Anniversary Game 3: The Curse of the Koloss

[Herowannabe]

4 hours ago, OrlokTsubodai said:

Lord Tekiel, or The Lord Tekiel, as he thought of himself here, found himself in his study on that fateful afternoon. Having settled up his accounts (and discovered where his Terrisman had managed to lose the boxings), he had begun to read. His manuscript of Slight and Sleight was... To say "well used" would be overly kind. Barely holding together might be more accurate.

He was, therefore, irritated when disturbed by a clattering of footsteps and heavy breathing. The missive, though, was interesting. Lord Conrad's competent Terrisman had come across a most foul sight in the town, and had summoned those of import to discuss the matter. Locke sighed. This would grant Lord Conrad yet greater influence over the council. Nothing could be done, though. Setting up a rival meeting at this stage would be an embarrassment, and would draw no one of note. With regret, he prepared for the journey. It would, at least, be an interesting day.

Fury. Outrage. Lord Conrad expected him to share his council with... How dare he. Upon entering the manor, The Lord Tekiel found himself confronted with a... mob. Commoners, the lot of them. It was an insult to the family name. Locke grimaced. He would have to steel himself, and bear theit company. To be seen leaving such a meeting would be worse still.

He would engage with the rabble, if he had to. But he would make sure he was accommodated appropriately first. He was not friends with Lord Conrad. Not that Locke Tekiel had friends. But there was a level of mutual respect among the local nobility, and Lord Conrad would not stoop so far as to lodge a nobleman with commoners, if only for the precedent it would set.

Apologies, Hero, if your master isn't Lord Conrad. I presumed from Meta's write-up that there were no other local nobles, but am happy to make corrections if you would like.

Lord Tekiel paused, looking around the grand hall. This wasn't Lord Conrad's manor! This one was much bigger and more elaborate than Conrad's poor excuse of a hall. What was more disturbing was... Tekiel had never been in this hall. He didn't recognize any of it. Tekiel had simply told his coachman to take him to where the Terrisman had led the crowd- apparently it was here. Where ever here was. Tekiel found himself feeling annoyed... and intrigued. 

Herwynbe's "Master" is a mystery... for now.

 

3 hours ago, Madagascar said:

Hmm. Shteward, I will donate five catsh to your "Contribution Crusade". Do you prefer tortoisheshellsh or tabbies? And do I get an extra meal for my catsh? And then maybe an extra extra meal for me, because I'm 80 years old but have misshed breakfasht mosht of my life.

Herwynbe took the dirty rags that the elderly woman claimed were cats without comment. It was not his place to criticize the guests, it was his duty to make them comfortable. "Please, help yourself to the food, good woman. There is enough and to spare for everyone." Herwynbe bowed his head and gestured to the dining tables. 

[Madagascar]

"Help yourself"? Well if you inshisht... don't mind if I do! Jusht let me tuck thish bottle away for shafekeeping (after I safely empty it into my mouth of course) and I'll tuck in!

*heaps a pewter plate with a hearty helping of potatoes, roast beef, corned cabbage and roast carrots*

People alwaysh think there's enough food for Matilda.

But they alwaysh forget about the cats.

*finishes first plate of food in less than three minutes and moves on to the next without stopping*

[Wyrmhero]

In a job like mine, you ignored the writing on the wall at your peril. People were getting jumpy, looking at each other with suspicious eyes. There were rumours flying around, of course, but considering there was everything between the city being attacked by Koloss and The Lord Ruler returning to save us, well, I'd forgive you if you decided to ignore it. Most people did, sad to say. And why wouldn't they? The world was getting dark enough without listening to rumours.

 

There were maybe three dozen or so who had their finger properly on the pulse of the town. And while a lot of the rumours may have been just that, in my experience there's always a grain of truth to any rumour. And besides, is it really so unbelieveable, any of it, when our self-proclaimed god was killed? Not that I ever really believed in him. Some people in this very town believed in obscure religions, and others were starting to worship the Survivor, the man who set everything in motion to kill The Lord Ruler. I could understand them. But The Lord Ruler? I could never believe in him. He was too real. I've seen him in person, had front-row seats to watch an execution. I've felt his power, the effect he has. If you have no faith, because you know it to be true, then why bother believing? I know I never did. But anyway, point was, I knew something was wrong in this town, and didn't like it one bit. So, I did what I always do when I need information, and turned to an informant.

 

Jimmy 'Two Hands' was a skaa orphan who lived a rather nicer life than you'd expect an orphan to have on the streets. Of course, if you knew him, you knew why; Two Hands might be young, but he knew more than any other informant in this town about what was going on here. If there was truth in the stories of Koloss attacking us or what have you, I knew I'd find it here.

 

The kid had a little bolthole on the south side of town, nice and discreet. I lent against the door with my back, watching the crowd pass. Then I rapped on the door with my knuckles, waiting for the little slider to open.

 

"Yes?"

 

"Sharpe," I responded. No need for any sort of password, Two Hands' hired goon knew me. I was let in and shown to a dusty chair. I chose not to sit down, and waited for him to make an appearance.

 

Eventually he did, and I couldn't help but scowl at him. The kid always liked to dress like a noble when meeting people like this. It annoyed me, but I guess a lot of things have that effect on me. It wasn't the clothes, really, but the spirit behind them. He wanted to think he was better than me, and let me know he thought that. Well, I might not have as much of a lucrative job as the kid, but I didn't agree. At least he'd finally grown into the clothes; when he was actually a kid, instead of just being young like now, they really didn't fit him. I do wonder sometimes how he stole those clothes. Maybe the steward up at the manor was bent. Might be info worth saving for later, if needed.

