Long Game 74: You Want It Darker

[Wyrmhero]

9 minutes ago, Kasimir said:

It did not. So help me God I swear I will feckin' fight ya on this Wyrmimir >:( 

It proved to you I was villager.

[Burnt Spaghetti]

O.O

[Mailliw73]

Not another one. No, oh, Lord Ruler, no. Another innocent, another village, overrun by anger and by secrecy. Iste. The scholar had convinced Marll that he was right, that the duck poacher really was one of the killers. Marll hadn't really been in his right mind since he'd had to help kill Roko. Even the tin didn't satisfy him. It didn't remove the pain of a friend lost, of a community destroyed. Marll had gambled late last night on Iste's idea. And he'd lost. The dice had come up against him. He drank another, a fifth, sixth?, mug. He flared tin again. He knew burning this much tin was dangerous, especially with the amount of liquor in his system, but who cared? He was probably dead tonight anyways. 

[Burnt Spaghetti]

Roseanna did not leave her room. She did not even order food. She did not want to see another human being for as long as she could help it. This was bad. So bad. 

Chairs against door. Broom at door. Empty paint cans under her window sil. Wet paint everywhere. The landlady would kill her for this. But why should she care. For all she knew the landlady was one of them. One of the spiked. 

Hopeless. Fear. Panic. 

Artwork surrounded her. Shades of red and black. Artwork not confined to pages and canvas. The floors and walls.

Words. Names. Names underlined in red. Names crossed out. 

Portraits. 

A face for each.

She hated them all.

She hated those who died. Why couldn't they have been right. Why couldn't the dead be those that hunt us.

She hated those who were alive. They had all failed. They were wrong. 

There was so much cruelty and hurt. So many friends dead. 

 

 

She picked up a fresh container of red paint and walked to her wall of names.

She paused for a breath.

And threw her paint.

As it dripped down the wall, obscuring names, she let out a scream filled with rage and fear.

 

 

Everything had been ruined.

 

[Mailliw73]

Only two hours or so left for guaranteed advertising delivery! Make sure to get those ads in! 

[|TJ|]

Anyone know or noted or noticed what the wrong version of this was? Or perhaps @Kasimir could reveal, if that's allowed? :P.

13 hours ago, Kasimir said:

Tani/Connie (6): Araris Valerian, Devotary of Spontaneity, Illwei, Mailliw73, STINK
Araris Valerian (3): Ashbringer, Burnt Spaghetti, Daisy/Hael, TJ Shade
Devotary of Spontaneity (2): _Stick_, Elandera
TJ Shade (1): Fifth Scholar

[Stick.]

31 minutes ago, TJ Shade said:

Anyone know or noted or noticed what the wrong version of this was? Or perhaps @Kasimir could reveal, if that's allowed? :P.

I quoted the wrong version in my first post this cycle  There lies the forbidden knowledge 

[Kasimir]

Another batch of rule clarifications! Man, suddenly y'all care about the rules again

• Can a Seeker Seek during the Day?

No. Only at Night.

• How are Rioters and Soothers required to put in orders?

I will accept any elocution that clearly conveys what the player intends to do with their role ability. The standard form tends to be something like: "Riot Kas from Wyrm to Kas," or "Soothe Ren." 

• I have been asked a bunch of Rioter questions, but as all of these have been previously asked and already exist in the rule clarifications, I'm not re-adding them again

Reminder! You have a little under seven and a half hours left in the cycle! Get those orders in!

[|TJ|]

Ah, you know what happens when TJ is free of all village obligations? Why, you get Chaotic!TJ of course! Now, see elims might think they've got this one in the bag, but what they do not know is muahahaha well let's not let them know yeah? It's 8-7 now and they obviously have vote manip so - @Haelbarde, @Burnt Spaghetti, @_Stick_, @Ashbringer, @Elandera, @Dannex, @Shard of Reading, @The Windrunner Supreme - claim to me if you're a Lurcher. I reckon there are two cause elim team seems strong if my distro predicion is right. If that's not enough to trust me, I have info about a Smoker (yes, elims it's one of the players I've tagged (or me ), I did not leave them out cause that would be obvious -.-) that might give us a slight chance to survive the elimination tomorrow, provided we protect them tonight.

