919 posts in this topic

31 minutes ago, Furamirionind said:

Ford Prefect can be seen hanging up a sign in front of the main city gates:

 

Team 2059 approves. ;)

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25 minutes ago, Steeldancer said:

You cannot kill me
i Am HoPe

Dont worry. I have practice killing hope! : P

5 minutes ago, xinoehp512 said:

Team 2059 approves. ;)

Infinite upvotes to you good sir!

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Posted (edited)

Era hobbled slowly through a besieged Luthadel, grumbling quietly. Koloss outside the gates, and people inside we're going mad. 

And not the good kind of mad. Era considered herself the good kind. Just a little nutty to keep things from getting boring.

But these people...

"Kill each other," she muttered. "Yes, great idea. Kill that guy too. He won't be needed when the Koloss attack."

Era endured the madness because her scissors had broken. Hopefully Executive's Scissors had what she needed.

Edited by Elandera
Autocorrect confuses my tenses
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Wol the messenger left Keep Venture on his way to continue delivering ball invitations for Lord Penrod. In addition to an invitation, Lord Penrod had sent to Elend a complaint against the record of Hadrian support Steeldancer's death, as it was plain to anyone who looked that Hadrian had done no such thing.

As Wol stepped onto a main street, he bumped heavily into a hooded skaa man, sending him sprawling to the ground. "Sorry sir," Wol said as he reached to help the man up. Just then, he noticed a large pair of obsidian shears that had fallen out of the stranger's cloak. "Hmm. This reminds me of the time my great uncle Stewart tried to steal the axe off an Inquisitor. Unfortunately, or perhaps fortunately for him, he was nearly blind and instead grabbed the hat off a nearby skaa. Would you like a hand up?" He reached down to help the stranger up, but the man cursed at Wol, snatched at the shears, and scurried off around a corner. Bother, I didn't get to finish telling him about Stewart.

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On 5/13/2019 at 7:14 PM, Snipexe said:

Snip showed Cadoxi to the door, and said, maybe a little too loudly, “I’m glad you’re happy with your suit, we’ll send it over as soon as possible.” Once the man left, he began to clean up the store. The sun was beginning to set, and his store didn’t serve the kind of patrons who were likely to be out after dark. Especially not in times like these. He folded up the satin, checking carefully moths, and was pleased to note that they had made some good sales. That was good. Maybe he would finally be able to import some velvet from the Eastern Dominance. Rumor had it that there the fabric market was alive and well out there. What he would do to get some velvet in a time like this. Someone knocked on the door, and he started. A customer? At this time? Walking to the door, he saw the young boy from early, holding a message. He grabbed the message, gave the boy another boxing, and read it. It was in the affirmative, and listed a time for them to come. It was before Cadoxi would make his next shipment. He opened the door again, looking for the boy. He was gone. By the ash, he would need to deliver a note to Cadoxi, but how? Suddenly he turned to Dal. No, too risky. The lad was a hard worker, and good with the fabric, but a little too nosy for his own good. He sighed, then turned to his assistant. “Sorry about making you run the shop for so long, you know how it is with these guardsmen. How did everything go?”

@xinoehp512

Dedne raised his eyes. "Hmm? Oh, things went well. Someone stole some scissors, but otherwise nothing happened."

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As the owl flew into the next room, a brick suddenly flew through the window of the Executive’s Scissors. A cloaked figure jumped into the shop, knocking Snip to the ground. Snip let out a groan as he hit, watching in pain as the thief grabbed 3 pairs of his shears. “No” he yelled, trying to gesture to Devon to stop him, but the man just stood there. The thief then jumped out the window, causing the mist to come into the shop. Snip took a few more second to catch his breath, then stood up, grabbing a pair of giant sewing needles reserved for leather work, and jumped out the window in pursuit of the thief. As his feet his the misty ground, he whirled, looking for the direction the figure had fled. Only the tiny pit-pater retreating into the distance was evidence of the thief’s passing, but it was enough. Snip launched into a dash, following the figure.

