Quick Fix 66: Full River Red

[Szeth_Pancakes]

Randen was tired. As the water trickled down the clock, so too did his energy — fading away like a dream after waking. He wished for the night to be over. He wished that none of his friends were traitorous murderers. He wished for many things.

He shifted anxiously in his chair as he stared at his hand of cards. His eyes kept returning to the stamp. Yuen… Traitors… 

He wanted to scream; he wanted to let the rage that simmered inside him to burn with the fire of a thousand suns. I must stay calm. I am a protector of the Empire. I must keep a level head. He repeated the words to himself over and over, but somehow, he couldn’t believe them.

What if he was wrong? What if the traitors had a point? What if the battle he was fighting was for naught? The sides seemed indistinguishable. He had no doubt that the Discovery faction would resort to assassination if it suited their goals. What, then, was the difference? Why did good soldiers die for meaningless causes? Why did hard-working men die, but arrogant, conceited poets live?

A thousand questions, yet none had an answer. Be rational, Randen thought. And yet he was not.

[The Unknown Ajah]

14 hours ago, TheAlpha929 said:

It’d make me happy if I had a chiropractor. 
EDIT: Mat, apparently 

Mood tbh. (That's how you youngins speak, right?)

2 hours ago, Kasimir said:

The water trickled through the clock.

Halfway past the Hour.

GM Announcement: Es ist Rollovet, the halfway mark between rollovers. Happy Rollovet, meine Duden!

*Sighs at the realization that he has to write 1,000 words a day to meet his quota* So anyways:

Gaovaris rose from his dusty bed. It was old and worn, tattered, but at least it was free of bugs. He scoured the thing frequently, no bed bugs to ravage him at night, no flees to infest his hair. For all its age, it was clean. As he'd once heard a great man say, "Chaos is unfortunate, but uncleanness is unacceptable. Yet, order is stifling, so cleanliness is necessary." He hardly even realized that he was murmuring the words to himself.

He stretched, pulling his arms back and groaning at the pop, he reversed the motion and let out yet another groan. He left the small room he called home, recalling the days he had lived in the guardsmen's barracks. A decade of pay and he finally had somewhere all to himself. The sun beat down up the earth, revealing its harsh imperfections.

There were supposed to be 80 suns, each day rising anew. Which one was it today, he wondered. Perhaps he should keep up better with what the clergy said. No, that was just begging for trouble and wasted time. Not that he did much with his time other than waste it.

He stalked over to the Guard station, the ground crunching and grinding underneath the heels of his boots. It was quite a hot day, so Gaovaris loosened the collar of his jacket. 

Edit: You guys really need to post more often so I can do a few more of the segments I speed wrote before going to bed.

@Kasimir, what's your policy going to be on editing in another viable section provided a significant amount of time has past? I can specifically mark them if that helps.

Edited May 23, 2023 by The Known Novel

[|TJ|]

Reiterating the thing that I said in the previous game that I'll be busy till the end of May, so expect meagre activity. I tried to read all your game-discussion-within-the-RP posts, I did. But I'm too busy to sit and go through them all in a day, so I'll be playing this game off-the-cuff. 

---

Fletcher sat in his shop with Aeo buzzing beside him, contemplating the recent events. Mainly how they'll affect his sales. He had placed his shop strategically to both increase his sales and as a hub of information so nothing could get past him. He had to hide his more... risky artefacts from inspectors after all. 

"How much for that?" asked a customer, nothing really shady about this person but Fletcher narrowed his eyes as he realised he was pointing to Aeo. 

"Not for sale," muttered Fletcher shooing him off.

Seons were not only rare in the Rose Empire but the secret to whisk them off Arelon was a closely guarded piece of information. He did not get to where he was by doing his business blindly. Contrary to the popular opinion, the saying 'there's always a price for everything' was not how Fletcher worked. You needed to match the items to your customer base. Not only their tastes but also their personality. You could not sell your not-exactly-legal items to a commoner. As a result, Fletcher had extensive knowledge about not just his customers, but everyone who had come to his shop to enquire specific items. 

So it was not exactly surprising to him when he learned of the Svordish ambassador's death as he was one such customer. Asking about dangerous items could only get to killed. Now Fletcher had a problem. He'd told the ambassador that he'd procure the item. Was he in trouble now? Was the ambassador killed for it? He'd need to keep his ears open and eyes nonchalant. He was just a guy with a shop. No one could have guessed that he was the source of his own items. No one in this world knew he was a renowned smuggler from distant worlds. 

---

Not a fan of Szeth implying he wants to keep his voting a secret. D1 voting is an important phase and sets the stage for the rest of the game. No voting in the thread means no accountability for the votes and no reasoning at the time. Elims can get away by giving some random excuse after the fact. 

Matter of fact, I'd like to know why @Archer thinks secret voting mechanic is village-helping?

[Archer]

2 hours ago, |TJ| said:

Szeth a fan of Szeth implying he wants to keep his voting a secret. D1 voting is an important phase and sets the stage for the rest of the game. No voting in the thread means no accountability for the votes and no reasoning at the time. Elims can get away by giving some random excuse after the fact. 

Matter of fact, I'd like to know why @Archer thinks secret voting mechanic is village-helping?

As an elim last game, I didn't like it very much. I actually think both views on it are relatively NAI, so TJ. Machancially and in terms of presence, V!TJ is the smallest loss to us, and an individual chosen at random isn't that much more suspicious than my best suspect, since today has been a bit of a wash. 

