Indigo Weasel Posted January 13, 2025 Posted January 13, 2025 Nibbles suspects the Heron. The worms in their apple were a sign. 1 hour ago, Amethyst Scorpion said: Malmoc frowned at the Jaist. “That is…a misrepresentation of our conversation. This feels too sloppy to be the work of a Spiked, who are notoriously careful not to draw attention to themselves.
Emerald Falcon Posted January 13, 2025 Posted January 13, 2025 (edited) 6 minutes ago, Azure Mouse said: Its interesting to see myself stanced so high by a person I've not interacted with. Perhaps I should. I notice how the tensions are getting higher, perhaps one will be removed from here. A retaliation for Gam. Though whether right or wrong is the other question. I'd be interested to work together with someone who I believe is not a saboteur. Perhaps tomorrow, if possible. Magenta Albatross (3): Azure Mouse, Cream Tuatara, Charcoal Hyena Cream Tuatara (3): Emerald Falcon, Mint Heron, Magenta Albatross Charcoal Hyena (1): Mauve Crocodile Indigo Weasel (1): Melon Dingo Melon Dingo (1): Ivory Dragonfly Mint Heron (1): Indigo Weasel Mauve Crocodile (1): Amethyst Scorpion (Let it rand. (Actually I have no idea if it would rand) gl) Edited January 13, 2025 by Emerald Falcon
Azure Mouse Posted January 13, 2025 Posted January 13, 2025 One last chance for self preservation. I'm taking a note of it. But that's the only shift at the time. I should be taking notes readily, keep it connected and not just from my mind, but its nervous to see that be the only growing suspicion, even if it is the one I share. The lack of any other targets and the vast fingerpointings seperate from Alais and then Hayden imply to me, that perhaps if wrong here, there would be more saboteurs among those pointing vainly. Bruxishly I think, contemplate. But I must be certain. There is no room for a weak will here when confidence is required.
Kasimir he/him Posted January 13, 2025 Posted January 13, 2025 (edited) AG11/AN15: Night One - Dirt Road Blues Clem’d known a cold bastard back out in Luthadel, from a past life, who insisted that the dead spoke, if you knew how to listen to them. Made you at least a tad antsy, getting patched up by the same fellow who cut up dead bodies and told you about them, but Garrison paid well enough, and there wasn’t much choice to be had. He was thinking of Wurek again, as he stared down at Gam’s corpse, and tried to figure out what Gam might’ve had to tell them. There wasn’t much in the way of choice in Tyrian Falls, if you got injured. It was old Malmoc, who’d throw some herbs at you and mumble and commit you to the Lord Ruler’s hands, former Garrison like Hayden Vendel, who could maybe be talked into doing some field medicine if he hadn’t gotten the chance to bury his mind in the bottle, and Sandhya, who had a habit of performing unnecessary surgical procedures, to the point Clem’d rather limp across the Lutha to Montshade, half a day’s canal boat to the south, rather than deal with her. He thanked the Lord Ruler that it had been a cool night. He’d run into Malmoc on his way to the village bounds, and the herbalist had insisted on stopping him and anointing him with a greasy mixture right between the eyes, which made Clem fight to hold back a sneeze, but at least whiffing lavender, thyme, and Lord Ruler only knew what else was a sight better than dealing with Gam’s notorious aversion to baths, or the stench of a ripe corpse. “Left-handed,” Clem said, at last. Wished he sounded more confident. Maybe they should’ve gotten Sandhya down, after all, but if there was anyone as like to put your back up, it was Sandhya humming to herself as she poked at a corpse. “Shallower here, deeper here.” He made a throat-slitting gesture with his free hand to demonstrate. “Probably took Gam by surprise,” he added. Captain Teys was bending over the corpse, studying it. “No sign of a struggle,” he assented. Gam’s hands bore the calluses and dirt of a man who put in a day’s honest work, with no defensive scratches or bruising. As far as Clem could tell from his expression, he’d been taken by surprise when he died. “Surprised the mistwraiths didn’t get him,” Teys grunted. “Maill’s take is they left him out for the mistwraiths, hoping they’d devour the evidence. Probably why we never found Cambry.” Clem tried to put things together in his head. A late night. Gam hearing a sound in the watchtower, seeing someone he trusted enough to let his guard down around climbing up to him. Maybe they’d brought some food, some wine. A welcome sight. And then they’d overpowered Gam, and killed him, and set the watchtower on fire. Left-handed, and known to Gam. He said that again, aloud. Felt as though it was terribly inadequate. Tyrian Falls was a small village, the sort where everyone knew everyone, and what’s more, they knew your entire extended family and you knew theirs. Had been that way for generations. It wasn’t that the deed was unthinkable—and he knew that, of course, because Connal’s killing had left a deep scar in the memory of Tyrian Falls—it was that it didn’t single out anyone in particular, so you were left with nothing. “Left-handedness we can work with,” Teys said, thoughtfully. That, Clem was minded to agree with. A short distance away, at the boundaries of Tyrian Falls, a group of villagers were hard at work, still attempting to secure the town against the feared koloss onslaught. Corse, the local gravedigger, had paused work on a segment of ditch, with Maill having finally brought over Gam’s corpse for burial. “Graveyard’s that way,” Corse said, laconically, jabbing with the thumb of his free hand. “Captain says bury him close by,” Maill replied. Unease flickered across his face. “We’re losing daylight if we take him to the graveyard. The ditch and the stakes need to be in place before the koloss hit us.” The entire situation had Maill on edge. Gam had been an old friend, and the hasty burial beyond the village bounds seemed poor treatment. And yet, the cobbler didn’t fancy the idea of facing a group of koloss, and the