Alloy of Law era Mistborn rp [currently accepting members]

[Curious Anamaximder he/him]

( Okay.)

[Kestrel she/her]

(Venture, in the future could you try to have some more lines per post? The minimum is four. Just so things don't slow down.)

Alahya didn't like this guy. The way he approached, the way he was probably listening.. it rubbed her the wrong way. Made him sound more like a spy, not at all like this other small girl that Resool seemed to have taken a liking to. "Depends on who yer are," she replied back, crossing her arms across her chest. "If yer workin' for anyone else. Don't need no spies, now do we?"

Resool didn't speak, but he kept his eyes fixed on the stranger. He was a bit unnerving, towering there behind them. He wasn't built strongly, but was still very tall like the typical Terrisman. Despite th fact he wasn't an emotional Allomancer, he had no Allomancer blood whatsoever, he still tried to read the young, strange man who called himself Ven.

[Unodus he/him]

Kherstor turned back to face Finner- one hand on the door of the sheriffs office, other hand taking the bag off his shoulder.

"The very best kind at taking down Misting scoundrels, partner" Kherstor replied cheerfully. "Come on in, I'll show you after I check in", he added- pushing open the door to the sheriffs office. Finners expression was grave, Kherstor noted- had he been trying to avoid this place? As Kherstor entered the room, he tapped his metalmind to try and figure out what the problem was. The answer was obvious from first glance, however. The room stank of alcohol, papers were casually strewn across every visible surface that wasn't the floor, and the sheriff was standing in the center- shaking hands with one of a group of gentlemen, all laughing smugly. Kherstor didn't need the zinc to recognize the three from their wanted posters. 

"They're not mistings, not worth my time..." Kherstor muttered, scowling darkly. He hated letting criminals go, but what was the point of catching them if the sheriff was on their side? The cost of sending them to another village would be more than the bounty was worth, so why bother? Kherstor looked around a bit more. The room was divided into two halves- one with the sheriffs desk on it, the other with two large bulletin boards on them, and there was a door at the back of the room leading to the jails; all full, Kherstor noted- but he didn't recognize most of the criminals in them. Kherstor hoped it was because there was more cut-purses here worthy of an imprisonment sentence than he anticipated, but it was a vain hope. He forced a smile and a polite greeting at the outlaws as they walked past him and out of the building. It was always frustrating when imprisonment was lousy, made the whole job of bounty hunting pointless- but at the end of the day, it meant he never ran out of criminals to catch.

"Not my problem" he thought coldly to himself, and noticing Finner staring at him analytically through his sleepy facade- Kherstor regained his composure, and offered his own hand to the sheriff.

"Good to meet you, Sheriff. My name is Kherstor Suteruduen, and I'm sure you know Finner- we'll be working together on this case. We're hunting for the Outlaw: Jon the Mistborn, I figure we'd check in before getting started- so you know where we are and just in case you have anything you could share with us about his case"

"Jon the mistborn?" The Sheriff cackled through his thick mustache,

"That's just urban legend, boy- the bounty is just a formality! Even my Grand-kids know that there haven't been any mistborn outside of the old story's! Sorry pal- but there is no Jon, don't let the size of the bounty blind you; we've all made that mistake before, eh?" The sheriff laughed loudly, but neither Finner or Kherstor joined him. Kherstor had to veil a smile though, if the sheriff still believed Jon was a legend- then he and Finner would have no competition bringing Jon in. Or rather, them in. Kherstor had been hunting Jon for months, but every time he ever got close- he lost his tracks. Not only was Jons bounty about eight-fold a usual bounty, but capturing Jon would also bring in a huge boost in Kherstors prestige among the bounty hunter ranks- and he could use that reputation for his future jobs. Jon was a travelling entertainer, claiming to be a legendary mistborn- and would kill individuals in private for no apparent reason, earning him his bounty. That was what all the public knew, and most people would dismiss his existence as a story designed to scare children- but Kherstor had managed to work out the truth over the months. The rumors always spoke of Jons "disciples", which left only one rational conclusion. Jon was actually just a regular pewter arm, while his disciples were mistings who would preform the other allomatic arts while Jon pretended to- so it seemed like Jon was preforming all of them. It was so simple, even the odd commoner would have worked it out. And they did, if it weren't for them- perhaps Jon wouldn't have a bounty. Jons crew was a simple bunch, and if anyone ever confronted them about the truth- they would kill the offender in private, to ensure the truth didn't get out. Obviously, being a legend must have payed very well. After Kherstor had worked that out, he realized he couldn't do the job alone- tracking over ten people who could be anyone was not his specialty, that was when he had presented his theory to Finner and offered a partnership. Finner was a respectable tracker, and combined with Kherstors ability to render mistings powerless- capturing Jon would be all too easy. They knew he was around Callingfale, but given he traveled around- he could be anywhere in the city. Kherstor spoke again briskly once the sheriff had stopped laughing,

"I assure you, we can bring Jon the mistborn to justice- you just worry about your own criminals". Looking down at the sheriffs expensive shoes and coat- Kherstor added snarly, "Or rather, just worry about your own skin- I'd hate to have to hunt down a former sheriff caught taking any... Frivolous gifts..." Leaving the Sheriff spluttering, Kherstor let go of the metalmind- glanced over the bulletins, and walked out of the building. Finner followed, never leaving his apathetic state. 

