pulling it free and running back to Eran, snorting, with a look of triumphant glee. There was no stopping the other two. They bowled him over, and he cried out in pain as his back felt the impact of several legs of furniture before finally hitting the ground.

Faleast gasped for air. Dimly, he heard Eran reprimanding the dogs, who did not seem in the mood to listen. He moved a fallen stool off his leg, and saw with sudden horror that one of the dogs had found the protruding bit of metal there. He scrambled away, but the bloodhound wagged his tail and hung on gamely, thinking it a fun game of tug. Before Faleast could pry his maw off the spike, the dog had yanked it free and again brought it wagging to the old lady in the corner. 

Blood began pouring from the wound, and Faleast quickly tied the dishcloth over it. He coughed, looking around at the assembled Synod members. “Dreadful…wait, what?” He did not know what had inspired the word to take form in his mouth. He hesitated, beginning to feel woozy with lightheadedness. He tapped weight—perhaps it was just a placebo, but he felt better, anchored to the ground. 

“I…was that spike…what have I been doing?” he muttered. “Lamentations! What’s been going on?”

One of the new Synod men looked down at him. The eyes contained equal parts amusement and suspicion, and he motioned. “Come with me, Skimmer. You have a lot to answer for.”

The Synod had been badly depleted by the predations of the Spiked. Four members had been killed before they’d organised the town to hunt down the Frebarind Finisher, and of their six replacements, three more were dead. Increasing the size of the Synod from five to seven had been an emergency measure, but in light of the extraordinary services provided by Jeral, Artwyn, and Izzy, the four surviving Synod members decided to make that expansion permanent.

“No,” said Artwyn, flatly, when they told him. He slammed shut the door of his shop. The last thing Artwyn wanted in his old age was to be pulled into the affairs of any sort of clandestine group.

Eran blocked him. Of course, thought Artwyn irritably, and Stann was the one who’d said he’d moved unnaturally fast for a man of his age.

She said, leaning against the door, “They could use some old, sensible heads. Too many young whippersnappers on the Synod, and we start to hear ridiculous things, like commissioning a steel sculpture of a squid.”

Artwyn blinked. “A what?”

“Exactly,” said Eran, matter-of-factly.

Artwyn sighed. He had the feeling he was going to regret this. “Why don’t you come in,” he said, dryly, “And tell me all about what working with the Synod involves?”

“Maybe,” said Jeral. It was something, he supposed. Some sort of new direction, something to carry with him, something to replace that dream of the golden-hilted cane-sword. He rolled the dice, and they came up lucky snake’s eyes, but then again, they always, always did. 

Never needed luck, when you made your own luck.

The more he thought about it, the more the idea appealed to him.

“Good,” said Steel, “Just stop trying to kill me, dangit. We’re on the same side, man. Glad you came around in the end.”

“Really,” said Izzy. “You know, it’s sweet, but you don’t have to bribe me with a Synod seat just to get me to do your killing for you.”

Landis arched an eyebrow. “Didn’t you say you were reformed now?”

She grinned. “Psych. Do I get the rank of Keeper then?”

“You are on the Synod,” said Landis exasperatedly, “You are not a Keeper. You can’t tap copper, can you?”

“This,” Izzy replied, after a moment’s thought, “Is completely fair and not outrageous at all.”

“Take your seat, Iz,” Landis sighed. “Just take it.”

The newly replenished Synod stood around a restrained Leidene. “Who else is involved with this?” demanded Artwyn.

Leidene shook her head. “I, I don’t know anything. Stick was the mastermind, and the rest of us had to keep following her orders after she died.”

“Lies!” snapped Jeral. “Sparky mentioned an Inquisitor before he died. What do you know of him?”

“Inquisitor? If there was an Inquisitor involved I didn’t know about it. I was just told to clean up the evidence.”

“How was killing Inadeus and trying to kill me just cleaning up the evidence?” Raven asked.

“I didn’t kill Inadeus. I don’t know how he died. Last night, Faleast gave me his weapons and told me to go to the infirmary and kill anyone I could find.”

“Must be quite a downgrade for a fancy noblewoman like yourself to take orders from a Terrisman,” noted Eran. Her four bloodhounds woofed in agreement.

“I was coerced,” Leidene snapped. “He would have killed me if I refused.”

“Ah, so the threat of death can make you do anything?” Izzy said. “In that case, tell us what we want to know.”

