Quick Fix Game 13: Winter is Coming

[Mailliw73 he/him]

Mark. Sart.

[Kynedath]

Can I please remind everyone that not lynching someone is an option? Kipper.

 

Nothing personal man, just trying to tie the lynch.

[Straw he/him]

Paranoid king, will you tiebreak this vote?

[Kynedath]

Why do you want to break the tie? You are bringing the eliminators closer to their goals of kiling everyone. Lynch people based off of actual suspicions, not for fun.

[Guest]

Can I please remind everyone that not lynching someone is an option? Kipper.

 

Nothing personal man, just trying to tie the lynch.

https://youtu.be/oixZxgW7C3s?t=93

Yeah, I totally understand.

 

We'll see if I can't return the favor sometime.

[Paranoid King he/him]

Paranoid king, will you tiebreak this vote?

If you insist. Lopen. Mark.

[Mailliw73 he/him]

Straw man, why did you call out PK in particular?

[Elbereth she/her]

You know, it'd be a shame to deprive Mark of his first Loyal game (if he's loyal, which I hope) on the first cycle...

Oh well. I think lynching someone is a little bit more important, and I don't want to inconvenience Ada in the last three minutes of the cycle.

Vote tally:

ThatTinyStrawMan (1): Kipper

Kipper (3): Mark IV, Stink, Kynedath

Mark (4): Jerle, ThatTinyStrawMan, Maill, PK

EDIT: Actually, I hope Mark's not loyal. That'd be nice. Also hilarious.

Edited February 24, 2016 by Elbereth

[Straw he/him]

He hadn't voted and was online and reading this thread plus we would have a new voice in the vote.

[Amanuensis he/him]

Chapter One is over! Please do not post or send any more PMs until the new thread is posted!

[Amanuensis he/him]

Chapter 2 will end on Thursday, February 25th at 5PM EST

 

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Chapter Two: As High As Honor

---

The courtyard of Castle Black was alive with the sounds of clashing steel.

Ser Tarly and Ser Dayne watched the duel from the top of an adjacent rampart, talking with one another about which of their warriors would win. “Your girl is formidable, I’ll give you that,” the Master-at-Arms said with a smile, “but she’s no match for the young Snow. Bastards, the way I see them, can only end up one of two ways. Strong as Valyrian steel or as brittle as milkglass, and I assure you, Oswin is not the latter.”

Ser Dayne laughed. “But look at the way she dances around him, man! He might be strong, but even in a full set of plate she moves faster! Granted, your boy’s very good at covering his critical vulnerabilities, but at this rate it’s just a matter of time until she finds a hole in his defenses and strikes him down. Just watch.” And watch he did.

Most of what the Sword of the Morning said was true, Ser Tarly conceded. Luna Arryn was much faster, despite her heavy armor. Oswin, however, had the advantage of size and a unique shield of which he himself carved; a great slab of ironwood that curved around his weak side, protecting him from his chest to the back of his left tricep. So long as he kept turning to face the girl and crouched when the squire swept her sword low, he could not be touched.

Luna Arryn, on the other hand, did not bother with a shield. Instead she wielded a pair of cutlass’ in the fashion of some martial art she learned while studying abroad in the Free Cities of Essos. It was a queer way to fight, but not ineffective, especially against someone who had never seen a combat style such as that before. Pensive, Ser Tarly wondered how he would fare battling against a foe such as her.

And yet Oswin was evenly matched with the squire, and for a second even seemed to be enjoying himself. Despite his alcoholic tendencies, Lord Glover’s bastard was the best they had from the latest batch of Sworn Brothers. Even intoxicated, he had yet receive so much as a tiny scratch from his peers, and yet-

The Master-at-Arms lost his train of thought as he witnessed the Arryn girl execute a feint that sent Oswin stumbling, hot crimson leaking from a large gash at his shoulder blade. Though surprised, the bastard knew better to resist his momentum and instead brought his shield in between his body and the ground, using its curve to roll over his shoulder onto his knee, sword arm slashing out at the squire’s side as she came in for the notional kill.

Without proper leverage the Sworn Brother’s blade could not pierce the woman’s armor. Realizing he had been defeated, Oswin lowered his weapon and attempted to stand, only to fall to his knee as soon as he felt that his shin had been splinted when he tumbled.

“Huh. Well would you look at that. Seems Loony won, but got too excited to keep her promise,” Ser Dayne said, frowning.

“I knew it was unwise to let them wield live steel,” the Master-at-Arms answered regretfully. “An acolyte from Oldtown should see to him quickly, however. I can’t imagine why they’d have any other patients to tend to,” he added, pleased to see the squire was already helping the bastard with his wounds.

Perhaps there was hope for this uneasy alliance yet.



“Yes, yes. Let him in,” Lord Bolton demanded of his steward, staring down at the masses gathering about Castle Black from the vantage of his chamber’s balcony. Behind him his door swung open, closed, then opened again, allowing the old wolf entry. “I trust you left the Baelish boy outside?” he asked after recognizing the clinging of the Maester’s chains.

