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34 minutes ago, Ecthelion III said:

Everyone who has their vote on Drought, can I interpret as not supporting Bondsmith win, and everyone who has their vote on Sart, can I interpret as supporting Bondsmith win?

Lets say I'm not against it. But once time not long ago Joe said me "You paranoid just little bit? You should be very paranoid when I'm near". So still not sure... thinking. 

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57 minutes ago, Ecthelion III said:

Everyone who has their vote on Drought, can I interpret as not supporting Bondsmith win, and everyone who has their vote on Sart, can I interpret as supporting Bondsmith win?

Not precisely. I just don't trust anyone enough to plan on it.

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4 hours ago, Kynedath said:

Fair enough, but then the cook would have had to be fairly uninformed. The majority of people had PMs so they knew most of who was on their team. If it was friendly fire, then I'd say that they would either be a private or maybe a captain. Not necessarily true, but that's the most likely situation. Good point Joe.

I have a few good reasons to believe that the cook kill last cycle came from a Sons of Honor cook.

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4 hours ago, Ecthelion III said:

Everyone who has their vote on Drought, can I interpret as not supporting Bondsmith win, and everyone who has their vote on Sart, can I interpret as supporting Bondsmith win?

What if I don't support the BondSmith win condition? But I don't want to be lynched....(I do support it...just figuring out my options)

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Silence did not react when the his name had been mentioned along with the other Diagrammists in the crazed Edgedancer's accusation.

Disappointment. Frustration. Anger.

He did not react when the Sanis stood and started shouting her true nature to the heavens.

Anger. 

Then people started standing and shouting and talking one over another. And he realized that an alliance was forming. 

A small smile tugged at the edges of his mouth.

All will be in accordance to the Diagram.

Watching for a moment later at the chaos that ensued, he turned with a little sigh.

Even if it was hard to see how

He only trusted. And for that reason he was calm. He turned to leave.

Before he melted into the shadows again, he whispered a single name: Sart.

Then he left with only the shadow of a sound.

Edited by Doc12
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1 hour ago, Arinian said:

Are we have any proofs that Bondsmith still alive?

I don't think we have any way to know that unless they roleclaimed to someone. So far no one has stated in the thread a name, though I feel like someone said they knew who the Bondsmith was.

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I agree with Arinian. A PM between a Diagrammist and you isn't proof. I'm a Ghostblood. Link Silver and me together for votes. I'm paranoid that the Sons of Honor will fake the PM, and work on the other goal.

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Sart(6): Maunkos, Joe, Seonid, Silver, Drought, Kyne, Doc.

Drought(6): Arinian, Sart, Mage,  Ecth, Jondesu.

Seonid(1): Drake.

So the Diagrammists are voting for Sart, and most of the votes on Drought are the Ghostbloods'. 

I have a question for the Diagrammists: if Drought ends up getting lynched, would you still kill a GB or go for a SoH?

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Storm it, my faction isn't thinking. I understand that the knee-jerk reaction is to kill eliminators... But we have two factions working against us. We need to reduce the number of kills-per-cycle they can level against us. We can't remove the Diagramist kill unless we kill all four diagramists, which will take multiple cycles. We can remove a cook kill by killing a single Son of Honor, however... If their cook isn't already dead.

The final vote draws near. None of you seem willing to change your vote. So, Droughtbringer it is. Seonid remains alive. Thaidakar, I hope you have something up your sleeve you aren't telling me, because things don't look very good for us if we target Diagramists right now.

Edited by Drake Marshall
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Storm it, my faction isn't thinking. I understand that the knee-jerk reaction is to kill eliminators... But we have two factions working against us. We need to reduce the number of kills-per-cycle they can level against us. We can't remove the Diagramist kill unless we kill all four diagramists, which will take multiple cycles. We can remove a cook kill by killing a single Son of Honor, however... If their cook isn't already dead.

The final vote draws near. None of you seem willing to change your vote. So, Droughtbringer it is. Seonid remains alive. Thaidakar, I hope you have something up your sleeve you aren't telling me, because things don't look very good for us if we target Diagramists right now.

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I guess I'd better solidify the lynch, just in case... Sart. Now it's just a matter of hoping the vote manips don't strike twice...

Also, I think we're going to have a bunch of inactive deaths once rollover comes around. Which, hopefully, will balance the numbers between the factions (and doesn't kill the Bondsmith, hopefully...)