Edited March 14, 2021 by TJ Shade

[Stick.]

7 minutes ago, TJ Shade said:

Ah, you know what happens when TJ is free of all village obligations? Why, you get Chaotic!TJ of course! Now, see elims might think they've got this one in the bag, but what they do not know is muahahaha well let's not let them know yeah? It's 8-7 now and they obviously have vote manip so - @Haelbarde, @Burnt Spaghetti, @_Stick_, @Ashbringer, @Elandera, @Dannex, @Shard of Reading, @The Windrunner Supreme - claim to me if you're a Lurcher. I reckon there are two cause elim team seems strong if my distro predicion is right. If that's not enough to trust me, I have info about a Smoker (yes, elims it's one of the players I've tagged, I did not leave them out cause that would be obvious -.-) that might give us a slight chance to survive the elimination tomorrow, provided we protect them tonight.

yes

[Kasimir]

Spoiler

 

[Wyrmhero]

A snip of what to expect during the next writeup to get you in an anticipatory mood:

Edited March 14, 2021 by Wyrmhero

[Kasimir]

Day Six: The Brightest Fell

“Honey, you’re familiar, like my mirror years ago
Idealism sits in prison, chivalry fell on his sword
Innocence died screaming; honey ask me, I should know
I slithered here from Eden just to sit outside your door.”

—’From Eden’, Hozier

There’s that moment where you crack the case, or get your first real break.

Sometimes, it’s like someone shined just a tiny bit of a light, and enough of the mist has cleared that you can see the vague shapes of how the different parts and persons of interest might fit together. Sometimes, it’s that bright ray of afternoon sunshine through the shutters in the office, and everything the light touches becomes clear as day. You understand, in that moment, exactly what went down in that case, and it all fits together just so.

There’s no real hard and fast rule to this, except to keep on keeping on. Hard work, and a bit of luck helps to crack cases more than anything. If you can’t even be bothered to put your hat on, and get out there and ask the questions that need to be asked, well, life sure ain’t going to drop the answers neatly in your lap, most the time. Investigation’s work, I always say. Hard, thankless work, and if the cases you can’t crack, the answers you don’t have don’t eat at you like a wyrm rotting the core of an apple, then well, maybe you should look for another job.

Sometimes, we get lucky. Someone lets slip some bit of information or other, one thing leads to another, and next thing you know, you’re staring at the entire case laid open, right before you. Just like that. 

More often than not though, you got to make your own luck.

I was good at that. 

Kast had left and I nursed the headache for a while longer. Inside, I was pretty angry. Hadn’t let anyone get the drop on me in ages. Dunno why I started now. Part of me kept asking if maybe Kast was involved. I didn’t like that one bit. Worst thing I can think of is when Watch goes crooked. We know how the crime’s done. We know how to bury it so you’ll never find out. Never see it coming. And if Kast’d gone back to his old ways…

Well. Wasn’t that going to be a right pain?

Didn’t change my job none, though, I reckoned. My job was to put a stop to the people going around whacking the people of Fallion’s Tears with impunity. Didn’t matter who it was, whose face the perp wore. And if it meant having to put Kast under the ground, so be it.

In the Watch, we treated crooked Watch as our responsibility. You keep your own house clean. And if Kast’d gone crooked, then I had to do the dirty work. The law don’t care about how you feel about it. 

Anyway, I wasn’t inclined to stay laid up the whole afternoon. Sure, my head was aching something fierce, but a bit of whisky’d fix that, and I’d dealt with worse before. We don’t get to choose when we work, and when we don’t, back in the Watch. If the perp you’ve been tracking for months suddenly shows up, you best be ready to grab your gear and go make the arrest, unless you’re struck down with the plague or something. 

I figured there were better things I could do with my time. My mind kept going back to how Mayor Wilson was acting, and the panel she’d looked at. Stands to reason: people don’t leave important documents, anything incriminating out in the open. Number of raids I’ve been on, you find evidence in the damndest places. False panel at the bottom of a desk, package wrapped in waxed canvas and dumped in the sewage of an outhouse—people have all sorts of ways to hide things they don’t want you to see, at least if they’ve got anything knocking about in their braincase. I figured Wilson was the sort to come up with some sort of crafty way of hiding it, and I wasn’t getting much out of our little talks.