“Of course, though suffice it to say there was not much left to learn from the Umber’s corpse,” the elder man answered. “I did, however, confirm his titanic lineage. If not for the combination of his wounds and the noose around his neck, I’d dare say that the boy would have lived long enough to be cared for. A shame that he was so severely outnumbered… we’ve lost too many good men, lately.”

“It’s only the beginning,” the Lord Commander said matter-of-factly, voice barren of emotion. The Maester hated it when the Bolton got like this; so externally cold and uncaring. But what else could be expected of a man from his house? The Stark dismissed the thought. They both had forsaken their families and their feuds when they swore their oaths; bringing up past wounds would do them no good. “Does it not vex you that those murderous Turncloaks painted the words of your House on our Wall with blood?”

“Of course it does, Lord Bolton. One of my apprentices wrote down the words just as it was seen and has begun asking every man and woman in Castle Black to recreate the message so that we might find the culprit responsible.”

“Good, good. My men have been interviewing those on watch all day, though so far all have sound alibis. A man did, however, discover a word etched in the ice at the 18th O.P.”

“Oh?” the Maester asked, curious. “What was it?”

“Lion,” the Lord Commander spat with vehemence.



“Cease your talking!” Lord Bolton yelled over the incessant chatter, approaching the gathering of Sworn Brothers, Free Folk and King’s Men with Maester Lyam at his side and taking a position on an elevated platform nearby. “So; who among you has anything to say?” he said, quieter now that they had all shut their mouths, as his iron-colored eyes scanned the crowd from right to left for motion.

Surprisingly it was a Free Man who approached the Lord Commander first, though unsurprisingly he did not address the Lord Commander with his proper honorific, nor did he bow or bend. “It was Kipper Pyke,” he said, the accusation drawing the Maester’s attention immediately.

“And why do you say that?” Maester Lyam beat Lord Bolton to asking.

Maxicos the Cutter just shrugged and started to walk away, only to find a much smaller man blocking his path.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Noah Stone asked, tone challenging. Maxicos answered with a smile. “My lord, I suggest that this wildling was responsible. Why else would he blindly accuse one of our own but to cause us to distrust one another?”

Immediately another man approached, nodding approvingly. “I am a stick!” he shouted, pleased by the turn of events.

“What?” the Lord Commander spat.

“Oh, that’s just Stick,” Maester Lyam explained. “Thinks he’s a stick and says nothing else. Simple minded, but strong, and twice the stable man Lord Hodor ever was.”

Lord Bolton shook his head, bemused, but allowed the discussion to continue. Another man had joined in now, this one stinking worse than Ser Dayne’s loo after a bowl of curry.

“I do agree it was Kipper, the man with the big zipper. Despite the murder he just seems too chipper, and I’m not only saying this because he stole my slipper.”

“What?” the Lord Commander spat again.

“Oh, that’s just Stink,” Maester Lyam explained. “Or was it Reek? No matter. That boy’s a bit odd around the edges too. Likes to rhyme. Sometimes I think he just says things for the sake of it.”

Lord Bolton sighed heavily, increasingly exhausted by the nonsense he’s witnessed, and it’s only been a few minutes... How in the Seven Hells are we going to win against the Others with idiots like this manning the wall? he wondered.

“Kill Maxicos!” a fifth voice shouted from the middle of the crowd.

“Why are so many of you so eager to kill? You know what, I cast my vote for Kipper. That makes three a piece, right? A tie? Can we all go home now?” Gaera chimed in.

Finally, a man with some sense, the Lord Commander thought.

“I am a stick!” Stick shouted out the crowd, seemingly to recruit more men for his cause.

Baldo answered, somehow convinced.

Gaera retreated, thoroughly disappointed.

“Fine. Men, take Maxicos to the pyre. And someone fetch me a torch.”



And home Gaera went, though when he arrived he did not do so alone.

“A tie?” a man draped in shadows asked from behind, knife pressed to the islander’s throat, laughing as his target trembled. “So desperate to save a man you hardly know, but why? Wait. Don’t answer that. I just realized something. I don’t care. There is something I am curious of, however. How does it feel knowing you failed? Knowing that you could not protect him, or anyone. Not even yourself?”

Truth was, the Turncloak didn’t care about that either. He just wanted to give Gaera something to mull over as he slit his throat and left him to die, life leaking out of him on his chamber floor.



Reek, Reek, it rhymes with Leak.

How the Rhymer suddenly ended up on night shift he was unsure, though he would not let it discourage him. Tonight, Reek began his post the same way he always did; by pissing over the end of the world. A ritual he first heard of from legends his wet nurse used to tell him as a child about the Imp, Tyrion Lannister, who did the same thing whenever he came to visit the Night’s Watch.

