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Lita stood at the street corner where the old man had told his story, sipping a little glass of honey mead. She rested her back against the wall of a small shop that had closed for the festivities, shades drawn over the windows. He'd been one of the better story-tellers that she'd seen during a Festival; she was still puzzling out how he'd gotten the cremling into the black sand. Fooling a crowd of average people was easy, but fooling a Tineye was art

She'd especially liked the bit with the monocle; Mac had only ever worn the thing once or twice, but it suited him so well. The first time she'd ever seen him, she thought he looked just like an Elendel banker with his bowler hat and his starched collar, a cane tucked under his arm. He'd ordered something ridiculous at the tavern, something like sweetened milk or perhaps that fizzy syrup-water that some people liked so well in this city. It was all so absurd that she'd become instantly curious. And that curiosity had led her here.

There was still a small pang in her chest when she thought about him, a grief that the people of this city could not understand. For all the grand talk of the old gods and the making of the world, at least some of the story was true. There really had been a man named Mac who had gone into the Alleys seeking what knowledge he could find. He had been the Spymaster in truth, and Lita had been one of his spies. And now he was gone. This city had a Spymistress, now.

A tiny twitch in her left sleeve brought her back into the present moment, and Lita quickly finished the rest of her drink before slipping out a small sketchpad and a pen. She leaned further back against the wall, green eyes bright and keen behind her golden mask, and took the pen in her right hand as if to plan a rendering of the festival before her. She made the occasional vague sketch, actually doing her best to lay out the scene, but she was practicing a different kind of art. The pen moved in her fingers, and she twirled it in turn. To anyone else, she seemed a rich young woman with mediocre sketching talent. In truth, she was sorting through dozens of messages from all over the city.

Today was one of the busiest of the entire year for her Department, a day tailor-made for an army of spies to gather reconnaissance, observe the city en masse, and check up on anyone who might cause trouble. And to keep some of the other departments under control. Lita grimaced and sent word across town for someone to watch out for anyone from R&D who had decided to go wandering outside the Alleys for "free samples." She'd already caught one attempting to sneak out one of the exit points. He'd been decidedly belligerent, even after she'd explained - for what felt like the hundredth time - that this is why they had an Acquisitions Department.  

'But will they know what to look for?' He'd fretted, flapping four sets of clawed hands in obvious dismay. Lita had finally managed to send him on his way after threatening to bring in the head of the Acquisitions Department, but she couldn't help but feel as though her word should have been enough. She was a rusting department Head too, now. Senzho wouldn't have given Mac nearly as much lip - though she supposed that he had plenty to spare. Didn't these people understand that they were part of a secret organization that had to remain secret in order to function? It may have been the Festival of Rebirth, but there was a big difference between costumes and masks and a man in a bloody lab coat with two extra arms and a drool problem. Most people were alarmingly unobservant, but even the dumbest would notice that.

Lita sent one last message to her army of underlings, then signed off for the next few hours. They had their orders, and they knew what to do with them. She flipped her sketchbook closed and slid it into a pocket, slipping her pen back into her sleeve. Lita smoothed the front of her golden dress, cut somewhere in the neighborhood of a Rosharan havah, but without that absurd safety sleeve. By the Lonely God, a woman was born with two hands, it was hardly some great mystery what was beneath the rusting sleeve now was it? Lita checked the security of the hairpiece pinned at the base of her auburn bun, careful not to poke herself on the radiating golden spokes, and smiled. She'd allowed herself a little more extravagance this year, and why not? She'd seen plenty of people dressed as the Coin already. She deserved a little leniency after a life spent skulking and sneaking. At least, that's what she'd told herself when she'd ordered the tailor to cut a rather generous slit up the right thigh.

With a smirk, she pushed herself off the wall and began to move with the thronging crowd, her Tin pitched low and her Copperminds ready to log any information she might come across. Mac had entrusted her with this city, and she intended to make him proud. Maybe the gods had roamed this world once, long ago. Maybe the Lonely God and the Stranger and the Mother of Nightmare had indeed shaped this place of their own design, back in the dusts of millennia. But there was one part of the story that was decidedly true - there was, indeed, something lurking in the blackened shadows of this city's Alleys, and it was very much awake. Lita smiled and felt the edges of her grin sharpen just a little.

It was time to let this city mingle with their favorite legend, and begin the shadow-work of secrets.

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"Resh come on, we're going to miss the whole celebration!"

Resh didn't look up from the notes he was writing. "Lucas, I'm already dressed, I just have to finish this paragraph of translation. 20 minutes, tops." He turned the metal plate he was studying over in one gloved hand, making notes in his lab journal about the markings. It was an unknown metal that was warped and twisted by some force long ago. On its surface he could make out a partial engraving. It was some kind of diagram with notes in a language that, as far as he knew, no one spoke. The diagram seemed to be anatomical in nature, but due to the incomplete nature of the sample he couldn't be positive what it was for. He was still cracking the code, gleaning answers piece by piece from various samples of text that he had either found or purchased from oddities shops. He noticed a marking he'd missed on the partial diagram and made a note. "You know, it'd go faster if you'd help me with the translation."

Lucas sighed, scratching at the wiry beard which framed his face, contrasting with his shaved head. He was dressed in a costume for the festivities, the Coin, which included a circular mask with symbols on it's face, painted to look like gold. It currently sat pushed up on his head to show his face, and he frowned at his friend. "You're trying to distract me, but I won't be taken in. If I'm not hounding you to hurry up and leave we'll be here all night. Plus," he grimaced at a sudden thought, "I don't want to be responsible for keeping Victoria waiting. When did you say we'd meet her?"

Reshilore looked up with a start, almost dropping the artifact. He glanced at the clock on the wall and swore, depositing the metal piece in a sealed container and grabbing his mask off the workbench. "I told her we'd be at the fountain at 7." Lucas raised his eyebrows, "Resh, that was thirty minutes ago." "Which is why we should hurry." Resh shot back as he pulled on his costume, the dark robe and somber mask of the Lonely God. They ran out the door.

A few minutes later they arrived at the predetermined place, huffing and out of breath. "Do you see her?" Lucas huffed, breathing hard, "Dark and deep, but this is why I went into the academia. I'm not cut out for running." Resh looked around, panting for breath, "No, I think we're good." He leaned on the fountain, and looked up into a dark raven mask. The woman wearing it was of average height, with dark curly hair and a lean build. She wore one of the many variations of the Mother of Monsters masks, but even though it obscured her face, then sense of irritation was palpable. 

