LG110, Day 1-D: The Final Day (Inverted)

[Amanuensis he/him]

LG110, Day 1-D: The Final Day (Inverted)

The Final Day will end on Friday, March 20th @ 10:00 PM EST.

 

Due to a combination of factors, the Minions of Mischief have offered their surrender. Instead of cutting the game off here and risk leaving anyone unsatisfied by the anticlimax, I have modified the Final Day rules. As we have come this far already, I figure there’s no harm with a small experiment if it means we can have a bit more fun as a last hurrah.

The rules are as follows:

• Ap has played the Inverted Song of Time, slowing down the Day. As such, this turn will last 72 hours.
• Every 24 hours, I will execute the player with the most votes OR I will execute a player as soon as I see they have passed 10 votes total.
• The Day will continue unabated until all exes have been spent. You can use them all in the next 24 hours or let the full 72 hours run their course.
• In order for Link’s Zealots to win, 3 Minions of Mischief must be executed.
• As soon as a player is executed, I will reveal their alignment. I reserve the right to troll
• You only get 3 chances, so choose wisely.

 

Wayward Few

Quote

The drainage end had nothing. One of the Research Lab survivors had already mapped it — grates too narrow for a hand, mechanical gills cycling bay water in and out on a rhythm that would grind anything larger than a finger into paste. There was no exit that direction. There was only forward.

They moved in a group through the connecting chambers, following the water current backward toward its source, deeper into Gyorg's architecture. The passages were low and tight in some places and wide in others, the stone channels carved with symbols that looked older than the creature itself. Whatever Gyorg was, it had not been born. It had been built, assembled with materials that looked ancient. Alien, even.

The sound changed as they got closer — a low resonant hum underneath the water noise, mechanical but not quite. The sound of power being held in one place for a very long time.

The cranium chamber was round, high-ceilinged, and empty.

No machinery. No brain. No biological structure of any kind. Just a stone room large enough for all of them to stand in without crowding, the walls smooth and curved and faintly warm, the floor dry for the first time since they'd woken. The hum was loud here, coming from everywhere at once.

Light came through the walls on either side — not artificial light, actual outside light, filtered through the golden apertures of the mask mounted across the entire front face of the chamber. Two great circular eyes, the lenses of Gyorg's mask, looking out at the world. They walked to them and looked through.

Below, far below, was Ikana Canyon. The dead river. The ruined watchtowers. The long grey scar of the valley floor stretching toward the horizon. And at the end of the valley, rising into the sky on its inverted towers, the Stone Tower Temple — close enough now that the details of its faces were visible, the carved figures, the impossible architecture of a building that pointed down at the sky.

They were flying in the sky somehow and heading straight for it.

"I wondered when you'd find your way up here."

The voice came from above, from wherever the shadow was deepest at the top of the curved ceiling. It had not been there a moment ago, or it had been there the whole time and had only now decided to be noticed. The laughter that followed was the real laugh, the one underneath all the performances — older than the Skull Kid's voice, older than any of them, the laugh of something that had been patient for centuries and was done being patient.

Majora dropped from the ceiling and hung in the air at the center of the chamber, the familiar slight figure in the purple cap, the long-limbed posture of a child who was not a child. He spread his arms.

"I am grateful for your help, Minions." The word came out warm, almost fond, which made it worse. "Without you," he laughed again, high and delighted, "my victory wouldn't taste this sweet."

A Deku nut hit him square between the eyes.

The laughter stopped. The Skull Kid blinked, touched his face, then looked at Ap.

She stood in the center of the room in her Deku form with her arms at her sides. Around her, the group had fanned out without being told to, weight forward, makeshift weapons up, the positioning of people who had spent three loops learning each other's reflexes.

Ap turned and walked to the inner face of Gyorg's mask.

She put her left hand flat on the cold stone of it, feeling the hum move through her palm.

With her right hand, she brought up the ocarina.

