Long Game 74: You Want It Darker

[Mailliw73]

8 minutes ago, Kasimir said:

I'm allowing you to have one more kill of me under your belt  When was the last time you murdered me, LG7? 

But I was against Kast’s death! I don’t want to kill you just to have killed you. There’s no fun in that. 

[Ashbringer]

Doesn't CTRL + A just highlight everything

[Flyingbooks]

Lasalen woke up from a very strange dream in which they were a character in a story (now that was just silly, they were obviously real) and they, along with several others, had killed the private investigator for the strangest of reasons.That made no sense! Even though the detective could have been the murderer, he certainly wasn't the most suspicious person in the town by a wide margin.

[danex]

4 minutes ago, Ashbringer said:

Doesn't CTRL + A just highlight everything

*cough* white text *cough*

[Kasimir]

6 minutes ago, Mailliw73 said:

But I was against Kast’s death! I don’t want to kill you just to have killed you. There’s no fun in that. 

What is dead may never die
But rises again, harder and stronger 

[Ashbringer]

2 minutes ago, Dannex said:

*cough* white text *cough*

... oh. Yeah. That 

Casually deletes copied CTRL-A text rom clipboard...

[Mailliw73]

This thread is still open for signups! Please come signup! Just because we’ve been joking around and referencing old characters doesn’t mean you can’t join! Just want to apologize for my additions to anything that might detract from people wanting to sign up! Come join us! We have lots of fun, as these 7 pages will tell you.

[Mat]

56 minutes ago, Mailliw73 said:

This thread is still open for signups! Please come signup! Just because we’ve been joking around and referencing old characters doesn’t mean you can’t join! Just want to apologize for my additions to anything that might detract from people wanting to sign up! Come join us! We have lots of fun, as these 7 pages will tell you.

Yes, yes! Or-

Even better: Signup for QF51! Which only has 8 and needs more people, unlike this game  (#notsponsoredyou'rewelcomearcher) Or-

Even better: Signup for both  

[Quintessential]

38 minutes ago, Matrim's Dice said:

Even better: Signup for both  

wayyy ahead of you there : P

[The Windrunner Supreme]

4 hours ago, Ashbringer said:

... oh. Yeah. That 

Casually deletes copied CTRL-A text rom clipboard...

What?

[Mailliw73]

16 minutes ago, The Windrunner Supreme said:

What?

There’s text in the post they’re referencing that has white text. 

[Kasimir]

1 hour ago, The Windrunner Supreme said:

What?

As @Mailliw73 said, there's white text in the "Day 0" post confirming I'm just trolling and the game is scheduled to begin an hour after rollover tomorrow.

Voting on the GM is a time-honoured tradition and each GM responds in different ways. But the key is to offer some response as it generally gets boring if your GM completely ignores your vote

If this happens during the game proper, can't guarantee as fun a response

[Mat]

29 minutes ago, Kasimir said:

Voting on the GM is a time-honoured tradition and each GM responds in different ways. But the key is to offer some response as it generally gets boring if your GM completely ignores your vote

As the players of MR46 know, I didn’t react quite like Kas did when this sort of thing happened  Which I only slightly feel bad about.  

[Quivil]

@Kasimir

Kill me off. I need to ghost.

[Kasimir]

41 minutes ago, Tani said:

@Kasimir

Kill me off. I need to ghost.

Just to confirm: you are withdrawing from the game and would like to be removed from the player list? Or are you requesting to be killed in a write-up?

For clarity's sake, I will remove you from the player list unless you tell me otherwise before sign-ups close tomorrow.

Edited February 25, 2021 by Kasimir

[Quivil]

39 minutes ago, Kasimir said:

Just to confirm: you are withdrawing from the game and would like to be removed from the player list? Or are you requesting to be killed in a write-up?

For clarity's sake, I will remove you from the player list unless you tell me otherwise before sign-ups close tomorrow.

I am withdrawing from the game and would like to be removed from the player list.

Tani the Storyteller: There are too many storytellers in this town. Between the other two, I can't get a tale in edgewise!