 

"Wyl," he said, shaking my hand and acting like a smug git. "What can I do for you?" He led me into his makeshift office and sat down. 

 

"You've done some redecorating," I said as I sat down and looked around. "Last time I was here, this place was a dirt hovel. Now you've got tables and everything. You've really moved up in the world."

 

"Yes, well," Two Hands said, snapping a little, "the changing world is a great thing, if you know what to do with it."

 

"The 'changing world', as you put it, is what's upsetting people," I responded. I took my pipe out and looked at him. Like the sanctimonious bastard he was, he waved me an okay like he was doing me some great favour. I really didn't like the fact that I kind of thought he was. I lit up, and took a small drag on it. "People are running around headless, and they don't know why. Now, we've had a few murders lately, so that'd scare people, I get that. Problem is, I think it's something more. Something bigger. And I'm gonna find out what."

 

"Well, sounds like you have everything sorted then," Two Hands said, leaning back in his chair. "So I don't see what I can do to help you. I mean, I don't think I could've possibly heard anything that could help you..." he trailed off, and I sighed. From my pocket, I pulled out a few Boxings and placed them on the desk, sliding them towards him. They disappeared almost immediately, into that ridiculous coat he wore. He leaned in, a bit dramatically. It was showmanship, the bread and butter of his profession. "They say that villages are disappearing off the face of the earth," he said. "Koloss are running rampant around The Final Empire, or whatever we call it now. People are saying this place is next."

 

"People?" I asked, "What people?" 

 

Two Hands didn't say anything, not until I tossed another coin at him. He pocketed that one too and only then did he say something I considered worth the money. "There are a couple of people going around. Doomsayers, sort of thing. They're going around proclaiming the world is ending. Maybe some of them are mentioning Koloss?" he said, with a small smile.

 

"There's something else," I said, pressing him further. "You wouldn't still be here if you knew the town was doomed. So why are you here instead of anywhere else?"

 

"Who knows?" Two Hands shrugged. "Maybe there's nowhere left to run to. Maybe I just trust you guys enough to figure out who those doomsayers are. See, I think we can just about hold out from Koloss. It'd be tough, but long as we have our wall and enough people, we can survive." He spread his hands out in a half-shrug. "But if not, well, I still have enough time to run. Does that satisfy you?"

 

"No," I said, gritting my teeth. "They're paying you to spread rumours too, aren't they? Or at least, they're paying you not to say who they are." The egregious bastard. He was grinning at this. Profiting off our town's misfortune. There was nothing strictly illegal about it, considering he operated in a grey area anyway, but my gut said there should be something I should be able to do about it. Even if I couldn't book him for anything, and even if I used his informant services myself, it still hurt to see him disrespecting the law in that way.

 

"Such a shame," Two Hands stood up, moving around to the side of the desk I was sitting on. "I'm afraid we are out of time, and I have other people to see. Good to see you, Wyl. Please, do let me know how you're getting on; I'm sure we're all dying to hear." He chuckled at his own joke as his bodyguard escorted me out. He'd grown up now and dressed all fine and acted like he was in charge, but it was obvious to me that he was still a kid.

 

The door slammed behind me, and I scowled. I emptied my pipe out into the grass beside me and put it away. Question was, what did I do now? I guess I would have to pick up the trail tomorrow, see if I could find anything at the murdered guard's house. I left that place with my mood sour; Unlike Two Hands, I didn't see what was so amusing about all this.

[Hemalurgic Headshot]

The manor is an impressive building, to say the least. At least two stories, with a prominent tower. It's backside is not as prominent. Joe snuck around the corner, feeling in the darkness for the back door. Stealth, he thought, as he proceeded to tumble over the rubbish that clogged the alley. Metallic clangs echoed off the walls. Finally, his hand grasped a latch. Joe pulled. With a creak, a long, desperate, abnormally long creak, the door opened, and the darkness became slightly less dark darkness. A squeak came from behind.

"Oh good, you're here now, Rat. Welcome to the party."

Rat crept out of the gloom. Joe grabbed him and walked into the back door. It was cool in the room. Joe couldn't see anything. Then, he heard the sound of laughter and excitement. Hands to the walls, he followed the noise. 

Light poured in from a spacious hall. Joe saw long tables arranged with a feast, and the inhabitants of Tyrian Falls dining. However, his job is to cook, not to eat. Rat squeaked.

"Fine. Go get yourself something to eat." He set Rat down on the stone floor and he scurried away. Joe continued to search the corridor. Down the hall, a wondrous smell wafted. His nose dragged him onward, towards that heavenly scent. The door was closed. Straining his useless arms, he was able to crack the door open. The smell grew stronger. He wedged his fingers in the gap and widened it. Soon it was wide enough for his skinny body to slip through.

Yes, this is the kitchen. And there was a puddle for him to slip in. The crash drew the attention of the other cooks, who came rushing over.

"Who is this hoodlum?" The fattest one inquired. Joe put on his most innocent expression, but could only manage a guilty look.

"Me?" He said. "I make a killer ash taco."

[Droughtbringer]

"Did you see what hap-" the voice called out,
"No!" Drought interrupted, "I don't see anythin these days!"
"Oh...I'll just leave you alone then sir." The voice, and presumably the body accompanying it, ran off.

