429 posts in this topic

12 hours ago, Ashbringer said:

“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.

“I remember my mother called me Kingston, so that’s what I’ve stuck with.” The man shook Cassie’s hand, eyes lingering on his forearm. Luckily for her, he didn’t know much about Rosharan technology. “That’s a nice piece of jewelry. I’m old hat at this, so I’ll try and drive some customers your way. Oh, you should watch your step, sir!

The Smedry subtly tripped a passing figure, a young man in a plain, but well-tailored suit. He was on him in an instant, brushing him off and offering a hand up. “It’s these cobblestones, they’re pointing every which way these days, wouldn’t you agree, sir? I’d expect a Thug like you to have better balance, but…”

“I am no Thug! Get your hands off of me, skaa’s son.” He straightened his mask, which was designed to look like a pair of gold coins. Instinctively, the noble checked his pockets. “I’ll have you know I am a sharpshooter Coinshot of some renown round the shooting clubs. And void take us, you’ve smashed my vials.”

Kingston became very still. “I did not break your vials,” he said calmly. His words had an authoritative quality to them, as if they were being spoken directly into the man’s mind.

His victim blinked. “No, no, of course not. Just an accident, that’s all. I’ll file a complaint with the City after this.”

“There’s a woman here selling metals, but I don’t think you could afford them.”

His chest swelled at the insult. Dismissively, he turned to Cassie, already pulling out his wallet. “Nonsense! You girl, show me your wares.” Kingston smiled, and resumed handing out his durable walking sticks, “three times more flame resistant than a dueling cane!”

(Ashbringer, you're welcome to narrate for the NPC, his name is Neil Patrick Charris.)

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6 hours ago, mathiau said:

"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"

John stayed silent as Allence and NullBlade spoke to each other, he was content to let them do the talking for now, he needed to think. 

He decided to set aside the worries for his quest for now, and start thinking of ways to find other people who shared their opinion on the state of TUBA. If only as a mental exercise. Of course, only a mental exercise, nothing more.

"If we gather enough support, we should be able to talk to someone important. I'm going to hang a petition for change, so we can see who agrees with us, then we should be able to approach a senior member without going through the slog of paperwork attached. Do you know someone you think would be a good choice for that?"

He realised he was nearly out of copper, he didn't bring nearly enough. He remembered that woman was selling metal vials, she should be able to top him off. "Excuse me, do you have copper?"

@Ashbringer

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5 hours ago, Archer said:

“There’s a woman here selling metals, but I don’t think you could afford them.”

His chest swelled at the insult. Dismissively, he turned to Cassie, already pulling out his wallet. “Nonsense! You girl, show me your wares.” Kingston smiled, and resumed handing out his durable walking sticks, “three times more flame resistant than a dueling cane!”

(Ashbringer, you're welcome to narrate for the NPC, his name is Neil Patrick Charris.)

Cassie seems popular today. Apologies if I crash the market, but since a sword is going for 10 crysts I'll say a vial goes for 5.

Cassie watched this Kingston with some interest. She had to admit, he was effective at drawing in a customer, even if his methods were... shady. Did he hypnotize the man? No matter. He was in need of metals, and she was in need of a client, and one this well off could attract attention. Which kind of attention depended on how well she played Kingston's game.

"I apologize for my enthusiastic friend," she said, nodding to the man. "He has a tendency to not watch his own feet. But he means well. May I ask your name?"

"Hmph. Neil," he replied. His attitude may take a more... direct approach.

"Neil? A pleasure to make your acquaintance. I am Cassandra Adama, metallurgic saleswoman and general Soulcaster," she said, letting her Soulcaster slide a bit down her sleeve. "You say you're a Coinshot? I can reimberse you for the three broken steel vials," she estimated

She reached into her pocket, pulling out a few vials. Right now, they only held a solution of her own design, one that would keep metal pure and also had a semi-sweet aftertaste. "I am correct that you would like steel, yes?"

Neil nodded. Gruffly.

"Then I shall begin." Cassie took out a small pinch of dust. Copper dust, to be precise. Neil's eyes widened. "You imbecile! That's -"

"Patience," Cassie said, lifting the copper a few inches over the vials, stopping her hand moments before it would begin to fall in. Her gloved hand tightened around the vials - she hoped the metal in her fingers wouldn't crack them. "The Metallic Arts are impressive, but they require the metals to function. And I've found metallurgy to be just as impressive."

She let the dust trickle into the vials, turning on her Soulcaster as the metal fell. Before Neil's bewildered eyes, copper flakes turned to the purest gray steel.