[Szeth_Pancakes]

12 hours ago, xinoehp512 said:

Krow's eyebrow lifted imperceptibly as he watched the lieutenant begin his second circuit. No one else was even moving, and here was the lieutenant already circling the building twice? He resolved to speak to the man if he began a third circuit. Perhaps the man needed to delegate a little better. General Yuen would never have let his men go idle if there were things that needed to be done.

Krow frowned. "What kind of question is that? Surely you do not think that any traitors in our midst would tell the truth, do you?" He took a step closer, shifting his stance to leave his sword visible in its sheath on his hip. "And if we are innocent, what use would it be to know who we bear grudges against? All I can see that leading to is discord and conflict."

"Surely a spy would remain silent?" Krow tilted his head. "Every word out of their mouth is a liability, certainly. At any moment, they could slip up, and then-" he made a cutting motion with his hand. "Better to be silent and out of notice than in the spotlight."

"If you ask me," Krow said in a quiet voice, "I think we should take a closer look at Left and Right. [Devotary]. They've already betrayed one faction. Who's to say they won't betray another?"

 

11 hours ago, xinoehp512 said:

Krow sniffed. "How is fighting amongst ourselves ever going to lead anywhere? I've seen firsthand how that kind of thing only leads to the death of good, honest people. We have enough on our hands as it is." He relaxed his posture. "But to answer your question- I doubt the traitors will be killing based on petty anger. No one here is important enough to have earned the wrath of whomever it is they take orders from. Not unless they know something they shouldn't."

"I've made my suspicions known to the captain." Krow didn't add that the man hadn't looked too convinced - had almost dismissed him outright, in fact - which had shocked him. It was true that Left and Right being deserters didn't necessarily make them traitors, but surely it at least warranted a closer inspection? Perhaps if he was able to convince other people, he could sway the captain's opinion.

Krow just barely managed to keep from flinching at the woman's voice from behind him. How long had Right been listening in? Lights, was she creepy sometimes.

He turned to face Right, keeping his expression neutral. "What actions?" he prodded. "You haven't caught a traitor already, have you? It hasn't even been an hour."

 

3 hours ago, |TJ| said:

Reiterating the thing that I said in the previous game that I'll be busy till the end of May, so expect meagre activity. I tried to read all your game-discussion-within-the-RP posts, I did. But I'm too busy to sit and go through them all in a day, so I'll be playing this game off-the-cuff. 

---

Fletcher sat in his shop with Aeo buzzing beside him, contemplating the recent events. Mainly how they'll affect his sales. He had placed his shop strategically to both increase his sales and as a hub of information so nothing could get past him. He had to hide his more... risky artefacts from inspectors after all. 

"How much for that?" asked a customer, nothing really shady about this person but Fletcher narrowed his eyes as he realised he was pointing to Aeo. 

"Not for sale," muttered Fletcher shooing him off.

Seons were not only rare in the Rose Empire but the secret to whisk them off Arelon was a closely guarded piece of information. He did not get to where he was by doing his business blindly. Contrary to the popular opinion, the saying 'there's always a price for everything' was not how Fletcher worked. You needed to match the items to your customer base. Not only their tastes but also their personality. You could not sell your not-exactly-legal items to a commoner. As a result, Fletcher had extensive knowledge about not just his customers, but everyone who had come to his shop to enquire specific items. 

So it was not exactly surprising to him when he learned of the Svordish ambassador's death as he was one such customer. Asking about dangerous items could only get to killed. Now Fletcher had a problem. He'd told the ambassador that he'd procure the item. Was he in trouble now? Was the ambassador killed for it? He'd need to keep his ears open and eyes nonchalant. He was just a guy with a shop. No one could have guessed that he was the source of his own items. No one in this world knew he was a renowned smuggler from distant worlds. 

---

Not a fan of Szeth implying he wants to keep his voting a secret. D1 voting is an important phase and sets the stage for the rest of the game. No voting in the thread means no accountability for the votes and no reasoning at the time. Elims can get away by giving some random excuse after the fact. 

Matter of fact, I'd like to know why @Archer thinks secret voting mechanic is village-helping?

[The “not sharing my vote” thing was an experiment that didn’t work out. Currently, my vote is on xino, because of the two posts above yours. The first one is okay on its own, but both of them together feel like xino is deliberately twisting my words to get out of answering my question.]

[Devotary of Spontaneity]

9 hours ago, Archer said:

Disadvantage: we don't know who is dying today

Advantage: neither do they

Nice to be on the ignorant bliss side of that this game. 

Perhaps a farmer could afford to live in ignorance. For her, a lack of knowledge made her job far harder than it had to be. Even though joining Discovery faction had been Kurishina's idea, she'd become far stingier with information ever since. With good reason perhaps, but giving Left even less made no sense. Left's ten years of service of service should have earned her comparable trust as her twelve, especially after everything Kurishina had done to ensure she and Left worked together. Private codes they'd never told her they could both read had no place in such a delicate situation. She and Left were a pair, and would need to be pointing in the same direction as soon as Right found out who was going to die.

9 hours ago, The Wandering Wizard said:

On that day, years ago

The rivers ran red

With the blood of that man

Not forgotten, not by me

Rivers ran red with innocent blood

Yet traitorous too?

Never was there a truer man

A more devoted general

Yet he still died

Forgotten and alone

 

Only one widow was made that day

Yet the tears of many stained the snow

Not just the cold freezing their hearts

But the truth that nested deep inside

And a burning question, some dared to ask

"Why? Why did he have to die?"

