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Anniversary Game 9/Anonymous Game 13: Rebuilding Tyrian Falls


Elandera

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Not many people stayed in Tyrian Falls. Not anymore. About a year ago, the place survived a koloss attack. The same old story, Spiked infiltrate the town, hit more established residents, and lie low while getting the numbers to send invasion forces. But unlike most towns, Tyrian Falls survived. It was a close thing, but they lived. There were floods of migrants after that, seeking a safe place. Same old story. Spiked infiltrators. By the Agency’s count, they’d been within town limits for about half a year. But Koros wasn’t here for the Spiked or the town or the people. He was here for something a bit more personal than all that.

Two years ago, his partner left the Agency. It was an amiable enough separation, with a decent severance package and the promise of future contracts. He’d even agreed to visit his partner’s family after they’d settled in. The Agency said he’d get a new partner within a month. He never got that new partner.

Turns out, his partner never had a family. They’d been playing the long con, infiltrating the Agency just far enough to control data intake. His partner had been the Agency’s best, known for their ability to reach into a mess of conflicting answers and extract cohesion. They’d been cultivating the facts for years. The Agency was running blind now, with nearly a decade of tainted data to sort through and his partner’s real agency on the horizon. They needed answers. They needed Morrow.  

Somehow, the Agency had tracked Morrow to Tyrian Falls. Within the last three waves of migration, they said. Semi-established resident. Should be simple.

It wasn’t simple.

Morrow was a master of disguise and deception. It had served them well in the Agency. It served them well now, when Koros was trying to isolate a vein of gold in a lump of pyrite. They wouldn’t be one of the kids, too tall for that, but beyond that, they could be anyone at all. Still, some things couldn’t be changed so easily. Footsteps, posture, eye color, hands. If he could just get each of them alone, he’d be able to tell.  [OOC: If you don’t get a PM from me, let me know.]

The file was short. A range of dates, a location, and a warning. They needed Morrow alive. Failure would not be tolerated.

Koros had to stifle a laugh. Empty threats from a crumbling organization. They wouldn’t kill him, not when they needed as many eyes as they could to sort through the contaminated data. Sure, they’d be furious if he killed Morrow, but he’d live. He wasn’t planning on killing Morrow, but if needs must…

The town wasn’t far. He came with the latest set of travellers, wearing his story like a coat. Labourer, fallen on hard times, looking for somewhere new. An easy narrative. A simple narrative. One that gave him an excuse to be talking to everyone. Asking about job prospects, fishing for information about other residents in the meantime.

The place was tense. Cold. People looked at the new residents with harsh eyes and cold shoulders. Half-completed buildings were scattered throughout. Maybe the interrogations would be a little more difficult than anticipated.

Oh well. Nothing left for it but to dive on in.

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"Luciel. Lu-see-yel. Loo-si-el. Luciel, " practiced the man moving his jaws and cheek muscles to allow the name to flow out naturally. He held out his hand and introduced himself to the mirror in front of him, "Good morning, Mister Mayor. I'm Luciel Hood, the newly transferred sheriff to Tyrian Falls," Well, as perfect as it could be when you don’t have a reference. All I have is his personal information. I’d have to hope no one has seen Luciel. Bates assures me that the young mayor had not met Luciel. It was his father, the old mayor, who got acquainted with him. But it never hurts to be careful.

Bates was a bar owner just outside Tyrian Falls, in which he happened to be drinking when a bunch of Thugs arrived to shake Bates down for “protection money”. Coincidentally, original Luciel was also minding his business here, and being the protector of law that he is, decides to take them down all by himself. It… did not end well. He and Bates did step in to help and though they did take all the Thugs down, it wasn’t before they got Luciel. Now taking over as the new sheriff? That was just opportunistic from him. He… had some business in the town.

"Luciel" breathed in the air as he walked into the town square for the first time. As the seemingly new sheriff of the town, the first order of business after meeting the mayor was to introduce himself to the rest of the town folks. Following that, he’d begin his search. Ana had chosen the perfect place to go into hiding. He had to meet her again. It had been fifteen years since he’d last seen his accomplice/lover. He couldn’t give up at the first hurdle. It’s the whole reason he took over as Luciel in the first place. He had to be cautious as he needed to maintain the façade, but in addition, he also had to keep a low profile. After all, Ana wasn’t the only one in hiding, and if he did attract his pursuers to the Falls, he’d lead them directly to Ana.