Edited January 10, 2017 by DroughtBringer
Forgot a coma ;)

[Magestar]

Carmichael found himself staring at the dead man.  He wasn't used to seeing men die.  It somehow never came up in his line of work.  Sure, there would be the occasional fight over some lost money, or possibly over an extra ace that someone found in their deck after gambling with him, but no one ever went and died over it.  And dying in the middle of town?  Right where everyone could see?  Yech.  Completely inconsiderate.  That was not a scene Carmichael hoped to ever see again.  He glanced about.  Everyone seemed to be ambling in the general direction of the massive, mysterious manor, which Carmichael had never had the privilege of entering.  But now the doors were thrown wide, and a man was gesturing that they should come in.  Carmichael shrugged.  On the one hand, this was a strange manor, and these were strange times.  Not such a great combination.  However, all the bars would start closing soon, and there really was no advantage in staying out here in the Mists.  And, who knows?  Maybe Carmichael could get some a game or two going. 

---

It took a while for Carmichael to elbow his way through the crowd, but once he had he was gratified to see that the Manor was much warmer than outside.  He basked in the warmth for a few seconds, before continuing in the vague direction of food.  Where there was food, there were people, and where there were people, there was money to be won.  It was unlikely anyone here would be able to outfox him.  Nobles were always stuck up and stupid, and commoners were simply, well, common.  There was that one time, well, maybe two, but those were freak occurrences.  Unlikely to happen again.

As Carmichael wandered through the manor, he found himself wondering about the man who had died.  What was it he had said again?  A hoard of Koloss?  That seemed unlikely.  What interest would they have in this little town?  Hmmm...  Carmichael wondered if anyone was running numbers on their odds of survival.  Now that would be something worth betting on.

Mysterious Manors?  Why not?  I also don't have a whole lot to contribute RN, but I'll hopefully be able to get more RP and game relevant discussion up later.

[Kipper]

     I'm wise now. Well...more wise. That first bit was my ego talking again. It's interesting (at least to me) to note that the original intent of my journey to Tyrian Falls had absolutely nothing to do with Koloss or Ruin. I was simply looking for an elusive dye made of pulverized ash, noted in Luthadel high-fashion as the most expensive, stylish coloring available. Being not as well endowed with boxings as some of my peers, I made up my mind to take a trip to a small village known in some circles as a primary source. Buying the dye cheap, straight from the source wasn't, perhaps, the most refined thing to do, but then this went back to my key rule of style: "Wear; do not be worn. If the particular garment fits well and is of the same high-quality design and material as the popular seller's offering, it will almost always be a better choice. Although designer apparel is quite nice, don't fall into the trap of buying it just to have the brand. Then your outfits become a statement about how in touch you are with current trends, rather than how good your taste is. Anyway, I'm rambling. The day it all fell apart was...ah, when I woke up for the first time in that oddly charming manor house. Rust, is it "more wise" or "wiser?"

- Welf Pikker

---

Kip Pikker woke with a start and immediately deduced that Something was wrong. The wrongness could have stemmed from one of two things.

First, although Kip had his eyes open, and could feel the cool breeze through the open window and the morning sun shining on his bare legs, he COULD NOT SEE. Yet, by a pinch on the meaty part of his left thigh, Kip determined that he was not in a dream. Still in a prone position, he brought his hands hesitantly up to his face - and remembered the boutique accessory shop on the outskirts of Luthadel. The proprietor had had a case of fine velvet sleep masks, fully equipped with eye outsets for "less botherance to the eye and a one-of-a-kind haute look." Despite the totally non-high fashion eyewear being billed as high fashion (Relevant: "#17 One can always tell a phony by the accents left out of words"), Kip had ponied up the boxings. It's not every day that something expensive and relatively stylish could also be useful.

Second, some annoying people outside his window were yelling and screaming about something. But this wasn't a street fight. This particular disturbance sounded serious. It seemed to be a Something, worth investigating.

Rolling out of bed in the morning was easy now that Kip had a bed, and not his traditional mattress inset in the floor. He stretched, ripping off the sleep mask, then went to the closet and pulled out blue trousers, a gray undershirt, and a maroon tunic. Topping off his outfit with dark brown ash boots, Kip strode to the door, ready for breakfast. 

Let's hope that Herywnna-whatever is better with matching food to my tastebuds than he is matching his belt with his outfit...

---

 

I spent all my available time at present writing this RP (my newest one in quite a while, and my first real attempt at a story), and I haven't really done any serious analysis of the thread. I hope you guys enjoy, and I'll be posting some real analysis later. It's party time.

 

[Ecthelion III]

The man sat in front of his house and observed. He saw person after another approach the messenger's body to weep or pay their respects. There was one in particular who caught his eye, though. He had heard the name Herwynbe, though perhaps that was just a whispering of the mists. He felt a strange connection to Herwynbe; a calling, almost. With great effort, the man stood up and began hobbling toward the corpse. The ground around it was muddy with bootprints, but the body itself, despite the missing spike, looked almost peaceful, floating in its own world.

The man stooped down--he could still do that, at least--and carefully pulled a hair from the ground. Though there was no realistic way to tell who it belonged to, somehow the mists told him all. As soon as his finger touched it, the world flashed before him and he heard one distant, echoing word.

Hope.

It was a weak vision; hair was never a very strong focus. Nevertheless, the man smiled his uncanny half-smile and stood up. This was a person he wanted to meet. Unfortunately, it appeared Herwynbe had already retreated with much of the populace to the manor for the night. The man sighed and resumed his helpless-old-man persona. "Won't somebody please help me get inside before night falls?"