insistence of both the Captain and Tyrian Falls’s veterans that earthworks and sharpened stakes might give the koloss enough pause sat poorly with him. Koloss were like the slopes of the ashmount Tyrian: brute facts of the world, heavy with consequence. You built a village on the slopes of an ashmount, and you understood that your village would burn. Maill couldn’t see how the ditch being painstakingly dug by a rotating team of villagers, led by Corse, nor the earthen berm beyond it, nor the pile of logs being sharpened into stakes by a grouchy Aralis, with Byrar helping, was supposed to do anything against the koloss. Even if these had a prayer’s hope of doing anything about the koloss, Maill thought, what about the saboteurs? He didn’t think they were going to idle around and allow Tyrian Falls to piece together any form of defense. So why didn’t you run? “Damned crow,” Maill cursed sourly, swatting at the bird that had perched on the nearby pile of sharpened logs and was eyeing Gam’s corpse intently with dark, beady eyes. A trail of bugs led over the top of the log pile, but the crow ignored them, seemingly more interested in the corpse than the insects. “Bird isn’t bothering you,” Corse said, as though he’d eyes at the back of his head. “Leave be.” “It’s a carrion bird,” Maill muttered, darkly. “I’m not standing for it if it goes for him.” Corse said nothing more; he dug into the earth with his shovel, leaning into the movement, and with one final dark glare at the crow, Maill moved to help him. The crow let out a series of harsh caws, much like mocking laughter, and then flapped its wings and took to the ashen skies overhead. Maill shielded his eyes as he followed the crow’s movement, turning back for those heartbeats to the half-dug ditch, and blanched. For a moment, in the ruddy light of the day, the ditch seemed to be brimming with blood. This day, Satrams’s tavern was brimming with villagers as the townsfolk of Tyrian Falls sought out the comforts of a hearthfire, warm food, and drink. Gam’s cold-blooded murder and the torching of the watchtower had set everyone on edge, particularly with the knowledge that a warband of koloss were headed towards Tyrian Falls. Within the four walls of the Hound and Hustle, with the warm, pleasant buzz of ale or other drink blanketing their thoughts, it was easy to opine confidently that the defenses the teams of villagers were working on, out there, beyond at the village boundaries, would hold against even the koloss themselves. “Not if there’re shhaboteurs,” Hayden Vendel growled, words half-slurred, clutching his bottle of cheap ale as a shipwrecked sailor to the driftwood that he saw as his salvation. It wasn’t one of Satrams’s—it was the sort of thing you felt could’ve been used to strip rust from metal, but what Satrams didn’t see wasn’t going to hurt him, and in any case, Hayden had taken one look at the burning watchtower and started drinking all over again as though it was a new sacrament. He’d been Garrison most of his life, lost his leg fighting rebels, and for the most part, figured he’d spend the rest of his life drowning in the wrong sort of water in this backwater town. But now, with the whispers of the koloss warband, and the burning watchtower, and the murder… He seized onto it with a strange kind of desperation. The drink took away the pain for a while, but it left you with a peculiar sort of numbness, something that felt very much like a sort-of-pain. The problem of the saboteurs though? It felt new. It felt like something he knew how to deal with, even if he was lying to himself about it. There was the kid, the one who’d asked him if he was her dad, but the way Hayden saw it, he wasn’t anyone’s dad, wasn’t in the place to be anyone’s dad, not right now, maybe not ever. Wasn’t gonna tell a kid that, though. Man built like a rusting bulwark was asking him about a bet, and the part of Hayden’s mind that was still keeping track of things wondered if he’d the boxings for the bet, and the rest of it, mellowed by drink, just said eh whatever. Didn’t trust the gambler, though. Man like him, Garrison’d pay well, what’s he doing in a dead-end town like Tyrian Falls getting in people’s faces talking about bets? “Youse the saboteur,” Hayden said, triumphantly. “Hundred boxings on it.” The sensible part of Hayden’s mind warned he didn’t have a hundred boxings. It was overruled by the hard rush of his homemade brew and the fact he’d latched on to something that made sense to him in his inebriated state: which was that the gambler—Alain, he’d called himself—didn’t make sense, and so was probably their saboteur. Figured that a sab would stick out, here. ‘Course, Alain was slippery enough. Hayden wasn’t really sure how they’d gotten to talking about metals, but pretty soon, he’d admitted he could burn metals—pretty obvious, really, if you wondered what he was doing with a last name that sounded a tad noble, even if it was no Venture—and then they’d gone off to shake down the man sitting at the bar because someone’d heard he said he could burn some sort of special eleventh metal and that sounded like the sorta thing a sab might think handy. They passed a small table where Mayor Tema was drinking—and Hayden thought he saw someone, who, having brushed quickly past them, dropped a large handful of powdered herbs into the mayor’s drink. Funny, he thought, and fought back a sneeze as a cat’s tail brushed past his face, distracting him, and then in the following moments, his mind was soon diverted to the problem of Acks and whatever Acks was doing. By the time they were done shaking Acks down, and concluding reluctantly that maybe Acks wasn’t the sab they were looking for right now, Mayor Tema had become distinctly unwell. He stood up, teetering on his feet, and promptly threw up on the table right in front of him. “Mayor!” Satrams cried out, aghast. “A poisoning! Saboteurs!” exclaimed the ostentatious fellow everyone had figured was some sort of wandering priest. Unnecessarily, the priest added, “Praise the Ja!” as