Cassie smiled. "Impressive indeed. Go ahead, try it," she said, handing the man her two vials, fishing out another and filling it. Neil took a reluctant sip, then his eyes widened, as he surely felt the steel reserves within him grow strong. Cassie handed him the remaining two vials - one more than she stated were free, but as she had always said, the first step to prosperity was generosity. Perhaps not as metaphysical as karma, but a favor this man would remember the next time he needed metal.

"Here you are, as promised. If you require more vials, they're 5 crysts apiece," she said, filling another quartet of vials. Neil slowly pulled out the money, which Cassie gladly exchanged for the four. "If you ever need me again, you can find me at this address." She handed him a trio of business cards - one for him, two for whatever acquaintances he may have. 

Cassie grinned. "It's been a pleasure doing business with you." This was easier than she thought, once she got the hang of it. She turned around, hearing someone ask about the copper in her free hand.

"Yes, I can sell copper. Cassandra Adama, at your metalurgic service!"

@The_Archivist

----

Neil Patrick Charris thanked the businesswoman for her time, then continued walking. He was, as shown by his noble name, quite busy today. He certainly thought his usual metal salesman could use a personality like - 

Neil stopped. Something was... strange. As if a ripple in the alleys closed over him, as if he suddenly felt the world rushing past him.

The feeling soon left. He turned around, watching the small crowd growing around Cassandra, a group of partygoers laughing at some joke only they knew, a young boy wearing a cloak and parshman mask walking toward the center of the street, that foolish peddler man handing out swords for any who asked and many who didn't. He instinctively checked his pockets, and pulled out his metal vials and cards. Everything was in order.

He examined the pair more closely. Cassandra Adama, Alchemical Metallurgist and Soulcaster, with an address and business hours. His friend Simon may be interested in this. And Barant, he would-

Neil looked at the cards again. The pair shimmered in the streetlights.

Pair. Hmph. Neil could have sworn there were three.

Edited by Ashbringer
Added Neil's POV and wording (again)
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Resh choked on his food, surprised by the sudden appearance of a glamorous woman accosting him on the street. He coughed, then swallowed painfully as he choked the rest of his mouthful down. "Well, cough cough, the night's still young, I'll have plenty of time to make the most of it." He stood and hoped his blush wasn't too noticeable. 

The woman herself was striking. Her golden costume was well tailored, fitting her like a glove. Her headress was elaborate, and he wasn't sure, but it looked like real gold. Rust, but she was rich. And her eyes were striking, a vibrant green that reminded him of Vic's. He realized that he hadn't said anything and extended a hand. "Sorry, I was just, um, admiring your costume. It looks very fine, definitely well made. I, uh," he ran a hand through his dark, kinky hair, trying to gather his thoughts. He was acting like an idiot. If Lucas and Vic were here they'd never let him hear the end of it.

Pull yourself together, Resh. He extended a hand and tried to smile in a non-creepy fashion. "I'm Reshilor, but most folks just call me Resh. And you are?"

@ZincAboutIt

Edited by Fatebreaker
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35 minutes ago, Ashbringer said:

Cassie grinned. "It's been a pleasure doing business with you." This was easier than she thought, once she got the hang of it. She turned around, hearing someone ask about the copper in her free hand.

"Yes, I can sell copper. Cassandra Adama, at your metalurgic service!"

@The_Archivist

John smiled at Cassandra's showmanship as he searched his memories of the last few minutes to see if she mentioned a price. "Five chrysts per vial, right?" He rummaged through his pockets for the money and found that he only had twelve clips. Rust and Ruin! It looked like someone stole from him after all. "Do you except Scadrian money?" he asked, offering her the small pile of coins.

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5 hours ago, mathiau said:

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

"Sounds like a good idea," Aln replied. "I think there's someone selling dumplings around here." She turned to look, then stopped when she noticed a young man in a Parshendi mask approaching. "Um, hello," she said to him uncertainly.

@Ashbringer

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Lita suppressed a laugh at the man's flustered expression, but allowed herself a genuine smile - a rarity for her these days. The street had dimmed considerably in the last few hours, but it still looked quite bright to her Tin-enhanced eyes; she didn't miss the color in his cheeks as he scrambled to get himself sorted. Lita filed his full name away into one of her Copperminds for later perusal - no harm in keeping the database well stocked, after all - and felt her smile turn a little mischievous when he complimented her costume.

Behold, a terrible Denizen of nightmare stalks the streets, armed with a well-fitting dress.

"Resh, it's a pleasure." She stepped forward and took his proffered hand. "I'm Lita. Well, I'm Lita most of the time." 

