Renegade
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Time is up! Write-up coming soon!
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Just under 2 hours left!
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Night 11: Poisoned Justice “Apparently, my executioner can no longer be trusted to not execute people,” Dalinar spoke to the small group of gathered nobles. Only a handful of them had survived, and of those, only six of them had bothered to show up today. It instilled a chill down their spines as to the precarious nature of their situation. More than one of them had considered running off from the Shattered Plains, despite Dalinar’s urging that all would be fine. However, much to the relief of all of the remaining nobles, Rengar was not with them today. “I have made sure that he stays out of these affairs,” Dalinar explained. “He now knows that his place is the execution of those who I have decreed to be executed. Which will be him next, if he pulls off something like he did yesterday.” Dalinar scowled at the memory of Draela Heb’s limp form in her cell, a large sword gash struck across her stomach. “So…” “Hello!” a cheerful voice said. “Lady Elendel?” Sheon Idris asked suspiciously. “You haven’t been around in ages! What have you been up to?” “I forgot to show up to these meetings,” Lady Elendel admitted sheepishly, eliciting a stern glare from Dalinar. “As I was saying,” Dalinar continued, “there will be no execution of any one of you until you have been proven guilty. So if you have a suspect, please do not hesitate to…” “EFRIHM!” shouted the majority of the gathered nobles. Lady Elendel joined in as well. “I see you’ve been thinking about this,” Dalinar said, raising an eyebrow in surprise. “Do any of you happen to know where he is at this moment?” A disconcerting silence followed. ----- “Dalinar,” Rengar mumbled to himself, “is always making things difficult for me. I really need to hurry up and go to Kholinar sometime soon. Plenty of opportunities there.” Rengar quieted as a brightlord walked into the bar that Rengar was serving. It originally had belonged to a Horneater, but after tracing the backbreaker powder that had killed Arilir, he had found and murdered the Horneater. Hopefully, nobody would notice the difference between the two. On the bright side, it also gave Rengar access to a bit of the backbreaker powder himself. Efrihm -- the brightlord -- walked up to Rengar. Apparently, he hadn’t identified Rengar under the disguise. “Some bread will be fine with me,” Efrihm said. “Ah, good choice!” Rengar rumbled, choosing a loaf that had previously been sprinkled with backbreaker powder and placing it on the counter in front of Efrihm. “That’s a firechip, please.” Rengar winced at his own accent. Efrihm paused for a moment, scrutinizing the loaf, before taking out a sphere and handing it into Rengar’s giant hands. “Thank you, sir!” Rengar said cheerfully as the brightlord walked away with the bread, taking a bite as he exited the bar. He promptly heard screams outside, and the form of Efrihm fell to the ground. “Finally, this backbreaker powder has some use for good,” Rengar whispered, smiling at his clever means of justice. ----- When the brightlords finally came across Efrihm, it was almost dusk. “He’s dead!” Eradin shouted, pointing at the dead man outside the door of a bar. “And at the same place Arilir died, too,” Nivina Odict frowned. “I don’t think he was one of the conspirators.” The others sighed, nodding wanly in agreement. Time was running short. Soon, they might all be dead. Vote Tally Efrihm (5): Sheon Idris, Nivina Odict, Maggus, Eradin, Vin Elendel Nivina Odict (1): Mace Efrihm was executed! He was a Noble Brightlord! Night 11 has begun! PMs are now closed, and the turn will end in 24 hours. Good luck!
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Just a reminder: there are 2 hours left, unless an extension is granted!