"Out for some exercise are we?" Resh and Lucas gulped, glancing at each other with worry. Lucas plastered a sickly smile on his face and tried to answer between breaths, "Oh you know, just getting warmed up the the festival. You know that a little running can get the body ready for prolonged activity when..." "Shut up, Luke." The woman said flatly. Lucas did exactly that and backed up a little bit. Resh tried to put on his most innocent smile, "H-hey, Vic. Sorry we're a bit late..."

"A bit late?!" She cut him off, "Resh, a bit late is ten minutes, I've been here for forty-five! I've needed a restroom for the last twenty!" Resh looked away awkwardly. "Sorry, I was just finishing, uh, some chores. You know,  folding some laundry, washing my dishes, that sort of thing." Vic gave him a flat look that could be felt through the mask, "Laundry?" Resh tried to mumble a response, but there was nothing he could say that would make his previous statement plausible. He hated doing his laundry. "I was doing some work." he sighed, "I found a section I missed in my initial sweep of the new piece and lost track of time. I'm really sorry, Victoria."

Victoria pushed her mask up, revealing her tan complexion and startling green eyes. She skewered Resh with her glare for a moment longer, but the corner of her mouth quicker up. "Fine, I'll let you both survive for now, but you owe me offerings of repentance." Lucas breathed a sigh of relief and shook his head, "For the record, I tried to get us here on time." Resh gave him a playful shove, "Oh you shut up." He turned back to Vic and grinned. "So you aren't going to kill me?" Vic rolled her eyes and stepped forward, "That depends on your offerings." He smiled and he kissed her lightly on the cheek. She returned his smile, "That's a start, but I was thinking something a bit more edible." Lucas bowed low, in mock chivalry,  "Your wish is our command, oh high Lady Victoria. I belive I know where we can find a vendor that makes the juiciest bao in the whole city." Victoria cocked an eyebrow at him in mock skepticism, "I'll believe it when I taste it. And that's Mother of Monsters to you. Also, I wasn't joking about needing to relieve myself, so your first offering will be finding me a restroom post haste."

They laughed and walked off, towards the sounds and the smells of the festival. But unseen by them, a figure hidden in shadow watched in silence. It followed their path with its head, then stepped back into the darkness of the alley behind it.

Edited by Fatebreaker
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Kumiko and KanMien walked down the streets together, looking at the different activities. KanMien looked at Kumiko. Their costumes were the same as last year, and she had to admit neither of them had put too much effort into it, instead mainly relying on the fact their outfits were unusual enough to begin with that nobody would question them. Kumiko had simply put on a variation on the dress she normally wore, though according to her it had a different name, and was supposed to be worn at festivals, though KanMien still wondered what the exact difference was. She was even still wearing that strange sword of hers, though KanMien highly doubted that people would actually wear swords to those festivals. Other than that, she had simply manifested her tail and ears, and put on a bright white and red mask resembling a fox, though KanMien again didn't really understand what the purpose of the mask's ears were when you had fox ears yourself.
Meanwhile, KanMien wore an outfit similar to what you might see from someone from the Roughs in Scandrial, cloth covering the lower part of her face while a hat obscured the upper part, completed by the two heavy revolvers on her sides and a rifle on her back. Of course, in her case the entire outfit wasn't actually a costume, with her instead wearing the outfit she used back when they were all still roaming around Scandrial back in the day, having grabbed it out of the closet because she wasn't interested in spending the time to acquire an actual costume.

Together the two of them moved through the crowd, walking together in a comfortable silence that somehow formed a nice contrast to all the other noise around them. Eventually they visited a stand to buy some snacks, both of them getting a sugared apple, after which Kumiko spent a while complaining about the lack of certain foods KanMien wasn't certain she would be able to pronounce, let alone remember for more than two seconds. Eventually they started walking again, wondering about what the next year would bring. Probably some sort of calamity, going by the usual pattern in this city.

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Cassie was lost. 

Large crowds had never been her strong suit, much less a citywide party. It had been all her customers talked about for weeks, and one particularly feisty Rioter had reminded her of the date on every visit for months on end. She did have to admit, it made good business. People came here to show off, flaring their metals like there was no tomorrow. But there was a tomorrow, where they would need to stock up the metals they had burned or lost.

Cassie shuddered slightly, reaching for her sleeved arm. Good business meant a lot of money, but it also meant a lot of Soulcasting. Too much to be healthy.

Cassie looked around again, perking up from her spot leaning on a building. People just seemed to be walking around chatting, while one individual appeared to be bouncing around handing people swords. They all wore extravagant dresses, suits, and masks, contrasting Cassie's worn lavender dress and small metal half-mask. No one had mentioned this was a masquerade, so she didn't look like anyone in particular, besides herself. She checked her pockets - it was good to be prepared, if the swordsman wanted to start a fight, and who knows how many pickpockets were around. Iron flakes, her trusty dagger, and her amethysts were all where they were supposed to be. 

Well, she couldn't just sit here and do nothing. She walked over to the crowded street, keeping a firm grip on her Soulcaster, and joined a group in conversation. "Excuse me, but I'm Cassandra, and I appear to be lost. Is there a place for vendors to set up shop? Or an area with more directed festivities?"

Spoiler

I don't know who's out there yet, so anyone who wants to respond can. I, like my character, am very lost. First RP Post!

 

Edited by Ashbringer
Added my mask
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1 hour ago, Emi said:

"How can you say that?!" Allence almoust shouted from rush of emotions. She wa wright, that she shouldn't trust him! "TUBA did so much for you and you consider making a new guild?! You think, that it will be better, than our current? They just try to make a better place to leave and it often goes along with paper work, that's all. 

"TUBA did nothing for me, by the way you speak I guess they did something for you, which means my assessment was wrong and they actually do things. I don't know if forming a new guild will be any good, that's why I would prefer improving this one. And it's not just that it 'goes along with paper work', that'd be normal, it's that it goes along with a bureaucratic hell that slow attempts of making this a better place so much they barely even happens"

 

---------

Folorian and Kerr could only focus on one thing each, right now it was the crowd. Of course, it posed the problem that the faces and masks became blurry and unrecognizable, but they didn't have anything better to focus on.

We could focus on finding Aln hmm or someone else. Kerr thought to Folorian

They're masked and probably disguised, how are we supposed to find them?

hmm we wait for them to notice us, hmmm

Exactly.

@Rushu42

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2 hours ago, Sorana said:

"So far." Althea agreed, not noticing he was joking and walked up a few steps to a podest leading into an adjacent building. There was enough room for the two of them to lean comfortably on a balustrade and look out over the place. The TUBAist were grumbling nearby and she wondered who they were and if they're boss knew how they felt. She hadn't seen them before, so they were either desk jockeys, rarely leaving their headquarters, new members, or so high ranking that they didn't need to go outside. But no, high ranking members wouldn't act like that.

