Mid-Range Game 7: Eighty Splendid Suns

[dowanx]

I am ok with lynching PK this round.  

 

Kipper any word on who is in moderation?

[Paranoid King he/him]

Should we all decide to lynch PK then this round? 

 

And if it's free info, you should tell us this: Who is the Heritage Striker? Besides the one we already know?

There is only one striker per faction (before others are bribed over).

 

EDIT: Oh, did you want striker names? Bort, Emerald and Phatterner were strikers. Emerald is now dead. Eowyn, not Phat.

Edited July 11, 2015 by Paranoid King

[Seonid he/him]

Changing your tune, paranoid king? Last time I checked, you said dow was the striker. We in heritage didn't know for sure who it was, so I doubt discovery did.

On the subject of Discovery, I happened to have a kill order at my disposal last cycle, since our dearly departed friend Aonar didn't use it before he died. I placed it on Eowyn. She obviously didn't die, so she either really is a diplomat (unlikely), or she is discovery (which I rather strongly suspected).

Either that, or kipper roleblocked me last cycle. Kipper, would you confirm who you roleblocked last cycle? And if Eowyn is still in the doc?

[Kasimir he/him]

GM Announcement!
 
Unfortunately, I have managed to very thoroughly screw up the results of the last cycle. It has been brought to my attention that I have incorrectly recorded the status of one player. I am sorry guys, and I take full responsibility for the mistake *bows head in GM shame*
 
Here is how I am going to handle this:
 
1. Pixie has now been marked as dead. She has been set to 'View Only' within her Faction doc, and for all intents and purposes, has pretty much died since the cycle began (which was supposed to be the case.)
 
2. I have sent her the dead doc link, and she will not be voting in this cycle, nor taking further actions.
 
3. Henceforth, let it be known that Pixie was an Arbiter (Forged).
 
Thank you!
 
Please resume your plotting and scheming and so forth

[Adamir he/him]

 

Shame.

 

*rings bell*

 

Shame.

 

*rings bell*

 

Shame.

 

*rings bell*

 

Shame.

 

*rings bell*

[Shallan she/her]

Forged? Oh no... so if someone dies while they're being Rememberated, we never know their true role...

 

On a happier note, today is Rubix'(s?) and Meta's birthday!!!

Edited July 12, 2015 by Shallan

[phattemer]

Happy Birthday Meta and Rubix! And I'm not a Striker!

[Guest]

Finally got back on.

 

I did not roleblock Seonid, and spooky Eowyn is not in our doc anymore.  I guess we have another confirmed Discovery member.

It appears that I am the only remaining member of Moderation left...do with me what you will...as long as you don't kill me...I would not like that.

 

Strikers, really, you haven't killed each other yet? Bort, you really need to get on that. It's somewhat surprising that it hasn't happened yet, and I for one am going to be very amused when one of you double-crosses the other and ditches this plan of cooperation. Whichever one of you kills the other one first WILL WIN. No matter what faction you are from, YOU WILL WIN. Period. Of course, I'll probably be dead by then, but oh well.

 

This has been a quite fun game, guys and gals!

[dowanx]

Kipper I think we can convince our striker to not hit you.  Out of curiosity who did you role block?

[Seonid he/him]

Bort, was that you hitting pixie last round?

[Zas678 he/him]

To be clear, we're lynching PK this round, right?

[emilylime she/her]

Eo lifted the teacup to her lips and took a tentative sip. It took her a conscious effort to not make a face. Nasty stuff. Drinks weren't supposed to be like this- lackluster leaf water that smelled strange. Eurgh. Sel had been a failed experiment, no doubt about it. Ancient Scadrian food had been better than this, and it had tasted of nothing but ash. It was definitely time to move on. Where should she head next on her quest for the perfect meal? Perhaps Roshar; despite the irksome storms, maybe Eo could finally try the legendary chouta she had heard so much about.

[Paranoid King he/him]

Happy Birthday Meta and Rubix! And I'm not a Striker!

What?!? How? I was so sure my info was accurate! I don't even... Sorry guys, I guess I'm not as well-informed as I thought I was. :/

[Bort he/him]

Seonid, that was not me attacking Pixie. It seems that someone else attacked her.

[Kasimir he/him]

Am back is not druink, cycle will now be closed. Please be patient while I get the orders sorted out to try and avoid something like last cycle's cincident from happening again.
 
Thank you for your patience and have some soothing music to ease the wait.

[phattemer]

I can never tell how much of that is Kas actually being druink and how much is him being funny.

[Bort he/him]

I'm the same. I know he's funny, but I can't tell if it is deliberate, or not.

[Kasimir he/him]

MR7: Cycle Eight - The Fire of Redemption

The mood in the Frozen Moon had turned restive, that night. Wenshon had broken up two fights earlier that evening, and had Kwai physically throw the miscreants out. The table often reserved by members of the Moderation Faction was empty; a glaring reminder of how many of them had fallen in the ongoing faction struggles.