Which meant I had to make my own luck.

Slipping into Wilson’s place wasn’t all that difficult. I vaulted the low wall. Still had it in me, I guess. Sure, I wasn’t chasing perps the way I used to in Tremredare. Those were years behind me now, but something like a low wall, yeah, sure, I can do that. Why not?

I knocked on the front door, and then carefully hid.

It’s a burglar’s trick they used in the merchant sector in Tremredare. See, if the knock is answered, you know someone’s home. And if it isn’t, then well. I was ready to do some snooping of my own. 

No one came to the door.

So I worked the lock. Sometimes, the line that separates Watch from those we hunt down is a very, very fine line, but this was Fallion’s Tears and the latch that Wilson used wasn’t near as complex as some of those I’ve seen. It took me a while, but I’d worked it open, and pushed the door open.

I headed straight for Wilson’s study. She kept a neat enough desk, I suppose. Plenty of papers in sight, but I dismissed them almost at once. She didn’t seem like the ‘hide in plain sight’ sort, and if I were going through everything I could see, then I figured I’d be stuck here long enough for the Mayor to come here and rumble me. Wouldn’t that be a sight.

Sure, I guess technically this was breaking and entering, but I couldn’t bring myself to feel all that bad about it. Call it Watch instinct, I knew that something wasn’t quite right about the Mayor. And I was determined to get to the bottom of it, rather than sitting around, waiting for enlightenment to strike me like the lightning. Maybe Kast’s distaste for Wilson wasn’t all that out of the blue, after all.

So of course, first thing I went for was that panel she’d glanced at. Stands to reason: sometimes people give away things when they’re nervous or under pressure. They just can’t seem to help it. We make all these little slips all the time. Takes a cold fish to sit there and lie without a moment’s hesitation.

It took some poking about to figure how it opened. I tried the joins, but they didn’t give. Sometimes, the trigger is somewhere else, another false panel, but I wasn’t about to start rummaging through the books. I found the trick of it eventually, though. You had to push on it, then slide it, and it’d come apart at the hinges and rotate open. Inside the panel was a little quaint cubbyhole with a bunch of papers. I glanced at them: financial papers, that sort of thing. Mayor was doing well for herself, I guess. But I couldn’t see anything odd about them, not at first glance. We had a guy in the Watch who could take a few hours and tell you everything about how the books’d been cooked. But he used to be accountant to one of the Herons, so I figure he’d know all about these things.

So I rummaged about more. Turns out the cubbyhole was a little more shallow than I’d expected. Mayor was a pretty tricky gixie after all, ‘cause when I thumped, the back of the cubbyhole had another false wall. I worked that open after a bit and then I struck gold.

Files tucked away neatly. I leafed through them, and those were the real books. Transactions after transactions, laid bare. 

And I felt the anger, the Watch’s anger. The one the sarge talked about, all those years ago in Tremredare, burning slow and steadily. Burning deep.

Fallion’s Tears was my turf now. Was supposed to be Wilson’s, too. But the transactions I saw there, brokered by Leas Fel… They weren’t the sort of thing you bore easily. Dreamweed. They were harvesting and selling dreamweed, with Leas Fel acting as the go-between.

To tell you the truth, I hadn’t regretted Leas Fel’s death one bit. Worse men have died, better men have died. We render justice to the dead and to the living, but I didn’t feel for him, not the way I’d felt for some vics.

Now? It felt like justice. I’ve seen dreamweed, on the streets of Tremredare. Seen mothers ignoring stick-thin babes for their next hit. Seen those wracked in the shakes, when their weed runs out, when they’d sell anything, body, soul, kin, for just a little more dreamweed. Seen dockworkers lie on their pallets, putting it in their pipes and smoking it, seeking some kind of escape. Thing is, smoke enough of that stuff, and you start losing a handle on the world and your senses. I hated that stuff. Dreamweed was the scourge of the streets in Tremredare and try as we might, Watch’d always fought an uphill battle just trying to assert some sort of control.