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WitLees stretched and groaned as the bump on his head burst to painful life. 

It was the voice that had scared him, the hollow tune that the spiked god played. It had haunted him since he had been made and so he'd ran away. Stupid decision it had been to hide in Tyrian Falls. Always a point of Ruin's attention, always in a constant struggle. Well in time like this, there was nothing a man needed more than a strong drink. So he took down the closed sign and put up the permanently open sign. 

Grinning to himself at the thought of a drinking contest later WitLees went down into his cellar to bring up the strongest wine he had. A rather strange fellow had sold it to him, he'd been tall and talked rather funny. He had also been surprised when WitLees had downed an entire cask of what he had called 'horneater white'. Sure it had scorched his bones but he'd been able to keep it down fine and it had convinced the fellow to sell him some casks. And now was the time when people needed it most. 

"Just hope that fellow was lying about dropping dead from consumin' too much. Oh well, they won't have to fight the Koloss that way."

Still musing to himself WitLees pulled up his weaker bottles, nothing was weak in the bar Witless, but weak in comparisson to the 'horneater white'.

"Perhaps I will get everyone alone and with a bottle, best service I can do for the town that way."

[OOC: I will also send out PMs to everyone. Send one my way if you don't get one!]

Sighing, WitLees slumped over the bar seeming to be asleep, but quitely watching the doors.

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Aylia sat at her desk, her pen flying across the page as she furiously wrote letter after letter. She had made a decision to reach out to every person she knew, to establish communication in case anything bad happened. She couldn't shake the feeling of unease that had been with her, and she wanted to make sure she was prepared for anything. She scribbled furiously, her hand moving at lightning speed as she tried to remember every name and address. She had to make sure she didn't miss anyone, that she didn't leave anyone out.

As the hours ticked by, Aylia's hand began to cramp and her eyes grew heavy, but she refused to stop. She had to get these letters out and to make sure that she was connected to the people she cared about.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Aylia sat back with a sigh and looked at the pile of completed letters in front of her. She was exhausted, but she knew that it had been worth it. She hoped these connections would serve her well.

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People had been reaching out to Avil, noblemen and skaa alike, and he was forced to wonder if something strange really was afoot. He had made acquaintances since moving to Tyrian Falls, of course, but he rarely had such a flurry of communications occurring concurrently. He would do his best to keep up with them now that they were in motion, hopeful that perhaps the interactions in question would help him make sense of the lingering dread that seemed to surface every now and again.

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Willam addressed everyone:

"What would the lot of you think if I locked in the Obli-gator as indisputably not Spiked? That is to say, not in the irresponsible I-will-never-reconsider kind of way, but in the I-like-their-go-getterness sort of way."

He turned his face away from the crowd in embarrassment.

"Sorry. This public speaking bit is new to me. I'm used to keeping my opinions to myself." A pause. "Would anyone like to hire me?"

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Confusion filled Aylia's mind as she tried to make sense of Willam's words. She couldn't understand why he would make a claim like that. And why was he offering himself for hire?

Aylia raised her hand tentatively, hoping to clarify the situation. "Excuse me, Willam, but I'm not sure I understand. Why would you want to lock up the Obli-gator if you believe them to be innocent? And what do you mean by offering yourself for hire?"

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"Lock, as in a figure of speech. Finalize, per say. Mostly just asking for other opinions of our resident crocodilian.

"As for offering myself for hire, you see, I am a Terris Steward. Yet, I do not know who I am waiting on. I cannot remember my Master, if I have one. Thus I am for hire. A Terris Steward without a Master is a Terris Steward without a purpose.

"I suppose an alternative to finding me a Master is finding me a purpose."

Edited by Cream Tuatara
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Aylia nodded slowly, her understanding of the situation beginning to clear. "I see, thank you for explaining. I'm sorry for any misunderstanding. I hope you find your purpose, Willam."
 