[Jondesu]

3 hours ago, Kipper said:

I spent all my available time at present writing this RP (my newest one in quite a while, and my first real attempt at a story), and I haven't really done any serious analysis of the thread. I hope you guys enjoy, and I'll be posting some real analysis later. It's party time.

Can't imagine there'll be a lot of useful analysis from the role play only so far, though I'll welcome any ideas. More ideas should come in the Day cycle I assume.

Edited January 11, 2017 by Jondesu
Removed incorrect color.

[DrakeMarshall]

The mists swirled around Felix as he advanced silently through the village. Tyrian Falls, was it? At any rate, it appeared to be completely deserted. Felix was still uncertain what to make of the place. On one hand, the Survivor had miraculously saved him from a hoard of Koloss... On the other hand, the silence of this place was eerie. Something felt off.

He passed a desolate bar a sign declared to be The Sixteenth Letter. Odd... For a deserted bar the place looks immaculately clean. Maybe not so deserted after all. Felix walked in the entry to inspect the place, tracking a dark trail of ash across the unnaturally clean wood floor. Huh. Empty indeed. Not even some kind of a note, or a sign to indicate it is closed... Someone must have left here recently in something of a hurry.

"Won't somebody please help me get inside before night falls?"

A voice pierced the mists outside. Felix rushed back out of The Sixteenth Letter towards the voice's source. He was met with a strange sight. An old man, standing in the middle of a clearing over a body... Survivor. The body was mangled almost beyond recognition. Felix had never seen violence like this in the overthrow of Luthadel.

The man was casually standing over the body, inspecting something in his hand... A strand of hair? Judging by the boot prints in the square, not yet covered by ash fall, a crowd had been here recently.

"What happened here?" Felix asked the man with a mix of fascination and horror.

Edited January 10, 2017 by Drake Marshall

[Seonid]

Aww, Hero - I was looking forward to RPing a party at my Manor...

Senn Conrad woke up. For once, it wasn't the middle of the night - he had finally managed to get a good night's sleep. For months - nearly two years, if he were to be honest with himself (a difficult feat in the best of times) - his sleep had been plagued by dreams. Nightmares. Visions. Something, at any rate. A night without such disturbances was not only unusual, it was most welcome. He was dressed and halfway down the stairs before he realized what this meant.

The dreams had stopped. They had stopped before, once. That meant...

It was happening again.

Senn Conrad ran to the window. A dead body lay there, the rain - just now beginning to fall - washing blood from the open wound in his chest. Even from this distance, he knew what that meant. Bindpoint on the heart. Metal pierced through skin and and blood and heart and life and will. The Koloss were coming again. And the Spiked were already here.

Running into his courtyard, he began screaming at the now-pouring sky. "I will not be your slave again!"

Two years ago, in this very town - almost in this very spot, he had been a servant of the Dark God Ruin. The Spike in his soul had granted him power. And for that power, he had done terrible things. Unspeakable things. The blood had run like a river through his fingers, and the skulls had been piled like a throne. And for all of his pain and troubles, his loyalty and service, his blood and sweat and tears and fear and...

For everything - he had given his life, his soul for his God. And his God had murdered him.

A year ago, he had relived that betrayal - the Koloss had come again to Tyrian Falls. He had not realized what that meant until it was too late - his memories had been patchy and foggy, and it was not until the last moments of his life that he had realized that he was reliving it. By then, the servants of Ruin were busy Spiking his life away. His God had thought him so insignificant as to be brushed away by a fly - not even chosen again to destroy this city.

And now? Now he was certain that he was well and truly cursed. He had woken up again from his death, bleary and with memories of a normal day, as if it hadn't happened. It had been the dreams that made him remember. Remember that this had all happened before.

And it was happening again.

But this time, the Dark God would face something he didn't expect. This time, Senn Conrad knew himself and his opponent. And this time, the God that murdered him would find his former servant to be a knife in his innards.

By all that was holy - though Senn was not sure that there was anything holy left in this hellish landscape of ash, fire, and darkness - he would not rest until the servants of the God of Ruin were hunted down.

Or until he was dead, to await the cycle again.

[Arrae]

Just to let everyone know, nowadays blue text is for OOG stuff, not OOC stuff. For example: Did anyone see Moana? Is it worth seeing in theaters? or I live in the PST timezone so please don't lynch me for not responding to something at 3 AM my time. Blue text is supposed to be truthful, since it's not gametalk. If someone says in bluetext that they have to be low activity for this or that reason, it's truthful.

If someone wants to show non-RP talk, purple text would be better. If something is in purple, people won't mix it up with OOG bluetext.

[Hemalurgic Headshot]

Joe pushed up his sleeves and whipped out another batch of ash tacos. After he had commandeered the kitchens by sheer force of will, (the other cooks demanded that he let them sample his food, to prove its worth. That batch wasn't properly cooked yet...) more and more orders had popped up. Soon the counters were covered in ash tacos, and Joe was handing them out as fast as possible. A waiter came by with an empty platter.

"Your meals are hardly substantial, and the lack of variety is becoming boring. This is a respectable place, not whatever pub you've worked in." The waiter scoffed.

Joe raised an eyebrow, and grabbed another ash taco and placed it on the platter.

"How about this: whoever can eat the most ash tacos within one minute gets a special reward from me. That'll be enough excitement for them." Joe grinned mischievously.