This man more myth than legend

Yet he to was felled like a common tree

Hewn from his roots and left to return to the ground

Where the 80 suns could shine on him no more

 

His spears were shattered

His swords turned into slab 

All that was left of the metal was a small cube

That was left for his grieving widow

A tiny metal cube

All that was left of the great work

Carved by his bloody weapons

 

There had been over 100 names for him

Now a single one was left

Branded on top of his grave

TRAITOR

 

A once great legacy

Dragged through the muck

And now all that was left was

A mystery

An enigma

A bold declaration of dissent, Left observed. And an ignorant one. Yuen had indeed been a traitor to the empire, his warmongering ways threatening another war with Svorden the Empire couldn't afford at the time. His brutality in MaiPon risked a mass uprising of the Empire's component nations deciding they were better off independent than subject to a throne that would treat their entire people as enemies. Rebellions and a protracted war against the Svordish navy that could so easily cut supply lines and split the Empire into its component parts might well have shattered the Empire permanently. An elegant if brutal plan for a Mulla'dil separatist or a Svordish agent, yet neither Heritage, nor so far as she knew Discovery, had found evidence of either. Merely a general so in love with war that he couldn't see beyond the next battle, the next campaign. His avengers might well have grander ambitions.

[JNV]

The hour was coming to a close all too quickly. Zhangrong's nap had been far too short for the rest they needed and far too long given the task at hand. Precious time dripping through the clock, and they had no leads. No true suspicions. That damn heart of theirs, always leading them astray. They were the second in command. They had to be the best of the best, with walls of steel between emotion and reason. But they were not. Some soldiers were even still asleep, which was a quick way to earn their ire. Others still were hard to read behind a calm veneer of placid responses. The duck wrangler in particular had their hackles rising for no particular reason, and untangling true distrust from instinctual distaste was a difficult task. But they had not earned the rank of lieutenant for nothing, and they would succeed in this task as they had all tasks before or perish in the valiant attempt. They would succeed. 

There was still the question of who would be granted use of the Captain's signet ring. Only a few had been present enough to earn the Captain's favor, and they still could not trust much of anything. But they would endure.

[The Paradoxical Phenomenon]

3 minutes ago, JNV said:

The duck wrangler in particular had their hackles rising for no particular reason, and untangling true distrust from instinctual distaste was a difficult task.

Quote

For real, I’m beginning to hate my character 

 

[|TJ|]

2 hours ago, Archer said:

As an elim last game, I didn't like it very much. I actually think both views on it are relatively NAI, so TJ. Machancially and in terms of presence, V!TJ is the smallest loss to us, and an individual chosen at random isn't that much more suspicious than my best suspect, since today has been a bit of a wash. 

Hmmm leaning mild evil for this. You know my situation was the same last game and yet I was on point about you and sorta less on point about Mat in D1, and Alpha in the later stages of last game. Sure, my presence in terms of volume might not be much, but I can still read players well on my good days. 

I do concede that since the game discussion would mostly be in the form of RP, I might fare less well than last game but still I don't like that you reduced my contribution to games solely based on the volume of content/presence. 

[The Unknown Ajah]

I'm pretty lost, I hate reading roleplay discussion, I think I'm going to try to reread without letting my eyes skim, but it's hard.

I'd appreciate it if people could give an OoC summary of their thoughts a couple times a cycle, but if you don't want to/can't /shrug.

When he finally arrived, he was quite nearly pouring with sweat. He stepped next to another guardsman who was sitting in shade. The man moved a half step to the side, allowing Gaovaris slightly more room. "My thanks," he said with a nod at the man. Gerathono had once said, 'A man who lends shade to a man in need is blessed indeed.' Gerathono had always had a poetic style.

He cooled down, just resting against the wall. Finally, feeling rested enough to see what his duties would be for the day. He stepped out from beneath the cool shade scorching heat wreathing him. Gaovaris grimaced. This was no day for walking about, it was a day for lounging about an playing card games.

He pulled open the fancily wrought gate, shapes out of legend and myth adorned it. Dragons, great winged lizards three times the height of a man, covered it. Their fire spewed across the masterful design spreading in intricate patterns. They appeared to be fighting each other, far, far above a battle between completely normal soldiers. 

Their helmets and sets of armor were far too clean and unbattered, of course, but that was to be expected. At least their swords were properly bloodied and chipped. (from here on out I'm going to try to italicise text that lacks game relevance)

Edit: How long until rollover? I'm getting no use out of timezone conversions.

Edited May 23, 2023 by The Known Novel

[xinoehp512]

12 hours ago, Devotary of Spontaneity said:

"We'll catch the traitors. I'm sure you won't have to worry."

Krow gave a quick, derisive snort. "I very much doubt that." Hadn't been a day gone by in the past ten years he hadn't had to worry about something or other. Especially what with all the secrets and lies that seemed to have spread through Discovery like a growth. At this point, he was so used to worry he almost didn't even notice it anymore.

Like his worry about Right. He glanced back at the woman, who had turned to involve herself in a different conversation. There was something about that woman and her partner that didn't sit well with him. They were hiding something, he could feel it.

11 hours ago, The Wandering Wizard said:

On that day, years ago

The rivers ran red

With the blood of that man

Not forgotten, not by me

Rivers ran red with innocent blood

Yet traitorous too?

Never was there a truer man

A more devoted general

Yet he still died

Forgotten and alone

 

Only one widow was made that day

Yet the tears of many stained the snow

Not just the cold freezing their hearts

But the truth that nested deep inside

And a burning question, some dared to ask

"Why? Why did he have to die?"