though the fact that the mayor had just been poisoned was a matter worthy of praise. By that point, a sudden idea lodged itself firmly in Hayden’s mind. Alais’d said something about the eleventh metal being an alloy of gold or atium, and belatedly, the alarm bells were beginning to ring. The gambler said he’d known nothing about Invesh—Investich—about metals, and when Hayden asked him again, he backtracked and said of course he did, he’d been a blacksmith once. Which sounded awfully convenient to Hayden. “Yous a sab,” he whispered, staring at Alais. “You poisoned the Major, didn’t you?” “You’re coming onto me quite suddenly, my good friend,” Alais said, though he did not sound particularly alarmed. Hayden snarled, “‘M not your friend. ‘M not a sab,” and let loose with a sudden, sharp left hook that snapped Alais’s head to the side. Alais staggered backwards, crying out in shock, but recovered enough to snatch a wooden beer stein off a nearby table and smashed it into Hayden’s stomach. Moments later, the entire Hound and Hustle broke into chaos, with various Tyrianers shouting about a poisoning and then a murder attempt, and plates and crockery and bottles and all sorts of items flying about, or used as improvised weapons. Mostly, several villagers appeared to have taken either Alais’s or Hayden’s side, with Satrams futilely appealing to everyone to stop the rampant destruction of his establishment. By the time some of the Watch volunteers managed to break up the ensuing tavern brawl, Hayden was slumped over Alais’s unmoving corpse, breathing heavily, blood running down his knuckles, shards of broken glass and wooden plates strewn all over the floor. “I did it,” he slurred, triumphantly. “Alais was a rusting shhab.” @Magenta Albatross was a Village Vanilla! Quote Cream Tuatara (3): Emerald Falcon, Magenta Albatross, Mint Heron Magenta Albatross (3): Azure Mouse, Charcoal Hyena, Cream Tuatara Charcoal Hyena (1): Mauve Crocodile Indigo Weasel (1): Melon Dingo Mauve Crocodile (1): Amethyst Scorpion Melon Dingo (1): Ivory Dragonfly Mint Heron (1): Indigo Weasel The Night has begun! It will end in 24 hours on the 13th January 2025, 11PM ET. PMs remain open! Please include both myself and @Araris Valerian in all PMs made. Player List: Spoiler 1. @Amber Vulture - Sauve Chad (Ruinous Skeptic) 2. @Amethyst Scorpion - Malmoc (Herbalist) 3. @Azure Mouse - (Watcher) 4. @Charcoal Hyena - Lysia (Tinker) 5. @Chartreuse Penguin - [Ade]mordna Niugnep 6. @Coral Swan - Acks (Matchmaker) 7. @Cream Tuatara - Hayden Vendel (Drunk) 8. @Emerald Falcon - (Observer) 9. @Fuchsia Ostrich - Kael Voss 10. @Indigo Weasel - Nibbles (Chef) 11. @Ivory Dragonfly - Sew (Hopeful Orphan) 12. Magenta Albatross - Alais Short (Gambler) - Village Vanilla 13. @Mauve Crocodile - (Jaist) 14. @Melon Dingo - Rind (Orphaned By Mistwraiths) 15. @Mint Heron - Byrar (Unlucky Craftsman) Edited January 30, 2025 by Kasimir 2
Mauve Crocodile Posted January 13, 2025 Posted January 13, 2025 Albatross was probably the worst possible elimination there unfortunately, that was my only read resembling a villager lean. It’s on me for not staying in the thread till deadline though, I was multitasking. Keep an eye on Charcoal Praise the Ja
Mint Heron Posted January 13, 2025 Posted January 13, 2025 Byrar woke as shouts filled the inn. The mayor was dead, and Alais killed for it? How had he fallen asleep at such an important time? Inwardly cursing himself, he rose quickly from his table to investigate. Maybe he should have stayed away from the inn. His bad fortune followed him like the plague and now more people had died. 2 hours ago, Mauve Crocodile said: Albatross was probably the worst possible elimination there unfortunately, that was my only read resembling a villager lean. The priest seemed to think Alais's death was a waste, although Byrar had thought the Gambler seemed more concerned with betting than trying to help the town. And while he hated to see another innocents life ended while there were spiked in their midst, It seemed none of the metalborn had died, which was good. More and more, he found the Jaist's claims seemingly illogical. One the foreigners who seemed to he did not know had apparently asked where everyone's suspicions lay, Byrars thoughts were the following. Quote Unlikely: Emerald Falcon: They're putting in a lot of work to figure who the spiked are and have played rationally. I know it's easy to assume that someone who gives a lot of detailed posts are innocent, but for now, there's nothing tipping me that somethings wrong. Amethyst Scorpion: Seems pretty safe, is apparently PMing and disagreeing with Crocodile. Azure Mouse: First to accuse, but otherwise solid work and logic in figuring things out. Ivory Dragonfly: Seems reasonable, normal behavior. People who have put in minimal posts (slightly higher suspicion): Amber Vulture: Really no information of any kind here Chartreuse Pengiun: No relevant info Fuchsia Ostrich: Seems okay, but still not much to go on Charcoal Hyena: Switching votes last minute could go either way, it makes sense for a town trying to prevent chaotic randomness or it could be an elim trying to protect another elim (in this case, probably Hayden who tied for the most votes until the change). I'm not sure which is more likely Melon Dingo: Quick to accuse, although Rind seems reasonable enough Confusing and Suspicous: Cream Tuatara: Vague statements, Changed votes. Not much that I'm in favor of. Coral Swan: I dislike the amount of changing votes on Acks, but the eleventh metal thing is weird for an elim. Medium Suspicion: Indigo Weasel: The apple game was an interesting play, but the philosophy of "vote whoever chooses red" seems like a poor strategy. (although it's seems like a poor choice for a spiked). Might be playing above my level, but I also am bias against Nibbles for voting on me with the logic of "The worms in their apple were a sign." Mauve Crocodile: See reasons above. High suspicion: I haven't paid enough attention to feel confident about anyone just yet.