And Wilson and Leas Fel had been dealing in it? Well, feck.

I heard the creak of the door opening.

 

 

Erik was launching a hunt for the six villagers who’d just more or less iced a Mistborn in broad daylight. Kast hadn’t offered to join the hunt. He thought of it, but with the barricades up and manned, and the militia looking distinctly jumpy, he thought the better of it. 

Acting calm around Erik was difficult. Erik hadn’t mentioned the fields, yet Kast couldn’t help but think that Erik knew about the fields, somehow. That the smell of smoke still clung to his clothes, or that the fact he’d done something he hadn’t in years—so much for that clean sheet—was somehow apparent. 

He had to play it cool, though. He’d been Watch long enough to get that. People gave themselves away most often by knowing things they shouldn’t, or by letting nervousness get to them. Still, Kast was keen not to spend too much longer around Erik, and telling the other man that he needed to get back to work on the cases was a good enough reason.

No one knew where the six had gone. Maybe they’d skipped town, though Kast doubted it. Not with the barricades the way they were. He didn’t like the idea they were hiding, though. Maybe they were innocent. Maybe they had been misled. Fear and rumours did strange things to people. He’d seen the blood soaking Fallion’s Tears over the past days. 

But if they were, they weren’t going to clear their names by hiding. And if they were hiding, and if they were malicious, they were unknown quantities to defend against. Kast didn’t like that idea much.

Some of the villagers were staring suspiciously at him. Maybe it was the fact they’d realised he was a Coinshot. He hadn’t killed with his metal in years, though. Kast supposed that was a good thing. Another thing that separated whoever he’d become now from the young rusher he’d been, back with the Red Knives.

Or maybe it was the fact they hadn’t cracked these cases, nevermind that they’d have had a full team working on them in Tremredare, if it was high-profile enough. Kast ground the heel of hand against his eyes. He was so fecking tired, and the more he tried to work out the various things going down in Fallion’s Tears, the more he was convinced that it was part of some complex game someone was playing. If only he knew what the score was.

Tap. Tap. Tap.

Each step with the cane seemed to grind fire into his leg and hip. He’d been leaning more heavily on El’s medications to function. Probably shouldn’t, but it was alright, wasn’t it? It was only pain, and it was his candle he was burning out. Maybe that shouldn’t matter, either.

Why did his mind keep going back to the burned out hulk of the Steel Crow?

Kast didn’t know why, and it was maddening that his mind had latched onto it and refused to let go. Maybe because it was arson, which made it a separate case.

Another crime, so soon, in Fallion’s Tears?

There was an outcry from the group of militia ahead. Kast cursed and pushed himself again, rushing forward as fast as he could.

“Sorry, militia business—” one of them had begun to say, before Kast shouldered past him and went to the body on the ground. No. Not a body, not yet.

“He’s one of the investigators,” snapped another of the militia. Kast paid them no mind.

Fleur Tieste lay on the ground, bleeding. Whatever he’d been struck by, it’d been a blunt weapon, Kast could tell that much. He wasn’t sure how Tieste was still breathing. For now.

“You’re the detective,” Tieste whispered. Blood leaked from his mouth. “Aren’t you?”

“Yeah,” Kast said. “Look. You’re going to be okay. We just need you to lie down, and remain calm, and tell me who attacked you.”

Tieste coughed, and the movement seemed to worsen his condition. “Been better,” he managed, at last. “Don’t lie so well, do you, Speirs?”

Kast shrugged. “I’ve been told I have a good poker face.”

“Trusted…” Tieste whispered. “Wasn’t a good idea...Did we even have a chance?”

“Yes,” Kast said. “We did. We still do.”

He wasn’t sure why this mattered to him, talking to a stricken, dying man. Maybe it was because something about Tieste seemed to exemplify the helplessness that Kast felt. It cut straight through the fog of weariness and laid open bone. 

People were dying, one after another, because neither Kast nor Wyl were doing their jobs.

Maybe it wasn’t true. Maybe they were doomed, anyhow. But he felt like he owed it to the dying man to tell him what comfort he could anyway.