This man more myth than legend

Yet he to was felled like a common tree

Hewn from his roots and left to return to the ground

Where the 80 suns could shine on him no more

 

His spears were shattered

His swords turned into slab 

All that was left of the metal was a small cube

That was left for his grieving widow

A tiny metal cube

All that was left of the great work

Carved by his bloody weapons

 

There had been over 100 names for him

Now a single one was left

Branded on top of his grave

TRAITOR

 

A once great legacy

Dragged through the muck

And now all that was left was

A mystery

An enigma

[OOC: Been far too long since I've written some free verse poetry  And I guess Rambleton is now a sympathizer as well which should lead to some hilarious clashes, how are we feeling up for a duel of words/poems Fifth :eyes: Just wanted to finish the poem and I'll re-read over the thread with fresh eyes in the morning. Recieved some interesting offers so far though I will note]

Krow lifted the poem from the wall, peering intently through his fading eyes at the words. A lament for General Yuen, it seemed. Innocuous enough- nothing in it overtly traitorous- but still, a dangerous thing to be writing. Especially in an atmosphere as charged as this one, where any word out of place might mean death. He glanced down at where the author's name was written- Rambleton. He stored that information away for later, folding the poem and tucking it into a pocket of his uniform. He'd have to talk to Rambleton later- he agreed with the sentiment of the poem, of course, but the last thing he wanted was to see someone hanged for it.

1 hour ago, JNV said:

The hour was coming to a close all too quickly. Zhangrong's nap had been far too short for the rest they needed and far too long given the task at hand. Precious time dripping through the clock, and they had no leads. No true suspicions. That damn heart of theirs, always leading them astray. They were the second in command. They had to be the best of the best, with walls of steel between emotion and reason. But they were not. Some soldiers were even still asleep, which was a quick way to earn their ire. Others still were hard to read behind a calm veneer of placid responses. The duck wrangler in particular had their hackles rising for no particular reason, and untangling true distrust from instinctual distaste was a difficult task. But they had not earned the rank of lieutenant for nothing, and they would succeed in this task as they had all tasks before or perish in the valiant attempt. They would succeed. 

There was still the question of who would be granted use of the Captain's signet ring. Only a few had been present enough to earn the Captain's favor, and they still could not trust much of anything. But they would endure.

"Rest well, Lieutenant?" enquired Krow.

[The Unknown Ajah]

It seemed almost a waste for such craftsmanship to occupy a simple guardsmen's barracks, where they would only be disdained for their inaccuracies instead of praised for their beauty. Gaovaris doubted they could truly appreciate the beauty of the forged steel. It was as Ashrintara had said, 'Beauty is wasted on harsh men, but so are harsh men wasted upon beauty, set each to their purpose and set them free.'

He was so distracted by his thoughts and analysis of the gate that he failed to notice the subtle hints that most people take for granted. The small shift of the air, the smell wafting some expensive scent, the soft sounds of footsteps on the path, it was all unnoticed by Gaovaris, who was overtaken by his reverie. He noticed the man too late to do anything but lessen impact, and they both went stumbling back.

"Look where you're going you fool! This is a public footpath, not your own private gawking trail!" It was some rich fop, his clothing was probably worth more money than Gaovaris had ever seen, or it would have been had there not been some sort of tea spilled across its front.

The man finally seemed to take note of the damage. "And look at what you've done to my shirt! It was an Ashrotona, and that tea was worth ten whole-'' he cut off in his rage, realizing his anger was wasted on Gaovaris. "Don't look so nonchalant about this. I'll have your hide for this!"

Just gonna keep chugging along, my goal is to maintain my roleplay until after cycle two, we'll see if it works out.

[JNV]

The final moments of the hour. Lieutenant Jiang Zhangrong had just minutes to attempt to maximize their favor with the Captain. Time slipped away, taking ragged flecks of Zhangrong's composure with it. They knew nothing. They were the lieutenant, and they knew nothing. But there was no time for hesitation. The Captain had placed a burden on their shoulders, and they would bear it. No more naps. No more frivolous panic. Calm. Glassy calm. The end of the hour approached, and they would see the result of their decisions. They would see who was chosen to die for their treachery. As long as they had a foundation of knowledge, they could build conclusions from it. It would be alright. They were not on the edge of a nervous breakdown. They could bear the burden placed upon them. All that was left to do was wait.

Perhaps they could have done more. Perhaps they could have opened private communications with every soldier instead of succumbing to the sweet embrace of sleep. Perhaps they could have been a better lieutenant. But there was no time for regret. Time slipped away no matter how much people wished otherwise, and there was nothing they could do now. They had done everything they could. 

[xinoehp512]

12 hours ago, The Wandering Wizard said:

On that day, years ago

The rivers ran red

With the blood of that man

Not forgotten, not by me

Rivers ran red with innocent blood

Yet traitorous too?

Never was there a truer man

A more devoted general

Yet he still died

Forgotten and alone

 

Only one widow was made that day

Yet the tears of many stained the snow

Not just the cold freezing their hearts

But the truth that nested deep inside

And a burning question, some dared to ask

"Why? Why did he have to die?"

This man more myth than legend

Yet he to was felled like a common tree

Hewn from his roots and left to return to the ground

Where the 80 suns could shine on him no more

 

His spears were shattered

His swords turned into slab 

All that was left of the metal was a small cube

That was left for his grieving widow

A tiny metal cube

All that was left of the great work

Carved by his bloody weapons

 

There had been over 100 names for him

Now a single one was left

Branded on top of his grave

TRAITOR

 

A once great legacy

Dragged through the muck

And now all that was left was

A mystery

An enigma

[OOC: Been far too long since I've written some free verse poetry  And I guess Rambleton is now a sympathizer as well which should lead to some hilarious clashes, how are we feeling up for a duel of words/poems Fifth :eyes: Just wanted to finish the poem and I'll re-read over the thread with fresh eyes in the morning. Recieved some interesting offers so far though I will note]

Krow glanced to the sides to make sure that no one was watching, folded the note he'd written and slid it under the door. Rambleton would find it soon enough.