Indigo Weasel Posted January 13, 2025 Posted January 13, 2025 8 hours ago, Mauve Crocodile said: Albatross was probably the worst possible elimination there unfortunately, that was my only read resembling a villager lean. It’s on me for not staying in the thread till deadline though, I was multitasking. Would you have voted Tuatara to protect them? No vote manip, which Nibbles is a little surprised by. Maybe people are saving it for later. What you shouldn't save for later is this freshly baked croissant, enjoy:
Chartreuse Penguin Posted January 13, 2025 Posted January 13, 2025 "sorry everyone," Ade muttered as she joined the group of people discussing the events of the day. "I'd had a lazy day last night. How was I supposed to know it would be the most eventful day in tyrian falls history?" She sat for a moment, then added "anyone care to catch me up on events of the day and our suspicions?
Azure Mouse Posted January 13, 2025 Posted January 13, 2025 5 hours ago, Mint Heron said: Byrar woke as shouts filled the inn. The mayor was dead, and Alais killed for it? How had he fallen asleep at such an important time? Inwardly cursing himself, he rose quickly from his table to investigate. Maybe he should have stayed away from the inn. His bad fortune followed him like the plague and now more people had died. The priest seemed to think Alais's death was a waste, although Byrar had thought the Gambler seemed more concerned with betting than trying to help the town. And while he hated to see another innocents life ended while there were spiked in their midst, It seemed none of the metalborn had died, which was good. More and more, he found the Jaist's claims seemingly illogical. One the foreigners who seemed to he did not know had apparently asked where everyone's suspicions lay, Byrars thoughts were the following. A curious point to make, watching this one. Byrar, I think, having caught a name whispered at some account before. Curious, seeing his list, divided into two sections. Non saboteur and minimal contributions. But to put me in the former when I would be in the later, when my contributions also are also visibly lacking implies some degree of informational advantage. Much to ponder. But there were other things to do tonight, along with grieve the birth of my wrong confidence. An apology, then, to Alais, whispered quietly from my lips before I would set off.
Amber Vulture Posted January 13, 2025 Posted January 13, 2025 Only at night does Sauve Chad come out. Darkness will shield these fools from the wrath of the Lord Ruler.
Mint Heron Posted January 13, 2025 Posted January 13, 2025 44 minutes ago, Azure Mouse said: Non saboteur and minimal contributions. But to put me in the former when I would be in the later, when my contributions also are also visibly lacking implies some degree of informational advantage. You made seven posts. The people I put as minimum only had one or two total. I’d still like to know more about you, but for now, my suspicions are on others.
Azure Mouse Posted January 13, 2025 Posted January 13, 2025 2 minutes ago, Mint Heron said: You made seven posts. The people I put as minimum only had one or two total. I’d still like to know more about you, but for now, my suspicions are on others. Had I..? Hm. I felt my contributions more lacking than that. My brain itches at that, but it would not be a concern for now. I nod simply for now. "Would you perhaps wish to elaborate more on any information extrapolated from some of those quieter members?" Quiet did not mean unreadable.
Charcoal Hyena Posted January 13, 2025 Posted January 13, 2025 A quick heads up, I'm dealing with some emergency medical issues that will keep me from writing extensively until they pass. That should hopefully be in a week at the longest, and I'll be able to maintain a minimum of contribution until then, so I don't expect to need a pinch hitter.
Emerald Falcon Posted January 13, 2025 Posted January 13, 2025 Well, my initial assumptions were incorrect. I believe that's what the kids call "skill issue" on my part. With that violence over, things get quieter at the inn. I'm a bit uneasy about it. I've seen my fair share of fights across my travels - even participated in some before - but it does not bode well here. I worry that there was a saboteur pushing for this to happen. At some point, I'll ideally get the chance to recount the day's events to myself to see what truly happened, since my memory is a bit muddled right now. Despite the late hour, discussion still continues at the inn. I'm back to sitting in the corner again, back against the wall, eyes glancing at the door every couple seconds. Still trying to calm myself down. Situations like these aren't good for someone who gets stressed easily, like me. A voice floats over the general noise in the inn: 10 hours ago, Mauve Crocodile said: Albatross was probably the worst possible elimination there unfortunately, that was my only read resembling a villager lean. It’s on me for not staying in the thread till deadline though, I was multitasking. Keep an eye on Charcoal Praise the Ja My head snaps across the room to find who said this. It doesn't take me long - there's some person who has been referred to as a priest by a couple of the locals here, standing on the far side, loudly pronouncing that they had thought the gambler to be innocent. This sets off every possible alarm possible in my head, because they did not mention this at any point, and the gambler was under pressure all day. It reads as a credit grab in a way, pretending they knew the gambler was innocent, just not saying anything until after the man's death. Just not a great look. Why didn't they mention this, if the gambler was the only one they found innocent? To put it simply, they had all day to defend someone who was clearly under pressure and did not, and claim after the gambler is dead that they would've defended him. This is not behavior a member of the innocent party displays. For reference, everything they said yesterday: post 1, post 2, post 3, post 4, post 5, post 6, with this response as additional context is not a good look (and likely slightly unpairing). Tomorrow, I would look at several of those who have not contributed much to solving, along with the merchant (Fuchsia Ostrich), and the so-called priest (Mauve Crocodile), at the very least. I have concerns with the majority of those I have seen at the inn, honestly. Hopefully tomorrow, some who did not speak much will contribute more to the discussion, and that will help me sort who is innocent from who is not.