She gave a bit of a roguish grin. "Tonight, I'm the Coin. And you are..." Lita gave his black robe a cursory glance. "The Lonely God, if I've been reading my mythology right. How serendipitous! The creation meets its maker."

Even as she said it, Lita felt an odd sensation on the back of her neck. She rolled her shoulders, then softly dropped the handshake, careful not to let any of her confusion show on her face. The feeling ended just as abruptly as it came. Probably that rusting alleyway still playing tricks with my mind, she thought darkly, vowing not to go back to that place again - at least not for a while.

"Perhaps I'm just behind the times, but surely you're not spending the Festival sitting alone in front of a hat shop, are you? It's a terrible night to be without company."

@Fatebreaker

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1 hour ago, The_Archivist said:

John smiled at Cassandra's showmanship as he searched his memories of the last few minutes to see if she mentioned a price. "Five chrysts per vial, right?" He rummaged through his pockets for the money and found that he only had twelve clips. Rust and Ruin! It looked like someone stole from him after all. "Do you except Scadrian money?" he asked, offering her the small pile of coins.

"Certainly," Cassie replied, getting more vials to fill - convieniently, she didn't even need to Soulcast the copper she held. "Give me a moment... there!" She pocketed the remaining dust, accepted the ten of the clips, and handed the Smoker two copper-filled vials. And a business card, of course.

1 hour ago, Rushu42 said:

"Sounds like a good idea," Aln replied. "I think there's someone selling dumplings around here." She turned to look, then stopped when she noticed a young man in a Parshendi mask approaching. "Um, hello," she said to him uncertainly.

@Ashbringer

Byron didn't exactly know why he walked up to these people. He didn't need anything they seemed to be carrying, but he didn't have time to survey the pair properly. All he really needed was a direction, something to do that would pass the time. Something that didn't involve cadmium for a week or two.

He kept walking, letting his bubble grow to encoumpass the three of them, although it was currently only moving at 9/10ths what most people considered normal. 

"... Hi. My name's... I'm Ben. I was wondering if there's a more central party of the part-" Blast. "Part of the party."

He steeled his nerves and kept talking. "I don't really have much to do. Or anywhere to go. And everyone's just... talking. Is there somewhere people are doing something? Shops? Sports?"

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Zinc - are there multiple people running around causing funny feelings in people? I don't think Byron is near you. 

 

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No, it's something separate from Lita's previous timeline that's slightly bleeding through and causing her discomfort.

 

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25 minutes ago, Ashbringer said:

"Certainly," Cassie replied, getting more vials to fill - convieniently, she didn't even need to Soulcast the copper she held. "Give me a moment... there!" She pocketed the remaining dust, accepted the ten of the clips, and handed the Smoker two copper-filled vials. And a business card, of course.

John thanked the Metallurgist, glanced at the business card, and downed the two vials, refilling his reserve. Soulcaster, huh? Interesting... He made a note to consider that later, wondering just how much she was transformed by her art, and wether she'll let him run some tests on her.

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Arkaitz walked forward, his arm around his partner and a black faceted mask upon his face. "So, dear one, where shall we head for our festivities?"
@Sherlock Holmes
~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ 
A man in a straight-jacket with an aluminum casing around his right arm sat calmly, riding the transfer bus to what he knew would be the metaphorical and literal end of him... If he made it to solitary.

Quote

Anyone want to break someone out of a moving van?

 

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"I'll be fine." Laurelai said with an exasperated sigh. "You don't have to keep worrying over me like I'm a kid."

"I know, I know." Her father replied with a sad little smile. "You can take care of yourself, I was just reminding you to be careful. A young woman walking down the streets by herself gets attention."

Laurelai rolled her eyes and straightened up his mask. He hadn't wanted to wear one at all but had finally relented when Laurelai insisted that she wouldn't meet with someone at the festival if they couldn't at least commit to the theme. He'd managed to find a mask of The Scholar, barely looking any different than he usually did with his labcoat still on in the place of the cloaks that many others wore.

"I've been walking through streets on my own for a decade now." She reminded him. "How many times have you been a young woman walking down the streets by yourself?"

"Okay" He said, giving a wry chuckle. "Point taken." He put his arms around her and squeezed her tightly before finally letting go.

"What about you?" Laurelai asked, happy that she'd managed to get one up over him. "Are you heading home? Back to work?"

There was an undertone of disapproval in her voice at that, she firmly believed that her father worked too much and that a little time out at the festival might be good for him. He might even manage to meet someone interesting. She didn't want to think about that too much, but surely he deserved to be happy and he hadn't so much as gone on a date since her mother had passed away.