The note read: Careful. Discovery does not reply kindly to perspectives that contradict the official report. Men have died for writing or speaking words such as your poem. Yuen was a great man, and his death a great tragedy- this empire has suffered greatly for his absence - but what has been done has been done. Calling for justice will not get you anywhere.

He left the note unsigned and continued down the corridor as though he were simply strolling through.

2 hours ago, Szeth_Pancakes said:

 

 

[The “not sharing my vote” thing was an experiment that didn’t work out. Currently, my vote is on xino, because of the two posts above yours. The first one is okay on its own, but both of them together feel like xino is deliberately twisting my words to get out of answering my question.]

Krow walked into the open in time to hear his own name whispered in a small crowd. He frowned. "What is this?"

One of the whisperers jerked up at the sound of his voice, and the guilty expression on his face told Krow all he needed to know. They had been discussing the possibility of him being a traitor. Him, who had served Discovery longer than any of them (with the possible exception of Georg- Krow could never tell how old that man was). He gave a huff of irritation and turned away. Let them say what they wanted; the captain would never agree with their baseless accusations. He had to focus his attentions on finding the traitors.

[The Unknown Ajah]

Gaovaris looked at him, unimpressed. "Eh." It was carefully calculated to infuriate the man, who was clearly trying to work himself into some kind of frenzy. He had heard it said once, 'A cold knife will cut you as well as a hot, but the hot will melt in time.' That wasn't how knives and heat worked of course, but it was a fun metaphor.

It worked, he snarled like the dragon that had distracted Gaovaris moments ago. "I demand satisfaction! A duel, to be named a time and place by you."

Gaovaris summed up every ounce of uncaring within himself. It wasn’t hard, he held no fear for this merchant. "Ten minutes hence. Guardsmen's practice grounds."

"You bastard, do you think this is a joke?"

"I don't think you have enough humor in you to make a joke this funny on purpose."

The man stepped forward with a slap. Gaovaris blinked in surprise, then caught and twisted it. "Ten minutes." He let go and strode off, ignoring the man's glaring eyes.

He would have to tell his commanding officer that he would be a little held up today. He walked to the man's office.

He knocked once, twice, thrice, and the Captain’s (two steps below the lieutenant in the guardsmen's rather unimaginative hierarchy) commanding voice boomed. "Come in." 

[Kasimir]

Last set of clarifications:

• Please re-read the rules for the signet bids carefully. A signet request needs a scan target.
   
• There is no actions economy, so players can both scan and kill at the same time.

[The Wandering Wizard]

Lighter topics are like autumn breezes

Rare, few, practically nonexistent

But welcomed when they pipe up

 

Except in war

There's no time to talk

No time to think

No time to question

Questioning gets you killed

 

And it leaves them alone

Questioning but not questioning

As they say, "Good soldiers follow orders"

But that has just ended in tragedy

In the stories

So well

Do we question?

Or do we follow orders and keep order?

 

Questions must be asked

This is my prime belief

A prime tenant of my religion

One that I have rarely found

I don't even know it's name

Except

That everything must be questioned

 

But also

Orders must be followed

Even blindly

Because

It creates order

 

So then

Does order require blindness?

Or is our kind of order flawed?

These are deep and traitorous questions

But yet

I believe

They must be asked

Because

How can we right them peacefully

If we don't ask them?

 

All around us

Lie secrets buried

Hidden for a reason

Still they should be unearthed

For the poison

They breath upon the land

Necessary?

Yes

But also poisonous

It's time to discover them

Drag them from the depths

And remove their poison

Upon this land

- Unknown

[OOC: I guess he's kinda like a pseudo philosopher as well  Currently my vote is on Alpha but I'm not going to tell you all if it changes  Been kinda busy but then I kinda just mostly signed up for a Kas game and for poems ]

[Fifth Scholar]

20 hours ago, Szeth_Pancakes said:

“First of all,” said Randen, standing up and facing Ripling, “I am right here. And secondly, that which we call life is itself a gamble. Don’t you see? We are all prisoners of chance.

“Let me tell you a story, Ripling — though it may not be a story you want to hear. About fifteen years ago, there were two boys living in the Orei slums. Both of them were dealt a poor hand in life. Their parents were dead; they had no money. Still, however, they did not give up. They worked from before the sun awoke to after it slipped beneath the horizon, every day, for five years.

“One of those boys died of hypothermia in the Great Frost ten years back. One of them found a position in the palace guard, and worked his way up to the position he is in now.

“Do not speak to me of gambling, poet; for you have never had to gamble with your life.”

Randen sat down with a hmph. “Beggars’ deaths may not ‘blaze forth the heavens’ for you, but they do for the people they love. And the deaths of princes matter not to those they oppress. Keep that in your mind before you quote from your long-dead philosophers.”

Ripling turned an iron stare onto Randen, scarcely believing the words he heard from the soldier. “I am well acquainted with your presence, sir, given its particular insistence upon running a gambling ring in the middle of an official investigation,” he huffed. “Your story, however, does little to bolster your point. To be sure, the Emperor has dealt us all different hands, but to call one hand superior to another from the cards within it would be folly. Life is not a game where only a certain set of cards and results will win. I myself am not from noble background; my parents were merchants, and not particularly successful ones either, and they disdained my study of the arts and my devotion to the Emperor, which I scraped together from my own funds. Yet it is not devotion to a cause when the cause is to one’s own benefit or agreement that is to be commended, but rather the work which is done upon orders, the work which is often unpleasant or difficult, the work whose faithfulness is done in the trust of the coming results, which can truly be seen as excellent. I know little of the Emperor yet, and certainly in my time among the soldiers, there is little to be said for the ‘work’ we oft perform. Nonetheless, we do it, without expectation of reward—we do it because it is assigned us, because it is right.