"The city itself is amazing. That it's still standing but also the people who live here. Without them, it would be nothing but a soulless hole."

Pensively she rested her forearms on the balustrade and looked out over the heads of those mingling below.

"Sometimes I wonder why people still live here. Just look at them," she gestured over the crowd. "Some wear weapons, but most of them are simply citizens, regularly caught in a conflict they didn't even know it was coming." At least she had seen them coming. At least she wasn't helpless when something happened. Her bracelet rested warm and comfortable against her skin, her bag filled with some spheres. You never knew, better to have a backup source of power.

"May I ask why are here?" She inquired. "If you don't want to reply it's perfectly fine. I don't want to pry."

Eiran debated how to answer. He leaned against the balustrade, letting his eyes take in the wonders of the view. From above, it was nicer. Less of a loud mob and more of an expression of tradition. There was a beauty to it--the glowing lamps and costumed citizens. A disorderly beauty.

"I'm here because I saw a cause in need of help," he said finally. He didn't specify the cause because it sounded stupid even to himself most days. Save an organization from paperwork. How noble. "So, I packed up last night and moved to the city this morning. People spoke of this festival and it seemed like the right way to get a taste of what I was getting myself into. Turns out, it was more than I anticipated. Not sure if it's for the better or the worse yet. It just is." 

He absentmindedly rolled the stick of the cotton candy between his hands, running it between his hands. "What about you? Why are you here, if you don't mind my asking?" he asked.

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43 minutes ago, mathiau said:

Folorian and Kerr could only focus on one thing each, right now it was the crowd. Of course, it posed the problem that the faces and masks became blurry and unrecognizable, but they didn't have anything better to focus on.

We could focus on finding Aln hmm or someone else. Kerr thought to Folorian

They're masked and probably disguised, how are we supposed to find them?

hmm we wait for them to notice us, hmmm

Exactly.

@Rushu42

It hadn't taken Aln long to give up on socializing. Although most of her attention was now given to her book, she glanced up occasionally to see if Torenat had found his way back to the square yet. It was on one such occasion that she noticed Folorian wandering through the crowd. She started to wave, but remembered his boon and instead walked up to tap him on the shoulder.

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"...and you won't believe what we found down there," the man said, lowering his voice conspiratorially before taking a sip of sapphire wine. 

Lita widened her eyes, leaning closer across the table, the very image of breathless, rapt attention. "What?"

The man grinned what Lita assumed should have been a knowing grin, but what instead was definitely a leer. "Atium."

Lita let her mouth open into a soft little "oh", as if the word 'atium' were enough to send her melting into the man's arms with little restraint. As if she hadn't been one of the first people in the entire city to find out about the atium cavern in the first place. The man settled smugly back into his chair and took a longer drink of the wine - hardly wine, really, but that's what the Rosharans liked to call it. Lita supposed it sounded more dignified than 'dyed grain liquor,' and Rosharans, especially newly-imported Lighteyes like this fellow, loved their dignity.

They were seated under an expansive canopy that had been set up across the square from the main bonfire. One of the city's more upscale bars had turned their patio into a lush, upholstered paradise dotted with small high-backed tables, chaise lounges, poufs, and plenty of high-pile rugs. At a place like this, you could order pretty much anything - on or off the menu - and the waitstaff would trot it out for you easy as breathing. A couple in the back corner were grinding firemoss, and the young woman entertaining a party of older businessmen was either very drunk, or a prostitute. No other demographic smoked a hookah with such enthusiasm.

Lita sipped her own drink, a heinously-sweet glass of orange wine that Kaldemar had bought 'to match her dress.' Tin had let her catch his order at the bar however, when he'd encouraged the bartender to 'add some extra white for luck.' Charming. Still, she'd been chasing this particular meeting for weeks. Through some stroke of fortune that had absolutely nothing to do with his wits, capabilities, or basic morality, Kaldemar had been appointed as the lead treasury liaison for Alleycity Excavation. It was a staggeringly stupid move on ACE's part, which had shocked Lita initially. Tycho Anvor, the aging founder, usually ran a pretty tight ship, and Lita had anticipated quite a slog to get even the most meager scraps of information on their share of the atium haul a few months back. But fate, it seemed, had smiled on her.

Kaldemar smiled, too. He was rather handsome with his light yellow eyes, high cheekbones, and sleek black hair - an effect that was marred whenever he decided to speak. Or laugh. Or breathe too loudly. He and Forian would have gotten on famously, Lita thought. She spent a cheerful second imagining poisoning Kaldemar, then reached across the little table to touch one of his cuffs with the fingers of her left hand. Kaldemar did a terrible job trying not to look at it.

"I've never seen it before," she said, breathless, letting her fingers slide closer and closer to the edge of his cuff. "The Lost Metal."

She could hear his pulse. Lonely God, this man was supposedly some great womanizer, but Lita was half-sure he was about to have an aneurysm right at the table. Because of her left hand. 

"Y-you Scadrians," he stammered, his yellow eyes flicking from her fingers to her face with a frenzied rhythm, "and your m-metal worship. It's pagan, you know. Makes you," Kaldemar swallowed hard, "strange."

Lita stopped the slow descent of her fingers, then allowed her face to collect itself into a slight pout. "Why Kaldemar, you wound me," she said. "And here I thought we were getting to be friends." For the first time, she let her own eyes focus on her fingers, which were now a mere breath away from the skin of Kaldemar's right hand.

Then, with a sigh, she pulled her own hand away. "Still," she said, leaning back in her chair, "if I am still a stranger, then it's only natural there would be things we simply couldn't share."

Kaldemar looked simultaneously furious and relieved. God Beyond, was he sweating?

Dammit, Lita thought, slightly frustrated. It appears this might take a bit more finessing than I had hoped. She took another sip of her "wine," pretended to think, then stood. Kaldemar started, then stood as well.

"Now wait a moment, I --"

Lita reached into the neckline of her dress and pulled out a single white card, setting it on the table. "My rooms in the city," she said, meeting his eyes. "If you change your mind and decide you want to be friends. I've always wanted to know what it looks like."

Kaldemar stared at her for a moment.

"Atium, that is," Lita finished, smiling. "Get someone to read that card to you, Brightlord. And do have a pleasant night."