"No I'll be heading to the clinc." He said with a knowing look. "An hour on the streets has been as much as I can handle, but it is still a holiday so the other crazy recluse's and I can all share a nice time together while the rest of the city tears the streets up or whatever you do these days."

Laurelai mock rolled her eyes again but gave him a smile so he'd know she didn't really mean it. Then she gave him another hug before turning and making her way back into the crowd, slipping the mask of the Assassin back down and grinning broadly. It had been nice to catch up with family for a little while, but her father never wanted to do anything fun during the festival. He might humor her and tag along but she could feel his discomfort. Now she was alone and free, free to wander and watch, to explore the bustling streets and watch the Storytellers on the corners.

She took a quick look at herself in the reflection of a shop window. The elaborate black mask concealed her upper face, but the patterned lace framed her cheekbones and led the eye to her elaborately styled tresses, Forged black for the occasion. She'd spent hours braiding the sides and then pinning them back to keep the rest of her hair pulled out of her face and quite enjoyed the effect. It worked well with the deep crimson dress she'd managed to get from her favorite Arelish seamstress.

Giving herself a satisfied nod, Laurelai began to weave her way through the crowds that filled the streets. Her keen eyes focused on one event after another, watching the small dramas, romances and comedies that unfolded across the giant stage of the city.

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3 hours ago, Ashbringer said:

Byron didn't exactly know why he walked up to these people. He didn't need anything they seemed to be carrying, but he didn't have time to survey the pair properly. All he really needed was a direction, something to do that would pass the time. Something that didn't involve cadmium for a week or two.

He kept walking, letting his bubble grow to encoumpass the three of them, although it was currently only moving at 9/10ths what most people considered normal. 

"... Hi. My name's... I'm Ben. I was wondering if there's a more central party of the part-" Blast. "Part of the party."

He steeled his nerves and kept talking. "I don't really have much to do. Or anywhere to go. And everyone's just... talking. Is there somewhere people are doing something? Shops? Sports?"

Aln blinked when the bubble passed over her. Is that cadmium? But the man was talking now, and she could hardly interrupt to ask.

"... Hi. My name's... I'm Ben. I was wondering if there's a more central party of the part-" Blast. "Part of the party."

 "I don't really have much to do. Or anywhere to go. And everyone's just... talking. Is there somewhere people are doing something? Shops? Sports?"

She smiled at his question. "It's nice to meet you, Ben. I'm Aln. If you're looking for party advice, you asked the wrong person, I'm afraid. My plan for the evening had been reading alone before my brother dragged me out here. The height of my excitement tonight will probably involve dumplings." 

She glanced at Folorian to ensure he wasn't talking - this storming mask had ruined her peripheral vision- and continued, "There might be some storytellers around, if you're into mythology. Other than that, I'm not really sure."

@mathiau

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A year had passed already.

Incredibly fast, yet sluggishly slow.

He had memories of willing time to go faster, and of being horrified at the passage of time.

But that time was gone now.

Now he could be outside and enjoy the night.

No one in the whole city would mark on him, or his strange-looking mask. More of a helmet than a mask.

This 'mask' did well to hide everything about him, his facial expressions, his face, and his... eyesight problems. It even remedied the last one.

 

That is why he could enjoy this night.

 

He looked at the beautiful patterns of people. So chaotic yet orderly.

 

for the first time in months, he could see them without feeling his head trying to turn on itself, what he saw incongruous with what his body and his logic told him.

 

Soon he would make a name for himself and hopefully train himself to ignore his reversed sight.

Soon, later.

Now enjoy.

 

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On 5/16/2020 at 5:02 AM, Sorana said:

"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.

He shook his head to the strawberries. It was kind of her to offer, but he had no appetite. The Hall of Legends was a good idea. Books were nice, but they were nothing like sources. Though, any touristing would have to wait. He'd finished nineteen of the TUBAist handbooks and still had six to go. There also were five more supplementary ones detailing all guild protocol, past and present, that he wanted to get through. Those were anything but light-reading.

His eyes followed her gaze. She seemed to be regarding the TUBAist group suspiciously. And then it clicked. The words she'd said moments before rose back to the surface on his consciousness: "Take a look around."

There was a double meaning to the words, he decided, whether or not it was intentional. 

Except, she was looking for the danger in the wrong place. He'd know. It was the moving van that was truly dangerous. Or, rather, what it contained. The TUBAist group was practically harmless in comparison.