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Twist, scrape, flick. Twist, scrape, flick.

Aside from the rhythmic sharpening of her needles, Berilen was a motionless statue, legs hanging over the ledge of a balcony that overlooked the plaza in which those three societies of monsters in human flesh convened.

Twist, scrape, flick. Twist, scrape, flick.

It was Sani who she wanted to get to first, truth be told. In a way, her betrayal - short lived as it may have been - hit far too close to home. It was Berilen's fault, anyway, for trusting a woman she hardly knew. And why? Because she talked sense? Because she thought the same as me? In a lot of ways, the two were alike, and that scared her. In another life, she could have been Sani. Perhaps when Sani was her age, she could have been Berilen.

Twist, scrape, flick. Twist, scrape, flick.

Things were better off this way, she decided. Somewhere in the depths of her being, she believed otherwise, but the rational aspect of her mind sang a different tune. She had come to Urithiru for a single purpose, after all. Who cares if the hunt was spoiled, so long as it led her to her father, and fast? In a few days time, she would relish in that sweet taste of victory, like she'd dreamed of the last three years. 

Twist, scrape, flick. Twist, scrape, flick.

Sani needed to live. It was clear she was the leader of her cell, or at the very least, the spokesperson, which meant she either was the most knowledgeable, or the most willing to talk. Once her allies were dead, she would have no choice but to tell Berilen where Agrigar was. That is, unless, she would be willing to die for the man. Berilen wished she could say with any certainty that Sani wouldn't. Diagrammists were insane, after all. Not that the Sons of Honor and Ghostbloods were any less sane. But at least they were predictable.

Twist, scrape, flick. Twist, scrape, flick.

Berilen did not need to turn her head to see how close the sun was to the horizon. She could feel the heat on the back of her neck fading with ever monotonous carving of her needles' point. That and the gradual dimming of the ambient light. It wouldn't be long now before she made her move. The hardest part would be the timing. A moment too soon, and she could be halted by his allies. A moment too late, and her Captain would already be dead. She needed to be sudden. She needed to be quick. Praise Origin that she had been trained so thoroughly.

Twist, scrape, flick. Twist, scrape, flick.

Hand cramping, Berilen decided to take a break to look over the progress she had made. This was the third needle she'd sharpened to perfection, now. The tip was razor thin; the hilt, for lack of a better term, the perfect length and thickness to comfortably fit between her thumb and forefinger. Spinning it in her hand, she checked the balance, the weight. It would not take much force to pierce a man's flesh, though Drought Bringer did look like he had a unusually thick neck. Really, though, speed was all she needed. It didn't matter that her arms were so tiny. Not with a weapon this sharp and reflexes as swift as hers. So long as nothing - or no one - got in her way, a swift needle to the carotid artery should be enough.

Just in case, she added Agrigar's favorite poison to the tip.

From her safe pouch, she drew a thin, elongated sack that contained a few drops of a thick, black liquid. Bringing the needle and the sheathe to eye level, she patiently slid one into the other, careful so that the poison would not squirt onto her face. Although this particular liquid was only deadly when it entered a human's bloodstream, it had the tendency to burn exposed skin worse than a long day in the sun. Tilting the needle back, she made sure the liquid did not drip. Good. The seal was tight. Sighing with contentment, she stored the needle inside her safe pouch with the rest, then drew another to start the process over again.

Twist, scrape, flick. Twist, scrape, flick.

She went on like this for hours, a grin that was half sad, half excited, steadily creeping across her face.

 


Cloaked by the tower's shadow, no one saw the girl's descent.

The best part of weighing less than a hundred stones? Berilen didn't have much weight to break whenever she fell from a decent height. Regardless, she had worn a thick coat with a padded hood and spine, helping take the extra oomf out of her landing. While the others were busy squabbling and bearing swords and knives, she appeared within a hole at the center of the gathering, directly behind her target.

"Drought Bringer!" she screamed as she kicked at the back of the man's knee, hoping to force him down to her level so that she could plunge one of her poisoned needles into his exposed jugular. In her other hand she held the remaining three needles between her fingers so that they extended like claws. Should anyone try to interfere, she would thrust and slash at them to ward them off, or in the worst of circumstances, draw them into her strong hand to throw while she escaped.

Edited by Amanuensis
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