Despite her words, Aylia couldn't shake the feeling of unease that lingered within her. She had never encountered a Terris Steward before, and the idea of someone not knowing their purpose or even their own Master was unsettling to her. She couldn't help but feel a sense of pity for Willam, knowing how difficult it must be to live in such uncertainty. And yet, she couldn't shake the feeling that there was more to his story than he was letting on.
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Guy look at town. Town look same. Town not always look same. Guy wonder. Dey say dere r Spik-ed but Guy no sure bout dat. Dere hab always ben Spik-ed in T Falls. Guy has seen one before. Guy did saw the villagers tear de Spik-ed apart.

15 hours ago, Pearl Chameleon said:

Free horneater white for everyone

Wat dat? Does taist good?

6 hours ago, Plum Rhinoceros said:

hi

Hai!

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Okay, I'm a little late, but I'm here now. Time for a little RP before I try to analyze this crazy situation.

***

Taltin Keriell walked through the solemn streets of Tyrian Falls. He pulled his simple skaa cloak around himself and turned onto another street.

He had come here at the wrong time. He had hoped that this would be a simple trip: in and out in a few days, no hustle, no complications. But he'd arrived at the worst possible time. Supplies disappearing. Rebuilding efforts fading.

People spoke of "spiked." He wasn't entirely sure what they were. He only knew that an ordinary man or woman pierced with metal would have their behavior altered to a degree that made them...evil. He didn't know how, or why, or if it was real. But something was going on. It was easy to see, even for a total outsider like him.

What I wouldn't give for just one ally in this town, he thought. He knew no one. He was a stranger caught in the crisis.

And he wasn't sure if he'd make it out alive.

He turned onto another street, searching for a place to stay. The red sun hid behind a cloud, and a light ashfall began. He pulled the hood of his cloak over his head and continued on, only to find himself in a square where several villagers were discussing the situation.

Might as well listen in, try to figure out what in the Lord Ruler's name is going on here...

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19 hours ago, Mauve Crocodile said:

the Obli-gator.

Funny, but you're a crocodile.

16 hours ago, Sage Kangaroo said:

Hasing the wasing of posting. Notting the hasing of notting of good. Asking the nowing of ising the Azure Mouse.

Is alive, is somewhat busy, is attempting to organize their things.

Making observations, eyeing things up, excited about the prospects of this game. Hm hm, interesting indeed. So many votes cast but who has reasons? Poke poke? Not yet, decisions decisions.

Little collections. Stones for now, polishing them nice and bright. As bright as a stone can be.

Edited by Azure Mouse
I hit send WAY too early
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Reverse looked at the cooling slabs in the back of his shop with a hint of regret. They all looked fine, uniform, clear and all that. It just seemed soulless compared to his usual projects. This kind of industry was not something he was that used to. He liked making unique items, ones with flair.

But he would make what was needed.

And right now, Tyrian Falls needed windows.

Reverse took a step back. The glass would be fine on its own, now. The best thing he could do would be to leave it alone. He'd heard the whispers of saboteurs around, but he imagined there were better things for them to try and break in this day and age. The mists wouldn't go through an open window much anyway, and attacking food or metal would be more disastrous. There was the possibility of hooligans breaking in, mimicking things they did not understand, but that was a risk of doing business sometimes. Better to lose a batch of windows than live life trying to find an activity more boring than watching paint dry.

Besides, the glass was still quite hot. Anyone who messed with it would be in for a rather nasty surprise.

So Reverse grabbed his coat and stepped into the town streets, heading for the town square, giving a few nods to those he knew. People came for him to advice from time to time.

He wasn't entirely sure why.

He was a glassblower, after all. Not a psychologist.

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Jauchzet, frohlocket!

The room was dark and almost empty. Onidsen groaned as he rubbed the sleep from his eyelids and rolled over, stopping as he felt the fur from Edda's shaggy coat tickle his nostrils. He let out a tremendous sneeze, displacing the thin layer of dust and ash which had already gathered on the floor. He pulled the blinds and the thin red glow filtered in, illuminating the motes now floating lazily in the air. Edda's tail stirred and they soon became a cloud, and through his coughs, Onidsen threw open the door and let her run into the street. He glanced at the sun's position. It was nearly midday--he must have slept in even longer than he'd intended. 