She had never played one-handed. It was not a natural thing to ask an instrument to do. But if she could finish the song with her hand on the mask — if she could anchor herself here in the moment time reversed, hold on to this single point while everything unwound — then when they started over, she would not be empty-handed.

She played the first note.

Majora crossed the chamber in less than a second.

He came down from above, all angles and speed, and Link went up to meet him. The Goron had been watching the ceiling since they'd entered — not out of fear, Ap realized, but because he'd been waiting for exactly this. He spun into a full roll in midair, the spikes connecting with Majora's midsection in a hit that had no business landing as cleanly as it did, and sent the Skull Kid crashing sideways into the curved wall hard enough to crumble a section of it outward. The crack spread. Through the new gap, night air rushed in, cold and smelling of stone and dead valley.

The Skull Kid lay against the rubble.

Then the body moved wrong.

It stood, but not like a body stands — like something inside the body had run out of interest in maintaining the performance. The purple cap fell. The familiar proportions stretched and inverted. The Skull Kid's form came apart at the seams and the mask emerged from its center not as something worn but as something that had always been the core of it, the actual thing, the rest having been costume. What unfolded from it was not a child made of twigs and straw.

It was roughly human-shaped and entirely wrong. The mask dominated — those wide orange eyes, the swirling colors, the expression that was many expressions at once — but now it was a body, a torso of layered pigment and alien geometry, the limbs long and too-jointed and tipped with spines, the head a single great eye on a stalk above the mask-face, cycling its attention in a full rotation. Color moved across the surface of it the way color moves across oil on water, never settling, never resolved. It was the same thing that had been in the rafters above Odolwa and above the racetrack and above every bad moment of the last three loops. Just not bothering to look small anymore.

It looked at Ap.

She played the second note.

Majora moved.

What followed was not a fight in any orderly sense. It was twelve people refusing, repeatedly and by coordination, to let one thing have what it wanted, which was to reach a small girl in the corner who was playing an ocarina with one hand and wouldn't stop.

Majora came for Heroshi first and Arenta got between them, taking the blow across the shoulder and spinning with it to minimize the damage, and Heroshi swung while Majora's attention was on Arenta and connected, and Majora turned to deal with Heroshi and Wahi hit it from behind at the knee joint. It turned again. Cosmetica had already moved into the angle it vacated. It kept turning and kept finding someone new in each direction, and each person it reached for found someone else arriving behind it.

It learned quickly. It started choosing its targets by weight rather than proximity — going for whoever was smallest or had already taken a hit, trying to manufacture a gap it could hold. When it grabbed Arenta by the ankle and swung, Gor Elam caught the swing and braced, and Heroshi hit the arm holding her until it released.

Ap played the third note. The fourth.

Majora drove both arms into the floor and sent a shockwave through the stone that knocked everyone off their feet. When they landed it was already at Wahi, one hand around his throat, the stalked eye swinging down to look at the remaining notes left to play.

Zymni hit it across the back with both hands, hard, and Cosmetica came in low, and Wahi got a foot under himself and pushed while Majora was occupied, and it dropped him. He landed wrong on one knee and didn't get back up all the way but he was alive and between Ap and everything else, and that was what he'd been trying to be.

The fifth note. The sixth.

It was smarter now. It stopped chasing individuals and started herding, pushing the group's perimeter inward with steady pressure, forcing them to collapse toward Ap to avoid the walls and the ceiling and the gap in the stone where the night air came in. The more it compressed the perimeter, the fewer angles they had to attack from. It had done the geometry.

Thistle had also done the geometry.

She moved opposite to everyone else — outward, into the space the group was evacuating, drawing Majora's attention with the specific audacity of a person who had decided that the math worked out. Majora turned. She was already throwing everything she had in his direction — not weapons, she'd been an herbalist the whole time, three loops of an herbalist, but she knew her cabinet and she knew what burned and what blinded and what expanded into smoke when it hit a hot surface, and Majora was a hot surface.

The chamber filled with smoke.

Ap played through it. Seven, eight.