“You can’t just execute a noblewoman! I’m a citizen of the Final Empire! Only the Steel Ministry has the right to judge me.”

“The Steel Ministry’s a long way from here, lady,” Steel broke in. “Someone has to answer for all the deaths, and you’re the only candidate left.”

Leidene sneered. “You want answers, street thief? It’s disgraceful that someone like you could be a member of government, but perhaps that’s just to be expected of such a pathetic garbage heap far away from any real civilization.”

Raising her voice, she proclaimed to the crowd, “The Inquisition will arrive at dawn two days from next morning. Once here, they’ll burn your precious town to the ground and slaughter all of you who remain, then hunt down anyone who tries to flee. I’m the only one who can save you now. Only a letter written in my hand, using my personal cipher, can forestall your doom. If you want me to write that letter, you’re going to let me go right now and give me a horse to make sure I can deliver it on time.”

“To be honest,” Steel said, meditatively, “Faleast did it better. He had more style than this fire and brimstone talk.”

“No.”

That voice was Landis’s. He said, once again, “No. We know how the Inquisition works. They would never suffer the Synod to live. You promise something that you cannot actually deliver.”

Leidene laughed. “Oh I’m not the Inquisition, I just work for them. If you give me, say, a single Spike, I’ll tell them that we couldn’t find any Ferrings.”   

“And what summons down an Inquisition strike force if not the claim that there is credible evidence of the Synod here?” Landis demanded.

“Landis,” said Raven.

He looked at her.

“I can resolve this issue,” she said, taking out one of the darts she’d collected from Leidene’s unconscious body.

Landis nodded in assent.

“This blend is one of mine,” Raven continued speaking. I design medicines to help the body heal and grow, but most of my experiments don’t work on the first try. This particular concoction will give you about two weeks, plenty of time for you to deliver the all-clear and return for the antidote.”

“Why would you do that?”

“Why make this deal? After telling the Inquisition you couldn’t find any evidence of a Synod, you can hardly go back and say we’re here after all. Why give you the antidote? It would be a shame for a noblewoman to die in our little town, wouldn’t you agree?”

“And the spike?”

“Oh, of course. You can take Faleast’s. He won’t be needing it anymore. You’d know where to place it.” Raven jabbed the dart into Leidene’s arm. “We’ll see you in two weeks.” 

 

Wood shavings curled onto the floor of his shop. A candle burned in the workspace, casting wildly-flickering shadows across everything.

Late into the night, Artywyn worked. You didn’t whittle, as a carpenter. Not very often. There were better tools to use, ones more fit for the task, whether you were sawing a table, or a pen rest, or making buttons.

One spike was done. Artwyn added it to the heap of wooden spikes that lay on the floor of his shop. A pile of sharp, lethal points, the tips sanded down. Wouldn’t do for some fool to kill himself blundering into the settlement’s monument.

He wondered about that. A strange mood had stolen over him, a sober need to take an accounting of the dead. His dead among them.

Artwyn had never been much for art. Humble things, creating simple tables and chairs, and the occasional fancy noble’s cabinet had been enough for him to get by. And buttons, and buttons, and buttons, because somehow it was the buttons that kept a settlement like Frebarind running, all things considered, even if Artwyn never quite understood how anyone could go through so many buttons.

The names were hammered out into copper, written in metal, written for memory and written to last. Artwyn did that himself, too—he’d dabbled, a little. When he was younger.

He was not a sentimental man, or at least he didn’t allow himself to indulge.

He’d hesitated, for a long moment, over the list of names.

But it was an old wound, and this memorial was not for his son.

It was for all of them, all the ones who had died in Frebarind.

 

“It seems to me that you’ve left one thing out,” Olaf said, knocking back his wine glass. Most of the Sign of Fire was empty. The inn’s guests had dragged themselves to bed, and the flames in the fireplace were subdued now, mostly embers.

“Oh?”

“What happened to that last Spiked?” Olaf asked, curiously. The noblewoman at the nearby table pricked up her ears, but continued to toy with her glass. “You’ve mentioned that the Synod-in-Frebarind had blackmailed her into leaving Frebarind alone. Surely she must be planning some form of revenge after how—if you’ll excuse me—the Synod in Frebarind, for all intents and purposes, had at least frustrated her plans, if not outright humiliated her.”