The waiter frowned, but walked away with the platter. Joe got back to work, making ash tacos. Insubstantial? Hmmmph! I survived two years on those things, back in the good old days with Pablo and Juan and Diego. If anyone survives that contest with a sound mind, they will surely get a reward from me.

[Metacognition]

1 hour ago, Arraenae said:

Just to let everyone know, nowadays blue text is for OOG stuff, not OOC stuff. For example: Did anyone see Moana? Is it worth seeing in theaters? or I live in the PST timezone so please don't lynch me for not responding to something at 3 AM my time. Blue text is supposed to be truthful, since it's not gametalk. If someone says in bluetext that they have to be low activity for this or that reason, it's truthful.

If someone wants to show non-RP talk, purple text would be better. If something is in purple, people won't mix it up with OOG bluetext.

I would've said something sooner, but I've been away all day. This is correct and it's even in the updated rules or the uses of different colors and how and when to use them. If you need to, you can divide your non-RP stuff from your RP stuff with a horizontal line like so:

---

(to do the horizontal line, it's [hr*] with the asterisk removed, in case you didn't know)

or using purple would be a decent substitute as well. We really want to keep Blue text as a form that people can use for serious situations and the like. For example, if someone has been inactive due to the loss of a family member or something equally horrifying, we want a way to be able to convey that without people wondering or worrying that it might be a gambit on the other person's part. Blue text is sacred for that reason. Thanks. 

Edited January 11, 2017 by Metacognition

[Araris Valerian]

Aralis sat on his porch as the mists began to form. When you were as old as he was, you realized all the superstition about the mists was just foolishness. Actually, evening was the best time of day, since there weren't nearly as many bothersome youngsters out this late. Earlier in the day, some crazy fool had come and said Koloss were marching on the town. That was utter foolishness; Koloss were just as real as the type of mistwraiths that could steal your soul. Aralis would have given him a thump on the head, if it wasn't apparent that somebody had already taken care of that for him. Clearly, somebody in the town was up to no good; that was the only explanation for the man's injuries and his insanity. And when Aralis found out who that was, they would learn that he had enough strength left in him to give more than a deadly beating with his staff.

Edited January 11, 2017 by Araris Valerian

[Bugsy]

     At a sudden call of his name, Annix shook himself out of his reverie, blinking quickly to clear his mind. Interesting, he thought. I swear I was just thinking of something, but now I can’t remember what. It was a feeling he was at least somewhat accustomed to -- as a keeper, he frequently lost memories in exchange for their long term storage -- but it was not an especially pleasant one. Nor was he expecting it, for as far as he knew, he hadn’t stored anything in the last few minutes.

     The voice called out again. "It is good to see another Terrisman in this place. Please, come into the lounge and rest yourself. My master will not mind. Might I get you something to quench your thirst? Some cool water, or fine wine, perhaps? Or if cool is not to your liking, there is a kettle for tea already heated.”

     Knowing the hospitality that all Terris had been trained to provide, Annix new without a doubt that his countryman would soon offer food in addition to the cursory refreshments. Annix had just eaten, but to avoid being rude he began to store his excess calories in a metalmind, readying his appetite. It wouldn’t do to refuse an offer such as this one; there were limited enough opportunities to converse with his countrymen as it was. “Thank you for your generous offer, my fellow person of Terris. I can’t possibly allow you to wait on me, however. I am, after all, your guest. Please, sit down. I will bring whatever refreshments you desire. Tea, perhaps?”

     The 2 conversed in the typical measured behavior of those of Terris decent, but beneath the calmer exterior Annix grew more and more absorbed with the conversation. His host, who had introduced himself as Herwynbe, seemed to have inadvertently let slip something about a cycle or loop that left Annix intrigued. He had learned of religions that believed in a cycle of rebirth, but this seemed more than that. His host had mentioned it only in passing, however, and Annix felt it would be rude to probe too deeply into the beliefs of another. This was especially true because he would be compelled to record these beliefs for posterity, yet could not with good conscience do so. To do so morally would require Herwynbe’s consent, and he could not afford to reveal the truth for long enough to gain it; hiding from the Inquisitors after the assault on the Synod was hard as it was, and he did not want to risk them learning the location of one of the sole surviving Feruchemists. It was difficult to believe his own countryman would turn against him, but logic still demanded prudence.

     Not long later, a villager bounded up to the mansion. “Come quickly! There’s an emergency! Help is needed rapidly!”

     “What’s happened?” asked Annix, trying to make sense of the warnings

     “Some man. He’s hurt. It’s bad. They need help, and herbs.”

     Annix turned to Herwynbe. “What do you know of medicine?” he asked. When Herwynbe responded with a brief "enough", he asked him to run down to the village as quickly as he could. Herwynbe agreed, and when Annix offered to help however he could, Herwynbe asked him to gather a list of herbs that could be of use. After confirming that Annix was familiar with them, the Terrisman ran off. Packing a bag of the requested medicines, relying on some of his stored information, Annix prepared to run. He slipped on a steel ring, and slinging the pack across his shoulders, tapped the metalmind, running down the slope to the village below. He didn’t have much steel, but it was enough to arrive shortly after Herwynbe did. It was still too late. Herwynbe appeared to have just finished speaking. Annix felt compelled to speak up as well. “Every human life is worth the same, and worth saving” he said, quoting the wise words of a long forgotten author. “That said, we must at all costs discover the parties responsible for this terrible injustice, and we must right it. If we must resort to violence to protect the future safety of our village, we must do what is required of us.”