Majora came through the smoke and Cindra was suddenly there, and Kieran behind her, and Ouae at the edge providing what cover she could, and they bought the ninth note and the tenth, and Majora turned and threw them aside one by one the way a tide turns over rocks, methodical, working through the perimeter until it was down to the last few.

The eleventh note.

Thistle came out of the smoke and put herself directly in front of Ap.

She wasn't pretending to attack. She wasn't drawing fire. She was standing there, fully in the way. The way you stand in front of something when you've decided that the thing behind you is more important than what's coming. Her satchel was open and she'd used most of it and her hands were steady anyway.

Majora stopped.

It stood in the center of the ruined chamber and looked at her, the eye on its stalk cycling down to focus, the mask-face running through all its expressions. It was deciding whether killing her was worth the time.

It decided she was.

Ap played the last note.

She heard it behind her — she didn't look, she kept her hand on the mask and kept her eyes on the notation and let the last phrase go where it needed to go — and the note rang out in the chamber above the sound of everything else. The hum in the walls surged. The mask under her palm went warm and then warmer, the stone becoming almost soft, the power of it recognizing what was being asked.

She turned.

Thistle was looking at her. Not at Majora, not at the wound, not at the floor — at Ap, directly, as if she'd known the exact moment to look and had been waiting for it. Her expression was not afraid. It was the expression of someone who has finished something they meant to finish.

Ap looked back at her.

The note was still ringing.

Time cracked at the edges and began to fold.

Thank you, Thistle's mouth said, though there was no sound left in the loop for it.

Thank you, Ap said back, though she was already dissolving into the beginning of everything, the ocarina still warm in her hand, the mask still warm under her palm, Gyorg's great eye around her going dark as the world rewound.

The Stone Tower Temple fell upward into the night sky.

Ikana Canyon reversed.

The bay went back to morning.

One last chance.

Happy Mask Salesman

Quote

The bell above the door made its soft brassy laugh, and the Happy Mask Salesman turned from the shelf he was dusting and bowed to it.

His Apprentice stood in the doorway.

She had her green cap on straight, for once. Her wooden sword was at her hip. The moon tear ocarina was in her hand, and in her other hand, turning slowly, was Gyorg's Mask.

He set the feather duster down.

He did not say tell me.

He crossed the shop and took the mask from her very gently, turned it over, pressed his thumb to the underside where the seal had broken, and set it on the counter. Then he looked at her — not the look he'd given her the last three times, not the careful arithmetic of a man working from new information, but the look of a man who has been waiting a long time to stop pretending he doesn't know things.

"We don't have long," he said. "Majora won't be happy. You need to play the Song of Time in reverse."

She stared at him.

"Inverted. It will dilate the day — stretch it. Not for us, we'll move at the same pace, but the sun will fall more slowly. The clocks will tick as if they're thinking about it. We'll have twelve extra hours before dark." He picked up the feather duster again. "Play it now, and then help me tidy up, and then go find everyone who remembers. Bring them here before you tell them anything. I need them all in this room."

She played the Inverted Song of Time.

Outside, the trumpet player hit a note and held it longer than he meant to.

They came in ones and twos across the morning, the familiar faces, the ones who wore their loops behind their eyes in the particular way that was becoming recognizable to Ap as a kind of family resemblance. She brought them to the shop and the Happy Mask Salesman greeted each one and offered tea and kept his hands busy with small tasks and said nothing until they were all there and the door was locked and the last one was seated.

Ap noticed, only then, that the walls were bare.

Every mask had been taken down. The hooks were empty. The shop looked like a room that had forgotten what it was for.

The Happy Mask Salesman stood at the front and looked at them.

Then he pushed up his left sleeve.

The Dreamer's brand was there — faded, older than the ones they'd seen on the guards and the cultists, the ZZZ scored into the skin with the particular quality of something done a long time ago and not removed. He let them look at it. He did not explain it away.

"I am sorry," he said, "for lying to you. There is a great deal you should know. Perhaps should have already known — that failure is mine, not yours, and I won't ask you to be comfortable with it." He rolled the sleeve back down. "I can only tell you now, and tell you everything, and ask you to decide what to do with it afterward."