“Both boys you tell of sound noble to my ears, regardless of their end. But to speak of ‘oppression’ is to ignore the providence of the Emperor. Both lives were lived in maximal service to Him, and are thus in no way to be discounted by either of us. Yet gambling is different entirely, and it would be remiss to throw away the advantages and fortunes which have been given to those under orders, such as we, on such uncertain grounds.”

Ripling paused, unable to summon more verse from the depths of his memory. “It seems I have had a longer nap than was perhaps fitting, and will thus be unable to meaningfully parse what you have been assiduously debating. I will leave others to beg the favour of our captain, and withdraw my opinion for the present as I consider further what has been written. Is it not justly said that the fool rushes in where angels dare not tread? Though I have suffered much, folly shall not be charged to my account for this.”

---

ooc: Y’all I forgot how fast QFs move  Going to read PMs and the thread and try to place a vote before the cycle closes—most of this post was (thankfully) saved in my text editor. If I had to pick a name out of a hat to suspect, it’d probably be Archer at this stage. Wiz, we’ll do a poetry slam later  

[Devotary of Spontaneity]

1 hour ago, JNV said:

Precious time dripping through the clock, and they had no leads. No true suspicions.

The lieutenant never had been one for quick condemnations, Right reflected. A convenient trait for someone capable of giving her and Left orders. Yet now was not the time for mercy. Someone had to die, and someone had to be investigated. It was telling that many of those who ranked the highest in the captain's favor were unwilling to reveal their suspicions. Not wanting to alert their chosen target ahead of time? Or were they stockpiling favor for a less loyal purpose? Right would have to watch all such individuals closely, especially if they never won the rights to the captain's signet ring. Randen would be a good first target, for the man had yet to respond to Left's more subtle inquires.

36 minutes ago, The Known Novel said:

Edit: How long until rollover? I'm getting no use out of timezone conversions.

"The hour's end draws near indeed," Left remarked. (15 minutes) "It's time for everyone to decide who shall no longer grace these halls with their presence."

18 minutes ago, xinoehp512 said:

Krow gave a quick, derisive snort. "I very much doubt that." Hadn't been a day gone by in the past ten years he hadn't had to worry about something or other. Especially what with all the secrets and lies that seemed to have spread through Discovery like a growth. At this point, he was so used to worry he almost didn't even notice it anymore.

Like his worry about Right. He glanced back at the woman, who had turned to involve herself in a different conversation. There was something about that woman and her partner that didn't sit well with him. They were hiding something, he could feel it.

Right confronted Krow again. He was correct to worry, but didn't acknowledge a fear of being caught as a traitor. A point in his favor, perhaps. And truly, she and Left were hiding something from him, merely above his station. If he wished to find out, he need merely gain Wuzhi's trust. Krow's sympathies with Yuen were an issue, a far more widespread sentiment than she'd been expecting. The man had been merely a blunt instrument, to be removed when he was no longer necessary. Wuzhi's judgement on this point was sound.

 

 

[xinoehp512]

Just now, Devotary of Spontaneity said:

The lieutenant never had been one for quick condemnations, Right reflected. A convenient trait for someone capable of giving her and Left orders. Yet now was not the time for mercy. Someone had to die, and someone had to be investigated. It was telling that many of those who ranked the highest in the captain's favor were unwilling to reveal their suspicions. Not wanting to alert their chosen target ahead of time? Or were they stockpiling favor for a less loyal purpose? Right would have to watch all such individuals closely, especially if they never won the rights to the captain's signet ring. Randen would be a good first target, for the man had yet to respond to Left's more subtle inquires.

"The hour's end draws near indeed," Left remarked. (15 minutes) "It's time for everyone to decide who shall no longer grace these halls with their presence."

Right confronted Krow again. He was correct to worry, but didn't acknowledge a fear of being caught as a traitor. A point in his favor, perhaps. And truly, she and Left were hiding something from him, merely above his station. If he wished to find out, he need merely gain Wuzhi's trust. Krow's sympathies with Yuen were an issue, a far more widespread sentiment than she'd been expecting. The man had been merely a blunt instrument, to be removed when he was no longer necessary. Wuzhi's judgement on this point was sound.

 

 

Krow narrowed his eyes. "What do you want?" he asked.

[The Wandering Wizard]

2 minutes ago, Fifth Scholar said:

ooc: Y’all I forgot how fast QFs move  Going to read PMs and the thread and try to place a vote before the cycle closes—most of this post was (thankfully) saved in my text editor. If I had to pick a name out of a hat to suspect, it’d probably be Archer at this stage. Wiz, we’ll do a poetry slam later  

[OOC: YES!!  It'll keep me from not Chameleoning as I feel might happen ]

[Devotary of Spontaneity]

1 minute ago, xinoehp512 said:

Krow narrowed his eyes. "What do you want?" he asked.

Left stepped in. "What do we want? We merely want to know where you stand. Questioning the judgement of your superiors is all well and good, but when does that turn into disloyalty? When do you start making decisions without access to all the information Wuzhi possesses? Honoring the memory of Yuen without the full picture of his actions might lead someone to a path not well thought out."

"It's good that you're so willing to speak up for what you believe in," Right continued. "Just make sure that what you believe in is the truth."

[Kasimir]

Water trickled through the clock.

The Hour had ended!

[Kasimir]

Hour Two: Glory

Eighty eternal suns, accept my dying vow,
Never forget our mountains and rivers lost.