Typically this sort of thing relieved him, but even after his main vein stopped draining, he felt oddly uneasy. Looking down to refasten his belt, he just barely noticed the word “lion” carved into the ice nearby, the letter’s grooves crusted with blood. Oh right, Marcas. I must be here thanks to his carcass, he thought nonchalantly as he turned…

Only to find himself staring at a man made of shadow.

“Well now, I must be dreaming, for I do not recall having any shade of the evening… this evening,” Reek finished, then frowned. “No, no, I can do better than that. Now where did I put my best thinking hat?” he laughed.

Oddly enough the shadow man shook with laughter as well, though soon enough Reek realized it was not because of his rhymes, but because of how helpless he was when the thing ran his heart through with its dark, nebulous blade.

Reek, Reek, it rhymes with…

Death.


Oswin Snow has received a Fatal Wound due to inactivity!
Marcas Umber was a Giant-Blooded Ranger!
Maxicos the Cutter was burned on a pyre!
Gaera Skor'Gaera was killed by the Turncloaks!
Reek was killed by a Shadowbinder!
 

---

[1] ThatTinyStrawMan: Kipper
[3] Kipper: Mark IV, IrulelikeSTINK, Kynedath
[4] Mark IV: JerleShannara, ThatTinyStrawMan, Mailliw73, Paranoid King

Chapter Two has begun! GM PMs should arrive very shortly. Please do not send any more messages in your PMs from last cycle (unless you want to renew it instead of contacting another player, in which case inform me in our GM PM first). 

Edited November 5, 2016 by Alvron

[Mailliw73 he/him]

So, that's Sart with a Fatal Wound, Mark lynched, Kynedath killed by the Eliminators, and Stink killed by the Shadowbinder. Geez, that's a lot for D1. We'll receive all these alignments and roles at the beginning of next cycle(unless someone is revived), right?

 

EDIT:

I have to ask, StrawMan, why did you want Mark lynched so bad?

Edited February 24, 2016 by Mailliw73

[Guest]

So Marcas Umber is just flavor, I'm assuming?

Just fyi, Mark PMd me and claimed to be a Skindancer. I also claimed to him, so I'm sure he'll reveal me in the Dead Doc sooner or later.

[Straw he/him]

It was for these three reasons

A. We get info from it.

B. Mark was acting shady...

C. Random vote.

edit: got greyscale, helllllllpppppp!

Edited February 25, 2016 by ThatTinyStrawMan

[Mailliw73 he/him]

StrawMan.

[Straw he/him]

StrawMan.

Why?

[Mailliw73 he/him]

Why?

Yesterday's actions seem to be self-explanatory. Plus, a Stoneman found you suspicious enough to condemn you to death in a couple cycles, so this only quickens it. 

[Orlok Tsubodai]

I'm going to back Mailliw up here - StrawMan. Something has seemed... off... about your posts, and I can't put my finger on it, but it's putting me on edge.

[Straw he/him]

Give me 10 reasons and 3 others who will swear to your cause and I will give you:

-my role.

-the role of one other person.

-the power to command my vote.

[Master Elodin]

Strawman has been acting a little shady, but I thought his vote for Mark was justifiable. I don't think that it's fair to vote for him this early on.

Edited February 25, 2016 by JerleShannara

[Paranoid King he/him]

Plus, a Stoneman found you suspicious enough to condemn you to death in a couple cycles, so this only quickens it.

...a stoneman wanted to use his powers on the first cycle, you mean? A stoneman who has had one cycle to judge someone's first game, and who may be an eliminator anyways? I fail to see how that further condemns strawman.

[Master Elodin]

Thank you for seeing reason, PK.

[DeathClutch19 he/him]

Im going to vote for StrawMan as well.

He's as off as a Lannister at Castle Black

[Straw he/him]

I must say who defended me today for the person who did, who's name I say is... JerleShannara!

Machines within machines, a toy with which to play! The person who told the truth? Anna!

Stew I make, stew I serve, why I must very solftly say,"everything is stew today!" My only friend? His name is wit!

Everything is a toy to play. You ask for a word, I say "straw!"

Are we but common men today? It seems I must draw my saber!

Dakhor monks, a field to play! Those are what I spy today! Lewis Carrol.

Note: this is a code. Have fun!

[Mailliw73 he/him]

Give me 10 reasons and 3 others who will swear to your cause and I will give you:

-my role.

-the role of one other person.

-the power to command my vote.

We have two others already. Me, Orlok, and DC. 

 

1. You voted for a player on the first cycle, when he had barely posted.

2. You wanted a random vote. Why does a random vote help us?

3. You gave a plan to greenseers, assuming they'd die.

4. You placed a vote on Mark just cause it was random. 

5. Then you wanted to make sure he died.

6.  You asked PK to ensure the lynch on a random player. 

7. You said you asked PK to vote because he hadn't yet. But he had. On Lopen.

8. PK went along with it for no reason, which makes me sense collaboration.

9. You asked Mark to explain why you shouldn't kill him. What is he supposed to say?

10. You keep telling roles what to do.