Long Game 96: KKC in the Modern Age

[Kasimir he/him]

[TAG: RP, 688 words]

2 hours ago, Ashbringer said:

Okay now I’m fundamentally confused on how Elevations work but that’s fine because if I understand things right I never have to worry about them again.

[OOC: Join the club...

Thoughts on NKA? I respect V!Ash on NKA. Have a theory but not quite sure it's right.]

xliv. syllogism

“How many of you remember what modus tollens is?” Master Anders was asking. He surveyed the class, and waited. 

“It’s a valid argument form,” offered Jahan.

“I certainly hope it is,” Master Anders replied drily. “Can you say a bit more about what it consists in?”

“Logic is concerned with the form of an argument,” Jahan continued, tentatively. “If an argument has a valid logical form, this means the structure of the argument is such that it is impossible for the premises to be true and yet the conclusion false at the same time.”

“Good,” Master Anders nodded. However, he was still idly tapping his chalk against the chalkboard. “Logic, to put it simply, is concerned with the form or structure of an argument. To say an argument is valid is to say that if the premises are true, then the conclusion is true as well. Put another way, the truth of the premises guarantees the truth of the argument. Now, E’lir Jahan has talked about the structure of the argument. Does anyone else—not Jahan—care to explain what the structure of an argument is?”

“The structure of an argument is what’s left when you abstract away from the particulars of the argument,” said Renlin. “‘If it’s raining, then the ground will be wet,’ and ‘If I don’t study for Admissions, my tuition fees will be higher than the Karykos Mountain Range,’ are both statements that fit the same overall schema, ‘If P, then Q,’ where P and Q can be any statement or condition.”

“Correct,” Master Anders approved. “Although I suppose your tuition fees won’t be ‘higher than the Karykos Mountain Range’ if you can at least demonstrate a grasp of modus tollens. So someone finish this for me. What’s modus tollens?” He looked about the classroom. “Come on, come on, you all know this by now, you’ve passed the midterms, and it’s a basic valid deductive argument form.”

“If P, then Q,” recited Kevan. “Not-Q, therefore not-P.”

“That is the correct schema, yes, Kevan. Can you offer an example of this form of reasoning?”

“If I’ve studied for Admissions, then my tuition fees will be manageable,” Kevan replied. “My tuition fees were higher than the Karykos Mountain Range, therefore, I didn’t study for Admissions.”

“Well, I see the topic of Admissions and tuition fees is on everyone’s minds today,” Master Anders said, lightly.

“Sir, it is that time of the year…” Kevan pointed out.

Master Anders acknowledged the point with a nod. “So, this is an example of modus tollens. Keep in mind that logic is about the way the premises relate to the conclusion. In other words, this is about the structure of inference—we’re not interested in whether the premises and the conclusion are really true, only how they relate to each other, E’lir Donall,” and the addressed E’lir put down his hand. “If we care about the truth of the premises as well, what do we call that?”

“A sound argument,” Renlin offered. “It’s easy to get misled and to think that the Admissions syllogism isn’t very good—”

“—I studied, and my tuition fees are atrocious!” declared Ulven, to general laughter; nervousness mixed with amusement all over. No one liked Admissions. It was easily the most stressful time of the year.

“Yes, but that’s the point, isn’t it?” Kevan spoke up. “That’s taking us back to the truth of the premise, because here, the objection is that you can study and work your heart out and your tuition fees will still murder you during Admissions. “But the point here is that if we grant this statement is true, then the conclusion must follow with necessity. That’s validity. That’s why modus tollens is a valid argument form.”

“Good,” said Master Anders, drawing their attention back to the chalkboard. “So suppose that you’re trying to perform modus tollens on a boat at sea.” He paused. “Actually, I’m not sure how many of you can perform it, even if you’re not at sea.”

Kevan winced. Probably not the chain of long deductions that Schechter was writing about, in today’s assigned reading on epistemic risk, at the very least.

[STINK he/him]

Huh

[Kasimir he/him]

[TAG: RP, 909 words]

xlv. tiles

Kevan kept his fist closed about the admissions tile he’d drawn out of the cloth bag.

It sat in his hand, occluded, and yet strangely weighted. 

One by one, students went over to the admissions staff—today, it was Leif, from the Chancellor’s office, escorted by Inesta, who formed a brooding presence to the side. The mere, brute fact of Inesta’s presence was a chilling reminder of the skindancer threat that lurked among them. To tell the truth, between shifts at the Medica and his studies in Siaru, in the history of technology, and with Master Anders, Kevan was beginning to feel worn down with work and a dislocated anxiety he couldn’t quite name, and the skindancer threat had almost slipped clean off his mind.

(Percyl, though. And Jenali. Names written on his mind, no matter how he tried not to carry them. Master Bob speaking of the physicker’s attitude. “You have a good heart, Re’lar,” he said, more than once. “You must learn to distance yourself from it when you treat a patient in your care.”