Sorry about the delay for my post! I wound up scrapping my introductory RP but realized I hadn't contributed any yet, so I threw this together as quickly as I could. @Herowannabe, I tried to the best of my abilities to avoid putting words in your mouth, but I was forced to make some inferences. For example, I assumed your character had basic medical knowledge, as otherwise rushing to the scene of the accident would be essentially pointless. If you want me to change anything, though, just let me know  

[Ecthelion III]

@Drake Marshall

"Ah, the fates predicted your arrival. I knew I would be meeting you here, Felix.

"Instead of relating everything to you here, let us make haste toward the manor of Herwynbe. After all, the daylight is fading fast. Dangerous things come out at night, and I can't say my fighting skills are what they used to be, heh heh.

"It appears you're a little late. The congregation has already come and gone. This poor man's corpse is an omen, and I fear we must follow it, and everyone else, down the river of fate." The man paused for a moment, then reached out and pulled a thread off of Felix's cloak. He examined it for a moment, then spoke: "I see you as a man who values the truth. The truth behind these grave events lies with the witnesses--and, perhaps, the killers. To the manor!"

[Madagascar]

Well, I've eaten pretty mutsch everything there ish to eat now. Cooking up shum more delicious mush for my catsh to eat. *pets Joe's rat affectionately* Aww, what a nice kitty. And if there's any mush left over I'll stick it in me old boot to sit fer a while to make more happy juice. I *hiccup* need my happy juice. I can't handle all these Shpiked without it!

Nashty shpiked *hiccup* sneaking around pretending to be nice when what they really want is to shteal me happy juice an' I don't even know what they're going to do to me catsh. Eat them, probably.

*stirs cauldron*

Yeah all right, the lot of me ye have done eaten pretty much all the ingredientsh left in thish town, sho we'll have to get creative. Are you one of those villagesh that gets all high and mighty when an old crone like me pulls out the eye of newt an' whatnot, or can I use me folk recipesh in peesh without bein' dragged to the stake and accused of "cursing everyone what has wronged Matilda"? I'll take that as a "no".

*tosses in some eye of newt*

Watch that cauldron boil and bubble! I'll have that liquor ready in no time at all. Then I'll be nice and prepared for figurin' out which of ye are jusht bad guysh pretending to be all nice to Matilda tomorrow to break an old woman'sh heart. And, most importantly, drunk out of me mind because thish reality is not one I want to face shober.

Edited January 11, 2017 by Madagascar
Grammar

[Dalinar Kholin]

Hmmmm. Koloss. Reginald Canuck hated Koloss. First, they had nothing good to steal. And even if they did, it really wasn't worth getting close enough to make the attempt. Then, there was their lack of intelligence. Imagine trying to teach them about the benifits of a utopian society, equal sharing for everyone (or even the concept of sharing in the first place!). It'd be like trying to do a cartwheel with a peg leg! That made him think for a moment. What was his name, Remart? Ah yes! He had one of those. Now what to give in return? A fine brandy perhaps from Aralis's cellar? Or maybe some exotic spices nicked from a merchant years back? Ah well, he'd decide later. Now...how to steal a peg leg...

[DrakeMarshall]

Felix accompanied the stranger to the manor the town was congregated in. It was an opulent place which looked like it was desperately trying to be one of the great keeps in Luthadel, and making a rather impressive effort at it despite falling short of the Great Houses.

He approached the prominent set of double-doors that he assumed would house the people of Tyrian Falls at the moment. Felix opened the doors with what he hoped was a decisive motion. It was time to get some answers... And maybe offer some too.

Felix was met by a large crowd. They were eating and talking over each other and trying to push the mangled corpse in the square out of their minds. He was aware that several of the hallway were scrutinizing him, the newcomer.

 

A man in traveling clothes stepped through the doorway. He looked mostly unremarkable, neither obviously skaa nor noble. His eyes were a very dark brown and his nose looked like it had been broken and never healed quite right. He had a chipped short-sword on his belt, a patched leather book bag filled to bursting slung over his back, and a large painted silver spear hung prominently around his neck.

Herwynbe the Terrisman approached the stranger. Before he reached him, however, the newcomer addressed the crowd.

 

"Greetings. I am called Felix.

On my arrival, I have heard something to the effect that this town..."--What is it called again...? Oh, that's right--"this town, Tyrian Falls, is very much in danger. What's more, I have seen the danger with my own eyes. A host of big, vicious, bluish creatures I must assume are Koloss, the vile demons of the Lord Ruler himself. A horde that will easily destroy us. Truly, it will take a miracle for us to survive an attack...

 

But I also bring hope. Hope of survival. The mists sent me here for a reason... The Survivor has saved me from those creatures, and now he will save this town. The Survivor will protect us.

We will of coarse need to make sacrifices. The corpse I saw in the square should make that bleedingly obvious."--Felix winces at the unintended pun, then tries to pick up where he left off--"And yet Lord Kelsier was no stranger to sacrifices. After all, he gave his own life to kill the Lord Tyrant.

Even as we will take losses, through this test of our wills, the people of Tyrian Falls will survive! No matter how impossible it seems, no matter what we are up against."--Felix pauses for a moment, trying to remember an appropriate quote from one of his favorite books... His face lights up as he recalls the one he had in mind.