"Alright, now that that's out of the way- can you take me to a local inn? I don't trust myself to open this bag unless we have absolute privacy. I was hoping the sheriffs office would be enough, but it appears I was mistaken..." Kherstor grumbled as they walked away from the office, and then added

"Also, its getting late- we should probably call it a day soon, when we can. It would make sense to have a good nights rest now, then start the hunt in the morning- agreed?"

Edited May 5, 2015 by Unodus

[Curious Anamaximder he/him]

Ven eyed Resool. He looked like a scholar but the 2 girls following him didn't. He slowly reached into his jacket. The older girl drew a gun but Ven stayed calm as he handed a gun to Resool. " It is a hazekiller gun. Useful against Feruchemists and Allomancers." What was that noise? Ven suddenly became alert. Screams. Men suddenly burst out from side streets lifting guns. Ven reacted quickly, abandoning his weak persona and pulling out twin Sterrions. He fired, aiming at a burly man with a shotgun, however the bullet was Pushed away. This is bad, Ven thought as he counted over 20 men charging around the town. 3 of them were pulsing.

[emilylime she/her]

Sheriff, scoffed Finner inwardly as they left the building. That blasted man was no sheriff. He was hardly better than the criminals on the bounty list. Consorting with lawless men, arresting the innocent (well, relatively innocent). Constantly drunk. If he would even so much as try to do his job properly, the people of Callingfale might not be as worse off. But men like him were in the business of ruining lives, not bettering them. Of all people, Finner should know.

 

"Alright, now that that's out of the way," Kherstor grumbled, interrupting Finn's internal rant. "Can you take me to a local inn? I don't trust myself to open this bag unless we have absolute privacy. Also, it's getting late- we should probably call it a day soon, when we can."

 

Finner took off his hat and ran a hand through his tangled, sandy hair. "Sure thing. Iron Inn'll probably do. The name suits you just f-"

 

Screams. Shots. His groggy mind instinctively began tapping his metalmind, and adrenaline rushed through his body. "You hear that?" he said quietly. This was no mugging; Finner could hear legitimate fighting. Something big was happening- something dangerous. There would be information to gather, civilians to rescue. Without another word, he dashed quickly towards the source of the noise. Pewter might not agree with his stomach, but when he wasn't filling his metalmind, Finner could be just as nimble as a Thug. He thought he heard Kherstor pounding along behind him, but Finn was so focused on his destination, he didn't bother to double check.

 

The commotion was close; they reached the area in practically no time. Finner abruptly stopped sprinting and leaned against a building just out of range of the fighting, catching his breath. Peeking around the corner, he spied at least a dozen bandits wreaking havoc. A few of them had guns, including a man with twin Sterrions- though as Finner took a closer look, he realized this man was fighting against the bandits. That was good. But Rust and Ruin, he swore mentally. Why guns? Couldn't they have the courtesy to use quieter killing machines? Finn stopped burning tin and pulled out his glass dagger, though he wasn't sure what good he could do against this many. He was in way over his head. He looked behind him, seeking out Kherstor.

Edited May 9, 2015 by Lady Eowyn

[Unodus he/him]

Kherstor was already drawing upon his metalmind once more when he heard the gunshots ring out. Finner had run on ahead without a second thought, down the street- how naive. 

"Finner!" Kherstor shouted, trying to keep up "Rust and Ruin... You're going to fast for me...! Slow down!" 

It was already too late though, Finner probably couldn't hear him because his sensitive tin ears were recoiling from the short stabs of sound of the gunshots. As Finner raced ahead, Kherstor noted a row of stalls selling various spices on this street.

Unable to contain his grinning any longer, Kherstor leaped from the street and raced up a set of crates onto the top of a series of stalls. Ignoring the protests of the shopkeepers, Kherstor pulled himself up and jumped onto the rickety roof of the building the stall was connected to. From this lofty vantage point, Kherstor would be able to analyse the entire skirmish from above- and apply support where necessary. Whoever these attackers were, Kherstor couldn't care less- the thrill of drawing zinc had taken hold. Giddying energy filled him, threatening to consume him if he stopped moving; so he began to sprint to where the gunshots were coming from- the next corner. Keeping an eye on Finner below, Kherstor pegged across the old roofs of Callingfale- using his enhanced thought processing to analyse for any dodgy parts of the roof and calculate more appropriate paths. Thankfully, the houses were built in a single row- meaning Kherstor didn't have to leap from building to building like a madman. Not that he wouldn't have if the roof wasn't as it was, mind.