Ivory Dragonfly Posted January 14, 2025 Posted January 14, 2025 Sew stared at the body. She should be used to this, right? Plenty of people hadn't made it out the caravan. It was part of life. You couldn't avoid it as a skaa. It was everywhere. Why were her eyes watering then? This wasn't fair. She hadn't liked the gambler that much, but he had offered her his name. That was worth something. And the drunk, who killed him, he had offered her a name too. It wasn't fair. The two people who first started talking were the ones who were the most dangerous? That didn't make sense. They were talking, and now they're dead. Better to be quiet, then? That wouldn't work! The Spiked would kill them if they went quiet. She had seen the instant it happened. She was paralyzed with indecision, in the last 2 minutes before it happened. She didn't want either of them dead, and just stood there. They were chatting; they were telling a story. How did it go so wrong? She did not want the talkers to keep dying. She wiped her face, calming herself. Alais wasn't her dad. She had to believe that. There were still parents to save, and she was going to be the one to do it. Those lurkers needed to start talking. It was time to knock on some doors. 1
Melon Dingo Posted January 14, 2025 Posted January 14, 2025 Rind still sat unmoving in his chair. He had always been a fearful man, ever since his parents had been eaten by one of those creatures that lurk in the mists. He'd leave a lamp burning by his bedside overnight, to keep the night at bay, then jump when he woke up to the dancing shadows. It was better than being alone in the dark though. The real dangers were the ones you couldn't see coming, the things that would sneak around the edge of your vision and strike just when you weren't ready for it. Mistwraiths. Saboteurs. That was what Rind had thought, what he had lived by, until he saw the two men die in front of him. Now, staring at the once-comforting lamplight only burned the image of the ignited watchtower into his eyes. For what it was worth, Rind didn't think Hayden was a saboteur. If the rumours were true, that there wasn't just one of them, it would have been easy for a saboteur to step in and leave the outcome of the brawl less up to chance - or maybe even use some of that allomancy that people had been whispering about to sway it in his favour. Unless the saboteurs were asleep. It had been rather late, and surely saboteurs also slept? That seemed unlikely to Rind though, as people had seemed fairly untrustworthy of Hayden throughout the day and there had been little support for him then. Lysia had moved to accuse Alias right before the fight broke out, which Rind noted as a potential sign they and Hayden were working together, but something about that explanation didn't sit right with him. It seemed to easy. Thinking back, Falcon's point last night of suspicion moving quite easily off of Acks was a good one, something Rind might try and follow up on the following day. For now though, he figured all that was left was to get as much sleep as his racing mind would allow before the chaos the next day would surely bring. 1
Kasimir he/him Posted January 14, 2025 Posted January 14, 2025 (edited) AG11/AN15: Day Two - Cold Irons Bound By the time Captain Teys had arrived, things had settled down, at least a little, with the Watch volunteers having separated the combatants. In addition, Malmoc, as the only herbalist present, was attending to the Mayor in a discreet corner of the Hound and Hustle. “Doesn’t look like he’s alive,” one of them called out, having checked on Alais’s condition. Teys drew in a deep breath, and let it out again, forcing himself to calm. Sometimes, he thought, resignedly, the universe just had it out for you. Sometimes, it decided you didn’t just need to deal with a koloss warband descending on a completely unprepared village, you also had to deal with saboteurs murdering people, the people of said village apparently taking matters into their own hands and trying to murder each other, rampant property damage, a mayor who might-or-might-not be actually lethally poisoned, a drunken madman on a rampage, and Malmoc. “Alright, the party’s over,” Teys said firmly, with the careworn air of a man who was at the very end of his rope. He had to raise his voice to make sure he was heard by everyone crowding the tavern, most of whom had descended into increasingly spectacular gossip, “I’m going to need everyone who isn’t involved to go somewhere else—” “—Nibbles is appalled! Nibbles doesn’t remember making cake, because the whole tavern has taken a battering!” “—you, you, you, and you,” Teys said, after a moment’s pause. “Stop gawking, go help Satrams and the chef sort things out.” Almost at random, he picked out some familiar faces among the lingering crowd: Byrar, Rind, Falcon, and Mouse. “Anyone who doesn’t have business here, move, or help them.” “Sorry everyone,” muttered Ade, walking slowly into the damaged interior of the tavern, and joining the crowd gathered there. She made to sit down with some others in one of the more intact booths of the tavern. “I'd had a lazy day last night. How was I supposed to know it would be the most eventful day in Tyrian Falls’s history?” “Ade!” Teys roared. “Gossip later! Help the others with the clean-up.” He didn’t pause to see if Ade had been rather put-out; he moved on to the next headache for his attention, which was apparently that the attacker, Hayden, was for the moment, docile and compliant. Teys figured that was better than dealing with a rowdy drunk, or more trouble. Either way, they needed to secure Hayden, and deal with him subsequently, after he’d sobered up. He beckoned to two of the stronger Watch volunteers present, figuring Hayden would be less likely to give them trouble. “Escort Hayden to the old shed, and make sure he’s secure.” Teys filed that problem out of his mind, and moved on to the next one. “Malmoc,” he said, through gritted teeth, “What’s Tema’s status?” “Oh, you know,” Malmoc said, cheerfully. A whole army of glass jars, lids unscrewed, were strewn on the floor all about him, and he was grinding up powder to make a thin paste. Mihtig wove through the glass jars, somehow managing to avoid upsetting any of them with the skill worthy of a cat burglar. “He’ll be fine, he’s just needed to purge all the upsetting elements inside his system.” Teys, by this point, was rather practiced at reading between Malmoc’s lines. “What did you do,” he demanded, wondering not for the first time why he’d decided to serve as Captain of the Tyrian Watch. Malmoc blinked owlishly. “A simple purgative,” he said. “Hyssop for purification. There’s a change in the ash, could you not smell it? There’s a presence there, in the ash. I gave him a little—well, perhaps a little too much hyssop to bolster him against that.” He applied the thin salve between the mayor’s eyes, and then gently across his closed eyelids. Teys decided that if Tema wasn’t actually dying, he had other things to deal with first before wrangling Malmoc, and