Long Game 2: The Devil's Den

[Metacognition]

I can clarify that, as that is a question about game play and rules:

 

Everyone only gets one action per turn. If you're a Soother/Rioter, you can only act during the day round. For every other role, their action happens at night, but if there was a way for a Soother/Rioter to gain abilities that allow them to perform a night action, they can use both (Like for example, if you of them were to become Spiked).

 

The Spiked get a "team kill." Once per night, someone from the Spike faction can put in the order to kill another player. This counts towards their action for the night and they wouldn't be able to use any other abilities they have. So if you had a Smoker Spiked player, then they could not use the team kill and Smoke a target during the same night. Likewise with any other night time role. 

 

The Inquisitor's main ability is the ability to convert another player to the Spiked faction, under the restricted circumstances, but they are not considered an actual Spiked player. They do have some of the same benefits, like being able to speak to the other Spiked players and knowing who they are (duh, they made them!), but without UberSteel, they wouldn't have the ability to kill at all.

 

As such, the Inquisitor has to decide between their actions at night. They can either convert or use the UberSteel or use UberBronze (well, before they gave each of those abilities away) or use whatever other powers they may have left. If they use the UberSteel, it counts towards the team kill, which means that no other Spiked player could use the team kill action. If they do not use the UberSteel (say they convert instead), then any other Spiked player can use the team kill rather than use any other abilities they have. 

 

Hopefully that should clarify how the roles work.

[Aspren]

Thanks Meta.

 

Well, Wilson, seems like you were  right. I suppose we can expect to see two people dead and one person converted by the nights end,.

[little wilson]

I'm not sure how I feel about being right about this. I kind of wish I was wrong. 2 dead and a convert is going to suck. Although...I guess if Peng hadn't drawn Thug last night, that's exactly what would've happened last night too. Hm. I'm...a little worried now. :/

[bartbug]

So then, if Cessie still lives, why would we even kill her? To see if she has other powers?

[Gamma Fiend]

Because we know she is in fact an Inquisitor, and she is still going to be going around Converting people?
How is why are we killing Cessie even a question?

Oh, and I love how we're just now getting all these rule clarifications and limitations of powers this far in the game. XD

And uh, Peng. As much as I wished otherwise, I am not too sure about how likely it is you will survive the night. I mean, you might have some cool tricks up your sleeve, but if you gots something to tell us, the Public, then I would recommend you get the information out there before the night's end.

*Raises a glass* To our fearless Mistborn!

Edit: Apologies. re-reading this I can pick up on a rude tone. I just want to make sure no one was offended or anything.

*Gamon is sitting in a dark corner grumbling.
"I still insist we tear that spiked-witch's limbs off."*

Edited February 17, 2014 by Gamma Fiend

[bartbug]

I guess you're right. If she still lives, then she has potential to Spike.

[Herowannabe]

Plus, she still has the power to vote. Not that anyone is likely to join her if she starts voting for someone. However, if most of us start voting for one person and she adds her vote to it as well... we just don't want to have to deal with those mind games. 

[Aonar]

Aonar knelt in a dusty corner of the Harrows, digging through the deeply piled refuse. After Cessie had fled, he knew exactly what he needed to do. When he first had reached Urteau, Aonar tried to bury his past as well as he could. Now, he thought, seeing the blade of an obsidian dagger gleaming from underneath the garbage, it's time to remember what I was before. 
...
Aonar strode slowly towards the inn; mist swirling around his feet, dueling cane clacking regularly against his lacquered armour as he moved. It felt strange to be wearing the armaments of a hazekiller again. However, it also felt right. It had been an Inquisitor that had first discovered his con and chased him out of Luthadel and into the Northern Dominance, nearly managing to kill him along the way. Aonar was glad he finally had a chance to return the favour.