 

@Fifth Scholar I guess?

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I should probably inform everyone now that my activity in the first 48 hours will be limited. I'm being sent to an 8+ hour training both Thursday and Friday, with a 3-hour round trip drive each day. I probably won't have much time for much else than sleeping. 

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The owl, seeing the break in, was torn between his owners wishes to explore the shop a d his own curiosity. *Curiosity killed the cat, but it was my curiosity of what cat tasted like* he thought to himself. He flew after the cloaked figure

 

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for some reason or another, I thought this game began today... oh well.

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33 minutes ago, Steeldancer said:

for some reason or another, I thought this game began today... oh well.

Confirmed elim.

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11 hours ago, Snipexe said:

As the owl flew into the next room, a brick suddenly flew through the window of the Executive’s Scissors. A cloaked figure jumped into the shop, knocking Snip to the ground. Snip let out a groan as he hit, watching in pain as the thief grabbed 3 pairs of his shears. “No” he yelled, trying to gesture to Devon to stop him, but the man just stood there. The thief then jumped out the window, causing the mist to come into the shop. Snip took a few more second to catch his breath, then stood up, grabbing a pair of giant sewing needles reserved for leather work, and jumped out the window in pursuit of the thief. As his feet his the misty ground, he whirled, looking for the direction the figure had fled. Only the tiny pit-pater retreating into the distance was evidence of the thief’s passing, but it was enough. Snip launched into a dash, following the figure.

 

@Fifth Scholar I guess?

Sure. :P 

Lerdar grinned as the bumbling manager began to pursue him. One of his first heists had involved long chases such as this one; experience had only bolstered his endurance and speed in such situations; he could always outrun pursuit. It was particularly good in this case, as a quick grab of truly valuable merchandise would sell well on the Market in a month or two, and if he evaded pursuit here he could anticipate significant profit. 

The man’s cries of “thief!” were growing increasingly faint, and Lerdar chanced a glance over his shoulder. The manager was but a speck in the distance. Perfect; he knew just how to lose him. Swerving sharply into a darker alleyway, keeping his hold on the scissors, he began a series of rapid turns and cuts into ever denser networks of narrow streets. As he went, he slowed his pace, assuming an unaffected gait after pausing for a moment in a deserted alley to tuck the scissors into his sleeves, which held several large yet unobtrusive compartments. Blending back with the crowds on a wider and busier street, he grinned again. Today was going well. 

Glancing up, a movement in the skies above the alleyway caught his eye. The flicker of a shadow; a small object which slammed into the pavement. A Coinshot. Lerdar cursed. If that fool merchant had Coinshots after him, this was going to become a lot harder. Feigning interest in a hawker’s cries, he swerved in the crowd, then ducked into the mouth of a particularly dark alleyway. 

A large fist came swinging from behind the stoneworked arch which marked the beginning of the street, and Lerdar barely dodged, pivoting to face his attacker and swiftly drawing out the newly sharpened shears he had taken. Of all the corridors to stumble into...

A sharp pain in the back of his head; darkness. 


“Wake up, fool,” a voice muttered. 

“Wanna...rest...” Lerdar’s voice sounded distant even to his ears. 

“WAKE UP!” The sharp cry jolted him to his senses, and he sprang up off the cot, still rubbing his eyes. Was it really morning? His exhaustion showed no signs of abating, so Lerdar gave his head a vigorous shake, and winced. His skull throbbed in the back. The man who had woken him gave a thin smile. 

“Hurts, doesn’t it? Good. You deserve some pain after what you put me through.”

“What do you mean? Where are my scissors?” Lerdar mumbled, then shot his hand to his mouth. Was he really that tired, to expose himself like that? 