He was quiet for a moment, gathering the threads in the right order.

"Thirty-three years ago, when the Hero of Time left Termina, he did not leave it the same way he entered it. Something of his passing remained — not in the world, but in certain people. For most, the memory of those three days was like a dream that dissolves by midmorning. The more time passed, the less of it held. But those of us who had seen him every day, who had spoken with him at the beginning of each loop and watched him fail and try again and eventually find his way through — some of us retained it fully. All of it. Everything." He paused. "In time, we found each other. We compared what we remembered. We asked what it meant that the moon had nearly fallen and that most of Termina would never know. Some of us believed we'd been given a responsibility. Others believed we'd been given a warning."

He looked at Ap.

"Professor Kashika was among us. I imagine you didn't work that out." He waited. She had. "She was also, for a time, the most rigorous student of what we'd witnessed. The masks, particularly. A mask through which the Hero of Time acts, she argued, becomes something more than it was — it retains an impression of that contact, like a seal pressed into wax. She studied all of them she could find. But Majora's Mask concerned her most. The mask had been sealed. It had been declared cleansed. She did not believe it." A beat. "She was right, and I, for a time, was not careful enough to agree with her. I lent the mask to parties who I believed had good intentions and better containment. That was my mistake, and it was a significant one."

He folded his hands.

"They had found a way to break a piece of it away from the whole. To cultivate what they'd broken off, slowly, in the dark, across years. By the time I understood what they'd done with it, Majora had already come to my shop. I remember the night clearly. He was only but a fragment, and when he took the rest, he reabsorbed what had been kept from him. And here we are."

Outside, the sun moved slowly. The clock tower ticked like a man choosing his words.

"Eleven years ago, Professor Kashika brought me an infant. I have no family of my own. No wife. No children. But I have kept this shop for thirty years, and I have known Kashika for most of them, and when she placed that child in my arms she told me two things. The first was that she had dreamed of the moon falling — not a memory, she was very clear about the distinction; Kashika had not yet been born to remember Link — but a dream. A vision. An old man in a shop with white hair. A girl in a tunic at the end of the world, standing between it and that ancient, evil force that wished to end it." He looked at Ap directly. "The second thing Kashika told me was that she had never believed in prophecy, and she was not starting now, but that she was going to spend the rest of her life watching the stars anyway. Just in case."

He did not finish the sentence he had started about what Ap was. He did not need to, and the shape of the thing they'd all been circling for three loops did not need to be named to land.

"She is my family," he said instead, simply. "She has been for eleven years, and that is not a thing I am going to qualify."

He straightened.

"Now. To the matter at hand." He looked around the room — the bare hooks, the locked door, the people seated on every available surface. "There are those among you who remember the loops as we do, and there are those who are here for reasons that are not the ones they have given. We will not leave this shop until we have sorted out which is which. This is not an accusation." He paused, and his tone made clear that it was partly an accusation. "It is a necessity. Majora has had three loops to plan around us. He has not been idle."

He picked up the feather duster from the counter.

"We will do this calmly, and thoroughly, and when the day is done, we will walk out of here knowing exactly who we are walking out with." He looked at the masked walls, now empty, then back at the room. "I suggest we begin."

 

No one was removed. Link's Zealots won Gyorg's Mask.

@coco.pudding, @Ashbringer, @TwinStorm, @DrakeMarshall, and @Stick. have been resurrected.

When a player reaches 10 votes, I will flip them immediately.