 

Unfortunately, against an Inquisitor, there was very little he could do alone. Hazekillers were trained to never attack a Mistborn without a group of at least seven, and even then, the odds weren't exactly what a sane person would call good. An Inquisitor was another beast entirely. Many considered them immortal, and even Mistborn tended to flee before them. But a Mistborn's raw power combined with a Hazekiller's intimate knowledge of how to counter the Metallic Arts? That could give even an Inquisitor pause. 

 

The mists lightened with the coming dawn and Aonar quickened his step, hoping against hope that when morning came there were still enough crew members alive to stop the Inquisitor.

 

I haven't done any in-character stuff for a while (or even really posted at all), and half the reason I joined this game was to work on my writing a little, so... yeah. Anyway, I'm really hoping Uber-Pewter is all the Inquisitor has left. We've only just found the Inquisitor and the number of (living) trustworthy crew members has already been nearly cut in half. If the Inquisitor has another trick up her sleeve, then we're probably all already dead.

Edited February 17, 2014 by AonarFaileas

[Metacognition]

Day 7 (The Notes of Passing)

 

Dyring insisted that Peng stay at the Inn. Not only would that mean a set of Mistborn eyes and hears to help him catch the hooligan that kept ruining his inn, but Peng wasn’t in much of a position to go anywhere anyways. All he needed was a decent night’s sleep and plenty of pewter and he’d be back on his feet in no time. As such, Dyring set up a cot in the back room. It was secluded enough that Peng should have been able to get some sleep, but Dyring could keep an eye on him as well. The only light was from a window in the back and the lantern light from the bar area.

 

Peng was out like a light. As he unconsciously flared pewter to help his body heal, he effectively went into almost a coma-like state. He knew he’d be needed for the hunt tomorrow and he wanted to be ready. After his pitiful performance yesterday, he wasn’t about to let the Crew down again. Besides, Cessie might not have been the Inquisitor that killed his family, but with each one he killed, the closer he got to that one. While he hated being such a vulnerable state, there was little he could do about it if he wanted to be prepared.

 

Dyring stayed up. His job was to make sure that Peng always had enough pewter. Every now and then, Peng’s breathing would get shallower and he’d half wake up. At that point in time, Dyring knew to have him drink down a mixture that contained some pewter. At the rate Peng was going through the stuff, Dyring worried about him. He had heard that it was very dangerous to keep any Allomantic metal constantly burning, but pewter was suppose to be the worst of them. They said that people who constantly burned their pewter like that didn’t last long.

 

Still, Dyring did his job. Between drinks, Dyring sat watching for the dastardly poet and tried to come up with a plan for killing Cessie. They hadn’t been ready to actually face an Inquisitor last time. If he could help it, they would do better.

 

Light shown through the back window. Over half the night had past and the light spilled across Peng’s unconscious form. Dyring was heading back towards the inn after administering another glass when a shadow passed by outside the window. Dyring paused. There was something unnatural about that shadow, so he hefted his club, holding it like a baseball bat and waited.

 

Nothing.

 

Dyring was just about to let his guard down when something small crashed through the window. Reflexively, Dyring burned Iron. Sure enough, a blue line appeared, zipping across the room towards Peng. Dyring cried out in shock, but barely managed to pull the coin off course.

 

When that coin failed to kill Peng, multiple coins shattered through the window. This time Dyring was ready and he pulled on the coins the second they appeared. Unfortunately, he didn’t have a shield to catch them on. Dyring gritted his teeth and used the club as a very small, very slender shield. The chances of him catching them all were slim.

 

Thunk, thunk, thunk. He looked down in shock to find all three coins stuck in the club.

 

“Ha!” He called out. “That’s right, bring it on! You infernal creatures won’t get anywhere tonight!” He did a little jig on the spot, but kept a wary eye out for anymore coins.

 

That’s why he didn’t hear or see the figure stalking up behind him. The obsidian dagger they carried, the twin of the one that had stabbed Peng didn’t give off any blue lines, so it wasn’t until Dyring felt it slice against his throat that he realized what happened.