“Your scissors?” came the amused reply. “Hardly. But the men who subdued you took all three pairs. They’re about to regret that decision, as I believe a witness to your theft called one of Venture’s policing units. They’ll likely be blamed for your crime, and you’ll get off. But”—at this point the man had walked over and began stabbing Lerdar’s chest with his finger—“What am I going to do with you?” 

Lerdar was silent. Whoever this was, they would speak in course. Contact the authorities eventually. He could expect no less. So he clamped his mouth shut, and looked defiantly at the man opposite him. He just sighed. 

“If I truly wanted a reward, I’d have turned you in by now. Clearly your head still isn’t working after that hit you took. Now listen. I don’t want anything except you. The skills you demonstrated today are extraordinary, if turned to more noble pursuits. Come, allow me to show you a greater purpose...” 


@Snipexe, a full policing force fully equipped with Allomancers and simple citizens is at your disposal to reclaim the scissors from the three men. (One of them is a Thug, though.)

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Posted (edited)

Snip let out a sigh as the steps faded into the distance. Overhead that ash cursed owl still flew, as if to rub it in. A thief at the worst possible time, when the Executive/s Scissors was barely staying afloat. He put his hands to sides and caught his breath, forcing down the bubbling rage. He needed to focus, put things in perspective. There were ways to deal with thieves, even with Elend in power. He took a deep breath, air coming in and out, then another. He began the walk back to his shop in the darkness, only the occasional torch to guide his way. The mist felt wet against his skin, cool and reassuring. He had once been taught that they were a false god, remnant of the days before the Ascension, but with the Lord Ruler gone, even false gods would do. He was not one of the accursed suviorists, no. He wasn't about to follow a religion that was founded practically yesterday. As he approached his shop, light from the broken window casting shadows on his face, he began to formulate a plan. The enforcement would clearly be the most effective solution to the thief. While they didn't quite have the artistry of coinshot flying through the night, searching for answers, they were far more effective. But, his line of thinking paused, they were also corrupt. The probably of the trail "going cold" in the middle of the investigation, was high enough that he would need another avenue of attack, one slightly less...above the law. Surely Cadoxi would have a contact in the Venture guard of a Thug for hire. Smiling, he took his old note out of pockets, crumpled it up and threw it to the side outside the shop, preparing to draft a far different note. 

@Lumgol/ @Coop772

The note says:

Quote

The contact says tomorrow, meet at the Survivor's Square, 10:00 sharp.

 

Edited by Snipexe
Weird word choice
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Meanwhile, Cadoxi finished mounting the wooden portion onto the 15th breastplate.

If there were no coin shots or lurches, metal would be much better. But that thought didn't so much as cross Cadoxi's mind because he never knew anything of life outside Scadrial. 

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I'm gonna make some predictions. 
A. I'm going to be lynched promptly day 1.
B. If I survive, I'll be killed by the elims night 1. 
C. If I somehow survive all of that, well... if I'm not the SK, the SK will murder me to make a point. 
D. If I survive, well, clearly it's suspicious, and I'll be dead day 2. WHEEEEE. 

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2 hours ago, Steeldancer said:

I'm gonna make some predictions. 
A. I'm going to be lynched promptly day 1.
B. If I survive, I'll be killed by the elims night 1. 
C. If I somehow survive all of that, well... if I'm not the SK, the SK will murder me to make a point. 
D. If I survive, well, clearly it's suspicious, and I'll be dead day 2. WHEEEEE. 

I'm going to make a prediction
When the game actually starts, most people will ignore the fact that they were all trying to kill you before the game started, and will only kill people they find suspicious

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3 minutes ago, Cadmium Compounder said:

I'm going to make a prediction
When the game actually starts, most people will ignore the fact that they were all trying to kill you before the game started, and will only kill people they find suspicious

Well, someone has to get lynched day one, and it's usually kinda a wild guess. And, elim kills can often be motivated by fear. I'm just being realistic lol. 
Although... there is a distinct chance that this will be the last SE game I play. Not being killed day 1 would be nice. 