 

Even though Kherstor was slower than Finner, taking the roofs was less distance than going around the corner- so Kherstor was able to arrive at the scene just as Finner had taken cover behind the building which intersected with the next street where the commotion was happening. What he saw from his vantage nearly stopped him in his tracks. Over at least twenty vagabonds with guns and wearing handkerchiefs over their mouths to hide their faces swarmed the street, with little care for civilians. Twenty people was a lot for a small town like Callingfale- no way were they all locals. These... "people"... Attacking in broad daylight, in the middle of street, with no obvious target... It made no sense. Scanning the scene one more time, Kherstor noticed signs of allomancy being used- and a vicious teeth filled grin spread across his face as he burned chromium towards the crowd. Not caring about friend or foe, just reaching out to snuff out any reserves in the crowd- Kherstor waved his arm, and the reserves were gone. A few cries erupted from the street as the attackers arrogant abuse of their god-like powers dissipated. Quickly pulling out another bead of chromium and swallowing it like a pill, Kherstor drew his slender revolver and pulled back the hammer. Suddenly confronted without their powers, some of the attackers scattered in random directions, not sure what had just happened. The majority seemed unfazed though- and despite their sudden lack of allomancy, they still had their guns, which meant they were still a threat. Kherstor loosed three bullets into the crowd in quick succession- each one finding a spot on a bandit, enough to cripple but not kill. When drawing zinc, Kherstors aim was impeccable- but he was a bounty hunter, not a killer, and he only had so many bullets. Now that the rogues knew where he was, Kherstor took cover to avoid a spray of artillery from the panicking rioters. Kherstor looked deeper into the scene, tried to pinpoint what they were after. No wealthy benefactors or expensive jewelry in sight, so what did they want? Peeking his head up, he could see that the street side he was on had two horses on it- both with lawkeepers on them- and a girl caught by surprise at their side, gripping onto an allomatic vial as if her life depended of it. In front of them, a man duel wielding pistols was suppressing the bandits from them- but the bandits were clearly aiming for them.

 

Suddenly, all the pieces seemed to slide into place- and the answer became clear. The girl had a box with an allomatic mark on the lock in her other hand, a sign of a recently approved misting- given a set of flasks from the local metallurgist to commemorate her new place in society, it was a tradition that held strong even in the roughs. These attackers had to have been Jons men, only his wide influence could organize a heist this large in the roughs- there weren't any other crime leaders in the area who would pull off a stunt like this. It was so obvious now, this wasn't a random attack- it was a recruitment mission. Seeing a rascal who had snuck behind the peculiar party, raising his hands as if to grab the young girl- Kherstor lept from the roof and onto the grunt. The impact winded Kherstor, but he had managed to land feet first onto the attackers head- knocking the attacker out instantly. Without another thought, Kherstor turned to the lawkeepers on their horses and shouted over the sound of the gunshots-

"Hurry, you must get this girl out of here, she is who they are after- quick, get her on your horse and go!" 

After an initial pause of shock, the group sprung into motion

"Once this racket has died down, come meet me at the Iron Inn- I can explain what is happening then, but for now you must ride away before these men capture her!". Kherstor released his final 3 bullets down the street- each one felling its target. Slightly giddy from vertigo, Kherstor took off his hat and gave a slight bow

"Name's Kherstor, by the way. Can you get your horse around that corner? My partner should be around there, he should be able to slow down anyone chasing you long enough for ya'll to get away."

[Curious Anamaximder he/him]

They surrounded Ven. A least a dozen. He dropped 2 with Sterrions bullets. A super fast man charged out of the crowd. The Pewterarm grabbed Ven and tossed him. Ven landed as the man threw a punch at him. Ven pulled a obsidian dagger out of his boot and slashed the man. " We have to get off the streets!"

Edited May 11, 2015 by Venture Mistborn

[Lord Pifferdoo he/him]

When the first man burst out of the side street, Souter's instincts had kicked in and he'd dove behind a convenient barrel. He'd immediately tapped his Bronzemind, and a wave of wakefulness crashed over his body, energizing him. His hands had found a fallen walking stick, and he had gripped it so tight his knuckles turned white and there was an audible crack. Souter had almost jumped out and brained a bandit when he thought about his children. 

 

What will happen to them if I get shot here? Rachelle will be crushed, and Asha and Eleeis will be fatherless. I cannot do that to them! I will not! But I have to help, somehow! 

 

Souter's internal monologue was cut short by a body crashing into the convenient barrel. Souter stumbled onto his rear, and quickly scrambled to his knees. The bandit groaned, and a dark spot was growing on the front of his shirt. He started to fumble with his shirt, but got no farther than the first two buttons before the walking stick shattered on his cranium. The bandit gave a short yelp, then relaxed, his eyes glazing over. 

Souter stared at the man. The action had been complete reflex, not a conscious decision on Souter's part. Souter's hands shook, and he stood with a start. He turned and saw a bandit make a grab at a girl holding a wooden box. Souter looked at the man, then at the unconscious bandit at his feet. He sighed, then picked up the splintered walking stick and charged towards the accouster, yelling something extremely brave and epic, like "AAAAAAAARRRRRGGGGGAH!" 