Edited February 25, 2021 by Tani
(I wanted to add storybits)

[Kasimir]

Removed from player list, as requested.

Reminder that sign-ups close at 2300hrs SGT (GMT+8), which is in under 24 hours - after which, stand by for role PMs, and prepare to PM me back your character's dirty secret/skeleton in the closet.

[Ookla-son-son-Ventyl]

On 2/24/2021 at 9:53 AM, Matrim's Dice said:

There's only one Ruin around here, Drash  

Indeed.

[The Young Pyromancer]

I'll sign up as Pie Roayong, the weird foreigner kid that was taken in by the tanner about 7 years back., when he was 5. He's out to find his father's killer.

[The Unknown Ajah]

Another one bites the dust! Now where in the world did that come from? Eh, I like it.

Edited February 25, 2021 by The Unknown Order

[Mailliw73]

Marll went to bed exhausted and confused. This day had been a whirlwind, starting with finding Bartholomew's body and then he felt like someone was guiding his words. Then Kast. Oh Lord Ruler! What had happened to his village? People he'd made shoes for yesterday were beating people to death today. He knew he wasn't the hero Fallion's Tears needed, but he was the cobbler they deserved and he'd roll his dice once more. Once more he'd face evil and do everything a cobbler could to defeat it. Villains like that deserved no shoes, and Marll would be the one to take theirs from them. He knew from the stories that sometimes the good guys ended up badder than the bad guys; that frightened him most for his village. The fear that his friends would become like those in Tyrian Falls, executing their neighbors and family until they ate themselves up from the inside. Not again. Marll was determined. 

"There's a land where the wind sweeps down the hills," he began to tell himself a story as he lay in bed. "In this land there were legends of a time before and a time to come, but the wind swirled in all times. This time the wind swept down to a poor old cobbler doing his best..." Marll drifted off to sleep, dreaming of days past and of days to come. 

[Ashbringer]

Derrick. That was the name. Yes, he could be a Derrick.

Derrick wandered with a teetering step - not quite drunken, or trying to reach two places at once, but seemingly taking two different paths to the same point, neither of which seemed to be the optimal one, as if rambling with footfalls instead of words. He - no! Not he! There is no he, no I, no us, only Derrick! - Derrick looked, on the surface, normal enough, although perhaps his stumbling and general stance looked like he was still trying to sleep off a long night drinking. Which was accurate enough, as Derrick had in fact spent a large part of yesterday at Sara's tavern, trying to drink away something he couldn't remember. That wasn't so odd, on its own.

But if you step closer, suddenly Derrick is in full view. The shambling, drunken husk doesn't disappear, exactly, as that is exactly what Derrick is. But you start to see more of the gritty details. The many lines crisscrossing his bare forearms and hands, the mismatched pair of worn-down boots, the oversized coat with far too many buttons but instead held shut at the waist with an expensive-looking belt, the buttons and belt buckle themselves being made of real gold instead of wood painted, and everything coated and caked with enough ash for Derrick to have been sleeping in it.

And then you see Derrick's face. His eyes draw the most attention; they dart from place to place as if attracted to everything that moves, bloodshot from weeks spent staring at a flickering fireplace or falling ash. Everything was covered in an uneven salt-and-pepper stubble that looked as if he'd shaved with the edge of a broadsword instead of a proper razor. One of his cheeks certainly bore a scar looking like he had. Then there was the heaving throat that seemed to treat inhalation and exhalation as the same process, the nose consistently up in a snarl... it was easy to see Derrick for what he was. A madman.

If you didn't believe the initial appearance, there were stories. About how Derrick would wander the streets at night, the very mists rejecting him. About horrible places near the center of the Empire where those scars could have come from. How he'd sometimes simply vanish for days on end and return without warning. How he could sit as if dead for hours on end, ash slowly piling in his hair. And of course, the voices, the way he talked to someone who wasn't there, twisting his head around side to side, looking at things with one eye and the other. Some said he'd been possessed by a mistwraith. If you asked Derrick, he'd find it funny. Not many people asked.