She turned and slipped out of the patio, passing beneath the colored lanterns until she emerged under the stars. The noise of the square and the roar of the bonfire were a welcome contrast to the smokey silence under the canopy. Lita felt herself smile, and rolled her shoulders. The smell of woodsmoke mingled with something else... dumplings? Buns? She turned her head, stomach suddenly feeling very empty, and decided to follow her nose. Business could wait. It was time for dumplings.

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33 minutes ago, Rushu42 said:

It hadn't taken Aln long to give up on socializing. Although most of her attention was now given to her book, she glanced up occasionally to see if Torenat had found his way back to the square yet. It was on one such occasion that she noticed Folorian wandering through the crowd. She started to wave, but remembered his boon and instead walked up to tap him on the shoulder.

Folorian jumped a bit when Aln touched but he calm down immediately as he recognized her

"Hello Aln, may I share this feast with you"

As he spoke he lightwove a written version of his sentence in the air

You know, this is absolutely unnecessary.

For now maybe, but someday we will it.

-------

2 hours ago, Ashbringer said:

Well, she couldn't just sit here and do nothing. She walked over to the crowded street, keeping a firm grip on her Soulcaster, and joined a group in conversation. "Excuse me, but I'm Cassandra, and I appear to be lost. Is there a place for vendors to set up shop? Or an area with more directed festivities?"

Quote

Sorry, I hadn't realized she was talking to us :/

"I'm sure if there is any directed festivities but for the vendors, this man might now" Folorian answered, pointing toward Kingston.

@Archer

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Dressed in a deep black robe embroidered with golden Thaylen letters around the hemline and sleeves, Xanas slipped his mask on. It was a dark gray mask, covering one eye with a silver patch, his other eye shining golden through the slit on the other side of the mask, with more glyphs embroidered in the same gold as his skin around its edges. He slipped a small steel spike into an inner pocket next to a few diamond broams. It was a good night for acquisitions for the Alleys. So many drunken, foolish targets to ply information or allegiance or other talents from. Of course, most Denizens in his department didn't get to enjoy the festivities, but no one would dare suggest that Xanas was incapable of maintaining a low profile.

Tsarik, his inkspren, stood straight-backed, hands folded behind him, atop the table, and looked at the mask quizzically. “This face, Xanas, it is not yours. Why is it?” 

“It is a human story, Tsarik. They speak of a Wandering God, with one eye of flesh and one eye of silver- obviously a folk story invented about some early Hemalurgist among them who convinced the primitives he was divine. He probably just spiked some Rioter and Pulled everyone into worshipping him. People have been called gods for less.”

"Why do you choose to be seen as what is not?”

“Well, this Stranger is supposed to have been the god of Alleys – that, in all likelihood, means an early precursor to Denizens, even if we don’t have any records that go back that far. In wearing this mask, I am giving everyone the opportunity to know who I am.” He smiled. “It is a warning of sorts - even if most aren’t observant enough to see it.”

Tsarik nodded, satisfied, then shrunk to a less conspicuous size, settling into a small patch in the shadows behind Xanas.

Xanas opened the door of the small room and stepped into the narrow hallway. He gestured at the far end of the wall with a spread hand, pushing, and the Alley extended, stretching into the darkness. The darkness seemed to whisper to Xanas, harsh, guttural murmuring at the edge of consciousness. The whispers snarled in a language with no pattern and no rhyme. The Alleys had never enjoyed allowing others to bend them, though they seemed to give way before Xanas just a touch more readily than most of the others in his department. Mac had been the best at dealing with them, but it had been a long time since his touch had been felt on the Alleys. Even when he had still been in the Alleys, some of the more stubborn ones would ignore him.  

Xanas walked for what felt like a kilometer before the texture of the path beneath his feet changed. The walk seemed to get longer each time he twisted the Alley; at this rate, next year he would need to find a more compliant one. There were so few left these days that would allow him to travel quickly into the city. The dark slate floor became a quaint cobbled alleyway sandwiched between a bar and an inn. The sun was still settling above the horizon, turning the clouds ahead into a deep crimson. Red sky at night, Denizen’s delight, Xanas thought. Red sky in the morning, city’s warning. He stepped in front of the inn on his left, 'The Yellow Sea'. It was owned by an old Hallandren Drab, Llantess. Xanas walked into the raucous front room, carefully dodging the drunk Kertzian seated at the first table. It’s disgusting how out of control these masses get with their alcohol. Practically savages or animals with as much restraint as they display. The server was trying to explain to the Kertzian's tablemates that the inn was all out of the vintage they kept asking for, since Darkside wines were quite expensive. Sitting down at a table near the rear exit of the building, Xanas coughed as if to get the server’s attention. A young noble boy from Scadrial, he made his way over to Xanas, giving a couple of patrons refills of their drinks on his way. 

“Yes, sir, what can I get you?”

“You are a descendant of Rashek, aren’t you, boy?”

The server blinked in confusion. “Well, yes, that’s what my grandad said. Why?”

“I have some friends who have been looking for someone like you. They have some, ah, opportunities for an individual of your bloodline. Could we perhaps step outside for a moment to discuss their offer?”

“Um, sure, I mean, as long as it is just a moment. It’s a really busy night, what with all the celebrations…”

“I’m sure this won’t take long.” Xanas stood and stepped out the back door into the alleyway. A couple of dumpsters sat there, filled with bottles and old food. Fireworks were going off in the distance like gunshots. The boy followed with a furtive glance over his shoulder. Xanas stood, his back towards the boy, and slid the spike out of his pocket. Tsarik stood in silence in the shadows behind the dumpster. Xanas spoke softly. “You are a Tineye, are you not? You seem to have exceptional hearing, hearing one little cough over all that chaos.”

“Yes, sir, I am.”

Xanas turned, holding the spike up to the light. The steel glinted in the lamplight. “Excellent. My friends have been looking for someone who can help them to see things a little more... clearly.” He gestured at the spike. “You’ve seen things like this before? Heard tale of what they can do, yes? Grant ordinary men the powers of the Mistborn of old. My friends would like to make it a gift, a sign of goodwill.” He could see a glint of excitement in the boy’s eyes. What young man could turn down the thrill of adventure, of power? 

Xanas stepped close to the youth, spike held out in front of him. He grabbed the young man’s shoulder. “This spike will turn a young Tineye like yourself…” Xanas stepped in, ramming the spike into the correct bindpoint in the aorta. The server’s white shirt began to turn a deep red, and the boy’s eyes widened with pain. “…into a corpse.” Xanas pulled the spike out again, sliding it into a metal tube Tsarik handed him. He held the tube beneath the hole in the boy’s chest, filling it with blood, then placed a stopper on top. He gently wiped off the tube and his hands in turn on the young man’s coat, then dropped the corpse to the ground. He dug in the boy's pockets, pulling out the tips he had gotten over the course of the night. It had to look like a mugging gone wrong. Satisfied, he looked out of the alley at the festivities, toward a statue dressed as a mustached man in a bowler hat and a monocle. Holding up the tube like a celebratory toast, Xanas gestured at the statue. “Just like old times.” He stepped back into the darkness of the Alleys as someone stumbled out of the inn. 