“She’s dead,” Kais said, shortly. “She never returned for the antidote. Likely killed by the Inquisition, but I wasn’t about to investigate that—prying too much into the affairs of the Steel Inquisition is a dangerous business, and liable to find you strung up swallowing a hook.”

Olaf could not hide the involuntary shiver that crept down his spine. The infamous punishment for those who abused Allomancy.

“All’s well that ends well, I suppose,” Olaf temporised. He gazed at the comforting flicker of the firelight, and imagined he could feel the cosy warmth against his skin.

“Quite,” said Kais. “Well, then. It’s been a long night, and I trust you’ll have a good journey back to your House. It’s been a pleasure doing business with you, and I’ll make the necessary arrangements to have the payment sent to the Ffnord factor in Luthadel. Incidentally, I’d advise staying another night or two.”

“Oh?”

Kais smiled. “You’ve been kind enough to listen to the tale of Frebarind,” he said. “And I’ve heard that you’ve been around a couple of times yourself, enough to know what to do in this sort of situation. And there’s someone out there—a group, as far as I understand—that has been watching you very closely.”

Olaf’s knuckles whitened as he gripped the edge of the table. “A trap?” he asked, his voice calm. “How novel.”

“No trap,” Kais said. “An evaluation, perhaps.”

“How many hats do you wear then, Kais Jerzy?” Olaf asked, his voice soft. “Noble, associate of the Synod, and now an evaluator for—whatever group this is?”

Kais shrugged, artlessly. “We play many parts in our lives. You should know this well, Olaf.”

He sketched out a word on the table—four letters.

When Kais rose and left, Olaf was still frowning over the word, written in dark tea.

ASWA.

He noticed too late when the noblewoman rose, a spike glinting viciously in her hand, red-washed in the dying firelight, sharp with the promise of fire and blood to come.

 

Frebarind had been foolish to let her go. Whatever poison had been in that dart was easily neutralised by her goldminds, leaving her free to seek revenge. She’d still reported Frebarind free of Feruchemists; setting the Steel Inquisition on the town would be unsatisfying, and all those Feruchemical spikes wasted on Inquisitors.

She would avenge her defeat personally once she was strong enough. One ally would be welcome though, and the thought of that traitor Kais being betrayed in turn was too delicious to pass up. Once spiked, Count Olaf had been more than willing to work with her. Nothing could stop them from hunting down the Synod  and taking their powers for her own.

 

---

Faleast (Ashbringer) was a Spiked Skimmer!

Leidene has spiked Olaf and fled! Frebarind is free of Spiked, and the village has been saved. Congratulations on your victory.

I am tired, so expect a full post-mortem later. Until then, I would like to thank my co-GM, @Kasimir, for pitching in with excellent writing and snark, and of course @Devotary of Spontaneity, our IM, who was equally instrumental to the development of the story. Both contributed large sections to this final writeup. And, of course, I would like to thank all of you for playing, especially the people who took part in the first edition and were crazy enough to give me a second spin with this ruleset.  I appreciate y’all and hope to see you again in future games.  

Doc Links: 

[url=https://docs.google.com/spreadsheets/d/1PEsDd3rO330uqlhD62tTOr1nfV4Xkv4MmTz7fY1ulc4]Master Spreadsheet[/url]

[url=https://docs.google.com/document/d/17U2vhQ6fTpcY2h6iAS_GCTPs9Q65Vmijr-q2LSbTF8c]The Synod[/url]

[url=https://docs.google.com/document/d/1GDB5MNxBS7DeZ3wGHi8_djV2CU6ZBstXHc5rJm-RFP0]The Sign of Fire (spec doc)[/url]

[url=https://docs.google.com/document/d/1URwVqvF8EFeK223injQmFNDAC3S4mL7Q9fY1SJzYj3c]Spiked Doc[/url]

Final Player List:

1. Ashbringer as Faleast, a town crier surprisingly enthusiastic about announcing woeful tidings and most bitter lamentation as the destroyer comes upon us Spiked Skimmer

2. The Unknown Novel as ExMach Inadeus, an otherworldly visitor and luck epic who claims power over chromium…at the very least Village Brute

3. Matrim’s Dice as Jeral, a older gentleman who recklessly flouts the local gambling laws in hope of one day buying that gold-hilted cane-sword he covets Village Archivist

4. Steeldancer as Steel, a street beggar with a shadowy past and a desire to one day join the Tathingdwen Tautological Society of Tautology Synod Village Sentry