 

As Dyring’s body slumped to the floor, the figure turned towards Peng’s cot. It approached quietly, but paused halfway there. Peng was stirring, as if he was waking up. The figure looked back at Dyring’s body and decided that was enough for tonight. There was no need to face the Mistborn alone just yet.

 

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Cessie was glad the secret was out. No more hiding, no more lurking. No, now she would get the recognition she deserved and drive fear into the heart of the Crew. But first, tonight, she needed to drive a spike into someone instead.

 

Her victim waited just inside the abandoned building. They had been tricked into showing up by one of her other pets. She thought of them that way because that’s what they were to her. They only had the one spike, while she had a good half a dozen. And soon she’d have her eyespikes too. Those were especially coveted.

 

She walked into the building without even attempting to hide. Her victim turned and grew pale. “I’ve been deceived,” they whispered.

 

“Yes, you have. But in just a second, you won’t think of it that way and you’ll be thanking them for this opportunity.”

 

True to her word, Cessie moved with blinding speed. She pinned her victim’s arm behind them, keeping them still while she drew the spike she had held onto for this exact purpose and drove it into the victim’s body. Indeed, in less than a second, she had released them. They fell to the floor, gasping in pain.  

 

“Stay here and recover,” she said. “Tomorrow, we’ll begin.”

 

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Many had heeded this new preacher, Quellion’s words and had already gone out into the mists, but not everyone. Still, sometimes there was nothing else one could do.

 

One figure took a deep breath and pulled open a door, looking out into the night. “Just one step at a time,” they thought to themselves.

 

One step was one step too far, as the figure fell to the ground twitching and writhing in pain.

 

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In another part of town, another figure waited in the mists. It was getting close to daybreak, but they had a task to finish yet. The figure had been waiting for a good half hour now. When they had approached Dyring’s Inn, they came just in time to see someone else sneak in. When no alarm was raised, the figure decided to wait it out.

 

The same person they had spotted before left through the front door. They were giggling and carried what looked to be a case full of writing supplies. The figure raised an eyebrow, but didn’t stop the stranger.

 

When they were sure the stranger was gone, they crept up to the inn and peeked through a window. Dyring was nowhere to be seen. That was unlike him. The figure had spent other nights just waiting for the right opportunity to get in. They glanced down at the note in their hand. It was a copy of what they planned to leave for Dyring for the night. A small smile edged the corners of the figure’s mouth. This game of cat and mouse with Dyring was a fun distraction, considering how bleak everything else looked. The figure edged towards the door and listened. Everything was silent. As silent as a grave, they thought. Indeed, tonight’s venture was starting to put the figure on edge.

 

The figure entered anyways, quickly spotting a new message on one of the walls already. It seemed that the figure now had a copy cat.

 

The figure stealthily made their way to the bar, trying to figure out what Dyring’s game was this time. That’s when the figure noticed the pool of blood leaking out of the back room. The figure jumped back in shock and gasped, dropping the note and their writing supplies to the ground. Suddenly things didn’t seem as lighthearted. They turned and ran out of the inn and onto the street.

 

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Thus was the state of the inn when Peng finally awoke. Dyring’s body was already cold and there was a message written on one wall and another written on a note.

 

The one on the wall read:

 

I'm the tineye now!

 

Good work, my brother, keep it up. You should be happy to know that now I'm here to help. 'Twill be so much fun. We'll kill Cessie, kill the three Spiked... I'm fairly confident. I love this job.

 

Dyring. What will you do?

 

I'm after you.

 

I will kill you.

 

Ps. Poor Cessie, alone and afraid. This time, it looks like the Spiked won't take the victory. But I always win, Dyring.

Always. I will Snap her in two.

 

The one in the note read:

 

When Modeft called us 'to his den

to be part o' his crew

We thought we'd have a riotous time

'till Mo' the 'quisitor slew

Then Weiry looked the other way

and Lucy lost her luck

And Maxill couldn't soothe the Priest

and so he too was stuck

 

Tinker Tineye with eyes so bright,

He can see what can't be spied,

But come tomorrow's morning light,

He may be the one that's died.