[Kestrel she/her]

A fight! Great! None of Alahya's thoughts were sarcastic about it. She was having the time of her life! The Bendalloy misting threw up a speed bubble, rushing closer to one of her enemies, pulling him in with her, using the confusion of the moment to cut him down with a stone dagger. The man fell with a cry, and she didn't waste time, rushing to her next victim.

Resool, however, acted quickly. He knew what he had to do-get Bella out of here. There were others who had come, but he didn't wait to see who's side they were on. "Come on. I'm getting you out of here." His own horse had ran away, spooked from the fight, but Alahya's was still there. He grabbed the reigns, taking control before hoisting Bella up there. Then he climbed on himself. "Alahya! Meet me at the inn!" He shouted in Terris. He had no idea if she heard him, but he didn't wait. He kicked the beast into motion, taking off down the street.

[emilylime she/her]

“Showoff,” Finner muttered as Kherstor leapt from the rooftop, knocking out a bandit. The thug had been about to grab a girl standing by the horses. The frightened young thing was clutching vials and looking very much like she just wanted to run and hide. A pretty, short woman who had been standing near the girl leapt into action. Finn’s mouth dropped open as he watched her run at a bandit and then, after a split second of blurriness, step over his fallen body. Rust and Ruin, he thought. A Slider. Incredible.

 

A yell broke through the sounds of fighting. Finner looked back to the girl and saw a middle-aged fellow take out another bandit that had attacked her. Interesting, he thought, noting that the battle seemed to center around this girl. The older man, obviously sensing this as well, set the girl on his horse and climbed on behind her. He called out something in Terris, then spurred the horse and took off down a side street.

 

None of the bandits had seen Finner yet- he prided himself on his ability to go unnoticed- but, as he saw a couple kerchiefed men break away from the fighting to chase the horse, Finn knew that now was the time to reveal himself. Sheathing his dagger, he ran out from his hiding place and weaved through a couple fights- passing the Slider woman- to get to where the horse and its pursuers had disappeared. He sprinted down the street after them, using tin to track their footsteps. Soon, they were in sight; even though the horse was long gone, the bandits still ran forward.

 

“Hey!” Finner shouted. “Hey, stupid face!” Amazingly, one of the bandits- he sported a faded blue kerchief- stopped running abruptly and turned around. The other kept going, though he did glance back. Finner quickly drew his dart gun as he continued dashing towards Blue Guy. Although the poor fellow tried to draw his own gun, Finn raised his weapon to his mouth and blew. Blue Guy fell to the ground unconscious, a small dart sticking out of his neck. Without stopping, the twinborn chased after the remaining bandit, catching up to him when the lawbreaker- apparently realizing that he didn’t actually know where the horse and its riders had gone- paused at a pair of intersecting streets. Fwoop. Another dart. The second bandit dropped like a rock.

 

Finner stood over the unconscious man, clutching his side and breathing hard. Harmony! he cursed mentally. I haven’t ran this much in a long while. He filled his metalmind a little to try and calm his body down, simultaneously burning tin to keep his mind clear. Glancing around, he noticed that he was near the Iron Inn. Thank the Survivor. I'm done with running. He began to walk, then hesitated, glancing at the unconscious bandit. He shrugged after a second. He'll be asleep for a while yet. I'll just send someone to fetch him afore he wakes. Finn walked on. He was relieved when the inn soon came into sight.

[Mistrunner]

Rainier wandered through the dark streets. Nighttime was her favorite part of the day, if that made sense. Unfortunately, it wasn't night. Just cloudy.

 

She heard shouts and crashes distantly. That was normal, really, for the city. Or maybe fights followed Rainier. Either way, she just ignored them at this point.

 

Pretty soon, the sounds died down. She hardly noticed.

 

She sat down, back to a wall. If the clouds were any indication, it would rain soon. That was good. She liked rain.

 

Better get some rest before the shopkeepers run me off, she thought. So she closed her eyes and tried to sleep, half-waiting for the prod with a broom handle and "go on, away from my shop!" that would inevitably come.

[Curious Anamaximder he/him]

Ven punched the next guy in the face. The guy hit back. Ven crashed into a alley. Owww.... He muttered. Then he felt something hit his arm. A bullet. Dang, Ven thought. He passed put. The blood kept coming.

[Kestrel she/her]

Alahya growled at one of the bandits, darting in to strike him with one of her daggers. The unsuspecting man fell, a soft, surprised breath of air leaving his mouth as he hit the stone street. She smirked, moving onto the next one, who was attacked in the same manner. At this point, the remaining few seemed to realize that there was a Slider in the mix, looking around madly for her. Perfect. Of course, she wasn't aiming to kill. She never did that. Oh, the men who she had taken out would be fine. Mostly shocked.

This was more of a game to her than a fight.

But she had to catch up to Resool and that girl, Bella. Alahya watched the others, wondering who's side they were on. One had been shot, and was crawling away into the ally. Pity.