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A Letter Detailing That Which Should Be Detailed, And Also That Which Should Not

Document authored by Jumae II

Edited by Jumae II

Written by Jumae II

 

If you are reading this, do not question how it got into your hands. Or if you do, you can come up with your own answer and it might as well be true. Attached to a knife that went into your desk? Cliche, but probable. Attached to a flying elephant that has ruined your property? Not cliche, equally probable. Either way, it is best to assume that I am both omniscient and omnipotent, and I like to think of myself as omnibenevolent but some people disagree, what can you do? As for if me being all three would make me somewhat of a god, I personally have a more ambitious aim than that, of which I cannot say (or yet know of).

What is the point of this document, of which we are still possibly in the intro of? That is for future Jumae II to know, and present Jumae II to stumble through. We don’t talk about past Jumae II, he went through a bit of a phase that one time. Anyway, I hope everyone reading this is going to respond, you can just leave a message lying around somewhere and I can pick it up, perks of the family, eh?

I’ve put a fair few question marks in this document so far, and for that I apologise. Again, past Jumae II does things which the rest doesn’t want to talk about. That won’t happen again. Neither will long sentences. Verbosity is waste. Succinct is viable. Other 3 word phrases. But not that one. Maybe we should move on from this.

Let’s try this whole purpose thing again. My name is Jumae II - which you should know by now, or preferably before this - and I have not exactly come here willingly. Very dramatic, I know. My aim is to find the cause of the event that has dragged me to this specific world, so if anyone has any information then I would very much appreciate it, and will give you priority on any mail. Other details that should be detailed are that my favourite colour is Ozhun, and also that I have not seen Ozhun in years so please send me some if possible. If you don’t know what it is, that’s more your loss than mine, but I mourn it all the same.

 

Farewell For Now Through This Document

Jumae II

PS: This note is going out to everyone, so if at any point you feel called out, get some help.

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Makail suddenly realized why the river was important. It was never to be the subject of his project, but the conclusion! Normally, Makail let fate decide how his projects ended, but this time he would use the constant of the River Channerel to sweep both the bodies and his project away. A symbolic and poignant conclusion--the makings of a masterpiece!

Filled with determination, Makail stood and walked away from the river. He was probably going to kill some people.

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1 hour ago, STINK said:

A Letter Detailing That Which Should Be Detailed, And Also That Which Should Not

Document authored by Jumae II

Edited by Jumae II

Written by Jumae II

 

If you are reading this, do not question how it got into your hands. Or if you do, you can come up with your own answer and it might as well be true. Attached to a knife that went into your desk? Cliche, but probable. Attached to a flying elephant that has ruined your property? Not cliche, equally probable. Either way, it is best to assume that I am both omniscient and omnipotent, and I like to think of myself as omnibenevolent but some people disagree, what can you do? As for if me being all three would make me somewhat of a god, I personally have a more ambitious aim than that, of which I cannot say (or yet know of).

What is the point of this document, of which we are still possibly in the intro of? That is for future Jumae II to know, and present Jumae II to stumble through. We don’t talk about past Jumae II, he went through a bit of a phase that one time. Anyway, I hope everyone reading this is going to respond, you can just leave a message lying around somewhere and I can pick it up, perks of the family, eh?

I’ve put a fair few question marks in this document so far, and for that I apologise. Again, past Jumae II does things which the rest doesn’t want to talk about. That won’t happen again. Neither will long sentences. Verbosity is waste. Succinct is viable. Other 3 word phrases. But not that one. Maybe we should move on from this.

Let’s try this whole purpose thing again. My name is Jumae II - which you should know by now, or preferably before this - and I have not exactly come here willingly. Very dramatic, I know. My aim is to find the cause of the event that has dragged me to this specific world, so if anyone has any information then I would very much appreciate it, and will give you priority on any mail. Other details that should be detailed are that my favourite colour is Ozhun, and also that I have not seen Ozhun in years so please send me some if possible. If you don’t know what it is, that’s more your loss than mine, but I mourn it all the same.