Sure, there was a risk of them pelting people with cookies, but the relative risk involved was lower. Only two visions showed him that future and it was a weird one. One of members of the group wasn't visible. His clothing still existed, though, and they floated. Strange

That van however...it held someone insane. If they were broken out...Eiran suppressed a shudder. It wouldn't do to reveal his knowledge to a stranger when he didn't even tell his employer about it.

But he could assuage her worries, even if it meant seeming more adept than he was. 

"They're not going to cause trouble," he told her. "Not today. Judging by their body language, they both don't quite know one another well, nor are they certain on a plan of action. None of which relates to tonight. A couple of days from now at the earliest. Maybe a few months."

He pointed to the van. He himself couldn't do anything about it, but maybe she'd know more. "That moving van, however, rubs me the wrong way."

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3 minutes ago, Silva said:

He pointed to the van. He himself couldn't do anything about it, but maybe she'd know more. "That moving van, however, rubs me the wrong way."

Althea continued to observe those in the place, watched them mingle, talk, or switch to others to converse. She found herself agreeing with Eiran's words, the longer she watched them, the more obvious it became that they were no threat. Pulling the strawberries back when he declined she bit another one off and then straightened. It was of no use. If someone wanted to harm everybody around, then there was only a slim chance she would be able to stop them.

"That moving van, however, rubs me the wrong way." Eiran finished his explanation and she turned, followed his glance down the street to the van that was driving along the street. There was nothing weird about it, and she wasn't able to discern how many were sitting in there. Many streets were quiet now, with everybody being outside, but there were always those that provided the city with its neccessary infrastructure.

She discreetedly moved her fingers on her left hand, send Brashen on his way over, to take a look, gather information she wasn't able to achieve from her own point of view. While he disappeared into some shadows she turned her focus back to the boy, took in his posture. Gut feeling he'd claimed, and gut feeling made her suspicious. He'd come here to help, he'd claimed, but he had never specified who exactly he was refering to. She tapped a tiny bit of stormlight, just enough to make her feel a little more alert while she considered him.

So far his body language had been harmless. Lost, insecure, intimidated by the amount of people nearby. He hadn't opened his heart, but she'd never expected him to do so in the first place. But the way he spoke now, there was a sureness in his words, that contrasted his behaviour so far. There were only a few possibilities to explain his words and she quickly compiled them into a list for further evaluation.

One. He tried to distract her from the group below.
Two. He knew what was inside of the Van and either aimed to lure her into a trap or it really was something dangerous.
Three. He had some kind of Investiture, contact person or technology providing him with additional information about the Van and what it contained, which lead to his conclusion.
Four. He was a boy, alone in a strange city and was scared.

She discarded option one and four after short consideration. If he hadn't thought her a complete idiot he would have known, that she saw that the group didn't consist of some kind of threat. And he didn't seem to be like the kind of person to be spooked by a random Van either.

That meant, there was a high chance danger of some sorts had arrived. Either for herself or for those around them. Althea wasn't entirely sure why someone would target her, there were a whole ton of better targets in the city, but she couldn't quite rule the possibility out either. If only because of the enemies she possibly had created during her years around here.

"Then we better take a look." she decided and started to walk down the few steps back to the street level. "Can't hurt to be cautious."

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Crow lingered on the side of the street, wearing a mask she found that had called to her, for some reason. A pale white feathered mask, that of a dove. Something about it... SHe shook her head, pushing into the festivities. A man walked past, selling cheap wine.

"Miss, would you like a bottle?" The man was scrawny, short, with mousy brown hair and blue eyes.

She looked him up and down, pursing her lips beneath her mask. "No, thank you. I don't drink." Then she turned into the crowd once again, passing through a sea of unfamiliar faces. Masks of anything and everything. A parshendi. The lonely god. So many, many faces. She shook her head, then made up her mind. This was a night for celebrating. She was going to talk to someone. So she made her way past a carnival throwing game, over to a group she saw. The parshendi, a phoenix, and others.

She hold out her right hand, tucking her safehand beneath her chest in a proper vorin way. "Hello, I am Crow Johnson. What would your names be?"

@Rushu42 @Ashbringer @mathiau

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21 hours ago, Rushu42 said:

"Sounds like a good idea," Aln replied. "I think there's someone selling dumplings around here." She turned to look, then stopped when she noticed a young man in a Parshendi mask approaching. "Um, hello," she said to him uncertainly.

16 hours ago, Rushu42 said:

Aln blinked when the bubble passed over her. Is that cadmium? But the man was talking now, and she could hardly interrupt to ask.

"... Hi. My name's... I'm Ben. I was wondering if there's a more central party of the part-" Blast. "Part of the party."