No more a contradiction than El’the Aksel’s lessons and discourses on the Lethani and Ademic thought, Kevan had realised. The tale about mistaking the finger pointing to the moon for the moon itself. Where one tradition of thought met with another, ran into another: Ludhan writing about the limits of language, the need to leave behind the foundations that had once lent you support. “My propositions,” Ludhan had written, “serve as elucidations in the following way: anyone who understands me eventually recognizes them as nonsensical, when he has used them—as steps—to climb beyond them. (He must, so to speak, throw away the ladder after he has climbed up it.)” 

You didn’t need pitch, once you learned the focus and the Alar needed for the basic Sympathetic Binding of Parallel Motion. You burned your bridges, once you had crossed, leaving only a memory of smoke, and a premonition your eyes had once watered.

A thought of strange finality. He supposed he was in that sort of mood today.)

Kevan nodded a greeting to Leif as he slipped his hand into the cloth bag, felt about, and removed a tile. And now it sat there, in his closed fist, and he found himself strangely reluctant to see it.

There was some power to not knowing. Knowing locked it down, turned uncertainty into hard and certain knowledge. You could always pretend, when you didn’t know. There was an ambiguity there. No longer, once you had set upon the path to knowledge.

Students milled about the area, jockeying to see what each other had got. Already, some students held fingers up in the air, indicating what slot they’d gotten, and that they were willing to trade for it, or outright sell it off.

“Kraem,” Soren muttered, staring at his tile. He flashed it to the group of them and everyone winced. It wasn’t the worst: Valerra’d picked up an early morning slot on Luten, and had declared she was warding off bad luck for the entire group, seeing as no one could pick a slot that was worse. Owyn’d offered to trade, gamely saying the Masters couldn’t really do their worst, as he’d had a light class load that term.

“Don’t tempt them,” Jarvik’d said, darkly, swatting at his ear.

Still, Soren’s tile was pretty awful. An early afternoon Shuden slot, and the last Kevan remembered, Soren’d deadlines all the way through Luten, leaving him little time to prepare for the exams.

He drew a deep breath and opened up his fist. Told himself to rip off the bandage as fast as he could. “You lucky bastard!” Soren hissed.

Mid-morning, Felling. Late enough in the span that he could expect to have time to prepare, and before lunch, but late enough the Masters were alert but neither hungry nor grouchy.

These things mattered, even if you thought they didn’t.

Without allowing himself to think too hard about it, Kevan said, “Trade you for it.” He reached over and took Soren’s tile, dumping his own in his friend’s hand. 

“You can’t! Your schedule is an utter disaster—”

“—Tell that to Issal,” Kevan said, amused. An old joke. A dark joke, though the stories of the early Alchemy class had already faded away, but he’d always had a sharp memory, sharp enough that it startled people, how much he remembered. How easily it came. He’d sometimes only studied for Siaru vocabulary tests a few hours before Master Isaak administered them, and generally performed well enough. “I’m fine,” he said, loudly, when Soren looked blankly at him. “I’ve got enough time, I’ve been preparing half the term, and Idris keeps reminding me Master Bob isn’t going to drop me to E’lir or throw me out of the Medica when he’s spent most of the term working us all so hard.” His mind screamed about what he was going to do for Master Alys’s exam, let alone Master Anders’s, but he willed himself not to think too hard about it. He would manage, somehow.

He had to.

Easier if he didn’t think about whether he trusted his own abilities. Easier if he thought, merely, I have to do this.

He closed Soren’s fingers over the tile. “Keep it,” he said, again. “I’m fine.”

“If you’re sure…” Soren trailed off.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” Kevan said again. Swallowed down the painful feeling of luck undeserved. After all, he’d managed this far, hadn’t he?

Edited to add:

8 hours ago, Matrim's Dice said:

If you think I’m rping my apology in relation to the votes on me you’re dead wrong because as far as Francis is considered no one at his food thanks muchly 

[OOC: Perhaps unwarranted/unwanted from me, but simple solution potentially-

Clearly the only way Sarenrae found out is by stealing your food and eating it, food theft is wrong, against the Lethani, unethical, Conduct Unbecoming, file complaints against Sarenrae, Sarenrae gets punished, the Masters unfortunately also punished you but she is punished therefore there is some justice in this broken world we live in.

Also clearly your food is not oversalted how dare she she's delusional send her to the infirmary

/Chernobylmemeout]

Edited August 3, 2023 by Kasimir

[STINK he/him]

I'm gonna say that my huh post lead to that further rp post so you're welcome

[Kasimir he/him]

[TAG: RP, 2067 words]

35 minutes ago, STINK said:

I'm gonna say that my huh post lead to that further rp post so you're welcome

[OOC: Thank you for posting so I can post more RP

This next 2k+ long piece of RP is dedicated to RNGesus and the GMs @Elbereth and @little wilson. Don't get me wrong, I really love the elevation and it's what I wanted. But it also puts me in the bloody nonsensical position of having to sensibly RP an average non-genius student who has somehow elevated nearly three times in a row within two semesters >> 

It has taken exactly 2k to make sense of this and honestly I think it works if you ignore the fact it's nonsense on stilts. Thank u for the RP fodder.]

xlvi. el'the

There were only so many times Kevan had entered Master Bob’s office—not the one he held office hours in, as part of Mains, with the offices of the rest of the Masters. This one was the one the Medica students thought of as Master Bob’s real office, at the heart of the Medica.