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Day 10: Left in the Dark The assassin hung outside of Caesarae’s window, waiting. It seemed like the man was speaking with someone else inside, though the assassin couldn’t catch what their words were. Caesarae was a darkeyes. The assassin had learned of this fact on the previous night. Caesarae must’ve been some sort of con artist -- or perhaps an artifabrian -- for he used some sort of clear device to lighten his eye color. Regardless of whether or not Caesarae was actually working for Sadeas, this man could quite easily destabilize all of Vorinism, if those things he wore over his eyes were revealed to the public. And so, he would need to be killed. The assassin slunk to the ground, retrieving a small rock. Taking a deep breath, he hurled the rock through the window, shattering it and eliciting yells from Caesarae and the person he was talking with. The assassin stooped below the window to avoid being seen, hoping that one of the two would take a peek outside. Several moments later, Caesarae did so. The assassin grabbed the man and hauled him through the window, before he was able to yell for help. This will have to be quick, the assassin thought, bringing out a long knife from his side and standing over Caesarae. However, the darkeyed man immediately lashed out at the assassin’s legs, tripping them onto the crem-laden ground. Almost instantly, Caesarae rose, deftly swiping the knife from the assassin’s hand, and stood in the position that the assassin was a moment ago. “You’ve messed with the wrong person,” Caesarae said, slowly lowering the knife towards the assassin’s heart. “By now, you’ve probably figured out I’m a darkeyes. What you haven’t yet figured out is that I am the best thief on the Shattered Plains. Just because I’m lower in rank than you doesn’t mean I’m less experienced.” “Darkeyed scum,” the assassin spat. Then, deftly, the assassin seized Caesarae’s knife arm, slowly pushing it out and away from his heart. Caesarae struggled in vain, but could not bring the knife closer. The assassin used the opportunity to let go of Caesarae’s arm and quickly roll over, causing Caesarae to bring his knife into the ground with a lurch. The assassin kicked at Caesarae’s ribs as he tried to extract the knife from the crem. The assassin stood up, flicking the knife up from the crem, and stabbed it into Caesarae’s back without a moment of hesitation. The assassin then quickly turned over Caesarae’s body, and took out the clear mechanisms from the darkeyed man’s eyes. Throwing them to the ground, the assassin ground them up with their boots. As the assassin left, the other man from inside quickly ran to Caesarae’s side, and hauled him away. Caesarae was bleeding heavily, but he could still possibly be healed. Definitely not without injury, but alive. ----- Starspren soared above as Owain finished his last delivery of the evening. It seemed like there were a lot less messages to be carried now, with the loss of so many lighteyes. The fact itself unnerved Owain, as he knew that his position made him a prime target for the conspirators. Sure enough, about halfway back home, Owain spotted a figure in the darkness, almost imperceptible. However, the billowing of their cape in the light nighttime breeze revealed their presence. Owain unconsciously took a step back, fearspren rising from the ground and crawling around him by the dozens. The figure, sheathed in darkness, slowly walked forward, a Shardblade coalescing in their hand. Run, something inside of Owain said, and he immediately complied, running off through the warcamp. He looked back briefly, to see the image of the cloaked figure running towards him at an almost inhuman rate. Owain finally had the sense to scream out for help, but this seemed to only give the figure more urgency to get Owain killed quickly. Owain shuddered as a large black thing sailed through the air, right by his head. The next thing he knew, his right arm fell down to his side, limp and useless. Owain rushed forward towards the black object, but knew what it was almost instantly. The figure’s Shardblade. The Blade disappeared as Owain approached it, and the figure loomed above him. He’d have ten heartbeats left to live. Ten heartbeats… The conspirator stepped on Owain's stomach, preventing him from breathing. As fast as his heart was beating, the ten heartbeats seemed like an eternity. Fourteen heartbeats later, a Shardblade finally materialized in the conspirator's hands. Trapped under the conspirator’s foot, Owain struggled to take in one final breath as the Shardblade rammed into his spine. Then, all faded to darkness. Caesarae was assassinated! He was a Noble Con Artist! Owain was killed by the conspirators! He was a Noble Courier! Nobody received an extra vote today. Day 10 begins now and will end in 24 hours, unless an extension is asked for. PMs are now open. Good luck!
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2 hours left!