 "I don't really have much to do. Or anywhere to go. And everyone's just... talking. Is there somewhere people are doing something? Shops? Sports?"

She smiled at his question. "It's nice to meet you, Ben. I'm Aln. If you're looking for party advice, you asked the wrong person, I'm afraid. My plan for the evening had been reading alone before my brother dragged me out here. The height of my excitement tonight will probably involve dumplings." 

She glanced at Folorian to ensure he wasn't talking - this storming mask had ruined her peripheral vision- and continued, "There might be some storytellers around, if you're into mythology. Other than that, I'm not really sure".

As soon as Folorian realized Aln had started speaking to someone else, he shifted his focus from "her" to "her conversation", revealing a young person with a mask representing a Singer, a boy, judging by his voice.

After Aln was finished talking he added "Hello Ben, I'm Folorian. I'm sorry we couldn't help you." and after a few seconds "By the way, I'm not the brother"

@Ashbringer@Ark1002

Quote

Feel free to chose whether Folorian spoke before, at the same time or after Crow

 

 

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"I heard someone say they need a crowbar!" From across the street, Kingston threw a black claymore that, in the wrong lighting and with a little bit of imagination, could conceivably be used as a crowbar. It nearly impaled the woman dancing next to Crow Johnson, but fortunately she side-stepped it and it clattered harmlessly to the cobblestones. "There's more of the exact same sword where that came from, just step this way, ladies and gentlemen!" The distraction made it difficult to tell if Folorian spoke before, after, or at the same time as Crow. 

Meanwhile, Kingston produced another pair of sunglasses from his pocket and placed them over top of the ones he was already wearing. Their tint was hard to identify in the semi-darkness of the street, but it would be widely agreed that it was not a good look to combine two lenses and a costume mask. Fashion wasn't the Smedry's strong suit. He scanned the gathering in front of him for trouble. Tonight would be the perfect opportunity for his pursuers to ambush him, though he was confident that he was being subtle enough to avoid detection. 

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Inside of the mysterious van, Silas rocked his head back and forth, bobbing to the music that he heard outside. "Hey guards, could we stop for takeout? It is a holiday after all, and I can be perfectly civi-" 
Silas's words cut off as one of the guards, a Leecher who was burning to prevent him from teleporting out of the vehicle, slammed the butt of his rifle into his stomach, causing Silas to feel more than a bit of pain. 
Silas coughed up some blood and spat it in front of the guard. "Rude."
The guard decided that it was time for Silas to take a little rest, and stabbed a sedative-filled needle into his leg.

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okay it is almost time to break him out

@Sherlock Holmes @AonEne @Anyone else who wants to commit a crime

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5 hours ago, Sorana said:

"Then we better take a look." she decided and started to walk down the few steps back to the street level. "Can't hurt to be cautious."

Actually, it could, there were quite a few ways one could get hurt by being cautious, many of which they were likely to encounter, but it wouldn't do to say that. Eiran had a feeling he was walking on a wire, seconds from tipping over the precarious edge into an abyss he didn't deserve.

Should have kept my mouth shut. Too late. It would be a lesson for the future. Stay aloof and only involve yourself when your actions will certainly do that which you wish. Not simply to make someone feel better. Except, that felt wrong to him. Intentionally not helping a person was quite similar to being a bystander which was quite similar to intentionally causing a person harm. He would probably debate that more later over a warm cup of tea. For now he had no choice but to follow. 

He hurried to catch up to her. You met her two minutes ago and now you're chasing after her towards something you know is dangerous. Nice going, Eiran. 

They passed a little girl. Her eyes were downcast. Carefully judging how fast Althea was moving and how much time he had, he knelt down next to her quickly.

"This is for you," he said, handing her the pink cotton candy. He hadn't bitten directly into it and his hands were relatively clean, so he figured it wasn't too much of a health risk. Besides, she'd enjoy it much more than he would and children were pretty much invincible most of the time. 

He swiftly stood up, glowing a little inside when he spotted her smile in the corner of his eye, and made up the space to the white haired woman, hoping she hadn't noticed his momentary absence. 

Hands free, he found himself forced to shove them in his pockets to prevent them from half-fidgeting and half-shaking.

"Do you do this thing a lot?" he asked her. "Investigate sketchy-looking stuff?"

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Bees - neither of my characters are of the sort to help a madman escape intentionally, but Byron is on the verge of panicking and bolting from all the people asking him questions. I could have him run past your van burning cadmium. ~5 seconds of slowed time, plus two big jolts as the bubble captures and releases the van. Could make for a good diversion (maybe throwing that Leecher off your back, hmm?). And involving Byron, even indirectly, is a good way to force him into the plot.