You said what you liked about Master Bob, and Kevan had heard gossip about him: mostly to the tune that Master Bob was too superstitious, too down-to-earth, too easygoing (and whoever had said this had clearly never taken any physicking classes under Master Bob, or botched a simple procedure when Master Bob could see!), or too sentimental and foolish, but he cared for his students and he cared for his patients. It was something Kevan hadn’t seen in every teacher at the University (some of them explicitly regarded students as a nuisance coming between them and research) and he felt…fortunate.

Master Alys was always willing to humour him in questions about historiography and methodology. Master Anders had taken Kevan under his wing, and fought for him. And Master Bob was teaching him to treat injuries, to heal.

Building his own bridges, to the world, Kevan thought.

(“Well, what do you think the Medica does, E’lir?” Master Bob had asked, amused.

“We treat people,” Kevan had said, cautiously. “Without stint, without prejudice—”

“Merciful Tehlu, not that, boy! We are a bridge. A long time ago, they burned arcanists at the stake. We’re not so eager to repeat that experience. Relations between the University and Imre have always been—” he made a gesture with his hands, almost reflexively. “—Carefully balanced.” Which was another way of saying they’d always balanced on the edge of a knife.

He knew that. It was the weight of the history they all shouldered. Kvothe the Arcane, for all his genius, for all his cunning, had not endeared the University to Imre. Not exactly. You couldn’t love a legend, couldn’t work side-by-side with him, and drink with him, and then amicably part ways and go home.

And then the skindancer incursions. The bone tar bombs. How the history of one place intersected another. How we affected each other. The story of our lives, our selves.

“We are a bridge,” Master Bob repeated, excitedly. “We show them that there is value to the University. They take their sick, their wounded here, and we treat them with compassion and with respect. And we build, and we build, and out of that goodwill, we make foundations on which all future relationships are built.”

Kevan could see it, the slow, painstaking way the Medica built reliance, and from reliance, slowly, a sense of trust, of belonging. The University couldn’t stand alone. It never did. 

He liked that thought. It wasn’t Aturan roads, wasn’t bridges, wasn’t the intricate engineering he’d come to the University, dreaming of. But it was a certain sort of engineering, building the ties that bound the University to Imre, and Imre to the University. Building trust. And he liked it. It felt like the kind of thing he’d wanted to do, something that changed the world, however small.)

He knocked on the door of the Master Physicker’s office. It was just slightly ajar, which meant Master Bob was expecting him. “Come in,” Master Bob called out, and Kevan pushed open the door and stepped into the office. There was something to be said about how the space seemed to reflect each Master’s personality: Master Anders’s office was stuffed full of books and papers—his shelves were crammed with books, and his desk had an in-tray which was flooded with papers, and the last time Kevan had come by, even the desk was crammed with a precarious tower of books almost twice as high as Master Anders was tall. 

Master Bob’s books were stacked onto the shelves: not neatly, but without the implicit disorder that seemed present in Master Anders’s office. There was a detailed anatomical drawing, labelled, of the human body, with cut-outs that zoomed in on different sections, beautifully inked, while he had an intricate wax model of a person on his desk. (His Re’lar had named the model ‘Doug’, and Master Bob had run with the name; he’d used Doug in a number of demonstrations from the blood fever to complex spinal fractures.) 

Some of the masters swore by coffee, imported at ruinous expense from outside the Four Corners. Word was that the Master Alchemist was fully prepared to elevate to El’the anyone who could work out how to make coffee grow in the University’s climate. Master Bob, however, almost always had a pot of tea on his desk, brewed thick enough you could use it for cement. Kevan’d always thought it was a condition of life in the Medica: you grew used to the tea, or the tea grew on you. You needed to be able to keep awake, and the tea worked wonders for that, and the taste coated your tongue even hours later.

“Well,” said Master Bob. “I’ve been reading your project report on the use of cinhallin as an antipyretic. It’s an interesting approach, as I said when you proposed it. A number of patients will often present with allergic reactions to willow bark concoctions or claim they taste disgusting. It’s rare I see a Re’lar take a historical approach to their projects at the Medica, but most Re’lar will take classes in chemistry or Alchemy to supplement their physicking.”

Kevan shook his head, quietly.

“I understand,” Master Bob said. “It was not a rebuke, simply a remark that your educational trajectory is…quite rare, for a Re’lar in my tutelage.”

He didn’t like the Arcanum, Kevan thought. He really didn’t. It did the opposite of building bridges: it erected huge walls about knowledge and then set the select few apart, select because they told themselves they knew important secrets about the nature of reality and arcane arts. 