“Aredan!” Llantess dropped to the ground, grabbing the boy’s shoulders, checking for signs of life.

“Happy Day of Rebirth,” Xanas whispered with a smirk as the darkness swallowed him, leaving only the stone alleyway behind. "Sorry about the mess."

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33 minutes ago, mathiau said:

"I'm sure if there is any directed festivities but for the vendors, this man might now" Folorian answered, pointing toward Kingston.

Quote

That's alright. I was just talking to whomever was willing to respond - Cassie and I have no idea who is around who.

"Thank you," Cassie replied, nodding slightly to the man. He seemed to be mostly caught in his own conversation, so Cassie excused herself and turned around to find this sword vendor. He, of course, was not there by the time she knew where to look.

Rusts. Cassie burned a smidge of iron, searching through the crowd for large enough pieces of metal. The man had evidently been busy - there were many different sword-like pieces of metal. Cassie picked the one that seemed largest, and headed towards it. Hopefully this "vendor" would know more about the organization of this party.

No directed festivities. Cassie sighed. She may have to start her own party. She walked up to the man carrying several blades.

"Excuse me? Sir? Do you know where I can set up a stall to sell metals? Or where the most people will be?"

@Archer

 

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2 hours ago, mathiau said:

Folorian jumped a bit when Aln touched but he calm down immediately as he recognized her

"Hello Aln, may I share this feast with you"

As he spoke he lightwove a written version of his sentence in the air

You know, this is absolutely unnecessary.

For now maybe, but someday we will it.

Aln was grateful for his lightweaving; she had noticed his words begin to fade to her eyes, recently. It wasn't enough to make them unintelligible, but it was still worrying.

"Hello, Folorian," she said aloud, echoing his formality. "I would be happy to spend the festival in your company." She smiled. "I must admit, I feel a bit out of place, so it's nice to see another familiar face.

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"It's right over here, next to the tailors." Lucas led the trio down the street. After Vic had found a restroom they had resumed their quest for bao, moving amongst the crowds of celebrants. The many costumes created a beautiful and strange tableau, with countless variations of the classic costumes. There were dozens of Lonely Gods, in blacks, whites and greys. The masks ranged in detail and emotion; from minimalistic to bizarrely stylistic, and from emotionless to sorrowful. Resh himself wore a costume of the Lonely God, his mask a plain white leaning towards featureless rather than lifelike, and a simple black robe over his regular clothes. He had always identified with the Lonely God, with his desire to create and protect. Resh tried to emulate that drive to learn and use his knowledge to build and grow.

But that wasn't the only costume. The most popular and least consistent was the Mother of Monsters, the costumes ranging from animals to strange creatures straight from the stories. There were a few Chronomasters, their clock symbology displaced uniquely in each costume. There were some dressed as the Coin, including Lucas, some dressed as the Hero, with monocle and bowler. And some dressed as the One-eyed God, with their grinning masks and grey cloaks, the one eye and smile portrayed in many designs and styles on various masks. All together, it was like the entire city was staging a play, and everyone had a part.

Lucas interupted Resh's thoughts with a joyful exclamation,"We're here! The best steamed buns in the city. When I'm not taking a bath, that is." Victoria made gagging sounds and Reshdid his best to look pained. "Oh come one, that was good." Lucas protested loudly. They ignored him and Victoria leaned over as if to puke while Resh rubbed her back. Lucas rolled his eyes, "Hilarious guys, top notch comedy." he moved into the shop as Resh and Vic followed after giggling to one another. As they neared the counter Resh asked, "Who's buying this time?" Vic pointed her nose in the air and simply said, "Forty five minutes." Lucas raised his hands in a helpless gesture and said, "I wasn't the one who made us late." Resh looked at them in disbelief, but neither met his eye. "Fine." he grumbled, "This is nonsense." He stepped up to the counter and ordered bao for the three of them. Once they had their brown paper bags with food they went back out to the street where they moved the piping hot food around in their mouthes to avoid burning their tongues. Resh began to eye the glassier's shop that was next to the bao place, when Vic let out an exclamation of delight and pointed to the habberdashery on the other side of the building. "Let's go try on hats!" Resh gestured to the unfinished food in their hands as he pointed out that food generally wasn't allowed in shops. Lucas smiled broadly as he said, "Easy fix!" then dropped his left over buns into Resh's bag and walked into the shop. "Hey!" Resh complained, seeing too late where this was going. Vic followed suit shortly thereafter, though she gave him a peck on the cheek as she did so, "Sorry Resh, but you gotta be faster than that." She slid inside the shop, giving him an impish smile over her shoulder. Resh grumbled, but stayed on the curb and continued to eat. The idea was that the last person had to either stay outside or deal with the hassle of trying to smuggle hot food in on your person. He opted to stay and eat, not wanting his clothes to smell like bao for the rest of the evening. He ate some of Lucas's and Vic's food, as a toll for his longsuffering. He smiled as he watched them disappear into the rows of headgear, and simply enjoyed the sights and sounds of the street before him as he ate.

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3 hours ago, Ashbringer said:

"Excuse me? Sir? Do you know where I can set up a stall to sell metals? Or where the most people will be?"

“Excuse me, fellow TUBAists, this matter requires my attention.” Kingston nodded to the group he’d conversed with, thanking them for their assistance. His eyes lingered on NullBlade the longest, taking in his appearance. He seemed arrogant enough to be important, which made him worth name-dropping, or impersonating with the Disguiser’s Lens he wore.

“I’m afraid you won’t find any people around here, Miss!” He turned and dumped a pile of six swords of varying sizes into Cassie’s hands. When he did, the faded white letters on the back of his jacket came into the others' view: L.I.A.R. Kingston grabbed the unfortunate woman by the elbow, aiming to drag her across the street. “I have the permit to sell at this spot, but you’re welcome to share it with me. Everyone’s in such a trusting mood, with all these masks on. It’s easy to make a quick coin, let me show you.”

He scanned the crowd. It was a vendor’s nightmare. Under all the masks and costume jewelry, he couldn’t tell the rich from the poor. Of course, the genuinely wealthy would balk at buying metals from a stranger. And the poor wouldn’t have the money to spare. That left the middle-class, who at this time at night would only be interested in food, drinks, and cheap novelties.