–Couplet is of unknown provenance but authorship is traditionally ascribed to General Yuen.

 

 

Water trickled through the clock.

Lee wrapped the strip of paper about the scytale. Senior Arbiter Wuzhi was the de facto head of the Discovery Faction, second only to the Emperor of the Eighty Suns. (Some said this was a lie. Sahagun was weak; terribly weak, and preoccupied with propping up his shaky throne. And now he was ailing and everyone sensed blood in the water. The Glory Faction spoke of the need for change, for a Faction that actually understood a path forwards, for the glory of the Empire. Lee understood that.)

Being Senior Arbiter, second among equals, meant that everyone who was anyone or who aspired to be anyone took a certain amount of interest in what the Senior Arbiter did and thought, especially in private. Particularly in private.

He picked up the brush, dipped it swiftly, and scribbled the characters he needed. They weren’t letting anyone in and out of the compound. Lee’d tried already. He’d almost gotten caught, but managed to slip aside in the ruckus as the soldiers arrested the senior servant who’d stationed himself at the secret exit.

Lee hissed in frustration. Word had already spread about the compound: the Senior Arbiter’s dire threats, and that the Captain would execute every last one of them if the killer wasn’t found. Lee hadn’t done it, and for their sake, he hoped that the soldiers on their search would outrun the clock. He very much preferred to live.

But in the event he did not, he had a report that needed to be composed and then enciphered for the Senior Arbiter of the Glory Faction.

 

 

Water trickled through the clock.

Georg “Grandpa” Wasintown swore on his best bull that he could hear it, counting down the time to when they had to present someone to the Captain. A sacrificial goat, no doubt. Some of the farmers back in his home province staked them out for the wolves in a bad season. You hoped to buy yourself a little time for things to change. The situation right now felt the same: bad all around, and bloody. He didn’t remotely think they were going to find the killer this easily.

One thing he did know though, was people. Figured they couldn’t all be that difficult to read, the way you got used to handling farm animals.

There was unease there. One of the gamblers, fiddling with his cards. Randen, the name was. Did a pretty dance, but backed down, the way one of his cows did when she saw something new to her. Maybe that was something worth noting. He tucked that away in a corner of his mind. Nevermind that the cow was years dead. Been a good while since he’d seen his farm, too. The flood years had been bad for everyone.

Mallard too. Talked a good show about her duck wrangling skills. Georg could respect that. Too many of the soldiers in this outfit seemed to think all that mattered was stabbing people. They were dead wrong.

Still, he took note of that too. Skittish, staying hard on that fence like that time his goat didn’t want to budge. Maybe that was what killers did.

Water trickled through the clock. The searchers ran, hard and fast, through the compound, bearing torches. Georg kept watching.

Maybe that was why he saw the moment the next body turned up.

You saw enough death, whether soldier or farmer. Especially when you lived (or so you claimed to the world) to be a hundred and thirty years. Long enough to wade in blood.

Shouts in the darkness, and a squad peeled off, half-dragging a limp, bloodied figure into the flickering light of the torches.

Georg recognised that soldier. Rambleton. His hands were still ink-stained: no doubt he’d been writing poetry over the last hour. Already, there were whispers that Rambleton’s poetry was a little too flattering to the deceased General Yuen.

Difficult to question Rambleton’s loyalties when the poet was dead, however.

 

 

Water trickled through the clock.

Captain Kezin stared at it. Strange to think that the lives of so many dwelled on the little running stream, tied in turn to another river, five years ago, and that river to yet another, previously. As though all rivers ran into each other, eventually, and then onward to the sea.

The soldiers had come to him, speaking privately, even as they searched. Trying to win his ear, confiding in him their suspicions, and requests for authorisation to conduct a search.

He studied them, each in turn. Behind one of those masks lurked a killer. Someone was lying to him, trying to deceive him. Maybe more than one of them. Fade had been clear on that point.

Kezin felt his lips curl in a snarl. Fade had been clear on multiple points, none of which Kezin had remotely wanted to hear, or to be involved in. So many rivers. It was what the contemporaries of Yuen had said, hadn’t they?

Never forget our mountains and rivers lost. The MaiPon rebellion, and provinces sundered from, lost to the Empire. Enough to make the patriots weep.

Kezin wasn’t a patriot, though. He was a pragmatist.

He glared down at the knife—now cleaned—in his hand. The one that had struck down the Svordish Ambassador. Cord-wrapped, perfectly standard-issue. He hefted it. Difficult to see one of the servants acquiring it. Which meant the first suspects were the soldiers. Servants had greater access, but not to the armoury, and the quartermaster had pressed his forehead to the ground and swore blind on his ancestors to the tenth generation and years of endless night if he spoke untruly: every single blade drawn was accounted for.

He had called for a kit inspection, thrown soldiers out of the sleeping quarters. No sign of any missing knives. Which meant…what? Kezin didn’t know. Fade probably did, damn that man.

Contraband, Kezin thought. That, and the fact they’d found the couplet, supposedly penned by General Yuen himself, painted in the Ambassador’s blood on the walls.

Never forget our mountains and rivers lost.

Enough to be worth killing for?

He strode out into the courtyard, under the light of the blazing torches. 

“There’s been a second murder, Captain,” Lieutenant Jiang said, their face composed.

Exactly as Fade had predicted, Kezin thought, sourly. Not for the first time, he wished to be free of this. He had no use for this tangle of complicated plot-and-counterplot, no matter how clever Fade and Senior Arbiter Wuzhi seemed to think themselves.

Sometimes, you could feel as though you were drowning in darkness. Wading thigh-deep in a river of blood.