“I’ve passed the basic chemistry classes, sir.”

“So you have,” Master Bob mused. “Will you be continuing with this?”

“Sir?”

Master Bob tapped the written report on his desk. “This. I had no idea we had such an extensive reader on Cealdish materia medica, much less that these materials have yet to be extensively translated. To think of all that medical knowledge, going undiscovered, and unused…” he trailed off into silence.

“Possibly, sir,” Kevan said, hesitantly. “There are also Yllish story knots held in the Archives, mostly untranslated. If any of them contain records of Yllish medical traditions, there could be more to rediscover.” He felt the old ache, the old ambivalence, but also the thrill of translation and rediscovery. You could, he told himself, allow that the ancestors had discovered things, that the foremothers had, over generations, preserved and transmitted and experimented in their own right, because they’d been doing just fine before the Aturan Empire (something he and Eithne argued about, on a regular basis), for some given value of ‘just fine’ since there weren’t recorded mortality rates but most tribes had oral histories, recorded lines, and you could trace some version of a mortality rate from there, with the proper demographic splits, if you really wanted to.

Master Bob seemed to come to some sort of decision. “Well, congratulations, El’the.”

Kevan did not understand. He really did not. He stared at Master Bob—practically gaped, flummoxed. As if affirming the consequent, or denying the antecedent had suddenly become deductively valid forms of inference. As though the sky had fallen. 

“Sir,” he managed. “Nobody makes El’the in their second term, I don’t know enough—” and sweet, merciful Tehlu, he was going to panic and hyperventilate right in Master Bob’s office, wasn’t he, because of course, he was just going to give his sponsor the worst impression all over again, though Master Bob’d had a whole term plus change of his kraem and clearly it wasn’t stopping him, and dear sweet Tehlu he’d really torn it now, he was swearing in Siaru of all languages, and Master Bob was pressing a cup of tea into his hands and telling him to breathe and Kevan bent over it, felt the warmth of the tea in his hands, and inhaled the comforting scent of the thick as bricks tea that they all survived on, in the Medica, and suddenly he was breathing again, or at least calm enough that images of disaster weren’t screaming through his mind at high speeds.

“Nobody does,” said Master Bob, calmly. “You’d need more clinical practice, of course, which means more shifts, and perhaps a longer time as an El’the, but that’s not something that most students see as a problem.”

“No, sir,” Kevan managed. It was not.

“You have a good memory, and steady hands, if you can keep your cool and not get too flustered. I don’t need to tell you not to do a thing—or to do a thing—more than once. You’re careful, and the rest of the book knowledge will come with time and hard work,” Master Bon continued, enumerating his points on his fingers. “And I think this is a good research project, if larger than what a typical Re’lar would handle. You’d need to pitch it more broadly as a survey of the Cealdish or Yllish materia medica—the Yllish project would probably be more impressive, but you have done good work with the Cealdish already…you read story knots, I presume?”

“Some,” Kevan admitted. 

“This is good, yes,” Master Bob said. “There have been times when the University has had Masters with that proficiency. Those days are gone now.” He looked over at Kevan, still nursing the cup of hot tea. “Well, what do you say then, Re’lar Kevan?”

“I…” Kevan swallowed, tried to find the words. He thought, yet again, of Master Anders, of the fact he felt torn between the Kevan who studied abstract thoughts and concepts, and the Kevan who worked in the Medica, and who tried to save lives and build bridges.

How did you build a bridge between those two selves, those two Kevans?

He thought again, of Master Anders, telling him to choose what made him happy, what he found fulfilment in. The work had to be its own reward, at the University.

He hated feeling as though he had to choose. Both completed him, in ways he hadn’t known he was lacking.

“It would be a great honour, sir,” Kevan said. “But I don’t feel it’s earned.”

“In spite of my just listing out why I feel it’s deserved?” Master Bob asked, shrewdly. “Re’lar, do you think I just hand out elevations as though they were candy?”

There was really no good answer to this one.

“Sometimes,” Master Bob said, “Others see more clearly what we cannot. I think you do not have the best assessment of your self or your own worth, Re’lar. And I think it is important—even if you take nothing else away—that you learn to see yourself clearly.”

Kevan’s hands tightened about the cup. Dark waters there, running ever deeper. You never wanted to go there, you’d drown.

Maybe you had to accept that you would never feel right, never stop feeling as though you were an exile cut off from the world, or as though you never quite fit in.

“I have many Re’lar,” Master Bob finished. “I have some very talented Re’lar working on projects at the intersection of chemistry and physicking, or alchemy and physicking. I do not have very many working on the intersection between history and physicking. And I think that this is a good project, a unique project, but also a promising one, that needs time and space to flourish. And I think you may not be fully ready, but you will be ready, and by the time you are done, you will have earned your guilder and the El’the rank twice over. Will you do this, then?”