Otherwise the exe deadlines are as follows:

• First Execution by Wednesday, March 18th, 10 PM EST
• Second Execution by Thursday, March 19th, 10 PM EST
• Third Execution by Friday, March 20th, 10 PM EST

 

Player List

0	Amanuensis	Happy Mask Apprentice, AKA 'Ap'
1	@The Unknown Order	Heroshi
2	@Araris Valerian	Arenta
3	@Wahrheitswächter	Wahi
4	@Ashbringer	Coliver
5	@coco.pudding	Amora
6	@|TJ|	Cosmetica
7	@Stick.	meeee
8	@Haelbarde	Link the Goron
9	@Wonko the Sane	Zymni
10	@Doc12	Thistle
11	@Burnt Spaghetti	Cindra
12	@DrakeMarshall	Squircle
13	@Mistfallen Soldier	Kieran
14	@Divergent	Gor Elam the Goron
15	@Archer	Ouae the Zora
16	@TwinStorm	Mumbo

Edited March 19 by Amanuensis

[Myst He/Him]

burnt figure we should get that out of the way

[Amanuensis he/him]

BTW you don't need to wait for PMs, I don't see much point in sending them since the shop is, unfortunately, closed

[Archer he/him]

Burnt 

I'd love to hear the dead doc's thoughts, but I'm looking at Hael, then Drake afterwards. I'm open to considering anyone we exed last loop, but honestly think we have better odds betting on this explanation. 

[Haelbarde he/him]

It does feel like we may as well get easiest one out of the way. Apologies Burnt.

[Amanuensis he/him]

Players will be executed and flipped upon reaching 10 votes:

• (3/10) Burnt: Mistfallen, Archer, Hael,

[Haelbarde he/him]

15 minutes ago, Amanuensis said:

No one was removed. Link's Zealots won Gyorg's Mask.

@coco.pudding, @Ashbringer, @TwinStorm, @DrakeMarshall, and @Stick. have been resurrected.

When a player reaches 10 votes, I will flip them immediately.

NGL, I forgot for the second time that I wasn't dead last loop and was confused when looking at the list. 

[Burnt Spaghetti she/her]

Dead doc dead doc dead doc!

 

I mean. 

mistfallen 

still reckon you killed someone or something

[Divergent He/Him]

Burnt

Lezgo

[Haelbarde he/him]

In terms of other candidates for execution, I think we are agreed on Drake/Stick and Doc/Hael.

This means that we have:

Villagers: Ash, Wahr, TUM, Archer, Wonko, Divergent, TJ, Araris

Elims: Burnt / <Doc/Hael> / <Stick/Drake> / <Coco/Mist/Twin>

The only person I am 100% certain of is evil in those pairs is Doc. Stick was certainly the better decision than me last round, and I would tend to believe Drake but I cannot be certain. I admit to remaining confused about Coco, Mist and Twin. Mist has had some very weird interactions, particularly at the end of last cycle, while looking at past executions Coco doesn't necessarily look great. 

---

Seeing as the masks are no longer in play, would people be open to claiming what masks they had, and what actions they took, if relevant?

I said this in the dead doc last night, but I had the Don Gero mask during loop 2 - no one targeted me with anything that entire loop.

I guess I'd be particularly interested in where the Bunny, Scents, and Romani masks ended up last loop, as I don't think there were claims in thread regarding that, and they were definitely purchased D1.

[Myst He/Him]

I had gibdo, and I think we should go Burnt Hael Coco

Edit: or stick

@DrakeMarshall did you have Don Gero and did you see stick?

Edited March 18 by Mistfallen Soldier

[The Unknown Medallion he/him]

51 minutes ago, Amanuensis said:

You only get 3 chances, so choose wisely.

Wouldn't we get 4 normally, so long as 2 out of the first 3 are e?

Burnt

I'm comfortable assuming it's not a Drake/Hael team, as the elims said they wish to concede this night and not the previous one/they had a real chance before they killed Drake.

If Doc/Drake e/e, there's no reason to say Hael is e. Either say he's v and exe v!Stick or say you went rogue and scanned someone else v or e or scanned Stick e coincidentally, really he could do anything else and it would make infinitely more sense 

That means there isn't a logical world where Drake is e, meaning Stick is e.

Mist isn't relevant because we won the loop, that means that it's actually two of (Coco, Twin, Stick) and the last elim is either Doc or Hael

Now here's where my own feelings come in, though I think they're fairly factual 

If the team is Stick/Hael, I don't think he relays the dead doc's message until he comes under more direct fire. He claimed before a vote was even on him. 