“Swords, ten chrysts!” he bellowed. “Or by special arrangement between Newcago Steel Co. and myself, the humble Kingston Smedry, free with he purchase of a metal flake gift bottle from… I’m sorry lass, I appear to have forgotten your name.” He stuck out a hand for her to shake, eyes twinkling. He probably wouldn’t make much money helping an amateur panhandler, but he was in the market for something more valuable: friendship.

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It was proper night at last, the sun having pumped the last of its crimson out onto the horizon. Now, it was cooling into violet and indigo, and overhead Lita could see the stars winking into life, amplified by her Tin. She could feel the tempo of the city shifting around her as people drank more, thought less, and allowed themselves to be swept up in the night. The sounds of people laughing mingled with fragments of music, shouts, and whispers.

Lita smiled and shoved the last dumpling into her mouth, unaffected by its piping hot temperature. That was probably the best part about Brass Feruchemy - instantaneous gratification. There was no tea too hot, no dumplings too freshly-steamed. And, she supposed, she didn't need to worry about dying in a fire. Probably more important, but thankfully far less practical in her day-to-day. 

She wandered in a path that would have looked aimless to anyone else, though Lita could tell where her feet were taking her even as she tried to deny it. It was more sensible, she supposed, to come here now than in the middle of the night, when she'd have to worry about someone trying to mug her. Or more like, when she'd have to worry about concealing the body of someone attempting to mug her. Better to get this over with now, and give her the rest of the night to work.

Lita walked another block until she stood opposite a small, nondescript alleyway that ended in a brick wall. There was nothing particularly special about this place; it wasn't even an Alley. It was just... an alley. And yet, something always drew her here, whenever she was out in the city. Always, always, she found herself back here, staring down the dingy little corridor between two buildings. Lita stoked her Tin and focused on the little door that had been set in one of the alley walls. Something about that door always made the back of her right hand tingle oddly when she looked at it. She flexed it unconsciously, then crossed the street, weaving through groups and clumps of friends or neighbors until she stood right in the alley's mouth.

Lita stared at the alley floor, anticipating what was about to happen, but still gritting her teeth when it did. That pain - sharp, sudden, and cold - lanced into her side like a knife. She lifted her hand to her right side, sliding her fingers along the lower outline of her ribcage. Of course, there was nothing there. There never was. She shivered.

A raucous shout somewhere to her right made her spin around, heartbeat pounding in her ears. A girl dressed as a Windspren dashed by, her long blonde hair streaming behind her, as she was pursued by a young man in a Spymaster's bowler. 

Sloppy, Lita chided herself, forcing her pulse to slow, taking a few deep breaths to regain her composure. She was acting like a recruit, jumpy as a new bride. With one last glance backwards at the alley, she crossed the street again and went on her way. This time, her path really was aimless, eyes skipping over the crowds and shops and stalls for something to anchor her focus. Her heart still beat a little too fast, but no one else would know it now. It was foolish to let herself indulge this odd compulsion, especially on a night like tonight. She was better than this. She had to be better.

A slight anomaly caught her eye as she looped back closer to the center of the festivities - a young man sitting alone, eating what looked like an alarming quantity of bao buns for just one person. Lita quirked one eyebrow and felt herself grin as she walked a bit closer, stopping at a respectful, yet companionable, distance. 

"You know, I'm not quite sure you have enough food there," she said, not bothering to keep some of the laughter out of her voice. "It's Festival night - no need to limit yourself like that."

@Fatebreaker

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“I’m Cassandra,” Cassie replied, letting herself smile slightly as she put down his “sample” of blades. This street merchant certainly worked fast, but he seemed friendly enough. She kept her iron burning just in case - his jacket did say LIAR, after all.
 

She rubbed her arm. The metal slowly growing over the skin made for a strange texture, even under a dress sleeve. I wonder if he noticed. She didn’t see how he couldn’t have.
 

No matter. Selling during this party was more for publicity than money. The real revenue would come from after, with drained Mistings visiting her shop down the block aways. And this man... well, he would certainly help with publicity.

“My friends call me Cassie,” she continued, continuing to grin slightly wincing at the cliché. “And I’d be glad to have a business deal. What’s you’re name?” she asked, accepting the handshake, but keeping the corner of her eye on her exposed Soulcaster.

Quote

Cassie is a legitimate businesswoman: she has a shop down the road, which gets a moderate level of customers. Her metal is Soulcast for 100% efficiency, whether for the Metallic Arts or for engineering! 

Coincidentally, would such a shop generally have its own thread?

@Archer

Edited by Ashbringer
Realized I was attempting to shake a hand whilst carrying 6 pointy objects.
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13 hours ago, mathiau said:

"TUBA did nothing for me, by the way you speak I guess they did something for you, which means my assessment was wrong and they actually do things. I don't know if forming a new guild will be any good, that's why I would prefer improving this one. And it's not just that it 'goes along with paper work', that'd be normal, it's that it goes along with a bureaucratic hell that slow attempts of making this a better place so much they barely even happens"

 

Allence fell silent and considered. Did the thing, what NullBlade just said makes any sense? Actually: yes. But should she agree with thi? In a full sense, she was very tempted. She saw poor children on the streets, begging for food, without hope, without happiness, only with resignation. But on the other hand, TUBA accepted it, giving shelter and a sense of security. Only, did she really accept? Nobody knew so many things. She knew that sooner or later they would throw her out, and she would return to mindless street life again, without hope and happiness, like everyone else. Yes, after a long reflection we had to try. Try to save it all and give the world new hope.

It was quite funny, that after all these bad things, Allence still believed in hope. But she believed in honor too, even despite the Shadows, who tell her to stop believe. That is why, for the first time in a long time, Allence has actually honestly answered, knowing that this time honesty will be what the rest wanted to hear: "You are right, you really have to do something. But you have to be careful. What you want to do can destroy you and maybe even the whole guild And you know, it is better to have some, even a little leaky order, than none."

Quote

You all guys are sooooo incredible in writing such a long and great posts. I would never be able to do such a thing:P

 

Edited by Emi
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13 hours ago, Silva said:

Eiran debated how to answer. He leaned against the balustrade, letting his eyes take in the wonders of the view. From above, it was nicer. Less of a loud mob and more of an expression of tradition. There was a beauty to it--the glowing lamps and costumed citizens. A disorderly beauty.