 

Farewell For Now Through This Document

Jumae II

PS: This note is going out to everyone, so if at any point you feel called out, get some help.

https://www.linkedin.com/pub/dir/Ozhun/+

you're welcome.

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Zane, in his new body, crept over to the meeting place where he had told Vin to meet him. She wouldn't be here yet, obviously. But he could leave a note detailing what had happened, in a spot where he knew she would look. There he described that he had switched bodies, and that she should be careful about who she killed. He also indicated that some odd elements were in the city, and that she should be on her toes. He also described what he looked like, so she wouldn't accidentally attack him, and gave a passcode he would give to indicate his identity. 

That done, he crept away. He had found some metals, and intended to attempt to burn small doses of each metal to determine whether he had any powers in this body. But he would have to do that in a safe spot, preferably a known coppercloud den, where he wouldn't be detected by rogue inquisitors or something. 
As he walked to one of the areas he knew had dens, he noticed something unusual on the ground. Glass daggers? Was it just fate? 
He picked them up, examining them. They must have been dropped by another mistborn in the city or something. Or even just a coinshot. Well, no matter. 
He picked them up and put them in his belt, feeling a bit more prepared to take on the city once again. He breathed in, and out. And then he cracked his knuckles. 
Let the games begin, one last time. 

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The Night is over. Give me an hour or so to finalise results, PMs, and writeups and I’ll get this show on the road :) Good luck to all. 

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Posted (edited)

Vin rolled to a stop on the ash covered roof of the quilt store. She scanned the buildings across the street, looking for any sign of people watching the establishment. Zane landed behind her a heartbeat later. "Anything?"

"No metal pulses, no shouts of alarm, nothing from inside the building, nothing moving in the other buildings."

The two Mistborn stayed still for a moment longer, before slowly untensing. Vin turned back to Zane, who was just now putting his knives away, even as he continued to scan the buildings they had steeljumped from. "Kelsier took me to this place a few times. We'll be able to get all the supplies we need for the trek to Terris here. Or at least order them." For a quilt store, Reap What You Sew had a wide variety of goods and services. "There is a back door that we can knock at."

Zane nodded, and jumped from the roof. Vin flared her bronze and felt him flare pewter to stick the landing, even through his coppercloud. She flared pewter as well and jumped from the middle of the roof all the way over to the wall of the far building, bouncing off in a controlled spring, landing next to Zane at the back door. He had his ear pressed up against the thick wood and was now burning Tin. She did the same.

"Next time you come in for shears, I'll tell you if my contact is agreeable to the deal."

Vin extinguished her tin. It wasn't her business. "We should knock."

Zane glanced at her, and she almost stepped back. The grin on his face was malevolent. "You didn't hear the first part, did you?"

She shook her head.

"The contact is one of Cett's Infiltrators, still in the city, looking to offload weapons."

Vin shivered. "We can't leave then. I won't leave the city until Elend is safe."

He turned fully to face her, still grinning. "I agree. His contact is either the Swordsman or the Count, and both are exceptionally competent men. Both escaped me. I was going to hunt them down later, but if they were foolhardy enough to return, then I will remind them why they fled in the first place."

Vin burned Tin again and listened. Someone light of foot was fleeing the building. "Messenger boy is leaving. We should follow." The two Mistborn burned steel and took to the sky.

____________________________________________________________________________

"I couldn't see anything." Zane hissed, unconsciously spinning one of his daggers in his hand. "He didn't open the door enough."

"I saw the gleam of a sword." Vin looked at the rest of the windows on the red house. They were laying on the roof of the Tormander Hotel across the street and a few doors down from the Cett's house. It had a roof that sloped backwards to allow ash to run off, and no way on or off except through allomantic means. It made an ideal place to stake out their target. "Did the Count use a sword?"