 

"Yes! These are Koloss. Yes, we're probably going to fight them. I don't know what they can do. I don't know why they have returned. But we are here to stop them.

I know you're scared. In Luthadel, when the Survivor rebelled against the Lord Tyrant, we dismissed his vision as delusion. Well, now we see that the Survivor's words were true! Now we see what he told us would come! The Lord Tyrant, who reigned over us as a god of darkness, dethroned!

I have been sent by Lord Kelsier himself to save this town from annihilation! I have seen what the minions of the Lord Tyrant can do; I have seen lives broken by his iron-eyed abominations. I've seen unspeakable oppression, peoples ruined, technologies suppressed. I've seen civilization brought to the trembling edge of eternal darkness.

We will prevent this! Today you fight not for the wealth of a nobleman, or for the whim of a tyrant. Today, you fight for for the survival of all men. You will not fight alone! Trust in what I have seen, trust in my words. If those creatures of the Lord Tyrant have returned, so too will the forces that once defeated him. We will see miracles before this day is out, townsmen! We merely have to be strong enough to deserve them."

 

Felix watched the crowd, which was mostly silent after his abrupt arrival and outburst. Yes, that was the quote I had in mind... Hopefully it will move these people to stop feasting and prepare... Survivor send that there is still time for that before the creatures arrive.

Edited January 11, 2017 by Drake Marshall

[Elenion]

19 hours ago, Herowannabe said:

I even made some awesome banners to include in your signature once you joined the movement.

I've been looking for some method to deal with rampant inactivity for a while now, and this is exactly the type of thing we need. I'm taking a banner and signing up!

 

Cassius arrived at the manor late. The excuse he gave for this was "Sorry... lost track of time," but the real reason was evident by the bright lipstick on his lips. Only Cassius could find romance during a time like this. He sat down at a table and eagerly dug into the meal before him.

You'd better not eat too much or you might lose definition in those impeccable abs of yours.

Cassius promptly pushed his plate aside, then flexed, placing his hands on his stomach to feel his muscle definition.

"Are you okay, sir?" a feminine voice said.

Cassius looked up, but came face to face with a male servant peering down at him. Who was that who had spoken?

"Can you breathe?" The voice sounded feminine all right, but it was definitely that servant whose mouth was moving.

It took Cassius a second to evaluate the speaker, and a second longer to realize what he was talking about. Cassius relaxed his abs, causing him to breathe out sharply. The servant's face flushed with relief.

"I'm sorry, sir. I thought you might have been choking."

"No, but I thank you for you concern." The only thing about Cassius that was choking was his pride, but that was nearly in its death throes.

Trying to regain some of his shattered ego, Cassius addressed a woman sitting near him, "What might your name be, madam?"

She promptly turned and gave him a look that would have rusted copper, and in that motion also revealed the large, fat man sitting behind her. Oops.

Cassius just decided to keep his mouth shut. He'd apparently exhausted everything good that was going to happen today, and now only the bad remained.

[Jondesu]

Remart bent down and scratched his peg leg absently, then covered for the mistake of forgetting the limb was gone by checking the straps that held it in place. It wouldn't come loose easily, but he needed to remove it for cleaning underneath the stub occasionally. He couldn't imagine anyone trying to steal something as worthless to anyone else, but he couldn't exactly afford to lose it either. He tipped to his ale and found it was empty, so he headed off to see what else he could find. He'd followed the group up to this mansion, though he hadn't caught the name of the lord who owned it. Wasn't really important as long as they had food, and he wanted to keep an eye on the others in town. Aha, there was the Terrisman servant! Rust, he'd headed off with another Terrisman. They'd left trays of food out for the guests, so Remart simply carried a platter back to a comfy chair and began munching.

[Metacognition]

Day 1: Supply and Demand


It seemed Herwynbe and his Mysterious Master had things quite in hand. By giving everyone a place of warmth (in the roaring fireplace, the food, and the drink), rather than everyone jumping at shadows, the village seemed to be calming down. Perhaps they’d be able to handle this situation with cool heads and logic rather than suspicion and paranoia. As they ate and drank to their content, the shadows in the night didn’t seem all that scary anymore.

 

…..For now.

 

Unfortunately for some of the Villagers, they had responsibilities and jobs that needed to be seen to.

 

And a shop that needs cleaning Whistler thought as he left the Manor earlier than the rest. He itched to be back home. It wasn’t that other people didn’t keep their own places relatively clean, but whenever he was out, he always felt like he could do better. He typically kept himself in check though, as it was mostly considered rude to tell other people their homes were a pigsty.

 

He smiled at that and started whistling as he made his way back through the mists towards his shop. Besides, he thought. After awhile, I just know my place needs my loving attention again.

 

The town was quiet as Whistler made his way through it. Everyone was either asleep or up at the Manor, trying to keep their fears at bay. There wasn’t even a breeze to swirl the mist around. Perhaps that is why Whistler was able to hear the shuffling and whispered voices and stop whistling before he was noticed.

 

Outside of his shop, there was a group of people huddled together; Whistler couldn’t make out how many. They had a lantern that was mostly shuttered so as to not give themselves away.

 

“Destroy their supplies and their stockpiles and desperation will set in,” said one of the shadowy figures.

 

“They’re going to know it was us,” said another. “If Metras hadn’t turned on us, they’d just think it was their bad luck. Ruin take him!”

 

“There’s nothing we can do about it now,” said the first. “We will carry out the will of our Lord, no matter the risk. Let them do their worst. We will still prevail.”