 

We set out to find the 'quisitor

and hang her with a rope

And six used nooses later we had

all but lost our hope

But then Cessie played her hand

and we all now thought alike

We'll get her soon or later, but

what about the friends she's spiked?

 

Tinker Tineye with ears in tune,

He can hear the lies you've lied,

But come the lynching at high noon,

He may be the one that's died.

 

Dyring tends the bar where we

must drink our antidotes

He's forgone sleep to try to catch

the writer of these notes

He'll stay awake a thousand days

if that is what it takes

But Tinker Tineye still will be

laughing till his belly aches

 

Tinker Tineye with touch so light,

His words you cannot hide,

But if anyone ever catches sight,

He may be the one that's died.

 

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Night 6 ends and Day 7 begins! You have 36 hours from now for your voting, unless anyone asks for an extension.

 

Dyring turned out to be a Lurcher!

 

 

The UberMetal the Inquisitor gave up was: 

 

UberPewter- Ruin has blessed you with exceptional strength and endurance. You survive two additional attempts on your life instead of just one, like a normal Thug. After the first attempt, you appear as a Thug in the write up, but still scan as a regular villager.

 

Updated Player List

Edited February 17, 2014 by Metacognition

[Herowannabe]

Herwynbe crawled out of his hiding space behind the bar when the light of dawn started peeking through the windows. He had stayed at the bar to help watch for the Tineye, and because, admittedly, he was too afraid to face Lady Cessie and her minions. He hadn't expected them to come back here. As soon as he had heard the commotion he had ducked behind the bar and stayed there for hours, too afraid to come out. He was anything but a warrior, and certainly no match for allomancers or inquisitors.

Nervously he crept to the back room to find Master Dyring and Lord Peng, both dead. Herwynbe slumped, weighed down by the guilt he felt at being so weak and cowardly. If only I had been... Stronger, braver, anything! If only-

The figure in the bed coughed, gasping in a ragged breath.

"Lord Peng!" Herwynbe cried out, jumping to his feet. The Mistborn was alive, but pale, and his breath was ragged and shallow. Herwynbe ran forward, pouring some pewter flakes into a cup of water and holding it up for Master Peng to drink.

No, I may not be a warrior, but I can still aid those who are.

[Aspren]

Meta, in the write-up you say that UberPewter allows a person to survive three attempts on their life, instead of just two like regular Pewter. Though you've said before that normal pewter allows a person to survive one attempt on their life. So don't you mean to say that UberPewter allows a person to survive two/three attempts on their life, instead of just one like normal Pewter?

[Metacognition]

Oops! Good catch, Aspren! 

 

I did mean that UberPewter effectively allow the player 3 lives. They survive two extra attempts on their life, not three (probably why they gave it away, eh? ). 

I'll get that fixed asap. 
 

Edited February 17, 2014 by Metacognition

[Aspren]

Thanks Meta. The more I play the more I get the impression that it's more accurate to say that you're playing us, than to say that we're playing the game.    Why do you torture us so?!?!?!

 

At this point in the game, what I really want to know is how they knew that Dyring was a lurcher. I think I'll have to take back the statement I made, that the spiked do not have a clear intel advantage. It seems they do, somehow.

 

All of those that have been targeted by the spiked have been mistings. Wiery and Dyring were both lurchers, Lucy was a seeker and Maxill was a soother. Now, I would think that if they had known that Maxill had been a soother then they probably wouldn't have targeted him, but they did know that he was a soother, and yet they still killed him.

 

I think that maybe the Spiked knows who all the mistings are and also know who of those that have snapped, but maybe don't know what role of each one has. Maybe that's UberTin. Though I'm probably grasping for straws here. Really, how did they get that information? The only other way I can think of is if Peng told them.