"No, he was a powerful Lurcher." Zane removed a coin from his pouch, and balanced it on the edge of the roof, and steelpushed it past the red house. It moved in a straight line, until it hit the building next to the red house. No sounds of panic came from either place. "So, it's the Swordsman, Fynn Seidel."

The door creaked open again, and both Mistborn peered over the ledge. A note and some boxings slipped out into the hands of the messenger boy. They watched as the boy ran from the building, back the way he had come. “You’re better with Zinc and Brass. Is he alone?”

Vin carefully burned Brass, soothing the occupants of the building. She felt only one calm down. “Only one unsmoked. Did they have a smoker with them?” Zane shook his head slowly. “Then perhaps only Fynn returned to the city.”

Zane rose a bit higher, tracking the route the messenger boy was taking at the far end of the street. “The two risked their lives to protect each other. They would not split up.” Apparently satisfied, he ducked back down behind the roof. “We’ll have to wait and see who else he sends messages to.” He slid backwards into a more comfortable position and settled down to wait.

_____________________________________________

The door cracked open and Vin tensed, flaring all her muscles at once. She carefully peeked over the roof. Through the misty night, she could see Fynn standing just inside his open door with a crossbow. He appeared to be scanning the rooftops and windows for anyone watching him. Her ashen hair covered her face, rendering her invisible in the misty night air. How long had it been? She had napped for at least two hours, and Zane had now been asleep for one. Before that they had waited at least three hours, but Fynn was finally stepping out the door. Without moving her head, she reached out and laid a hand on Zane’s arm. Immediately, she was yanked backwards, and Zane was on top of her, eyes alight with sudden terror and rage. Instinctively, she steel pushed on the metals in his belt, throwing him off her. He landed on the far side of the roof in a crouch and shook his head.

“Sorry.” He looked around, avoiding her. “I’m used to people trying to kill me in my sleep, I won’t do that again.”

Vin wished she could sooth her own beating heart. Was she making the right choice? Was she choosing the right man? There was still time to think on that. They were still here. “We’ll talk later. Fynn is on the move.”

They peered over the roof again. The door was closed, and Fynn was halfway along the street. They burned pewter and jumped ahead of him. One of them keeping abreast, and one preceding him, as he wound his way through the streets to the Old Wall district. They settled on an abandoned cannery as he approached a pair of Skaa in the road ahead. “That’s a Thieving gang.” Vin scanned the rooftops around them as she whispered. “I recognize those two from a meeting I had with Cammon a long time ago. There will be more.”

Zane scowled. “He just gave them a code. They’re going to take him to where Conrad and the Lekals are. Another hive of spiders has grown.”

The creak of wood was the only warning they got, but the half second sound was more than enough. Both Mistborn Ironpulled themselves in opposite directions as a wooden bolt buried itself in the stone where Zane’s head had been.

“Two Coinshots on Granny’s Cannery! Douse the lights!” The call came from the same direction as the bolt, and Vin spun that way as she grabbed onto the wall. She could see the archer now, reloading his bow behind another man with a dueling cane. The torches on the street went out, and Vin flared Tin to compensate. A hail of coins shot towards the pair but were suddenly pulled off course towards the street below. Vin pushed off the iron lantern hook in the wall, rising to get a better vantage.

As she flew skyward, she spotted a man with a thick wooden shield staring up at where Zane was. She recognized him from Elend’s Assembly meetings. Count Senn Conrad. Another crossbow bolt whistled through the air at her. Actually *whistled*, practically screeching that it was there as it came for her. She cursed as she extinguished her steelpush and her Tin. That bolt was meant to make as shrill a noise as possible. As it passed above her, she pushed off the coins embedded in the Count’s shield, and rocketed backwards, away from the fight. She pushed twice more, until she was out of aim of any of the archers. She heard two more whistles and a cry of agony before Zane joined her.

He was bleeding from his hip, where it looked like he had torn out a bolt. “I killed the man who got me, but he did get me first.” He scowled and pressed down on the wound. “Those men are far too well trained.”