And if you still doubted, if you were to step closer still, you might notice... other inconsistencies. Perhaps a step or two more and you'd be able to pierce the charade of madness. But at that point, you'd be standing in Derrick's personal space.

Derrick will ask you to leave.

Derrick doesn't like people in Derrick's personal space, you see.

 

Side note: I'm getting my wisdom teeth pulled tomorrow (yaaaaay), so I'll probably not be posting much or at all D1 to avoid posting while still on painkillers and saying who knows what. Letting you know now because I have a bad habit of being forced into inactivity when I'm Elim...

[The Windrunner Supreme]

23 minutes ago, Ashbringer said:

Side note: I'm getting my wisdom teeth pulled tomorrow (yaaaaay), so I'll probably not be posting much or at all D1 to avoid posting while still on painkillers and saying who knows what. Letting you know now because I have a bad habit of being forced into inactivity when I'm Elim...

Good luck!

[Gears]

Fallion's Tears was a strange town, Roko mused to itself as it moved through the shadows, watching the townsfolk barricade themselves for the night. So many myths, so many legends, so many tattered, broken people from an older time and place. So many newcomers, so many glory-chasers, so many fresh, naïve people ready to fall apart. It knew some of them from brief encounters on other worlds, but there was something strange about this town, something Different. There was an odd sense of ritual pervading every corridor and corner, a peculiar taste of sage in the air. The weight of years pressed on each of their souls, embedding the necessary patterns to take the stage. 

All the world's a stage, after all, and everyone is but a player upon it. A runner finds a body left to be found, to incite fear in the hearts of the village. A detective who lived through ages past recognises the bloodstained metal embedded in flesh. The townsfolk gather in the place designed for gatherings, devoted to the Slaughter. It knew well the legends of Tyrian Falls, in all of its sanguineous iterations, and in any other circumstance, it would flee, abandon the town and its work and its claims, but it too was a player in this game, in this hollow dance of life and death. It too was caught in the spell/curse/myth of Tyrian Falls Fallion's Tears.

Puppets dance at the behest of the puppeteer, despite all thoughts to the contrary. All idle fancies are at the whims of the Ones That Command. Roko's own ponderings only existed because the Storyteller permitted it. And perhaps, when dawn came on the morrow, all thoughts of Stories and Legends would be set aside in favor of the murder mystery that had been set upon them. Perhaps, when the masks had been distributed and donned, it would be one of the killers. It was not at the moment, but come the morning, no one could possibly know, save for the Storyteller. And when tomorrow finally came, the Story would truly catch its bones, trapping it in the masquerade. 

There was a sense of finality to this night, a touch of "Last" that Roko could not place. Of course it was not the last night. The sun would rise and the sun would set, and the world would carry on, even after Fallion's Tears had crumbled to dust. But the hours until the dawn stretched out before them, and time seemed to twist like taffy. A day seemed as a week, a minute seemed as an hour, a heartbeat seemed as an eternity. It took out its deck of cards and shuffled it seven times for Fortune's Favor, letting Fate seep into its bones. An idle thought flitted into its mind for a brief heartbeat: How many times had it had these musings? How many times had it contemplated the Legend, the Myth, the Story before the Story ripped the knowledge out of its mind? How many times had it been a part of the Story of Fallion's Tears? 

But no, something [within|beyond] Roko knew that this was the first time. This was its first opportunity to [save|destroy] Fallion's Tears. This was the Beginning. This was the Night before the Dawn, and soon it would forget. Soon, it would be a Character Embodied. Was it death, to be so erased? Or was it a simple slumber? Or was there even a difference? It did not know, and soon, it would not even be able to ask. This Night, the Last Night, was the End, and the Beginning. 

"Farewell," it whispered, just in case this truly was the end, and it faded into the shadows until the 'morrow called it forth as something Different, something New.

[Random Bystander]

The random bystander sat on a stool, instrument in hand. She began to play. The tune was melodic, quiet, and peaceful. She played impeccably, and somehow was able to convey emotion. She played and played and played all night.

Quote

She's playing something like bridge over troubled water by simon and garfunkel.