 

In any case, I vote for Cessie to be lynched.

[PorridgeBrick]

I vote for Cessie to be lynched.

What he said.

[Kurkistan]

Cessie. No doubt now. I am disturbed by the number/kind of Mistings taken down.

[Gamma Fiend]

"*Ahem*"

Gamon comes strolling around the corner, a bundle of rope wrapped up around his torso, and leading a team of four horses.

"Say, has anybody seen Cessie around, lately?"

[bartbug]

Cessie.

 

Hey, do we have two Tineyes now? Dyring's going to be pissed -

 

wait.

R.I.P. Dyring. May there be no Tineyes in your afterlife.

[Herowannabe]

Oh yes, I also cast my vote for Lady Cessie.

[Peng the Just]

Peng wakes up and sees dyrings body on the floor in a pool of blood, and realizes what happned. "Thank you, dyring." Then he turns to the crew. I think we need to give our friend, lurcher, innkeeper and provider of alcohol a proper burial. Then we can draw and quarter cessie." He examines the wound in his shoulder, and finds, pleasingly, that it has mostly healed. Then he gently picks up dyring's body and walks out to find a spot of ash to bury it in.

Edited February 17, 2014 by jasonpenguin

[Quiver]

I have to admit, I see a really dark humour in Dyring dying when the note mentions staying awake for a thousand days. Still, good job protecting the mist born.

Quillion woke in one of the canals of Urteau, if rubbing his eyes and resolving to rise after a half-hours rest could be considered waking up. Searching for Cessie had proven a waste of time and effort. He leaned his head against the wall of the canal, staring at the sky, and suddenly realising how low he had sunk.

I'm an obligator, he thought. One of The Lord Rulers faithful.

But for once, the thought didn't excite pride or superiority. It was whining, petulant- and depressed. Quillion dragged himself to his feet unsteadily; was that the poison rushing through his veins? Exhaustion from his night hunt? Emotional fatigue from betrayal?

Modeft. Cessie. Ollivier.

They had all betrayed him. It was their fault he was in this situation, his cloak covered in ask, smelling like muck, rough stubble brushing against his chin. He'd always followed orders, and where had that gotten him? Here, at the bottom of a hole in Urteau.

Means the only way to go is up.

He stretched, feeling his joints pop, then began looking for a way out of the empty canal. After an hour of searching, he finally managed to pull himself up, and headed towards Dyrings inn. He didn't want to miss what happened today. Today was the day all his fortunes turned.

[little wilson]

Aw. I've always wanted to see someone get drawn and quartered. I hope you realize you're NOT gonna get those last two Spikes, Cessie. You failed. How's that feel?

[Awesomeness Summoned]

"Looks like we'll finally feel good about a vote. Sorry to be celebrating after just burying you Dyring. We really appreciate your sacrifice but this is the first time I've felt optimistic about our prospects."

 

Wes votes for Cessie.

[Aonar]

The mists were dispersing, revealing a crowd standing around Dyring's inn once again. Everyone seemed reluctant to go inside, and Peng was digging a pit in the ash nearby. Aonar realized what must have happened. Even though he and Dyring had seldom agreed on anything, he was still a member of the crew, and he had given his life defending the only person the crew could trust. He deserved better than to be killed by traitors in his own inn.

 

Aonar walked through the crowd, now much thinner than it had been, ignoring the glances his armour attracted from some members of the crew. Clearly not everyone liked to be reminded they were working with a hazekiller. He grabbed a shovel and stepped up beside Peng, determined to show Dyring some of the respect he deserved.

 

Soon... Aonar thought, soon Cessie will pay for her crimes, and then we can finally bring the traitors to justice. Somehow, though, Aonar knew that things wouldn't go so smoothly.

[Robot Aztec]

i guess cessssie is right to tkae out since she is inquietor

[Scriptorian]

"Good to see you people have stopped trying force deadlocks. Cessie the Inquisitor must die (again)!"