@bees?

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39 minutes ago, Ashbringer said:
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that may come in handy soon ( :

 

 

Edited by bees?
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The man in the white robe grabbed at the aluminum gloves on the ground. These gloves were important. He didn’t know why, but they were important. He looked at the other gloves. There had been a boy. What was the boy’s name? The man in the white robe tried to think back. The boy, his name was… what was it? What was the name? He couldn’t remember. He looked around at the fruit trees. There was a sword hanging from a tree, a big, black blade in an aluminum sheath. This sword was special to him, he could feel it. He almost felt like it should talk to him. That was crazy though, and the man in the white robe wasn’t crazy. He knew he wasn’t. Insanity was being unable to function, having your mind deceive you. The man in the white robe knew his mind wasn’t tricking him. It was this world - something was wrong with the world. He couldn’t quite remember what the world had been like, but something was wrong. He looked in the sword. His eyes were gray and his hair was grey and his hands were gray, but his robe was white. Yes, very white, except where it wasn’t. The light didn’t like his robe, he knew that.

The man in the white robe stood, and slung the sheath of the sword over his shoulder. The boy, he had been important, hadn’t he? He tried not to panic as he struggled again for his memory. Remember. The word reverberated through him, like a divine command. He fought the fog that seemed to cloud his memory. He couldn’t remember. All he knew was darkness. The gloves, they were important. 

As if by instinct, he put out his hand. The darkness liked him, wanted him to go on. He could feel it. Or was it his own mind, telling him to go on? Where was on? Was he in off right now? No, no, that was a diversion. It wasn’t important. He knew the darkness, and the darkness wouldn’t lie to him, would it? No, the darkness didn’t lie. The darkness would scream and reach for his soul, but it wouldn’t lie to him. The light, that was the lie. He could feel it. The light was full of liars. You couldn’t lie about what you couldn’t see. An Alleyway opened from the forest, opened into a whirl of darkness. The man in the white robe stepped into the darkness. 

The man in the white robe walked for minutes and minutes and seconds and seconds and hours and minutes until he came to the end of the darkness. There were walls on both sides of him, and darkness above him, and lights and explosions in the sky. And people. Was one of them the boy? Maybe they would know the boy. The man in the white robe grabbed one. This one looked like a coin, with a shiny side. 

“Have you seen the boy?” he asked. “I think the boy is my friend. He is important. Do you know him?”

The person shoved him away, looking a little frightened. The man in the white robe stumbled into another person. This person had blond hair, and a mask with a silver eyepatch. 

“I am looking for the boy. Do you know him? You are not the person you look like. He has black hair, and his eye is the other side. That’s okay, though. I think he scares people like the boy. Do you know the boy?”

The new person sucked in light. He looked nervous. The man in the white robe watched the light. The light was lying to the person. He grabbed it with his hands and watched the darkness eat the light. Now the person would be safe from the light. 

“You’re welcome. All the lights are liars, you know. They whisper like scratches in metal and like sparks in the sky. I don’t think the light likes me, though. Maybe the light likes the boy. Maybe that is why I don’t know where the boy is.”

The man in the white robe could feel the darkness. It liked eating the light. Maybe if he ate all of the light, he could see where the boy was. Darkness wrapped around the person with the wrong eyeball and the bright hair. Then it wrapped around the man in the white robe. This darkness didn’t eat the light though. It just hid the light from getting inside his eyeballs. If the light got in his eyeballs, he would be in trouble probably. The darkness was soft and warm and it made him sleepy. The man in the white robe fell asleep in the darkness.
________________________________________________

Ned stepped forward quickly as the crazy guy fainted. His weirdly grey eyes rolled back into his head. Amisim grabbed the guy’s other arm and helped Ned prop him up against a lamp post. Amisim wiped his forehead, the gold paint there getting distorted by the motion. “Dude, this guy must have had way too many drinks tonight.” 

Ned shook his head. “I tried to use Regrowth on him, but it didn’t take. If he was just drunk, it should’ve burned all the alcohol right out of him.”

Amisim shrugged. “Not my problem, man." He looked at Ned, the groaned when he saw the concern in Ned's eyes. "Come, on, let’s just stick him on the side of the street. He’ll be fine, he’ll wake up tomorrow with a killer hangover, and go on with his year. Nothing to worry about.”

Ned looked back down at the man, passed out and slumping to the ground. “I don’t know, ‘Mis. You head on to the party, I’ll make sure he gets to the hospital and catch up.”