A chance to do something of value, Kevan thought. Wasn’t that what he wanted?

He didn’t know what he wanted. Or he wanted too many things.

You got too greedy, sometimes. Or you set yourself up too high, and life knocked you back down. He felt the old panic stir in a corner of his mind and forced it back down, roughly.

“I’d be honoured, sir,” he said, quietly, setting the cup back down on the table.

“You’re an El’the now, Kevan,” came the reply. “It’s just Bob.”

Edited August 3, 2023 by Kasimir

[The Unknown Medallion he/him]

So now to artificially inflate my post count to keep my ratio safe.

How'd everyone do on their Tuition? Mine was quite a bit higher than I would have liked, but acceptable.

Edit: Also a little bit miffed that Sart got off with a Undignified despite having twice the votes.

Edited August 3, 2023 by The Known Novel

[Araris Valerian he/him]

1 minute ago, The Known Novel said:

So now to artificially inflate my post count to keep my ratio safe.

How'd everyone do on their Tuition? Mine was quite a bit higher than I would have liked, but acceptable.

0 Talents .

@Kasimir, in regards to Wonko, yeah, pretty sure he’s clean now

[The Unknown Medallion he/him]

Just now, Araris Valerian said:

0 Talents .

@Kasimir, in regards to Wonko, yeah, pretty sure he’s clean now

Show off. Though I think Kas got that and he didn't even need to be expelled.

[STINK he/him]

8 minutes ago, The Known Novel said:

So now to artificially inflate my post count to keep my ratio safe.

So you're one of those PMers then eh

That must mean you got some thoughts on the game right?

[Kasimir he/him]

4 minutes ago, Araris Valerian said:

0 Talents .

[OOC: -17.8 Talents  El says it might be a record for the first case of negative Talents, though I think Hael got there first. No, AFAIK from Hael, I'm not supposed to get more money for this so I just broke the M'Hael's record for kraem and giggles.]

3 minutes ago, The Known Novel said:

Show off. Though I think Kas got that and he didn't even need to be expelled.

[OOC: No, not really.]

6 minutes ago, Araris Valerian said:

@Kasimir, in regards to Wonko, yeah, pretty sure he’s clean now

[OOC: What's your view on where we should go from here?]

[The Unknown Medallion he/him]

2 minutes ago, STINK said:

So you're one of those PMers then eh

That must mean you got some thoughts on the game right?

Not really. Can't say I'm a big PM guy normally, and only slightly more so this game. But when you've got no posts and two PMs, that's a 200% PM rate (sue me, I know that's not how math works), and that's not good.

[Kasimir he/him]

[TAG: RP, 903 words]

44 minutes ago, Kasimir said:

[OOC: -17.8 Talents  El says it might be a record for the first case of negative Talents, though I think Hael got there first. No, AFAIK from Hael, I'm not supposed to get more money for this so I just broke the M'Hael's record for kraem and giggles.]

[OOC: My bad, it's supposed to be -28.3 Talents, my tracker is a bit off as I didn't do the reference and call correctly.]

xlvii. water

He doesn’t realise, until that trip north of the University, how much he’s missed the water, or perhaps the memory of the water; growing up where the bright jewel of the Centhe Sea adorns the vivid green cliffs of western Yll. His father, teaching him to swim, and holding him when the water was too deep for him.

(“The first men,” writes Daviyd Hahn of Vintas, “Even had their reasoning abilities been perfect from the start, could not have inferred from the fluidity and transparency of water that it could drown them, or from the light and warmth of fire that it could burn them.” 

Kevan remembers fragments of his childhood, before they moved: the glittering lure of the Centhe Sea, and, he will subsequently suppose, a certain kind of innocence. 

He remembers, as well, the first time they attended to a student who’d slipped off the Stonebridge and into the Omethi at the Medica: the visceral realisation that water can kill too, that humans aren’t meant to breathe water. That the Omethi was magnificent, and even the Omethi would drown you, if you were careless, no matter how the water appeared.

The Re’lar team—and he was an E’lir, back then, still beginning to take part in shift-work at the time—kneeling by the patient and administering chest compressions to the count. (You didn’t have to deliver rescue breaths, Re’lar Talin had said, but some people did all the same, and it didn’t hurt, but what mattered was you had to keep the same pace, the same depth of the compressions, because if you could preserve circulation, you could keep the victim alive, if not attempt resuscitation.)

Water sluicing out from the student’s mouth as he performed the compressions, and the realisation, bone-deep, of mortality: that you drowned, that water killed you, even as it kept you alive.)

There is a small stream, an offshoot of the Omethi northwards, a short enough distance away from the University, and they all steal out that day in the calm following Admissions, with food and drink and plans to have a quiet day by the river.

Even as an offshoot, the Omethi is calm, even inviting, in the daylight, and a welcome relief to the warmth of the day.

Kevan dives into the Omethi and the water fractures about him, droplets spraying like rain, falling away from him, and the cold hits him first, like a shock of cold wind to the face in winter. 