With one last look at the bloody stone, she burned more Bendalloy and snuck away from the fight, keeping to the shadows as she found her way to the inn.

[Mistrunner]

Rainier woke up before she fell asleep, for some reason. Cursed insomnia, she thought. Of course, she could try to rent a room in an inn, but she could never fall asleep in a comfy bed. She'd always end up sleeping on the floor.

 

She didn't bother trying to fall back asleep. It'd never work. She got up, stretched, and started wandering. Like always.

 

Life was boring.

 

She kept walking through alleyways. The sun was out now, making her grimace. Her eyes were either glued to the ground or squinting. She sighed and trudged onward, walking to nowhere. If only something would happen... anything...

 

Then her eyes alighted upon someone passed out on the ground. He had been shot.

 

Rust and ruin, can't the cosmere do anything by halves? was her last thought before she rushed over.

[Curious Anamaximder he/him]

Pain. Lots of pain.

[Mistrunner]

Rainier looked around and noticed the fight. Great. I've landed in a brawl. Still, she couldn't just leave this man here. So she managed to grab under his arms and drag him into another alley, away from the other people. Hopefully they wouldn't notice her.

 

Rainier didn't know the first thing about first aid. When she'd gotten sick, she'd waited for it to tide over. If she'd been hurt, she wrapped up whatever had been bleeding. She'd never had any serious wounds. Like this man...

 

She was a little queasy. Blood. She hated blood. She could deal with it, but she'd really rather not.

 

So she just tried to find where it was coming from, and cut some bits off his shirt with her knife to wrap it hastily. It would have to do. Until...

 

Until what? Rainier had no idea. So she just sat there, back to the wall, next to a possibly dying man.

 

Her day had become, quite suddenly, really, really messed up.

[Curious Anamaximder he/him]

Ven shifted. There was someone there. A girl. What?

[Kestrel she/her]

[Can you try to post a bit more, Venture? I see a lot you can do with your character here with description of the scene. How does he feel? Is his vision fuzzy? What does he recall about the past event? You need to have at least four lines in your post, more is preferred.]

[Curious Anamaximder he/him]

( sure) Ven felt himself being dragged away. His vision was fuzzy. It was a girl. Dragging him through the mud. Clarity.... Ven flared bronze. Pulses. Very loud pulses. Ven shot up.

[Unodus he/him]

Kherstor was leaning back on a fine wooden chair in front of a large table when Finner walked into the Iron inn. The inn was a particularly rustic establishment off the main roads of the town, with a few table in front of a roaring fire and a friendly bartender. Apparently, business was slow at the moment- so there were plenty of rooms free for travelers such as himself. After the people who were being targeted had fled, the fighting slowly started to dissipate- and the assailants begun to retreat. Without any motivation to stay any longer, Kherstor had spent a few minutes tying unconscious bodies to posts and sending a runner to the sheriff so he could preform an official arrest. Kherstor didn't particularly enjoy giving that responsibility to one so blatantly corrupt, despite his position- but Kherstor had bigger fish to fry. Only Jon could have organized something on this grand a scale, and his motive fit the crime- the attack would be a perfect first lead if they could interrogate a few of the attackers. Kherstor couldn't find Finner in the aftermath- so he asked the locals for directions to the Iron inn which Finner had mentioned, and followed them in hope of regrouping with him and the mysterious group that had been attacked. The sun was starting to set by the time he got there, but now that Finner was here, they could start to plan for the morning.

"Finner!" Kherstor cheered as he rose to greet Finner "You made it! Never a quiet moment in the roughs, eh? Come, sit down- I took the liberty of ordering us some drinks while I was waiting. That is, if you ever drink from anything besides that flask" Kherstor laughed heartily as they both took a seat on the ridiculously large table.

"I hope you don't mind, I invited a particular group of people to join us. I believe they were the people that those assailants were targeting. They might be able to help us with..." Kherstor quickly looked over his shoulder, the bar wasn't bustling- but there were a few stragglers which would be worth being wary about.

"Our... 'expedition'" Kherstor whispered in absolute seriousness, "I believe our friend Jon was responsible for today's 'main event'. You saw how many mistings there were, the only crime-lord in this area capable of organizing that which we know of could only be Jon. His men were targeting a young lady, one who had just recently been tested. I believe this is how Jon expands his enterprise, by targeting newly found mistings who haven't yet built enough of a reputation for themselves to be missed- and then forcing them to work for him to increase his arsenal of metallic arts he could pretend to be able to use. I suspect the person who tested this girl is secretly reporting to Jon, we should try and find out from her who he is and see what he knows. What do you think?"

Edited May 24, 2015 by Unodus

[Turos]

Carson sat at a table, lost in his game. The two other gamblers were dealing better hands, by far. It wasn't that their cards were great, it was just that Carson had the worst possible draws for the past ten games. He played with his sleeves rolled up. One elbow rested on the head of a nail that had been driven into thee table.