"I'm here because I saw a cause in need of help," he said finally. He didn't specify the cause because it sounded stupid even to himself most days. Save an organization from paperwork. How noble. "So, I packed up last night and moved to the city this morning. People spoke of this festival and it seemed like the right way to get a taste of what I was getting myself into. Turns out, it was more than I anticipated. Not sure if it's for the better or the worse yet. It just is." 

He absentmindedly rolled the stick of the cotton candy between his hands, running it between his hands. "What about you? Why are you here, if you don't mind my asking?" he asked.

"I live here." she replied and made a vague guesture towards one of the outer parts of the city. "Not directly here, but close to the city. It's been my home for over thirty years now." She looked over at him, he seemed to be so young to move around, all on his own. The thought made her smile, but she hid it, bit into another strawberry. She had stepped into this city when she had been six. She could vividly remember how scared she had been at the cars, the devices everybody seemed to use. At the lights that turned on when you hit a little button.

"I like the festival." she continued, not quite willing to disclose too much. The mask offered some privacy, but in the end, if he wanted to find her afterwards, it would be easy. "It's like a short period of chaos, of freedom. As if everybody let's go of their restraints and restrictions and does nothing but live for a while. Noting how he had stopped eating his cotton candy she turned her stick full of strawberries around and held it out to him, wordlessly asking if he wanted to pluck one of.

"Usually we meet with friends, spend the evening together, but today I wanted to be some time in the streets before heading over. Take a look around. Just be here for a while." And keep her eyes open. She knew she hadn't quite answered his question, wondered if he would let the topic slide away. I am here because I always get a bad feeling as soon as people gather in this city sounded positively paranoid.

"If you are interested in history, you might be interested to take a look at the Hall of Legends. Those that fought bravely in the Seven Day War have a statue there and a plaque detailing what they did."

Looking down at the gathered TUBAist again she added quietly, more for herself and Brashen than for his eyes. "And I really hope there won't be any trouble." The city had enough of it, as it was. But at least now, two of them had walked back to the stall of the man selling swords. Most likely they were simply using the night to complain, and wouldn't act on it. Hopefully. TUBA was a calm guild, more occupied with their paperwork than with anything else but still. Unsatisfied members could lead to new guilds and new guilds easily lead to a conflict and a conflict easily lead to a war.

"Paranoid." Brashen whispered into her ear, so quiet she could barely hear him and she lifted a hand, mimiked poking him. "You're jumping to conclusions." Althea couldn't help but agree with his words. She was jumping to conclusions. Better to observe and then, when she had some data come to an informed decision. And yet, there was this feeling in her stomach, nothing she could point at, nothing she knew how to describe, that told her, that something was about to go wrong.

=====================

Zokora stood in front of the mirror, checking her cloths over again. She'd decided to go with a pair of boots that went up half of her calf. She likes their thicker soles, the silver claps and the cording on the front side. They went well with her short skirt and green-neon colored tight top and looked positively awesome with the black leather jacket she wore against the chill of the night. Yesterday, she had spent hours at a hair dresser's to get her dark hair braided into a reams of tiny little strands, that fell down all the way of her back. Turning around she admired her backside, the way it looked in the skirt and couldn't help but enjoy the way her bright top shone on her dark skin. She looked good, perfect. Nearly ready to head outside.

She knew, she was late, many had started to celebrate hours ago, but she didn't care. She was alone for now, hoped to find Althea somewhere in the crowd, once her friend was satisfied nobody planned to blow anything up. It was the same every year and she just let her be, gave her the time she felt she needed to make sure she was safe, her family was safe. How effective it was to mingle with a crowd - Zokora shrugged the thought away. They all had their spleens.

Turning her head towards a window she saw nothing but other buildings, and the slightly illuminated streets below. In her old flat, she had lived close to the top, had been able to see the center, the lights, sometimes if the wind was blowing the right direction, she had even been able to hear the laughter. Not that it mattered. After the building had been rebuilt she hadn't been able to afford her flat anymore, just as usual.

When she stepped on the street, she turned left and on a whim decided to walk. She had time and the night was warm. It wasn't far, maybe half an hour and her shoes were more or less flat. Throwing her braids behind her shoulder she slung her handbag over her shoulder and checked if her knives were hidden well. That was her own lesson, learned as a child. Never go anywhere unarmed. In the best case, you had a knife at hand to open a package of cheese. In the worst case, you could fend of some thugs.

@AonEne

=====================

3 hours ago, Ashbringer said:

Coincidentally, would such a shop generally have its own thread?

Quote

That is absolutely possible. We had several shop threads from characters before. I would advise you, to maybe state that she employed someone, so that you can rp her elsewhere, should the shop thread go quiet. It's hard to predict how often and regularly these threads are used, we had some that ended up in a lot of rp and plot, and we had some that were only used sparingly.

 

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7 hours ago, Rushu42 said:

Aln was grateful for his lightweaving; she had noticed his words begin to fade to her eyes, recently. It wasn't enough to make them unintelligible, but it was still worrying.

"Hello, Folorian," she said aloud, echoing his formality. "I would be happy to spend the festival in your company." She smiled. "I must admit, I feel a bit out of place, so it's nice to see another familiar face.

"To be fair, I feel  out of place too" Folorian answered, still lightweaving "Kerr wanted to search for you but I feared we would not recognize you under you mask, nice phoenix by the way, very on point for a day like this"

Yes, not like your 'impersonation of stagnation' mask

You're just jealous you couldn't wear a mask of me

Of course I am, people are wearing a mask of me and I can't wear a mask of you? That's unfair

Folorian decided to ignore his spren for a while

"Does me both speaking and weaving cause any reading trouble? Should I stop one of them?"

------

15 minutes ago, Emi said:

It was quite funny, that after all these bad things, Allence still believed in hope. But she believed in honor too, even despite the Shadows, who tell her to stop believe. That is why, for the first time in a long time, Allence has actually honestly answered, knowing that this time honesty will be what the rest wanted to hear: "You are right, you really have to do something. But you have to be careful. What you want to do can destroy you and maybe even the whole guild And you know, it is better to have some, even a little leaky order, than none."

"As long as we stay in the reformation, we have little to worry beside things not changing, but yes, anything close to secession would risk destroying the guild"

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1 hour ago, mathiau said:

"To be fair, I feel  out of place too" Folorian answered, still lightweaving "Kerr wanted to search for you but I feared we would not recognize you under you mask, nice phoenix by the way, very on point for a day like this"

 

"Does me both speaking and weaving cause any reading trouble? Should I stop one of them?"

"Thanks. I can still see your words, so the Lightweaving is unnecessary if you want to conserve stormlight. It's not causing any problems, though." 