He is sinking, further down, and further down, and he just lets himself do that, allows himself nothing but the illusion of falling, the illusion of descent, and feels the worries and tasks and anxieties and burdens of life at the University slough off, one by one. (They can’t touch him here in the water.)

He doesn’t realise how much he’s missed this, until his feet touch the sandy bottom of the stream bed and he kicks upwards again. (There is a hesitation there he doesn’t allow himself to articulate: a temptation to remain, a temptation to starve himself of air and breathe in even though he knows he’ll drown, and then he lets go and moves back, up towards the light. There is a moment of perfect suspension, at the bottom, a tight knot in the core of his being coming just a little undone. And then it is lost, elastic recoil as he snaps back up to the surface, a creature of air and water.)

“Crayle, kist,” Jarvik swears, slipping back into Siaru by reflex. “What did you even think you were doing, damnit?”

Kevan says, “Enjoying the cool water.” There is no explaining this. He doesn’t even try.

“Enjoy it without staying down so long,” Jarvik curses. “I think you scared the kraem out of me.”

Soren says, glancing over from where he’s been lying on his back, “Look, no one wants to have to drag you to the Medica. It’s way too far here, and I’m not that strong a swimmer. Leave the weird crap to Owyn, okay?”

“I still think the prank was inspired,” Owyn begins, lazily, but Jarvik dunks him under, and he comes up spluttering and cursing and threatening all out war.

In the middle of all that, Kevan looks at him, looks at Soren, at the worry written into his pale eyes, and something about that moment sticks with him, right there, water still trickling down his neck. The way the sunlight gilds Soren’s dark hair with a faint crown, the way the light slants onto his olive skin. He wants to take Soren’s hand and apologise for causing them all worry, and—

And he looks away, and says, quietly, “Sorry. I think the stress is getting to me.”

“El’the in a single term?” Sonder scoffs, lightly. “Either the attention gets to you or the stress does.”

There are stories on Yll, told in villages that still remember their folk songs and ballads of what happens when the land meets the sea, and how the sea never forgets, never forgives, and all the Yllish, descended from that first to forsake the sea for the rolling green hills, have since felt her grudge, filling their lungs, drowning them when they put themselves at her mercy.

(There are other stories. Faerie stories, not the sort meant for children. But those who are educated, those who know something of the world know better than to believe them.

[Araris Valerian he/him]

59 minutes ago, Kasimir said:

[OOC: What's your view on where we should go from here?]

Well, we have 3 people that are essentially confirmed villagers, so we can do a bit of VC analysis. Probably should aim for another expulsion this term. I think it’s still going to be a bit before we get any player Masters. But one possible loss condition is the Skindancers controlling fields, so Masters are overall a greater boon to them. They can also coordinate their elevations, so probably have a slightly higher chance of being elevated perm term than villagers.

[Kasimir he/him]

[TAG: DISCUSSION, 224 words]

9 minutes ago, Araris Valerian said:

Well, we have 3 people that are essentially confirmed villagers, so we can do a bit of VC analysis. Probably should aim for another expulsion this term. I think it’s still going to be a bit before we get any player Masters. But one possible loss condition is the Skindancers controlling fields, so Masters are overall a greater boon to them. They can also coordinate their elevations, so probably have a slightly higher chance of being elevated perm term than villagers.

[OOC: Sounds like basically the entire current pool of elevated students - this should be TJ's second, STINK's second, my third, and Ash's third. Subtract Wonko for pretty obvious reasons.

Well yeah, it is - but they'd have to go for Naming, Alchemy, and Archives. We currently do have a pretty high casualty rate in prospective Namers.

I don't disagree on the strat though I've set aside analysis for the moment until I've made enough of a wordcount buffer, and anyway I'm still not hardKasing. But I think my question was more about what this does for your suspects now. In plain Aturan, to put it a tad bluntly, I am not sure I'm convinced you're Village, have generally not wanted to consider the implications of that too much and have deliberately avoided thinking too hard about you or pressing the issue, but wonderfully I can't do anything about the fact you've been expelled and what this does for SD!you so now that the issue has been forced, I'd rather be able to get a read on you in order to decide what sense to make of the past Term.

I think the best way of putting it is I just get mixed vibes off you and being able to read you here and now since there isn't a flip would still be helpful.]

Edited August 3, 2023 by Kasimir

[Araris Valerian he/him]

I'm still not happy with STINK, placing only 1 complaint basically means you don't care about the consequences of the complaints, just the money. I want to say that all the skindancers would lodge complaints, or at least would be more likely to than 

Steel hasn't been on the Shard since Saturday, so assuming that's accurate he's currently on the streets and only has a ~42% chance to live until the next term.

Szeth has been on the shard a lot, but didn't post at all in the thread. It's hard to say, but there is probably a decent chance he's on the streets as well. @Szeth_Pancakes, any chance you'll join us this turn?