“Don’t lie so well…” Tieste said. “Speirs. You ever loved anyone?”

Kast hesitated. He closed his eyes. “Yeah,” he breathed. The pain never really went away, did it.

“What happened?”

“I killed her,” he admitted. “Had to. Was good at killing. And she was hurting people I cared about. Only way. Had to be me.”

Maybe it was easier to admit this to a dying stranger, however brokenly, than it had been to really tell Wyl about the end of the Red Knives. And Wyl had never really asked, never really pressed.

“Know the feeling…” Tieste smiled, sadly. “Loved her. Still do. Gaux was bad for her, but I never...Never listened, never said a word. Never told her...how much she meant...And he killed her. I killed her, my Marianna.” He gripped Kast’s hand with his bloodied one. “I killed her,” he said again, fiercely. “Never told her. It matters.”

“You still carry it?”

“Grief,” Tieste said. “Just love, persevering.” 

Maybe Kast could understand that, after all this time. Tieste’s eyes slipped closed then, and Kast knew he was gone. Another man dead. Another weight that Kast was going to have to carry. 

After all this time, he supposed it was funny he still felt the guilt.

He stood up. The militia eyed him nervously. “Sir, I mean, Detective, what are you going to do?”

“I’m going to crack those cases,” Kast said. “What else is there for me to do?”

 

This is what it is like to be Kast Speirs right now:

You are a man divided.

Part of you still kneels on that street in Fallion’s Tears, nevermind your bad leg. You hold the hand of a dying man, and for reasons inexplicable to yourself, attempt to offer him what comfort you can. Perhaps part of you somehow senses that you both carry the same wounds, even now. The persistence of grief. The persistence of love. 

We kill what we love, in the end.

Part of you is the man walking into Mayor Wilson’s home.

You don’t like Mayor Wilson, never have. Something about how extremely reasonable she seems has always made you feel guarded around her. You don’t trust people like that. You want to know the decisions you make are your own. She had always a way of talking secrets out of you, talking you into things. Maybe Wilson reminds you of her, and you don’t like it one bit.

The door is ajar.

Immediately, that sets off your Watch instincts, every last one of them. The former Red Knife is screaming a warning, too. You shift your grip on your cane. It has been sanded down from the days you used it as a dueling cane, but you can still fight, as best as your bad leg will let you. And you have Steel and coins. You burn it, keeping an eye out for any moving lines.

All your senses are on high alert now.

Nothing.

Cautiously, you advance into Wilson’s home. You don’t call out. The silence is eerie, and it sets you on edge. Maybe it’s best to call a warning, but you figure that it’s better not to. You want to catch the intruder unawares.

In the end, though, it is you who get caught unawares.

You advance into the study, and what you find there breaks you, shatters you, sends you falling into the dark, and you must catch your cane and the doorframe to steady yourself and you can’t breathe.

It feels like sword training again, when the instructor sweeps your legs out from under you, and suddenly you are falling and the ash-clouded skies are sullen above you.

Because Mayor Wilson is dead. Someone killed her. Blood pools on the carpet.

And you, with your keen eyes, you have spotted immediately something that doesn’t belong. Blood glints off an object you’ve seen before.

Numbly, wearily, you limp forwards, bend down, and scoop it up. 

A battered pocket watch. You have one just like it, but it’s not yours, of course. You know whose it is. The face of the watch is stamped with the insignia of the Tremredare Watch and the glass inside has a spider web of crazed cracks running throughout. It is bloodied, and it has stopped forever at the time and hour of Wilson’s death.

You trusted him.

You looked up to him.

He saved you.

You saved him.

You have never considered yourself a good man. You know yourself and your failings intimately. But you have always considered Wyl Sharpe to be a decent man in a world of bad men, and you have always implicitly tried to live up to the standards he sets.

He is your friend, your brother, your business partner, and the voice of your conscience.

And he killed her.

He killed Mayor Wilson.

You snap the gory pocket watch shut. The insignia of the Tremredare Watch is still there, beneath the blood, mocking you. 

It’s always the ones closest to us, you think, numbly. This is the Watch in you talking, the one who knows. They are the ones who cause so much suffering.