Auf, preiset die Tage!

Plopping himself off the bed, he drained the glass of water which stood on his nightstand and dressed quickly. There was more commotion in the streets than he had expected at this hour. Tyrian, which a week before had been filled with the voices of children gleefully re-enacting the town's victory over the Spiked--the defrocking of the false Jaist, the apprehension of the Coinshot--now seemed filled with another noise, one from earlier in the tale. Onidsen whistled, and Edda trotted in from outside. "Ready, girl?" he asked. She yelped. Close enough. Crossing the room in three paces, he exited into the town square, heading towards the archives, Edda trotting behind.

Rühmet, was heute der Höchste getan!

He hummed as he went, doing his best to ignore the uproar in the street. He nodded to a few of the town's denizens, and a couple smiled down at Edda, who at least knew not to acknowledge the attention. Now that he'd broken off the crowd, he would be best served making as straight a line from the house to the archives as possible.


Let us rejoice, for another AG is upon us.

Melon Dingo

Edited by Coral Swan
spelling
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Aylia couldn't help but feel drained as she sat on the rooftop, surrounded by the seemingly endless darkness. She had been in constant correspondence with the other villagers for what felt like hours, trying to come up with a plan to find and stop the Spiked among them. But despite the importance of their conversations, Aylia's energy was running low. It was necessary, she knew, but it was also exhausting.

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, trying to clear her mind and find a moment of peace. But even in the silence, she could feel the weight of the village's problems bearing down on her. Aylia knew she couldn't give up, not when the safety and well-being of her fellow villagers was at stake. But she also couldn't help feeling overwhelmed by the sheer magnitude of it all.

She stood up and walked to the edge of the rooftop, looking out at the twinkling lights of the city below. It was a beautiful sight, but it was also a reminder of the dangers that lurked in the shadows.

Aylia sighed and turned back towards the mansion, knowing that she had to gather her strength and continue the fight. She would do whatever it took to protect her loved ones, even if it meant sacrificing her own comfort and peace of mind.

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36 minutes ago, Coral Swan said:

Jauchzet, frohlocket!

[OOC: Oh my goodness gracious, are you speaking Dutch now?]

Willam looked like he was practising some public speaking in the half-rebuilt market square. As the team worked on the wrecked smithy, Aurelien couldn't help but overhear snatches of conversation. Seemed like the Terrisman was in want of a noble to serve. He shook his head. Nobles weren't exactly thick on the ground, here in Tyrian Falls. Might as well expect to find one buried in sawdust.

Still, he wasn't fully minded to agree with Willam. Perhaps it spoke well of him that the one who referred to himself as the Obli-gator was asking questions, but anyone with time on their hands and no real job to mind could do that. It spoke to a certain kind of civic-mindedness, but it felt cheap, like the way his soldiers in Fifth Cohort sometimes pretended to drill instead of doing it. Sure, he'd give the Obli-gator some credit, but that was as far as it went.

Willam he found more interesting.

Willam had wanted purpose. Surely finding the Spiked among them would count as some form of purpose.

The fact the steward had been actively seeking or thinking about townsfolk on an otherwise quiet morning, full of people jawing off and sawing the air about private correspondences that Aurelien didn't particularly care about - it spoke at least a little well of Willam.

It was a start.

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1 hour ago, Azure Mouse said:

Funny, but you're a crocodile.

Is alive, is somewhat busy, is attempting to organize their things.

Making observations, eyeing things up, excited about the prospects of this game. Hm hm, interesting indeed. So many votes cast but who has reasons? Poke poke? Not yet, decisions decisions.

Little collections. Stones for now, polishing them nice and bright. As bright as a stone can be.

Next you're going to tell me that ponies aren't really horses. Preposterous! 

If you ignore the RP, this thread is a quick read. Perhaps your time has been consumed by Spiked doc scheming? Or ritually praising The Lord Ruler? I have a problem with one of those. 

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Just now, Mauve Crocodile said:

Next you're going to tell me that ponies aren't really horses. Preposterous! 

If you ignore the RP, this thread is a quick read. Perhaps your time has been consumed by Spiked doc scheming? Or ritually praising The Lord Ruler? I have a problem with one of those. 