Drake, JNV, (and Wonko) are insane.

That leaves TKN and Sart as players that didn't complain last term. And I think SD!Sart would have complained on someone last turn. I'm pretty sure TKN would fail to complain regardless of alignment, so that doesn't help.

11 hours ago, Matrim's Dice said:

I’m more than a little annoyed at the whole me on the horns thing because it literally sprung from an rp character quirk but sure I don’t mind a downgrade in living conditions and an even steeper uphill climb for tuition, nooope :|

This seems elimmy to me, just saying.

And that's all for now, folks.

[Szeth Pancakes he/they]

7 minutes ago, Araris Valerian said:

Szeth has been on the shard a lot, but didn't post at all in the thread. It's hard to say, but there is probably a decent chance he's on the streets as well. @Szeth_Pancakes, any chance you'll join us this turn?

Hi there. I’m trying to keep up with the thread, but honestly just having a lot of trouble forming reads rn — I feel kinda lost with the thirty page ruleset and all that.

I’m not on the streets, fortunately.

[The Unknown Medallion he/him]

10 minutes ago, Araris Valerian said:

That leaves TKN and Sart as players that didn't complain last term. And I think SD!Sart would have complained on someone last turn. I'm pretty sure TKN would fail to complain regardless of alignment, so that doesn't help.

I voted Sart.

@Elbereth, @little wilson, are my votes supposed to not be there?

[Araris Valerian he/him]

6 minutes ago, Szeth_Pancakes said:

Hi there. I’m trying to keep up with the thread, but honestly just having a lot of trouble forming reads rn — I feel kinda lost with the thirty page ruleset and all that.

I’m not on the streets, fortunately.

My tip as a 2-time KKC-er; you don’t need to know most of the rules. Pick a field to elevate in, find your favorite lodging, and then just have some fun. Write some RP, hire some assassins, whatever. You can min-max things a lot if you want (like getting your Master elevation in a different field from your first 3), but that’s only one facet of the game. We’re at the University, and we can do a lot of the cool stuff that Kvothe messed around with. So find something you think would be cool to do and just go for it! I accepted a contract to adopt a velociraptor, so basically anything is on the table .

 

8 minutes ago, The Known Novel said:

I voted Sart.

@Elbereth, @little wilson, are my votes supposed to not be there?

Ah. Well, that doesn’t really change my analysis, but thanks for pointing that out. Hope that doesn’t cause massive problems (though if I somehow get reinstated that would be a plus).

[Mat he/him]

23 minutes ago, Araris Valerian said:

Ah. Well, that doesn’t really change my analysis, but thanks for pointing that out. Hope that doesn’t cause massive problems (though if I somehow get reinstated that would be a plus).

Sart also voted me (and someone else I'm forgetting) which like was the entire catalyst for the fiasco that put me on the horns lol (and might be why you elim read that paragraph of mine-- you missed the important context)

I think the VC mechanics are that erased votes show as like completely gone so that might be what's going on here.

4 hours ago, Kasimir said:

OOC: Perhaps unwarranted/unwanted from me, but simple solution potentially-

Clearly the only way Sarenrae found out is by stealing your food and eating it, food theft is wrong, against the Lethani, unethical, Conduct Unbecoming, file complaints against Sarenrae, Sarenrae gets punished, the Masters unfortunately also punished you but she is punished therefore there is some justice in this broken world we live in.

Also clearly your food is not oversalted how dare she she's delusional send her to the infirmary

/Chernobylmemeout]

That would work, but I'm going to stubbornly insist that no one ate his food because he made it, ate it, and there were no leftovers ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

---

Francis ran.

After arriving back in his room last night, he'd pulled out his instrument and began to play. Scales and melodies that he'd learned as a child had flowed back to him far better than he'd anticipated, and he'd practiced through the night. Into the morning.

Past the tuition reporting deadline.

Well, not quite. He'd noticed the time with ten minutes to spare, yet knew there was no way he'd make it to campus in time. He knew he should have turned in his tuition and housing request sooner, yet just... hadn't cared to make time for it. Well, he was going to pay for that.

He clutched the envelope containing every drab and talent he'd earned over the last three months a little tighter. 'Hopefully I'll pay for it', he thought. More than a small part of him worried that the Masters wouldn't even accept him back. He knew they were strict about their rules and deadlines. But he wasn't egregiously late...

Finally, the tuition building came into view. Francis upped his jog into a sprint, bursting into the office. The secretary was cleaning up. 

She raised an eyebrow at him. "Yes?"

"Here..." he puffed, "is my tuition... and... housing request..." He held out the envelope weakly, one hand on his knee.

[Araris Valerian he/him]

Hmm, maybe we have a couple of E'lirs in Rhetoric and Logic that cancelled Sart and TKN's votes. I'm going to assume that the GMs would inform us if they changed conventions partway through the game.