turned to leave. “Be careful, Captain,” Malmoc murmured. Teys drew to a temporary halt. “Nothing has been as it should be. The old winds are faded, and so very much is wrong beyond my power to know, or to treat. And I fear that whatever lurks in the ash rains…there is something directed at you, too.” “I’ll be fine,” Teys said, brusquely. The last thing he needed was Malmoc trying to foist some infusion or salve on him again, right now, when so many things competed for his time and attention. “Make sure Tema is. You know how it is, word has gone around the village thrice now, and they’ll all swear to his death. We cannot have a panic now, Malmoc, not with the koloss on our doorstep and the saboteurs within.” He nodded to the Watch volunteer, who was positioned tactfully at a distance: not near enough to suggest that Malmoc was under suspicion, but not so far she could not intervene if Tema was in danger. And then he left. In the heat of his family’s old forge, Clem laboured on the large numbers of caltrops that Teys had asked for. Some of the Garrison veterans had expressed doubt about the devices, although one who’d served with the Ventures in the Northern Dominance was insistent that they’d held off an assault from rebellious koloss before. Some things never left you, he thought, as he deftly flattened out the glowing end of the iron rod with several quick strokes of his hammer. Even with the shutters letting in a cool breeze, the heat of the forge was oppressive, like the molten heart of the ashmount Tyrian Falls took its name from. He had hiked Tyrian, once. He had been younger then, still deciding what he wanted to do with his life. Still drawn by the idea you could make a life for yourself in the big city, in Luthadel, where it didn’t matter you were skaa, if you had the skill, and the daring, and the desire to see something more than the hills among which you grew up. He summited Tyrian, climbing as high as he dared, balancing on the crumbling edge of the crater, staring at the dangerous clouds of gases below, the rumble of distant fire. The heat of the ashmount’s heart on his face like a forge of a different kind, both acknowledgement and passage into adulthood. Time, Clem was thinking, made liars of them all. He had to reheat the iron rod several times, casting a wary eye over to the other rods still heating in the forge-fire. He took a chisel to the flattened end, splitting the metal with even strikes of the chisel. The first thing Clem’s father had started him on as an apprentice was nails. No matter how many days he spent in the small village smithy, hammering out iron rods over the anvil, dropping finished nail after finished nail into a small iron bucket, there never seemed to be enough nails. Another hammer stroke, tapped at the groove, split off the caltrops from the iron rod completely. The rest of the iron rod went back into the furnace, and Clem got back to work drawing out the points, bending the tips back into barbed hooks that would catch and gouge and refuse to let go. Eventually, the finished caltrops went into the water bucket, and then Clem moved on to the next one. And the next. Like nails, like time, and like hope, there never seemed to be enough caltrops. Hayden Vendel felt cold awareness seep back, slowly, as he sprawled on the familiar wooden bench in the shed. Tyrian Falls was too small to have anything like an actual Watch barracks or station, the way the fancier cities did. What they did have was an old grain shed, at the back of Teys’s home, which had been converted into a temporary holding place for someone the Watch’d apprehended, or, as was more common in Tyrian Falls, a place for a drunken troublemaker to sober up. He’d sobered up in the shed more than once. There was a lantern, set just far enough that he couldn’t tip it over, and cause a fire by accident. It illuminated a basin of water, with a wooden dipper. He thought he saw a trail of bugs, leading just past the basin. It wasn’t the water he was thirsty for, but all the same, Hayden staggered over to it and poured it down his parched throat. The second fill of the dipper went down his throat as well, and the third went over his head. The numbness of the drink, the euphoria of the fight—all of that faded away in the cold rush of the water. He blinked blearily, realised there was blood on his knuckles. Memory came back, fragmented. The tavern fight. Alais Short, the gambler who didn’t fit, who seemed an awful lot like one of those saboteurs. Garrison liked to use them, too. Better to have one of your own on the inside when attacking rebels; even better if they could soften up the rebels for you. Well, at least he’d put an end to it. The door to the shed opened, and Hayden looked up, figuring he was going to get yet another lecture from Teys. “Listen,” he began, but all of a sudden, his old soldier’s instincts were screaming a warning, and he threw himself to the side, arms windmilling as he almost lost his balance, failing to compensate, even now, years later, from the missing leg. The moment seemed to shatter into multiple pieces, as though it was too much to process all at once. The glint of lantern light off a knife. The sound of the knife burying itself with a solid thunk! into the wooden boards of the shed. Maybe the sab had more. Hayden wasn’t sure. He dove for the knife, knowing he’d need it, and the movement saved him from the second knife, even as he came up short, and crawled towards the knife embedded deep in the wooden boards of the shed. Hayden lunged for it, knowing his life rusting well depended on it, and his fingers closed about the cord-wrapped hilt and yanked. It was lodged fast. He yanked at it again, with a desperate, silent prayer to the Lord Ruler. “Hey, what—” Someone else’s voice. The knife came free. Hayden turned about, righted himself, the knife in his right hand, ready to defend himself, when he realised it was Teys’s voice, and there had been a terrible gurgle. And then an even more terrible silence. His attacker was nowhere to be seen. Teys slumped in the doorway of the shed. Motionless. Nothing seemed right. Hayden worked his way over cautiously, watching warily for any sign of ambush. As far as he could tell, Teys had been slashed across the throat, the knife laying it open to the bone. He let out a shaky breath. He’d seen death, too many times, on campaign. Had come close to it on occasion as well, numerous times. Had saved lives, and had been saved, and sometimes, the saving was what damned you, laid a leaden weight of pain on your soul that only the drink drowned out. Hayden closed Teys’s staring eyes, and added another coin to the ledger. @Cream Tuatara was attacked and survived! The Day has begun! It will end in 48 hours on the 15th January 2025, 11PM ET. PMs remain open! Please include both myself and @Araris Valerian in all PMs made. Scrawled on the walls of the Hound and Hustle: Spoiler Player List: Spoiler 1. @Amber Vulture - Sauve Chad (Ruinous Skeptic) 2. @Amethyst Scorpion - Malmoc (Herbalist) 3. @Azure Mouse - (Watcher) 4. @Charcoal Hyena - Lysia (Tinker) 5. @Chartreuse Penguin - [Ade]mordna Niugnep 6. @Coral Swan - Acks (Matchmaker) 7. @Cream Tuatara - Hayden Vendel (Drunk) 8. @Emerald Falcon - (Observer) 9. @Fuchsia Ostrich - Kael Voss 10. @Indigo Weasel - Nibbles (Chef) 11. @Ivory Dragonfly - Sew (Hopeful Orphan) 12. Magenta Albatross - Alais Short (Gambler) - Village Vanilla 13. @Mauve Crocodile - (Jaist) 14. @Melon Dingo - Rind (Orphaned By Mistwraiths) 15. @Mint Heron - Byrar (Unlucky Craftsman) Edited January 30, 2025 by Kasimir 1