OOC: Which one? :ph34r:

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19 minutes ago, Mauve Crocodile said:

Next you're going to tell me that ponies aren't really horses. Preposterous! 

Willam raised a hand, shyly. "A fair comparison, if alligators were baby crocodiles. Which last I checked, they were not.

Willam changed his course.

"@Sapphire Elephant, my vote is currently on you for reasons slim, but I sent you a message, which you read about an hour ago, but did not respond. Now you are elsewhere. I do hope you'll do me the courtesy of replying when you next return." Willam smiled, to show that he meant no harm.

Well. Maybe a little harm. He was voting the bloke, after all.

Edited by Cream Tuatara
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3 hours ago, Melon Dingo said:

Reverse looked at the cooling slabs in the back of his shop with a hint of regret. They all looked fine, uniform, clear and all that. It just seemed soulless compared to his usual projects. This kind of industry was not something he was that used to. He liked making unique items, ones with flair.

But he would make what was needed.

And right now, Tyrian Falls needed windows.

Reverse took a step back. The glass would be fine on its own, now. The best thing he could do would be to leave it alone. He'd heard the whispers of saboteurs around, but he imagined there were better things for them to try and break in this day and age. The mists wouldn't go through an open window much anyway, and attacking food or metal would be more disastrous. There was the possibility of hooligans breaking in, mimicking things they did not understand, but that was a risk of doing business sometimes. Better to lose a batch of windows than live life trying to find an activity more boring than watching paint dry.

Besides, the glass was still quite hot. Anyone who messed with it would be in for a rather nasty surprise.

So Reverse grabbed his coat and stepped into the town streets, heading for the town square, giving a few nods to those he knew. People came for him to advice from time to time.

He wasn't entirely sure why.

He was a glassblower, after all. Not a psychologist.

The old man sighed. Melon dingo just for annoying my eyes

Edit: right now I have nothing much else to say, we've got a lot of RP going on which is great, but doesn't make for great material to read into. 

Edited by Indigo Weasel
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1 hour ago, Cream Tuatara said:

Willam raised a hand, shyly. "A fair comparison, if alligators were baby crocodiles. Which last I checked, they were not.

Willam changed his course.

"@Sapphire Elephant, my vote is currently on you for reasons slim, but I sent you a message, which you read about an hour ago, but did not respond. Now you are elsewhere. I do hope you'll do me the courtesy of replying when you next return." Willam smiled, to show that he meant no harm.

Well. Maybe a little harm. He was voting the bloke, after all.

Ciril nodded awake again, finding himself leaning against post out the front of a paper store. "Wha..?"

A fellow of obvious Terris heritage had been about to tap him on the shoulder again with an apologetic look.

"Hmm? Oh, that. I'd meant to respond, but I was remote at the time and couldn't quite figure out how to express myself as myself from a distance, you see?"

Stretching, he continued on. "To answer your question, there's not much to say is there? I make it a matter of policy to not respond to threats given without basis, unless perhaps directly asked for comment on some matter of import."

With a yawn, he walked to sit on a nearby bench. "But neither here nor there have I yet been asked a question on anything of any relevance to..."

zzz 

...

For clarity, I wanted to RP a response but mobile isn't well suited that. And it is my policy to ignore votes unless directly asked for a response. Which has to sort of suffice as a response to your question for comment on your poke voting me as you've not asked anything else of relevance.

It looks like everyone has posted at least once, except for @Amethyst Scorpion, @Chartreuse Penguin, and @Magenta Albatross, each of whom appear to have been online since the start of the game. 

Figured I'd comment on the nature of Smokers, seeing as I'm pretty sure opinions on whether Smokers should keep their field active or not has varied. In my opinion, keep it on.

If this is a vote manip heavy game, better I think to keep your vote fixed. The only way not smoking benefits the village is if there's a village seeker and an spiked smoker. But even in that situation there are ways around that, we shouldn't rely on the seeker to solve the game for us, and I reckon having individuals whose vote cannot be shifted by spiked vote manip is much more valuable than any potential gain from a village seeker Seeking a unsmoked smoker verse a smoked smoker.

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