 

Carson saw the greed in his opponent's eyes as he put the rest of his funds into the middle of the table. It was possible that the next card he drew would be exactly what he needed to complete a very rare hand. The hand wasn't worth a lot of points compared to other possibilities, but there was a one-in-six chance that if he got the card, he would win. The chance of getting the exact card he needed was closer to one-in-twenty-five.

 

Carson didn't pay attention to the gunshots outside. He was too focused on the next draw. When it came to his turn, Carson stopped storing Luck into the chromium nail and drew as much of it he could manage for the next few seconds. He had stored enough Luck that he was guaranteed victory, a ninety-nine-to-one chance, and it would be the most amazing win possible. The next few seconds would burn up all of his Luck by manifesting into his immediate need. He wouldn't be able to store up enough in time for the next game, but he wouldn't need to. There was enough money in the pot to pay his way into a fancy suite in uptown Elendel for a month. Carson reached his hand for the deck and started to slip the top card off.

 

The door to the bar swung open as someone entered. There was a loud bang from a gunshot *The sound of distant gunfire from across the street came through the open door just as Carson gave in to a sudden urge to tilt his head to the right to pop his neck. A bullet *A stray bullet whizzed by his head, grazing the hair on his left temple.

 

Carson froze, card in hand. His Luck had disappeared. He glanced at both men who watched him patiently. Apparently both of them were too engrossed in the game to care about the near-death experience, either. Carson looked back down at the card in his fingers and slowly turned it over.

 

His felt his heart jump nearly into his throat. He couldn't decide if he was elated at his Luck being used to save his life, or if he would have rather taken that bullet. Well, there's always tomorrow. Carson sighed and slumped back in his chair, watching the winnings find their way into one of the other men's wallet.

 

The men stood up and walked off. Carson eyed the newcomer who had opened that door at just the right moment.

 

EDIT: See strike-through text --->like this<--- for where I clarified things.

 

---------------

 

This section has been redacted.

Dirge watched from one of his peep holes above a shop near the inn. He had been keeping his eyes on a few unsavory types who seemed to be getting up the nerve to start their own bandit ring. When he saw a few men enter the alley beneath him, he studied their faces carefully. They were definitely on his suspect list, and one of them was a pewterarm, Fits Eskridge, or 'Ridge' as his friends called him. Ridge had been to every meeting Dirge had spied on recently. They were up to something, but he couldn't tell for sure what. If only he were a tineye. Then again, Dirge had a flash round in his six-triggered hazekiller pistol that would blind a tineye. The extra power a metalborn used always had a weakness, and he had developed a few special hazekiller rounds that took advantage of those weaknesses. Better to be normal.

 

As the two men climbed a ladder to the roof on the opposite building, another figure stood up from behind a section of wall who Dirge hadn't noticed. This new person he didn't recognize. The figure had a hood up to hide his face, and his coat was torn into strips below the shoulder. Why would someone ruin a coat like that?

 

Not more than two minutes passed before sounds of gunshots echoed from somewhere a few blocks away. The three men all turned to look in the general direction, and Dirge too advantage of their distraction to move around to better cover where he could fire a few shots accurately if he had to. This put his targets' almost between him and the inn.

 

The hooded man turned to face Dirge. The man was probably a tineye or the ferring equivalent. The man pulled out a gun. Dirge acted first, bringing his gun up in line with the fellow. He pulled one of the triggers for a normal round. Flash rounds were expensive, at least the kinds he carried, and he wasn't certain if the man actually was a tineye. He aimed at the man's gun and fired two rounds. The bullets missed their mark, veering off tot he side before they reached their target. One hit the mantle of the inn's front door, he noticed, as a patron was walking in. He wasn't sure where the other one had gone. He just hoped it didn't hit anyone. At least not anyone who didn't deserve it.

Edited May 26, 2015 by Turos

[emilylime she/her]

FINNER

Before Finn could say anything by way of reply, the waitress came bearing the drinks. “Here you go, fellas,” she said as she set the mugs down.

 

“Thanks kindly, Enah,” said Finner, smiling up at her charmingly. She flashed him a grin and left to serve the other tables. Finner picked up the drink and smelled it hesitantly. Extinguishing his tin for a few seconds to avoid the smell, he faked drinking from it, keeping his lips tightly sealed.

 

Without warning, a shot rang outside. Finner spun his head just fast enough to see a bullet narrowly miss a man’s head and embed itself in the wall. Lucky fellow. Finner also felt lucky- if he had been burning tin at that moment, the gunshot would have been uncomfortably loud. As it was, he waited a few seconds before burning his tin again. Realizing he had automatically began tapping his metalmind as well, Finner reversed the action and began filling it a little, returning to his usual drowsy state.

 

Finn turned back to Kherstor, setting down the mug with a thud. Wiping his mouth with his hand, he leaned in towards Kherstor in mock solemnity. “Anyway. What I think is,” he began whispering conspiratorially, “we need code names. For everything. It’s essential that nobody can ever understand us. Excepting us, of course. You’ll be Ironteeth. I’ll be something cool, like, Tinquisitor. We can call Jon Our Troubled Friend. And the metallurgist can be Stinker, for now.”