 

The other figure nodded. “As the Lord Ruin commands. Shall we?” And the figured lifted its hand that held the lantern.

 

The first figured nodded. They unshuttered the lantern and Whistler could make out a glint of metal in one of their ears.

 

Pierced by metal! Whistler exclaimed in his head as he remembered the warning from the man from earlier that day. And it became just as clear what they were planning to do.

 

“No!” Whistler shouted as he went to rush them; trying to stop them before they could throw the lantern and burn down his shop.

He barely made it two steps before something passed in front of his face. He was suddenly flying backwards, a hoop of metal shoving him away from the figures as they glanced around warily. They already had knives in hand, ready to attack.

 

The hoop pulled Whistler back and up until it came to rest on the other side of a nearby chimney.

 

Whistler heard a grunt as someone on the other side of the chimney collapsed against it, breathing hard.

 

“They would’ve killed you,” the new stranger panted between breaths.

 

“But my shop!” Whistler cried.

 

“You can rebuild a shop. You can’t get back your life.”

 

Off in the direction of Whistler’s shop they heard a “Whoosh!” and the mists were lit up with a new bright light. The stranger didn’t hang around. They left as silently as they appeared.

 

Whistler stayed on the rooftop, crying softly as he watched his livelihood burn.

 

---

Night 1 is done and Day 1 begins! You have 48 hours until the end of the turn.

Whistler was attacked, but survived!

I also wanted to let you guys know that you guys have done such an great job with your characters and RP that I’m constantly out of upvotes to be able to give! It’s been amazing so far! Please keep it up! I like having this problem of not enough upvotes!
 

Player List

Spoiler

Assassin In Burgundy: Fuzzy- Self Explanatory (Jaist)
Elenion: Cassius- Ladies Man (Casanova)
Seonid: Senn Conrad- Minor Nobleman (Past Lives)
A Joe in the Bush: Jack Tormander- 4th Wall Breaker (Past Lives)
Jondesu: Remart- Just under 300 lbs. He swears! (Glutton, Handicapped [Leg])
Manukos: Enias- Cleans things….somewhere (Neat)
I_Am_Stick: Stick- Is a Stick? (Forgetful)
Wyrmhero: Wyl Sharpe- Private Detective (Guardsman)
Nyali: Nyah- Orphan (Mistwraiths Ate My Parents)
Herowannabe: Herwynbe- Terris Steward (Terris Steward)
Arinian: Arinian- Mercenary (Forgetful, Past Lives)
Conquestor: Mr. Hoid- Absentminded Prophet (Joker, Forgetful, Prophetic)
Silverblade5: Ryth- Former Guard (Gollum)
Magestar: Carmichael- High Roller (Narcissist, Compulsive Gambler)
Arraenae: Nicki- Noblewomen Researching Inquisitors (Theorist)
Straw: Vomit- Messenger (Mistwraiths Ate My Parents, Gossip)
Doc12: Rin- Metallurgist (Tinker, Neat)
Hemalurgic_Headshot: Joe- Beggar/Former Band Member/Cook? (Useless, Cook)
Araris Valerian: Aralis- Grumpy Elderly Man (Elderly, Cynic, Bearer of a Large Thwacking Staff)
Droughtbringer: Drought- Blind Man (Handicapped [Blind])
Stink: Various- Split Personality Mistborn (Insanity)
Ecthelion III: No Name- Retired Gentleman (Elderly)
Kipper: Kip Pikker- Traveling Bard (Narcissist)
TheMightyLopen: Sothe- Thief (Unlucky)
Madagascar: Matilda- Mad Cat Lady (Drunk)
Dalinar Kholin: Reginald Canuck- Polite Wayne (Kleptomaniac)
Drake Marshall: Felix- Traveller (Survivor Priest, Scholarly)
Bugsy6912: Annix- Terrisman Scholor (Scholor, Terrisman, Hobbyist)
Gamma Fiend: Grumbles- Innkeeper (Insanity)
Little Wilson: Whistler- Shopkeeper (Neat, Compulsive Gambler, Hobbyist)
Sart: Sart- Trickster (High Imperial)
Orlock Tsubodai: Locke Tekiel- Nobleman (Nobleman)
Wonko the Sane: Abundance Org (Organization)
Elbereth: El- Apprentice Apothecary (Hopeful Orphan, Past Lives)

 

Edited January 13, 2017 by Alvron

[Elenion]

"Are you trying to tell me that someone tried to kill your father?"

"What else? They burned his shop to the ground, and with him nearly in it?"

The girl collapsed, sobbing, into Cassius' arms.

"Don't worry darling. I'll find who did this."

 

This kill looks like a fairly-standard (and apparently predictable) N1 Kill Wilson deal, without giving us much to go on. No suspicions. If the day continues like this I'll vote on Conquestor if he hasn't posted yet.

[TheMightyLopen]

The new day brought new problems. Sothe made his way to the dining hall to get some breakfast only to hear that Whistler and his shop had been attacked during the night.

"That's terrible!" he exclaimed. "Unless...were there any witnesses? It could be that he's one of these...these Spiked, and he just burned his own shop to make us think he's innocent! If only I was still living on the streets! I could have been there. Herwynbe must be an accomplice as well, luring us all to his home so they could set up this dastardly plot! How could I have been so foolish to just let a stranger give me something for free?"

------------------------

Those aren't legitimate suspicions, I just get reminded of WGG's every time someone gets saved, especially when it's Wilson.