5. Archer as Stann, a clerk with patchily dyed blue hair and immaculately maintained blue flipbooks Village Sparker; Synod

6. _Stick_ as Stick, Treasurer of the Tathingdwen Tautological Society of Tautology Spiked Full Feruchemist

7. Elandera as Eran, an old woman who misses her twin sister who lives outside Tathingdwen and hopes her garden is doing okay Synod Village Steelrunner

8. StrikerEZ as Vardenwith, a Terris steward in training who is sadly not catching on very well Village Brute; Synod

9. JNV as Venel “Sparky,” a noble kid who occasionally gets too emotional for their own good Spiked Sentry

10. Araris Valerian as Artwyn, a tired old carpenter Village Full Feruchemist

11. xinoehp512 as X the Executioner, a middle-aged lady who yells at her four bloodhounds in a thick accent Village Skimmer 

12. Alvron as Izzy Dedyet, who promises she has reformed her ways Village Sparker

13. Illwei as Eiwlil, an avid Jaist missionary who emphasises vigorous head-shaking in her preaching Village Skimmer; Synod

Edited June 11, 2022 by Fifth Scholar

[Mat]

I didn’t do much, but a lot of others did a bunch of good things, such as avoiding my screw-ups  I feel alright about ending on Elan D2, since I knew my vote would be randomly redirected. But that probably isn’t an excuse; my reads were pretty bad for a majority of the game.

We caught a lucky break not having to deal with Stick’s FF abilities at all, and I think the relatively disorganized JNV exe was lucky too. Ash was… findable, to say the least. I don’t know what that says about the game design, but I think that it’s not as broken as it looks. I’ll be interested what Fifth says though.

My role was a unique challenge, and one I enjoyed playing. Glad I could scan Steel before killing him >>

Thanks for running the game and for your writing, @Fifth Scholar, @Kasimir, @Devotary of Spontaneity! I appreciate you giving Jeral the character arc I never did  

[Alvron]

Quote

I blame Alv’s gods. I always blame Alv’s gods.
Sadly, Alv seems to be in charge of the dice this game.

Perhaps if you were to convert things would be different.  
If only I was, then Steel would be dead N2 as well.   Three times I've tried to kill you Steel and only once has it happened.  What charm do you carry that can counter the Gods of Luck and Chance?

Quote

I like Alv’s gods, one of my magic system ideas uses them.

Ooh, nice.  Would this be for a game?
 

Quote

I’m not going to underestimate the length or persistence of Alv’s List. I might be on it from AG5, still waiting for my comeuppance >>

I survived AG5 so no one ended up on my list that game.  In fact you are not on my list at all.  I feel like that's an oversight for some reason.
 

2 hours ago, Fifth Scholar said:

“Really,” said Izzy. “You know, it’s sweet, but you don’t have to bribe me with a Synod seat just to get me to do your killing for you.”

So that's how Izzy ended up in the Synod?  Interesting.  Hopefully we will discover how she burnt down the meeting place in another game.


Despite no being able to give my full attention to the game, I greatly enjoyed all the writeups.  Thank you @Fifth Scholar, @Kasimir and @Devotary of Spontaneity for all your work.

 

[Steeldancer]

16 minutes ago, Alvron said:

f only I was, then Steel would be dead N2 as well.   Three times I've tried to kill you Steel and only once has it happened.  What charm do you carry that can counter the Gods of Luck and Chance?

Maybe they recognized I WAS TRYING TO PROTECT YOU DANGIT NOBODY BELIEVED IN ME. I'm also, really quick on my feet. Can't kill me if you can't catch me
It's ok, I forgive you Alvron. I always enjoy playing with you. 
Wait, what's the third? Obviously, the Link incident, but... I don't remember a third time. 

This game was insane. It was a lot of fun. I would like to apologize to Archer, I was very tempted to take my vote off near the end. But killing you allowed a lot of things then to get cleared up. 

[The Unknown Ajah]

2 hours ago, Alvron said:

Ooh, nice.  Would this be for a game?

I could retrofit it fairly easily. Would probably be an open action game where everything is a fifty fifty with a horrible backfire if it goes wrong. This would be a very fun Break Tank.

[Araris Valerian]

This was a really fun game to play, thanks for running it @Fifth Scholar, @Kasimir, and @Devotary of Spontaneity! It was nice to have a relatively chill village game, and the writeups were excellent. You guys did a great job of writing my character where I slacked off .