Amethyst Scorpion Posted January 14, 2025 Posted January 14, 2025 Malmoc worked the paste into a fine pulp, letting the naturally moister leaves determine the consistency, but the arrangement he’d brewed up for the mayor was more flaky and thin. No matter. It would do what it had to. Tema was beginning to splutter and cough again, a few last chunks of phlegm dislodging themselves from his system and flecking on Malmoc’s coat. Good! He smelled ten times better already, and with his system clear, he’d be a much more effective leading voice today. None of the raw bloodshed of yesterday, after which Malmoc had almost curled up and retreated from things entirely. If only that fool Teys had realised that Tema was going to be just fine, he would’ve been able to do just that. But no, he was made to play doctor again, kneeling over the beleaguered mayor and dealing with the string of curses issuing from his mouth. Well, he supposed the purgative could get those out of his system too. The thinner arrangement would just alleviate the headache he’d had from toppling over in such a sudden fashion. Drama king, almost as much as Mihtig prancing around his bottles. Rusting cat could lend a paw. “Sir!” He put on his most cheerful front, which was still mumbling and uneven. “You’re in safe hands. The captain has left me with you to make sure there’s not a panic, and—“ Just then, Hayden burst through the door, a wild look in his eyes. Rust. Malmoc listened to the drunkard’s tale with some caution. He’d made sure to add a parsley infusion to the ale in the tavern while Teys had led the man away, which would hopefully slow Hayden down enough to keep him sober through the retelling, but from the minimal detail he gave and the lack of other witnesses, he feared the town would immediately fixate on Hayden again, and whether the closeness of the bar fight, and now this sudden attack, meant that he was the saboteur he so recklessly accused others of being. It was not a promising line of inquiry. His smell hadn’t really changed from the beginning, even if the liquor was beginning to be drowned out by the fear. True, a team of infiltrators who cared little for their own could have used him for a ploy, but far more likely he was an innocent, if a loudmouth, who had gotten himself caught in the wrong places and the wrong arguments. He was an obvious target now, and in a way Malmoc was glad Teys had been there—yet why would the infiltrators go for a man under guard? It bespoke a simplistic approach, or else a very confident one. He wasn’t sure which option he dreaded more. Regardless, Hayden should be allowed to stand or fall on his own merit. But there were other townspeople, and other problems. Where was that Jaist Priest? (Mauve Crocodile) He’d made a stir towards the end of yesterday, and he wondered along with the quiet man in the corner about his comments concerning Alais. He was also curious what some of the quieter people had to say, Chad and Kael and Ademorna ( @Amber Vulture @Chartreuse Penguin @Fuchsia Ostrich). Now that they were more present, perhaps they could elaborate more on where they stood. The trepidation he smelled in the air came especially powerfully from those three. It was messing with his sense of smell, as was…well, pretty much everything these days. Would the wind and ash ever be right again? Maybe not. Cleansing the town would be a good benchmark, and a starting point. But it would take more than all the hyssop in the world to do it. 1
Emerald Falcon Posted January 14, 2025 Posted January 14, 2025 I don't sleep much that night. Between being approached with questions, and the stress of the day's events, I spend most of my time staring at the ceiling, awake, until I eventually drift off. In the morning, I'm woken by noise. Shouts from the main room of the inn. I make my way there cautiously, not sure if there's danger or not. A quick scan of the room tells me that there's no violence going on. At least, right now. I notice a short message scribbled on the wall and smile. At least someone around here has a sense of humor. Back to the chaos. The drunk man, attacked? That's somewhat surprising to me. I'd expect that was the work of a Coinshot, specifically an innocent-aligned Coinshot trying to resolve the other person who had been accused a lot. It's unlikely that the saboteurs would attempt to murder someone who had almost died the day before, unless they thought he was powerful. I also find it unlikely that anyone would attempt to save someone in his position, so chances are high that he is a Thug. That's certainly interesting. I will note now that I'd originally thought the drunk man was highly unlikely ever able to burn metals, since he did not claim when under high amounts of pressure. Regardless of if the saboteurs could burn metals as well, meaning that a claim isn't necessarily clearing. I don't find his survival to be indicative of if he is innocent or not, but perhaps could explain why the saboteurs did not attempt to influence the votes if he is a saboteur, knowing that he would live. However: Quote Unsuccessful attacks will be announced as “____ was attacked, but didn’t die!” with no differentiation between Thug and Lurcher protection. Spiked vs. Coinshot attacks will be differentiated in the write-up, including if the attack is unsuccessful. To which, I'm not sure what this attack would be classified as now. Picking up on details is not exactly a strength of mine. If this was an attack made by saboteurs, that's... certainly a choice, I suppose. That means either: 1. He is a Thug and was shot by either an innocent or a saboteur. 2. He was protected by a Lurcher (and shot by either an innocent or a saboteur). I suppose it could be both. Would I be correct to assume that the saboteurs have some factional ability to kill innocents during the night? If not, my assumptions are wildly off. I didn't see a direct mention of it when I checked, but it is alluded to and very standard. Hopefully someone is able to clarify if I'm arriving at the correct conclusions. Moving on to my thoughts. I haven't had the chance to think about the previous day much. I've been simply too exhausted, and hopefully will get around to it at some point today. At this point, my list of who is innocent and who is not ends up looking like: Quote Azure Mouse Indigo Weasel Ivory Dragonfly Mint Heron --- Amethyst Scorpion Amber Vulture Charcoal Hyena Chartreuse Penguin --- Melon Dingo Fuchsia Ostrich Cream Tuatara Coral Swan Mauve Crocodile (Not very sorted in tiers.)