The door creaked open and one or two patrons drifted in, glancing around, uncertainly. They headed, at last, for the Moderation table and sat there. Kwai rinsed a few clay cups under running water and watched them. There they are, he thought. Moderation had misstepped—greatly—to be this weak. The other Factions had seized on an excuse and ravaged the Faction, like hungry wolves. Or vultures.

Another scene from the painting slowly taking shape in the cellar of the Frozen Moon: Ashim, playing chess, his eyes dark with admonishment. His opponent’s face could not be seen. That was, itself, the trick: shadows and light. An artist moved in both; knew how to deal with both.

Did a faction remain the same after so many had passed through it and from it? He wondered. Moderation was an idea, Kwai realised, rinsing the cups, drying them with a rag. It was a dream, a set of precepts that had to be held in the hearts of its members. And, of course, it was a faction. He stacked the cups carefully and placed them in the storage cupboard. It was a political association, that strange tenuous link between the realm of ideas and the realm in which ordinary men like himself lived and breathed, bled and died.

There were so many new faces. He watched, stoked the fire, and let the long-spouted copper kettle heat. More patrons meant Wenshon would shortly call for more water, to keep the tea flowing.

It was one of the many dances, he thought, noting the diminished cries from the Heritage and the Glory factions. Once, they had gathered to denounce members of the Discovery Faction. But enough blood had been shed to give the lie to their words, and now they thought of nothing so much as being the first to put the knife in the other’s back. It was, he reflected, something that Arbiter Kaleva would’ve been the first to point out.

Kaleva.

The cup cracked; a sharp sound. Wenshon shot him an annoyed stare; Kwai ducked his head, playing to the persona of the quiet MaiPon server, Shao. He found a broom and dustpan and swept away the shards.

It was, after all, a still night—with just a few clouds in the courtyard outside, and the moon gleamed, full and round.

And he could sense the restlessness in the air, and knew there would be blood.

 

 

The food at the Frozen Moon wasn’t half bad, Eo decided, despite their startlingly bad taste in drinks. Boiled leaves in water wasn’t much to write home about. But the dumplings were, surprisingly, good. Bits of minced pork and water chestnut, wrapped in flour skins and steamed lightly made a crunchily satisfying snack.

It was, really, if anything else, a decent last meal.

She coughed, brought her hand up to cover her mouth, and glimpsed something scarlet as she pulled it away.

She looked at it. Blood.

It was, Eo thought, resigned, only a matter of time.

She was awfully tired.

 

 

It was cheerfully optimistic Cation Vinid, wearing an armband in the bright colours of the Glory Faction who first found Eo slumped against the table, unmoving. She shook Eo, lightly. There was no response.

Finally, she grabbed Eo by the shoulders and pulled her up. Eo’s jacket was soaked through with blood.

“Wenshon! Shao!” she called out. “Eo’s hurt!”

Wenshon was over in a few moments, moving with a quiet efficiency that Cation had noticed days ago, even if she’d never commented about it. “Out of the way,” he ordered quietly, and shooed her to one side as he pulled open Eo’s jacket.

He shook his head at once. “She’s dead,” he said, aloud.

Silence had fallen, in the Frozen Moon. Some patrons were creeping out of the door. Others maintained a careful distance from the proceedings. And members of the Glory and Heritage factions were gathering around the scene, ominously quiet.

“See?” Wenshon said. He pointed to the bandages on Eo’s chest. “Looks like a chest wound. I’m surprised she managed to survive for this long, without access to Resealer aid.”

Someone called out, “It was a Glory kill!”

Cation Vinid blinked. “I just found the body!” she protested. “I wasn’t responsible for it!”

The mood—teetering on the brink of something unspeakably savage a few moments ago—broke. Two of the supporters of the Heritage Faction charged Cation, one of them wielding a bottle of smuggled rice wine, the other armed with nothing more than a knife.

Cation stood her ground and met both of them. She hooked the leg of the first man and brought him down with a quick sweep, snatched the wine bottle from his hand, and promptly performed a quick step-dodge, past the slash of the knife and smashed the wine bottle over his head.

The man staggered, and she firmly hit him with a knife-hand chop to the wrist, grabbed his falling knife, and with a quick flick of her wrist, drove the knife right into his right eye.

The Heritage man went down and stayed down.

The other was beginning to stir. He’d regained his feet and tried to make a grab for her. She allowed the movement, let him draw her in, and then smashed her forehead into his nose. Cartilage smashed in a welter of blood, and his howl of pain was muffled by the outraged cries from members of the Heritage faction.

Cation broke his grip, smashed an uppercut into his chin, and then drove a sharp knife-hand punch into his throat.

He went down, wheezing. She picked up one of the stools and smashed it over him. He went still.