Aln glanced across the square. "Trent said he'd come back with food, but that was 20 minutes ago. I'm beginning to suspect that it was merely a ploy to force me to talk to someone else."

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2 hours ago, Rushu42 said:

"Thanks. I can still see your words, so the Lightweaving is unnecessary if you want to conserve stormlight. It's not causing any problems, though." 

Aln glanced across the square. "Trent said he'd come back with food, but that was 20 minutes ago. I'm beginning to suspect that it was merely a ploy to force me to talk to someone else."

Folorian frowned, that was a very odd answer, how could having two set of writings be unnecessary yet not cause problems?... Maybe it was unnecessary, but not useless.

"If my stormlight is the only concern, I'll continue, I have plenty on me, feel free to have me stop whenever you want. Also, I must say, I'm deeply offended your brother tried to prevent you from talking with me" he said, voluntarily misunderstanding the 'someone else' part.

Edited by mathiau
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36 minutes ago, mathiau said:

Folorian frowned, that was a very odd answer, how could having two set of writings be unnecessary yet not cause problems?... Maybe it was unnecessary, but not useless.

"If my stormlight is the only concern, I'll continue, I have plenty on me, feel free to have me stop whenever you want. Also, I must say, I'm deeply offended your brother tried to prevent you from talking with me" he said, voluntarily misunderstanding the 'someone else' part.

Aln shook her head. "I just meant that he's trying to get me to talk to more people. He thinks I should be socializing more. I'm sure he has no problem with you." She said this last part with a smile, as if the concept was humorous. 

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1 minute ago, Rushu42 said:

Aln shook her head. "I just meant that he's trying to get me to talk to more people. He thinks I should be socializing more. I'm sure he has no problem with you." She said this last part with a smile, as if the concept was humorous. 

Ah, she missed the joke

To be fair, it was a bad one.

... Yes, it was

 "Well if your brother want you to speak with other people, how about starting with a food seller? We probably both hunger"

Of course, Folorian wouldn't know unless he focused himself on his body, but he hadn't eaten since noon so hi probably was

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If anyone had been paying attention to a specific wall, they would have noticed a slight... ripple, as if an Alley was suddenly manifesting. But Byron doubted anyone was paying attention. And he was sick of the alleys.

Byron fell out of the wall, stumbling for a moment before he stabilized his bubble. He immediately clapped a hand to his cheek, feeling for stubble. How long was I in there for? Months? Years? How far did I go this time? He started as he began to feel the hairs that had accumulated on his throat and face. Years, then.

He turned his cadmium down a notch and looked around. So this was the Alleyverse. There were... less alleys than he had expected. Less violence. Less gigantic feats of Investiture powered by this world. Just what appeared to be some kind of block party, full of civilians standing around with masks and ornate clothing, with no organization or logic or arguments in sight. A few did seem to be carrying weapons, but half of those seemed to be quite suprised to see the broadsword in their hands, trailing in the stone behind them. They just seemed... no, not happy. Some were, but the rest were merely relieved. Yes, there is tension in this city, Byron thought. And at some point it will break.

For now, he needed to blend in, which would be difficult in his halfsized cloak and maskless face. He stoked his cadmium a bit, and started a brisk pace toward a group of merrymakers. He barely remembered what it was like to not be burning cadmium, to not move slower than everyone else. To anyone watching, he would appear to be walking at a leisurely pace, glancing back and forth to look at the sights. But to Byron, he was moving quickly, looking for opportunity. He took a swig from his canteen, replenishing his cadmium reserves. His burn should be low tonight, but if he got noticed he may need to skip a few days and let everyone's guard fall again.

He approached the group. One was a boisterous man, who appeared to have had a little too much violet in his wine. He was half leaning, half sitting on a bench, talking with a group of companions, his mottled red mask laying on the ground beside him. Byron let himself smile. This would be too easy. Slowing his own time may not be seen as much of a power, but underestimating any Investiture that can influence time was a grave mistake.

He casually approached, keeping his pace, getting that bittersweet feeling of adrenaline. He flared cadmium, then burst into motion as the figures around him accelerated their movements. Those around would notice nothing unusual, but Byron knew there was one chance. He ran behind the group, letting the outer edge of his bubble catch the squatting drunk.

The man sat bolt upright, searching for the source of that jarring feeling Byron's bubble caused. Byron felt it too, felt it pushing on him from everything around him, but he was used to it. He let his bubble disConnect and lock in place, sprinted behind the confused man without looking at him, and kicked up the mask with his foot. He grabbed it, reConnected his bubble, and strode away. The man would be confused, but everyone around him would think his sluggish startlement nothing but a drunken fantasy. By the time they noticed the theft, Byron would have disappeared. 

He affixed the mask, which appeared to be some kind of parshman. Parshendi, he thought they were called. He didn't really care too much, but now that he looked the part of a partygoer, he could get closer to more worthwhile targets. As he came to the end his path across the road, Byron looked at his treasures: some Rosharian spheres, a good amount of crysts, a small pocket knife, and a strange wooden ring. He'd almost got a new ring, but quickly realized it was ripping a hole in one of his pockets. He threw it away, watching it zip much faster than it should have in his time bubble. Darn aluminum.

No matter. Byron approached another group, hopefully done thieving for the day but curious to find out where the real treasures could be found.

@mathiau @Rushu42

Quote

Approaching Folorian and Aln. I'll try not to pickpocket anything too important: Byron doesn't like having heavily Invested victims chasing him down. You may notice a slight bump/time anomaly if you enter Byron's cadmium bubble.

Also, NullBlade apparently breaks bubbles. That should still work on Byron's savant bubbles, but could lead to an... interesting meeting between the two. Byron does not react well to being out of a bubble.

 

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1 hour ago, Ashbringer said:

Approaching Folorian and Aln. I'll try not to pickpocket anything too important: Byron doesn't like having heavily Invested victims chasing him down. You may notice a slight bump/time anomaly if you enter Byron's cadmium bubble.

Also, NullBlade apparently breaks bubbles. That should still work on Byron's savant bubbles, but could lead to an... interesting meeting between the two. Byron does not react well to being out of a bubble.

Quote

If it's only a slight bump, Folorian won't realize anything

NullBlade don't really break bubbles (not in the sense of poping them anyway), he ignore them (like aluminium). On the other hand his clothes and Shardblade don't ignore them, I intend to have them feel quadratically heavier in a cadmium bubble (if you make time go N time slower, they will feel N^2 time heavier, 'cause E=1/2*mv^2) in a normal bubble (N=5) it will make him unable to use his sword but he will still be able to move normally, now in your N=100 time bubble... ^_^

 

Edited by mathiau
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