 

Finner leaned back in his chair, stroking his chin. At a normal volume, he continued, “And I agree with you, Ironteeth. After ‘today’s main event’, Operation Stinker is one of our best leads for the ‘expedition’, though we also need to question Our Troubled Friend’s bandit minions.”

 

RASA

The door bell tinkled loudly as Rasa burst back into the metallurgist’s shop, quickly shutting and locking the door behind him. His heart pounded in his chest from his brush with death; the boy waited a moment to catch his breath before crossing the shop and entering the back room where Jinks worked. The older man was peering at something through a microscope.

 

“Master,” Rasa said, setting down his bag of coal. “There was fighting.”

 

Without lifting his head, Jinks adjusted a knob. “Yes. I heard the shots. So what?”

 

“The girl from earlier was out there.”

 

The older man rammed his eye into the eyepiece. Cursing, he lifted his head away and rubbed the sore spot. “And why in Ironeyes’ name should that matter at all, idiot boy?”

 

Rasa paused, then shrugged and left the room, reclaiming his seat in the corner of the shop. Jinks obviously didn’t know (or didn’t care) what Rasa meant by ‘fighting’. It had been intense, bordering on a riot. Nothing like a normal Roughs shoot-out. He’d almost gotten killed just walking back to the shop.

 

Sighing, Rasa picked up the pieces of his half-assembled gun and resumed his work. There was nothing he nor Jinks could do to help. He didn’t know why he had bothered trying to tell his mentor about it. He could only send a silent prayer to the Survivor that nobody innocent had gotten hurt.

 

edit: fixed spacing

Edited May 26, 2015 by Lady Eowyn

[Kestrel she/her]

[uhh so my head really hurts so this might not be the best post yo but I'm trying]

R E S O O L + B E L L A

The horse charged down the street, escaping the thick of the fight. Resool kicked the beast on further, but it had begun to pant with exaustion from the weight of its cargo-himself and the young Nicroburst named Bella. The girl was clinging tightly to the box, obviously frightened. Resool couldn't blame her. If he had been in her situation, he would have never returned. He didn't even know if she would stay.

Then he heard something. Sparing a short glance over his shoulder, he saw someone following. Heading up fast. Steelrunner ferring. What luck.

The horse began to protest his urgings, and he decided to try to outmanuver the bandit rather than outrun. Suddenly, he jerked the reigns, causing the animal to skid a bit before turning into the alley. The Steelrunner kept going; increasing physical speed did not increase mental. He realized his mistake, turning and following into the ally just in time to see the horse and its riders come right at him, nearly bowling him over.

"The inn isn't far," Resool told Bella, trying to reassure her as the bandit kept chase. "And hopefully he'll run out of steel at some point." The girl nodded dully. He could see the place now. The door was open. Maybe he could..

A gunshot rang out, missing the pair of them, but spooking the horse, making it stop with a loud cry and rear up on its back legs. Resool tried to regain control, but keeping the reigns steady and Bella from falling seemed like a futile task. Both him and Bella fell into the dirt, the box clattering open, metal vials spilling everywhere. They didn't break. I'm gonna have to talk to that metallurgist! But that was the least of his concern. "Bella, get the metals and go to the inn. As many as you can."

The frightened girl nodded, picking herself up and trying to gather up all the vials. Yes, this didn't look good.

[phattemer]

Exisa smirked. Apparently his opponent, Carson, or something like that, was constantly storing zinc. Carson hadn't even noticed the bullet that shot by his head. Exisa, sensing the whizzing blue line early, had nudged it off just a tad, changing its trajectory from killing the gambler to completely missing. And now, he had just lost a dozen hands in a row. Of course, some of the winnings went to the third man, but Exisa had garnered the majority the the money. What could he do with that... visions of suites, of steel, of safety, danced in his head.

 

He got up, and pulled all his winnings into his purse. Hopefully no foolish gangs would try to rob him, but he kept a clip in his other hand just in case. He didn't really need it, seeing as he could just fly over the buildings, but sometimes he liked to... 'give back' to the community. As he stood, Exisa looked around. The inn was mostly empty, with only a few scattered patrons here and there. There were a few men talking softly nearby, but they were totally engrossed in their conversation. He was about to go, but something caught his eye. There was a vial of metals sticking out of one of their pockets. Looking more closely, he noticed one in the second man's purse as well. Exisa stopped and considered. He did have the winnings... but how long would that last him? A contract with other Metalborn could be highly lucrative, especially for a skilled Coinshot, and he was nothing if not that.

 

Making the decision, Exisa walked over to the table. Both men fell silent, evaluating a possible threat. They would underestimate him. People always did. After all, what harm could a five foot tall man do? A lot. He didn't like the way they were looking at him, so Exisa dropped the clip and pushed very slightly on it, just enough to make him rise up six inches. He always wore an extra-long cloak for just this reason. As the men realized what he was doing, their expressions of appraisal turned to mild awe. Not every Coinshot had such a precise control. But then again, Exisa was not any Coinshot.