The pieces fall into place like Watch recruits at reveille, because you have often been too sharp for your own good. Why Wyl was so insistent that Sara had been murdered. Why Wyl had not been killed. Why the killers felt the need to threaten. Distractions. Little inconsistencies your mind had latched onto, only now built into a single damning picture.

This is what it is like to be Kast Speirs right now, grieving, reeling, stunned, horrified.

Betrayed.

In the end, you pick yourself up. Because you must go on, because one way or another, the Watch stops their own. And if it’s Wyl going around killing in Fallion’s Tears, then you owe it to his victims, to the man he was, and to your principles to stop him.

Just you.

You take a deep shaky breath, and then another. You cannot afford anger. You cannot afford grief. You cannot afford guilt, or betrayal.

You were an assassin, a killer, in a life long past. You draw on that icy calm right now and breathe out each of those emotions.

You straighten up, pick up your cane, and hold on to that preternaturally still state of mind, and prepare to kill again for the first time in years.

This is what it is like to be Kast Speirs right now: dutiful, and going to war.

 

 

Mayor Wilson was killed! She was a Village Mayor!

TJ Shade was killed! He was a Regular Villager! PMs remain open!

The Day has begun and will end on 16th March 2021 at 2300hrs SGT (GMT+8)! 

The Writings on the Wall:

Spoiler

Pain.

It is too late

Agonising sorrow.

The voices are so loud... and the silence screams at me

Friends friends... where are my friends....     
Gone gone gone gone gone gone gone gone

THEY ARE ALL GONE

Panic panic.... scared... He comes.. He comes!

I can't- I. No.

 

 

This isn't real.

You cannot ignore reality.

 

Everything is fine.           Fine? Not fine! Not fine!          ITS FINE. Its. I'm sorry. 

He. He will not find us.   

Hah. You think you can hide from Him? He already knows you.

We will not be His.

You aren't the one who gets to choose.

We will no... we can't. I can't. 

 

Wrong

Wrong         Wrong        everything is wrong   

 

We deserve this. We killed our own friends. You killed friends.

No. No. No.

You are not guitless.
Sorrow... Our fault our fault...

I will NOT take blame for the cruelty of those that belong to His voice!

Just. Go away. All of you. I need.  Quiet.  

Quiet quiet quiet

 

I just want to be alone.

You will never be alone.

Never be rid! Never lose us! Always here always here

 

 

I can't do this I can't I can't I can't

 

Can't

 

I-

and

Spoiler

Ah one more day we are alive. Live, my friends! Keep the enemy at bay!

—
Now for your paid programming:

Ad #1:

*panicked burnt noises*
-Burnt Spaghetti

Ad #2:

GM, moderately experienced, searching for Co-GM to run a Nordic Noir Tyrian Falls-style LG!

Requirements:

• Experienced GM, with proven track record of successfully running SE games
• Good working rapport, great team player
• Strong writer and editor, able to offer assistance with write-ups
• Moderately active in thread
• Great sense of humour
• No questions about whether my previous pain in the pula Co-GM was murdered
• Applicants with a good history of working together with the GM will be considered favourably.

-Kasimir

Ad #3:

 

-Wyrmhero

 

Edited March 14, 2021 by Kasimir

[Kasimir]

Player List:

Spoiler

1. Matrim's Dice as Philico, the Magician Extraordinaire, a Village Smoker
2. Random Bystander as the village's random bystander and musician, a Regular Villager
3. Gears as Roko the Basilisk, the gambling menace, a Village Soother
4. Quintessential as Tesse Mourn, resident metallurgist, a Village Soother
5. @Fifth Scholar as Iste Confessor, village scholar - I confess I'm interested in this one
6. @Shard of Reading as Joe, gambling duck wrangler who drinks - I'd be driven to drink too if I had to wrangle ducks 
7. @Araris Valerian as Arenta, grumpy landlady - or the unholy conglomeration of AG Araris and Ren, tremble with fear ye tenants!
8. @Dannex as Dr. Aliker - A doctor, just probably not the one you're looking for
9. @Elandera as a confused and overworked metallurgist - Whose order is it anyway?
10. @Ashbringer as Derrick, general madman and secret kandra - Twice the pride, double the fall!
11. TJ Shade as Fleur Tieste, hopeless romantic and god of cheesy one-liners, a Regular Villager
12. @Illwei - definitely not an Elantrian
13. @Devotary of Spontaneity as Sonnah Cojic, alchemist - But probably not full metal
14. Experience as Shard, the crazy 'kid' in town, a Village Rioter
15. @Mailliw73 as Marll, a gambling cobbler who heard of Tyrian Falls - Beware beetles!
16. StrikerEZ as Variel, a fastidious storyteller, a Regular Villager
17. The Unknown Order as Obliteration, a Shard inhabiting one of his followers, a Village Smoker
18. @The Windrunner Supreme as Merritt Cavallo - Pending
19. Ventyl as Niru, a watcher of ashes, a Village Smoker
20. Flyingbooks as Lasalen, a Regular Villager
21. @Burnt Spaghetti as Roseanna Ghetti, an insomniac artist - But what is there to art in this village but an infinity of ducks?
22. @STINK as Smirkai - Smirkai, now that's a name I haven't heard in a very long time...
23. @_Stick_ as Sunny, the intrepid baking worldhopping dolphin - So long and thanks for all the fish!
24. Biplet as Sara, the local tavern-keeper, a Village Coinshot
25. Daisy / @Haelbarde as Hadra the storyteller - We are the stories we live! The tales we tell ourselves!
26. The Young Pyromancer as Pie Roayong, foreigner kid out for blood, a Regular Villager
27. Young Bard as Thiriel, social climber, a Village Lurcher
28. Tani / Condensation as Daux, duck poacher, a Village Mistborn

Rule Clarifications:

Spoiler

Will this see any use? I don't know. I did keep suggesting y'all hammer Wyrm with me though  I told you so.

 

Edited March 14, 2021 by Kasimir

[Fifth Scholar]

Hmm. I think a Shard of Reading shrekking would be fun today.  

[Ashbringer]

I’m confused.

[---]

2 minutes ago, Ashbringer said:

I’m confused.

There's only six of us

[Stick.]

27 minutes ago, Kasimir said:

“Honey, you’re familiar, like my mirror years ago
Idealism sits in prison, chivalry fell on his sword
Innocence died screaming; honey ask me, I should know
I slithered here from Eden just to sit outside your door.”

—’From Eden’, Hozier

okay I love Hozier thank you

5 minutes ago, Fifth Scholar said:

Hmm. I think a Shard of Reading shrekking would be fun today.  

(╯°□°）╯︵ ┻━┻

4 minutes ago, Ashbringer said:

I’m confused.

we're at 7-7 now and the elims have got a load ton of vote manip  So uh that's the situation

 

edit: tsk tsk lying lying illwei :P.

Edited March 14, 2021 by _Stick_

[---]

4 minutes ago, Fifth Scholar said:

Hmm. I think a Shard of Reading shrekking would be fun today.  

Sounds legit, I buy it :P.

Reading

[Stick.]

1 minute ago, Illwei said:

Sounds legit, I buy it :P.

Reading

yall acting like you're not gonna pull a hammer + vote manips in the last minute! xD

Poor Reading hasn't even been on the shard for days ;_;

[Fifth Scholar]

Just now, _Stick_ said:

Poor Reading hasn't even been on the shard for days ;_;

Hey, I've been pushing the shrekking since D1. This is finally my chance to get it done  

[Araris Valerian]

The next name on Arenta’s ledger was Joe (Shard of Reading). Another day, another unpaid debt settled.

[Stick.]

I gotta admit it's very odd that you guys went for a Vanillager instead of someone with a role hm 

[Fifth Scholar]

1 minute ago, _Stick_ said:

I gotta admit it's very odd that you guys went for a Vanillager instead of someone with a role hm 

Too many chill PM vibes to risk them falling by hitting your Tineyes  

[Stick.]

Just now, Fifth Scholar said:

Too many chill PM vibes to risk them falling by hitting your Tineyes  

Chill PM vibes as a guise to suck out all that juicy role info and stuff your pockets with poor villager hearts 

Our tineyes? hmm  I think they're both your tineyes