Indigo Weasel Posted January 14, 2025 Posted January 14, 2025 Nibbles assumes Tuatara was attacked by the Night kill, which he is pretty sure exists based on the rule that it'll be clarified from Coinshot attacks. The writeup mentions knives, and there wasn't a second attack. Nibbles thinks this is a pickle! A WGG would explain why they'd target someone who might have been voted off soon? Or maybe they had a read on their role? Tuatara, how'd you survive, and did anyone know your role? Heron
Mint Heron Posted January 14, 2025 Posted January 14, 2025 3 minutes ago, Indigo Weasel said: Nibbles assumes Tuatara was attacked by the Night kill, which he is pretty sure exists based on the rule that it'll be clarified from Coinshot attacks. The writeup mentions knives, and there wasn't a second attack. Nibbles thinks this is a pickle! A WGG would explain why they'd target someone who might have been voted off soon? Or maybe they had a read on their role? Tuatara, how'd you survive, and did anyone know your role? Heron Byrars is confused by this accusation without providing any reasoning. The chef continues to act more and more suspicious. He's also confused by Hayden's attempted murder. The first reason he could think of would be to silence Hayden from accusing them, but that would only bring more attention to his claims. The more likely possibility in his mind is that it's a trick by the Spiked to make the drunk look innocent. Hayden had tied for the vote the previous day by Lysia's last minute vote change. It seemed to him that the Spiked were trying to save one of their own. His main suspicions today are on Crocodile, Weasel and Tuatara.
Chartreuse Penguin Posted January 14, 2025 Posted January 14, 2025 Ah, Ade finally heard someone call her name. She knew she was being discussed, but was never in the right room at the moment. "Lets see, first off, I believe weve determined that there are about 15 people in town that are drawing in suspicion. From my best guess either 3 or 4 could reasonably be evil, without having raised too much suspicion before now." She began. "I'd wager that those 3 or 4 people don't want to seem too buddied up, but they also don't want to out execute one of their own, so they would probably try to vote for people already being voted for, or quietly band together to vote for someone else. 6 people voted for our top two candidates yesterday. So I'd wager that of the five who voted for the two most popular candidates that are still alive, 2 are bad guys. the silent Observer (falcon), Byrar, the Heron, The silent watcher, (Mouse), Lysia the Hyena, Hayden the Tuatara" (Names based of player list) "Of those, I'm inclined to lean that hayden is a good guy, but it could be a bad guy trick to make us think they're a good guy by faking an attack. So my suspicions currently lie in the falcon, the heron, the mouse, and the Hyena. At best, it's a 50/50 shot. At worst it could be 0, but I think it's more likely to not be that. For now I'll start a train on Heron."
Mint Heron Posted January 14, 2025 Posted January 14, 2025 (edited) 54 minutes ago, Chartreuse Penguin said: "Lets see, first off, I believe weve determined that there are about 15 people in town that are drawing in suspicion. From my best guess either 3 or 4 could reasonably be evil, without having raised too much suspicion before now." She began. "I'd wager that those 3 or 4 people don't want to seem too buddied up, but they also don't want to out execute one of their own, so they would probably try to vote for people already being voted for, or quietly band together to vote for someone else. 6 people voted for our top two candidates yesterday. So I'd wager that of the five who voted for the two most popular candidates that are still alive, 2 are bad guys. the silent Observer (falcon), Byrar, the Heron, The silent watcher, (Mouse), Lysia the Hyena, Hayden the Tuatara" (Names based of player list) "Of those, I'm inclined to lean that hayden is a good guy, but it could be a bad guy trick to make us think they're a good guy by faking an attack. So my suspicions currently lie in the falcon, the heron, the mouse, and the Hyena. At best, it's a 50/50 shot. At worst it could be 0, but I think it's more likely to not be that. For now I'll start a train on Heron." I generally agree with your first two paragraphs, but I disagree with your actual suspicions. I would say that Falcon is the least suspicious, and Hayden is probably the most likely to be spiked. You also are joining a train against me, not starting it. Weasel accused me first. Edited January 14, 2025 by Mint Heron accidently pressed send before finished writing
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