 

"Good day, gentlemen. I couldn't help but notice the goods in your pockets. I too am in a similar business. Do you have room for a simple steelpusher?" He chose his words carefully. Sometimes, with men from the roughs or the slums, he had to adopt their accent, but these seemed... refined, somehow. As is they had judged the people and found them wanting. One had to be careful with men like that. They could snap at the snap of a finger.

[Unodus he/him]

Kherstor and Finner had been debating about their codenames for at least ten minutes before the steelpusher had walked over.
"But my teeth aren't even made of iron! And whats with all the inquisitor puns? It's not like we're evil or anything" Kherstor whined halfheartedly

"Right, that way no one will be able to interpret what you're actually storing- which is the whole point of using code names. You know, concealing our identity! And we are hunting down "mistborns", its not exactly a big leap from the steel ministry."
"Ok, fine- but lets be honest, tinquisitor is not a cool nickname. Zincuisitor on the other hand...".

Before the duo could continue their debate, they both dropped silent as a cloaked figure boldly started to approach their table. Kherstor reached into his coat pocket to ensure his revolver was still there, and Finner started to cling to his lapel. When he stopped at their table, he begun to rise slightly like a specter- which instantly drew Kherstors curiosity. It was a shame that his metalmind was nearly empty, it would be nice to see what he could pry from the individual- but he was saving the leftover mind-power for their special guests.

"Good day, gentlemen. I couldn't help but notice the goods in your pockets. I too am in a similar business. Do you have room for a simple steelpusher?" 

Kherstor exchanged a look with Finner, both with polar expressions. On one hand, anyone in the roughs should be treated with some scrutiny- but on the other, only a trained steelpusher could be capable of maintaining that kind of balance, which could make them a valuable asset. Before Finner could shoo him away, Kherstor quickly jumped in- it was important to ensure these codewords actually worked, after all.
"I'm in a good mood, you're welcome aboard- but I have one condition, you have to pay for our drinks!" Kherstor laughed. Visibly shocked, the strangers eyes narrowed- and after some thought, he strutted off to the bar. Finners expression was stony at best, even with his facade.

"What?" Kherstor protested, "Look, we're planning on taking down a crime organization that no one believes in- and we're already heavily outnumbered, we need all the firepower we can get! Besides, remember the cost of those pancakes? This guy will probably cost less than my hat! Plus, as long as he doesn't know about the bounty- he won't ask for his cut, eh? We'll be able to pay him a thousand times over once we're finished." Kherstor tried to smile sportively, but apparently that only made Finner more uncomfortable. After a few minutes, the caped mercenary returned to the table with an even more disgruntled expression than Finners.

"Sorry about that" Kherstor greeted him, sliding enough coins to pay for more than both their drinks to the mysterious fellow, "Just an initiation test. You passed, by the way. You'll be surprised how many troublemakers who want to secretly kill you don't want to go through the trouble of paying for your drink. Here, take a seat! Don't be shy, there's plenty of room."

Unconvinced, the stranger took a seat at the unnecessarily huge table silently.
"So, you may call me... Ironteeth." Kherstor sighed inwardly, "My friend and I would be interested in using your... particular set of skills. Price isn't really an issue, but we may require you to fight a lot of people at once- and there may be a few mistings too, but don't let that worry you. We are searching for our troubled friend, Jon, you probably don't beli-... uh... I mean "know" him, but we would very much like to see him soon. Apparently, he and his... "close family"  are in the city somewhere. We were planning of meeting up with an.. Old friend of his, but you see- we don't know his current place of residence. I met some people who might know where he lives, and asked them to meet us here so we could discuss where we should look next- but as you can see, they haven't arrived yet. If you're looking for some extra pay, we would appreciate an extra pair of eyes. Oh, and this guy here is my pal- we call him the... Tinquisitor...." Kherstor groaned inwardly, "He's not much in a fight, but he can't get enough of those pancakes- eh? Just don't ask whats in his flask. So, you in? Oh, but before you make up your mind, you should know..." Suddenly, Kherstor burned Chromium- wiping out the strangers reserves. The look of panic on the strangers face was enough to make Kherstor grin manically enough to curdle cream- baring his white teeth, dotted with a few metal ones.
"We don't take kindly to double-crossers, y'hear? It doesn't matter how good you are at flicking coins, if you sell us out- it'll cost you more than a few drinks". A few seconds passed, but the steelpusher didn't stir. After a while, Kherstor dropped the creepy stare and started to laugh heartily 

"Sorry, just another initiation test. You passed with flying colors again, of course. Do you have any idea how many troublemakers flip out and start breaking stuff once confronted? Must be some sort of subconscious guilt, or something- but its seriously hilarious every time." Finner shot a puzzling look at Kherstor, as if to ask if any of these initiation tests were real, Kherstor just shrugged in response.

"Say, whats your name- kid? You'd think a coinshot could have any job in metal industry labor you want.Whats a fancy steelpusher like yourself doing out in the roughs? "