Breathing hard, Cation Vinid smiled. “That went pretty well, didn’t it?” she said, aloud, to no one in particular.

Someone grabbed her from behind. She lashed out, driving her elbows back until she connected with something soft with a muffled yell from her assailant.

Thin wire looped under neck and twisted and pulled and pulled.

She fought.

The world went dark.

 

 

Bortholemew the Blind was out drinking.

It was a clear night, and the sky was a map of constellations.

“Is that any good?” someone asked.

Bortholemew thought about it. “Eh,” he said, at last. “Could be better.” He offered the wine bottle to the stranger; a tall, thin man, with pale eyes. “Care for a drink?”

The stranger took it. “I’m never paid enough for this,” he said, gravely. “But I don’t make a habit of mixing business with pleasure. Perhaps another time.”

Bortholemew opened his mouth to ask a question.

The Blade that burned through his spine and burned out his eyes was the only answer he ever received.

“Why?” the stranger mused, staring at the body of the man. He shrugged, and took a long pull from the bottle of rice wine. He dismissed the Blade, allowed it to dissolve to mist. “Until you have been disgraced, you cannot know the fire that burns for redemption.”
 

---

Eo was a Diplomat!

Cation Vinid was a Striker!

Bortholemew the Blind was a Striker!

The Cycle will, unfortunately, still end at 11PM SGT on 15th July. I apologise, given the delay on this one, but I really don't want to drag things out for longer than necessary.

Edited July 5, 2021 by Kasimir

[Paranoid King he/him]

Yes, I'd say it was definitely a Glory kill. You can never trust those people.

 

EDIT: Also, based on Bort's death, I'd say that Wyrm has returned.

Edited July 13, 2015 by Paranoid King

[Adamir he/him]

Why, exactly, is Paranoid King still alive?

Edit: Two strikers died, that explains it.

Edited July 13, 2015 by Adamir

[Paranoid King he/him]

Why, exactly, is Paranoid King still alive?

I told you about my healing capabilities last cycle, didn't I? But no, you didn't believe me.

[Bort he/him]

Shortly after the body of Bortholemew the Blind was abandoned the crows, something stirred. His beard, seemingly no longer content to drift in the nighttime breeze, started to writhe.

 

Tendrils spread out, cocooning the tiny body. Once the corpse was wrapped, the beard seemed to eat it, slowly compacting itself back towards it's original appearance. Yet it didn't stop there, continuing to shrink in on itself, until with a small pop, and a slight fluttering of beard hair, it vanished too.

 

 

On Roshar:

Like a cremling, skittering about under a rock, a small tendril appeared. It quickly grew, puffing itself out grandly into the shape of a long, luxurious beard. With a pop, Bortholemew appeared, attached to the beard, staggering backwards. He struggled to remember what had just happened, then with a grimace, it came back to him. Ugh. Death by Shardblade. Never a good way to go.

 

Bortholemew the Blind looked around to see where he was, quickly identifying the Shattered Plains (He had read Wok and WoR). A more in depth observation identified High Prince Thanadal's camp. He muttered something under his breath. He didn't even really need to be audible when talking to his beardspren. This time, he was thanking his spren for remembering where they needed to visit next.

 

They weren't quite in Urithiru, but then travelling by beard wasn't exactly the most accurate way to travel. They were lucky to be at the Shattered Plains.

 

Bortholemew the Blind walked off, heading deeper into the camp, quickly determining when he had arrived by the frenzied activity. The camp was packing up, making ready to move to Urithiru. What a stroke of luck! Or maybe fortune, depending on what she was calling herself these days.

 

A lot of the camp had left already, but Bortholemew the Blind was easily able to attach himself to another group preparing to depart. This time, he swore, he would make it to the city, and find his first clue to the whereabouts of the fabled Shardmarks.

[Seonid he/him]

Sorry Eowyn. I really thought that you were discovery. Zephrer played me very well.

Well done, Bort and dowanx, for figuring out shallan was a striker. I suspected towards the end of last cycle, but wasn't sure.

So, the last discoverers are Zephrer and Alvron. Well played game, but you can't hide anymore.

I will assume that heritage got zas as their bribe. We got kipper, meaning moderation is likely a defunct faction.

I should note that with 3 players, discovery now holds the swing vote for the lynch.

[dowanx]

Moderation is not a defunct faction.  They would of gotten a bribe off yesterday and they must have gotten Zas as Heritage did not successfully bribe anyone last cycle.  As for Alvron he must of gotten hit with a striker kill with me ability because he is not in the Heritage faction doc.  

 

I have to say Moderation well played I didn't think you were going to keep alive, but you have.  Between the Discovery and Moderation they most definitely hold the swing vote which is a problem for both Heritage and Glory.  In order to keep the lynch off both of us I think it is a good idea to focus our lynch on known Discovery members until they aren't a swing vote.

[dowanx]

Kas could we get an updated player list?