8 minutes ago, Matrim's Dice said:

Sart also voted me (and someone else I'm forgetting) which like was the entire catalyst for the fiasco that put me on the horns lol (and might be why you elim read that paragraph of mine-- you missed the important context)

I'm suspecting you because elims frequently get frustrated over votes that have nothing to do with them being elim. More so than villagers getting voted on for bad reasons, in my experience. Of course, my suspicions have roughly 0 weight now that I'm expelled, so take them with a grain of salt.

[Mat he/him]

12 minutes ago, Araris Valerian said:

I'm suspecting you because elims frequently get frustrated over votes that have nothing to do with them being elim. More so than villagers getting voted on for bad reasons, in my experience. Of course, my suspicions have roughly 0 weight now that I'm expelled, so take them with a grain of salt.

Sure, but also like... have you met me? xD I do that anyway, and this one particularly stung because it was particularly dumb and literally caused me to not have enough money to pay for the things I wanted to pay for.

---

The next few seconds passed heart-poundingly slow. But finally the secretary took the envelope, opened it up, and paused. "Well, you're late," she stated. "It would not be fit with University standards to accept this."

"Please," Francis begged, desperate. "I lost track of time rediscovering an old hobby. It's my fault. I'm not some noble snub who took his time out of laziness. That envelope holds all I own." He wasn't sure if he'd get any pity points from that, but it was worth a try.

After another too long pause, the secretary sighed, walking back around her desk. "Fine. But this won't go without consequences."

Francis relaxed. He didn't care what the consequences were, as long as he could still attend.

"First, we'll have to relocate you to the Mews. This should eliminate any further tardiness, as you'll be on campus at all times. Second, the Masters will require a public apology and explanation, to, ah, appease them. This was, after all, conduct unbecoming of an E'lir such as yourself." Her eyes flashed a bit, and Francis echoed her earlier sigh.

"Thank you," he said, exiting the building. At least he wasn't expelled, and he could care less about the apology. But it would appear that he'd have to move house.

[The Unknown Medallion he/him]

Mat, Matpat. Fits his tells pretty well. And what kind of Noble would I be if I wasn't stealing money from the poor.

[Mat he/him]

21 minutes ago, The Known Novel said:

Mat, Matpat. Fits his tells pretty well. And what kind of Noble would I be if I wasn't stealing money from the poor.

Have this Kas quote from yesterday:

Quote

[OOC: I wondered if Archer felt you were being defensive. But I don't feel the lack thereof is a very good you tell anymore - it's clear you've learned to control it in the last couple games. I think there are other, more relevant factors to look at  ]

When was the last time this tell was used successfully? How many times was I annoyed during my last three-four very recent elim games and this 'tell' didn't show up? Can you try to read my posts and read me in a way that doesn't lazily used an out of date meta?

I'm sorry if I come off as annoyed. It's because I am. That doesn't mean I'm evil. I'm just trying to have my own RPful chill first-village-game-in-a-long-time and it'd be pretty nice if I could stop getting voted for dumb reasons and actually be able to pay for things. I know you don't have to worry about that, but I do, and it's something that is very present in how I'm playing this game.

Edit: I'm not annoyed at any one person, btw. Just the situation being dumb :P.

Edited August 3, 2023 by Matrim's Dice

[Archer he/him]

41 minutes ago, Araris Valerian said:

Hmm, maybe we have a couple of E'lirs in Rhetoric and Logic that cancelled Sart and TKN's votes. I'm going to assume that the GMs would inform us if they changed conventions partway through the game.

I'm suspecting you because elims frequently get frustrated over votes that have nothing to do with them being elim. More so than villagers getting voted on for bad reasons, in my experience. Of course, my suspicions have roughly 0 weight now that I'm expelled, so take them with a grain of salt.

I'd mentally flagged the same comment. I got my rollover times mixed up yesterday and was still debating whether to say on Mat or not. I don't hate that the decision was made for me though

11 minutes ago, Matrim's Dice said:

Have this Kas quote from yesterday:

When was the last time this tell was used successfully? How many times was I annoyed during my last three-four very recent elim games and this 'tell' didn't show up? Can you try to read my posts and read me in a way that doesn't lazily used an out of date meta?

I'm sorry if I come off as annoyed. It's because I am. That doesn't mean I'm evil. I'm just trying to have my own RPful chill first-village-game-in-a-long-time and it'd be pretty nice if I could stop getting voted for dumb reasons and actually be able to pay for things. I know you don't have to worry about that, but I do, and it's something that is very present in how I'm playing this game.

Whatcha trying to pay for? You're sitting on less than 8 talents, why did buying stuff become your main ambition rather than progression through EP? 

Who would you have us vote instead of you? 

[Araris Valerian he/him]

28 minutes ago, Matrim's Dice said:

actually be able to pay for things.

I’ll just note that getting the boot should make it easier to pay for things, and that as a villager getting expelled isn’t the worst thing. You can stay at The Pearl of Imre, practice your music, get some talent pipes, gamble somewhere with a positive expected value, and then go on a killing spree with hired assassins.