“We’ll have to come back later, when they don’t know we’re here.” Vin tore one of the tassels from her mistcloak and wrapped it around the wound. “So another Noble is making a play for the city. We’ll have to kill them all.”

Zane grinned, a dark, bloody grin that promised all sorts of things. “I’ll have to write another song about it.”


A shadow slipped between the eaves of the quilt shop, smiling. He saw the two Mistborn—of course, they could not see him. Would not see him, yet. He narrowed his insubstantial eyes, glaring at Zane. He would need to die. For Vin’s sake. 


Day 1 has begun! It will end at 9:00 PM EDT on Saturday 18 May. 

A playerlist has been finalised and all role PMs should be out. Please PM me if you did not get yours. 

There will be a lynch today. There is no vote minimum for a lynch.

Player List: 

Spoiler

1. Mailliw73 as Laila, a noblewoman whose prententiousness is rivaled only by her disdain for Elend

2. Elandera as Era, an old Terriswoman too stubborn to evacuate a ruined city

3. Lumgol as Aname Plees, a skaa representative of Elend wanting to fight Lekal

4. Furamirionind as Ford Prefect, a hidden, delusional researcher and author

6. Snipexe as Snip, a fabric cutter in the local quilt chain, Reap What You Sew

7. Araris Valerian as Hadrian Penrod, a versatile man with a versatile definition of mortality

8. Xinoehp512 as Dedne, a depressed man working long hours at Reap What You Sew

9. Young Bard as Lethir, a man with self-confidence and an axe to grind

10. Devotary of Spontaneity as Varuun, a Kandra given a second chance at accomplishing her goals

11. Arraenae as Needa Naime, a slightly oblivious girl who loves her mother 

12. Steeldancer as Zane the Mad, who likes singing about killing and death (normal?)

13. Ark1002 as Abe, a skaa who knows his place within the established order of things

14. Rathmaskal as Doma, a recluse who spends her life making small wooden statues

15. Cadmium Compounder as Cadoxi, an armourer from House Venture fleeing Straff’s displeasure

16. Hemalurgic Headshot as Makail, an unemployed skaa enjoying his free lifestyle

17. STINK as Jumae II, a colourful and enigmatic character

18. _Stick_ as Astick, an old man with a wooden leg that secretly contains vials of metal

19. Straw as Oramen Hausk, a minor noble reduced to begging in the aftermath of the Lord Ruler’s fall

20. Adavantos as Ixiom Renaud, who believes that no supposition should be held as axiomatic

21. Coop772 as Heer Kilyal II, a snowy owl struggling to escape extinction 

22. Randuir as De’Tess, a Kandra given a second opportunity

 

Edited by Fifth Scholar
Phrasing at 10 PM = bad
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Posted (edited)

Elend

No, stop it Laila. You can’t just lynch him because of his haircut. Ugh, I know, but I hate when I have to correct myself. That haircut is atrocious though.

Elend

Edited by Mailliw73
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Posted (edited)

Zane attempted to burn a shred of atium he had gotten his hands on. If he could burn this, it would indicate he was a mistborn. 

Nothing happened. 

Zane cursed, although hoping this random body would be a mistborn had been a long shot indeed. Well, he would just have to make do. 

——————

so, it appears I’m not a mistborn today :(stupid RNG. Be warned Zane and Vin, you have a reputation to live up to, and I know how you think. I’ll still RP as crazy Zane though. Guess I’ll get the poke votes started with hemalurgic headshot . You were evil last time, and as I remember it, I waited entirely too long to kill you. Clearly there are no logical fallacies in rectifying that fact in the rerun. 

As I didn’t end up as a serial killer, my killer instincts have turned entirely to focusing on who they could actually be. So, that’s likely what most of my analysis will be- whether people could be the serial killer. Can’t let someone else upstage me, no matter how petty that might be. 

Edited by Steeldancer
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The entire writerup basically had me feeling like the cabbage merchant

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