There weren’t right decisions. Kezin had never expected there to be any.

“Who?”

“Rambleton. We’ve identified two suspects.”

The poet, Kezin thought. Though sometimes, he questioned the other Discovery recruiters. These days, it seemed half his command were insane one way or another, with poetry merely being one flavour of insanity.

The lieutenant gestured, and two squads dragged in Mallard and Randen. Jiang summarised the cases against them: Mallard, for whatever reason, seemed to have gotten on the nerves of enough of the company, and had been spending the time playing cards, as though she wasn’t particularly interested in identifying the killer. Randen…now that was interesting. A brother killed in the Great Frost. A bodyguard with an impeccable record of service to the Emperor himself, transferred to factional service for the importance of this meeting.

“And you think someone with just such a record is a traitor?” Kezin asked, sceptically.

Lieutenant Jiang shrugged, their face impassive. “Sir, no one thought General Yuen could be a traitor either.”

So, so very dangerous, this game they played, Kezin thought.

He stepped closer to the bound soldiers. Mallard on the left, Randen on the right. “You are accused of treachery and the murder of the Svordish Ambassador.”

“That duck is too big for me to wring!” Mallard protested.

“I am a loyal servant of the Emperor,” Randen said, calmly, eyes on him. “I will die a loyal servant of the Emperor, if I must, but no one will taint it with lies or false accusations.”

Which Kezin took as a no.

To be honest, he didn’t particularly care at this point. 

Kezin drew his sword. A single, sharp stroke, textbook-perfect. Turned his head aside from the spray of blood.

Some of the soldiers flinched, as the blood splattered them. As though they hadn’t done this sort of work before. Mallard in particular gasped but also looked terribly shaken. Death had come far too close to her today.

Better a sword in the dark, kneeling, than a silken cord. But you never chose, did you.

“Sir,” gasped one of the runners, drawing up short in the courtyard. “We finished searching Randen’s belongings. Doesn’t seem likely he’s the killer. We found a citation for valour, sent from the palace.”

Every last soldier and servant in the compound, Kezin thought, grimly. They were all expendable. Maybe especially him.

“Then keep looking!” he ordered. “And for the sake of the suns, next time at least tell me you’ve searched them before you bring them up on charges of murder!”

 

 

All around us
Lie secrets buried

–Rambleton, poet-soldier

 

 

Quote

Szeth_Pancakes (2): |TJ|, Devotary of Spontaneity
TheAlpha929 (2): Archer, The Wandering Wizard
Archer (1): Fifth Scholar
Devotary of Spontaneity (1): xinoehp512
Fifth Scholar (1): TheAlpha929
The Known Novel (1): JNV
xinoehp512 (1): Szeth_Pancakes

Randen / @Szeth_Pancakes was executed! He was a Discovery Soldier!

Rambleton / @The Wandering Wizard was killed! He was a Discovery Soldier!

Hour Two has begun! It will end at 0000hrs on Thursday, 25th May 2023, at 0000hrs SGT (GMT +8). 

Edited May 23, 2023 by Kasimir

[Kasimir]

Rule Clarifications:

Spoiler

• I will be doing my utmost to prevent any player SP errors. In the world where I do make a mistake with your SP and it affects how much you would have staked, I need you to highlight the post to me to rectify it as soon as possible. I can't change the final bid that got locked in post-rollover but I can refund you the missing SP. If you want to point out to me in your GM PM while submitting orders how many SP you expect to have, I can work with that, but that's not required.
   
• You will receive a normal votecount at rollover informing you of the votes and who voted where.
   

• 23 hours ago, Kasimir said:

  Pre-emptive rule clarification here made publicly given the centrality of SP to one of the mechanics in this game:

  This post counts as 191 words. 151 if I discount the last section, which I won't in this case, given it's an IC RP post, and it's irrelevant here anyway. I don't count text in quotes as those aren't yours. 

  If you have a single line of RP over a huge bloc of ingame text done OOC, I won't count the ingame text as the RP section should break the limit on its own, but you are free to do the RP then text format.

  To repeat, for the avoidance of ambiguity:

  • I don't count quotes no matter what. These are not your words so I can't give you credit for them.
  • If you are doing a IC RP post on game-relevant matter (see Archer), I count the whole thing, and I'm fine giving grace to the end there.
  • If you are doing a RP post with OOC text later on, then I count only the RP section.
  • You are free to ask me in your GM PM where you are on SP and I will tell you.

•  
• Try not to game my criteria too much or to assume I'm only going to reward players who do fancy, dramatic, serious RP. That's not how this works, and you'd be surprised.
   
• Please re-read the rules for the signet bids carefully. A signet request needs a scan target.
   
• There is no actions economy, so players can both scan and kill at the same time.
• [More forthcoming]

Player List:

Spoiler

1. Wiz - Rambleton (Poet) Discovery Soldier
2. @TheAlpha929 - Mallard G. Wingworth IV (Duck Wrangler)
3. @Fifth Scholar - Kudyard Ripling (Imperialist Poet)
4. @The Known Novel - Gaovaris Solumnant (Scholar)
5. @Son_of_Hoid - John Bluhm (Spy)
6. @Archer - Georg Wasintown (Farmer)
7. @xinoehp512 - Krow Nelcaf (Yuen Sympathiser and Veteran)
8. @Devotary of Spontaneity - Left & Right (Spy and Defector)
9. Szeth - Randen (Card Sharp and Bodyguard and Mistaken Identity) Discovery Soldier
10. @JNV - Jiang Zhangrong (Lieutenant)
11. @|TJ| - Fletcher the Fetcher (Fence)

 

Edited May 23, 2023 by Kasimir