Amisim shook his head in disappointment. “You and your tender heart. You know, not every crazy idiot in this city is worth spending time on. You gotta pick your battles. I’ll save you a piece of Marie’s pie if you get there before eight. One minute late, and you’ll have to get your own pie.” 

Ned’s stomach grumbled. Marie made the absolute best chocolate pie. He nodded. “Deal.” He pulled out his mobile and called an emergency service as Amisim started walking toward the east side of town. “Yeah, I got somebody who seems kinda sick. He just passed out, and he seemed like he might have had a blow to the head before then. He kept asking about somebody, but he wasn’t really lucid. Okay. I am on the corner of 5th and Hammond. Thanks!” He closed his mobile and waited for the hospital staff to arrive. He checked his watch. Hopefully they aren’t running behind tonight. Amisim better not eat that pie early.

Edited by 18th Shard
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Cassandra handed out her last business card to a gleefully grinning Thug, and watched as the little stream of metalborn went back to their parties from her vendor's booth. A young candy salesman had been glad to share, once he saw the crowd that her little magic tricks and metals had caused. Add that to a discount for all who bought both a vial and a lollipop, and Cassie and her young partner Poller were quite well off by the time business wore down. 

She scratched her still-covered left arm. She couldn't tell how much the metal had spread through the muscle, but it ached all the same. That was enough Soulcasting for one night. Although... this party was nowhere near over. Perhaps she could enjoy herself for a while.

She turned to Poller and handed him 50 crysts. "For helping me tonight," she said as the boy's eyes widened. She smiled: this was probably a night that the boy would never forget. "I've made enough cash tonight; I'm going for a walk around. You'll always be welcome at my shop downtown. It's been a pleasure." She paused, thinking. "By the way, would you know where I could rent a wagon?"

Three minutes later, Cassie was off to see the rest of the party, dragging along a small cart filled with a generous selection of sweets and four of Kingston's swords. Poller had taken a fancy to one of them, and the other had been nicked while she wasn't looking. Cassie had a strange relationship with thieves: she had grown up around one almost all the time back on Roshar, where she would try to bring a steady, legal income while her friend and his "associates" went through thick and thin on... less legal methods. So while she didn't like that the little pickpockets were running around so much here, she didn't bother to look behind her as the smallest sword and several pieces of candy vanished from her cart. This was the best time for their business, too.

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If anyone would like a lollipop, you can buy one at Poller's stand for 2 crysts. Order now and we'll DOUBLE your order and give you TWO lollipops and a complementary Braize Bar for ONLY TWO CRYSTS!

- - -

Byron was beginning to shake. 

He had never been a social person. Everyone he knew, everyone in his old life, they were long dead from old age thanks to him. He began flaring his cadmium, letting almost 20 seconds slip by before realizing there were still other people in his bubble. Relax. You're fine. Aln was trying to be helpful, after all. A story sounded nice. He wouldn't have to talk, just listen.

Byron looked at Aln and calmly replied, "Thank you so-"

And then everything happened at once.

A woman, Vorin by the look of her dress, came into his time bubble and announced her name was Crow, like her mask. No, she wore a dove mask. But her name was Crow Johnson. And she wanted his name. And the companion of Aln said something, and he felt his eyes on him seemingly for the first time. Folorian, Byron thought he heard. Something about a brother - Aln's brother. No, that he was not Aln's brother. Because Aln's brother had - had what? Done something to her. He didn't know what.

And then, as if the cosmere was done with emotional trauma and wanted to add physical trauma for good measure, somebody threw a storming CLAYMORE into the mess. It was headed right for Aln, but thanks to the cadmium bubble the steel blade was deflected enough for her to dodge. The force of the shift slammed into Byron like a tempest, not doing any harm but still forcing him backward as if shoved by the bubble into place.

It was too much. Byron turned and ran, leaving Aln and the others to stand and settle their society on their own. He ran, ever-active eyes seeing a  couple approaching a slow-moving van in his trajectory. He slowed to a brisk walk, trying to match the pace of the people outside his bubble of cadmium. It wasn't easy when his instinct, sensing a danger or shock, tried to flare the metal to defend itself.

This always happens, Byron thought. Every time. You meet someone, you think maybe they could be a friend. And then you can't handle it, and you run, and by the time you come back it's too late. They're gone. 

Byron kept walking toward the van, wondering why he thought, maybe, that this time would be different.

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I'll give the others a chance to "investigate" the van before I get much closer. Byron needs some time to sulk; society and personal questions tend to scare him, especially put on the spot so much. He'll be alright.

 

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