If it's Stick/Doc on the other hand, his actions make sense. Potentially because of timezones, potentially not, he doesn't claim until after Hael and particularly after people believe Hael. Theoretically a better play might be saying he scanned Drake as e, but that could have cast suspicion on him for being a loose cannon and makes sense as to why it was not chosen.

Mechanically, I lean more towards e!Doc mechanically but more towards e!Hael tonally

In conclusion, I think we exe Stick next. Then we need to decide which of (Coco, Twin, Doc, Hael) we're more confident in, especially if we don't get that leeway exe that we would normally have. 

Could people reiterate why we exed Twin? I don't remember the reasonings that cycle very well.

[Myst He/Him]

13 minutes ago, The Unknown Medallion said:

Wouldn't we get 4 normally, so long as 2 out of the first 3 are e?

Burnt

I'm comfortable assuming it's not a Drake/Hael team, as the elims said they wish to concede this night and not the previous one/they had a real chance before they killed Drake.

If Doc/Drake e/e, there's no reason to say Hael is e. Either say he's v and exe v!Stick or say you went rogue and scanned someone else v or e or scanned Stick e coincidentally, really he could do anything else and it would make infinitely more sense 

That means there isn't a logical world where Drake is e, meaning Stick is e.

Mist isn't relevant because we won the loop, that means that it's actually two of (Coco, Twin, Stick) and the last elim is either Doc or Hael

Now here's where my own feelings come in, though I think they're fairly factual 

If the team is Stick/Hael, I don't think he relays the dead doc's message until he comes under more direct fire. He claimed before a vote was even on him. 

If it's Stick/Doc on the other hand, his actions make sense. Potentially because of timezones, potentially not, he doesn't claim until after Hael and particularly after people believe Hael. Theoretically a better play might be saying he scanned Drake as e, but that could have cast suspicion on him for being a loose cannon and makes sense as to why it was not chosen.

Mechanically, I lean more towards e!Doc mechanically but more towards e!Hael tonally

In conclusion, I think we exe Stick next. Then we need to decide which of (Coco, Twin, Doc, Hael) we're more confident in, especially if we don't get that leeway exe that we would normally have. 

Could people reiterate why we exed Twin? I don't remember the reasonings that cycle very well.

Nope; this is special, we have to hit all three 

Agreed on Stick. I want to go coco or Hael last.

we exed twin because it was either Twin or Hael. We got those two based on Ash’s plan because we knew there was at least one Elim in that group

three Elims alive, one is burnt. Leaves me, doc, Hael, twin, and coco. We narrowed it down to being an Elim in Twin/Hael.

Edit: Ash did assume E!Coco and V!Doc, which I agree with

Edited March 18 by Mistfallen Soldier

[Ashbringer he/him]

Coliver's knees were starting to buckle.

It wasn't the revelation of the Dreamers. She'd put that together. If not motivations, that someone present here had arranged for the events of these past few three days. She'd put that together as soon as she'd come back to life from having her heart ripped from her chest the second time.

No, something else was becoming apparent. She'd lived. She'd survived... and yet she wasn't sure she'd deserved it.

Because Rashe died, and some last sliver of Coliver broke with it. She'd survived. Stood on the sidelines. When the Zora were in danger... her people... she stood back. It made sense. Heroically throwing herself into a swarm of ghosts that had just decapitated the Happy Mask Salesman who had led them here would have been stupid, right? That wouldn't leave her alive very long. But then again, neither would throwing herself in between Ap and a barrage of light arrows. It had been Rashe and the other spirits, somehow, who had stopped the pirates. He'd been looking at her. Why had he been looking at her?

She hadn't died. She hadn't found something revolutionary, she hadn't saved Ap... and they'd won the Mask. Without her. Coliver didn't even think she'd heard the song that night; Makazi didn't seem to remember. 

Rashe told her to live. Coliver didn't think what she'd done was what he meant.

She couldn't do this again.

She couldn't.

---

Rashe's knees did not buckle.

It wasn't the death. He was used to that. Even dying and having what spirit he had act as a strange anti-Pirate defense mechanism wasn't... entirely unheard of. But this... this room, this accusation, this acquisition...

That he knew. That he knew far too well.

Rashe stretched out his hand, and his glowing sword faded into existence.

"I do hope I won't need this. But," he paused. "It does seem the proper time?"

[DrakeMarshall he/him]

I am free!

y'all had me pretty worried there 

time to open the loop with a celebratory Mistfallen vote

[Myst He/Him]

1 minute ago, DrakeMarshall said:

I am free!

y'all had me pretty worried there 

time to open the loop with a celebratory Mistfallen vote

So… did you get NKed by Stick?

[Amanuensis he/him]

Players will be executed and flipped upon reaching 10 votes:

• (5/10) Burnt: Mistfallen, Archer, Hael, Divergent, TUM, 
• (2/10) Mistfallen: Burnt, Drake, 

[The Unknown Medallion he/him]

1 minute ago, Amanuensis said:

Players will be executed and flipped upon reaching 10 votes:

• (5/10) Burnt: Mistfallen, Archer, Hael, Divergent, TUM, 
• (2/10) Mistfallen: Burnt, Drake, 

Did you see my question?

26 minutes ago, The Unknown Medallion said:

Wouldn't we get 4 normally, so long as 2 out of the first 3 are e?

 

[Myst He/Him]

1 minute ago, The Unknown Medallion said:

Did you see my question?

 

It was stated in the write-up

1 hour ago, Amanuensis said:

In order for Link’s Zealots to win, 3 Minions of Mischief must be executed.

 

[Amanuensis he/him]

17 minutes ago, The Unknown Medallion said:

Did you see my question?

I saw it, yes

Elims essentially surrendered, so it's a Village victory either way. I mostly figured this would be a more fun way to end things rather than just flipping everyone now. This is really just a minigame to decide if the village wins extra  giving y'all an out removes the stakes imo

Edited March 18 by Amanuensis

[DrakeMarshall he/him]

Just now, Mistfallen Soldier said:

So… did you get NKed by Stick?

the reports of my death are greatly exaggerated

but Stick did stab me yes 

I'm pretty confident at this point that the elim team is Burnt, Stick, Doc, and TwinStorm

I'd accept swapping out TwinStorm with Coco, but imo it's really just TwinStorm. We only need 3 in any case so it's kinda moot.

I have a great deal of respect for how the elims played this game, but I am not planning on pulling my punches for the finale.

do masks exist in this final day inverted?

[Amanuensis he/him]

Just now, DrakeMarshall said:

do masks exist in this final day inverted?

No. Only power is your vote

[Myst He/Him]

1 minute ago, DrakeMarshall said:

the reports of my death are greatly exaggerated

but Stick did stab me yes 

I'm pretty confident at this point that the elim team is Burnt, Stick, Doc, and TwinStorm

I'd accept swapping out TwinStorm with Coco, but imo it's really just TwinStorm. We only need 3 in any case so it's kinda moot.

I have a great deal of respect for how the elims played this game, but I am not planning on pulling my punches for the finale.

do masks exist in this final day inverted?

Okay, how well would you say Hael represented the dead doc?

[DrakeMarshall he/him]

Sensible.

If they did I would have suggested going for Doc, but in that case, Burnt.

Just now, Mistfallen Soldier said:

Okay, how well would you say Hael represented the dead doc?

Quite well. I am relieved he got through to you all in the end.

[Myst He/Him]

2 minutes ago, DrakeMarshall said:

Sensible.

If they did I would have suggested going for Doc, but in that case, Burnt.

Quite well. I am relieved he got through to you all in the end.

I’ll be honest, I want to trust doc. Everything he’s said explaining his actions makes sense to me, even now.

Which makes me want to avoid the question entirely. 
How do you feel about going Burnt, then Stick, and then Coco