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Night 10: De-scribed “Another death,” Draela Heb sighed, writing down a few words in her personal notebook; a log of all of the events since the dinner of doom. “At this point, I feel that there is little reason to be surprised.” Caesarae snorted. “Of course you’d think that… because you’re the one making those kills!” Owain put his head in his hands. “Here we go again… each day, we’re always just accusing someone almost arbitrarily. Shouldn’t we come up with a better system or something?” “Nah,” Rengar said from behind all of the gathered nobles. It was almost midday now, and they were all gathered just outside of Dalinar’s warcamp, as usual. Unlike yesterday, it was mostly cloudy out, and most of the Shattered Plains were covered in shade. “Didn’t Dalinar fire you?” Draela Heb asked, pointing her pen at the crazy executioner. “No,” Rengar said, seeming slightly taken aback by the statement. “Dalinar allowed me a second chance. As long as I tell him who to execute beforehand. Which I have decided to do by bringing him here myself!” The nobles gasped silently as the mighty Blackthorn himself rode into the circle of the nobles, flanked by two members of the Cobalt Guard. Dalinar was in his slate-gray Shardplate, riding atop Gallant. The Ryshadium whinnied as Dalinar stopped. The nobles stood silently around him, staring at him, but hoping that he would not return the stare. “Half of you,” Dalinar announced, boldly and firmly, “are dead. It is a fact that I believe you should be aware of.” Some of the lighteyes nodded slowly at this, struggling to remain calm and comprehend the highprince’s words. “It has been nearly two weeks, and yet you’ve only found two of these conspirators. If you fail to apprehend them soon, all of you will no doubt be dead. Understand?” “Highprince Kholin,” Eradin spoke softly. “I believe that Brightness Draela Heb may be one of these conspirators.” “What?” Draela asked incredulously, her face reddening in embarrassment and rage. “I have been working under Brightness Katara’s employment until several days ago, and…” “Irrelevant,” Eradin said, waving a hand dismissively. “In fact, that makes me more suspicious of how you were able to outwit her fabrial system. Plus, there’s the fact that you should’ve known who she was guarding that night.” “She did not tell me…” “I agree,” Sheon Idris said. “This evidence adds up rather conveniently, I’m afraid. Either you’re a conspirator, or luck is just really not in my favor.” “That means I can kill her, right?” Rengar asked Dalinar, smiling menacingly. Dalinar just held out a hand, gesturing him to stop. “Please tell me that this isn’t the kind of evidence you’ve been using to accuse each other,” Dalinar said, absently rubbing his face with his hands. The nobles glanced around, shamespren flitting around them. Dalinar sighed. “Look,” Dalinar said. “The best that I’ll do is get Draela locked up, and try to get some information from her. The rest of you, stay here and don’t try anything. Same goes for you, Rengar.” Rengar glared at Dalinar and opened his mouth to speak, but promptly closed it after a stern look from the Blackthorn. Draela frowned, taking her papers with her and walking up to Dalinar. On the bright side, Draela thought, at least I’ll be safer in jail, and the rest of the conspirators can be killed off in my absence. I’ll at least be free. The crowd parted, allowing Dalinar to lead the oddly excited Draela back to the warcamp’s jail cell. Some of them began to realize that being in jail in these dangerous times didn’t seem like a half bad idea. After all, it’d guarantee free protection from the conspirators. However, the nobles -- however indignant -- remained silent. “Gah, storm this,” Rengar muttered to himself, slipping away before anyone noticed. “I need to bring justice the right way.” ----- Draela Heb looked down at her cell as the door slammed shut with a booming clang. Perhaps this jail would be calming. Except, obviously, for the interrogation that was to come. That might be a little less pleasant. Nevertheless, she knew that she was innocent, so she had nothing to fear, right? Hours later, a figure walked down the corridor to Draela’s cell. He immediately waved off the guards. “Hello,” the voice of Rengar echoed. “I will be your interrogator today.” The executioner grinned madly, and sliced open the lock to her door. "No, stop! This isn't right!" Draela screamed loudly as Rengar lifted his blade and brought it downwards. Several half-written papers fluttered from her clenched hands to the ground. Vote Tally Draela Heb (3): Sheon Idris, Caesarae, Eradin Mace (1): Owain Efrihm (1): Maggus Draela Heb was executed! She was a Noble Brightlady! Night 10 has begun! The turn will end in 23 hours and 30 minutes. Good luck!
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The day is over (and has been for 3 minutes )! Write-up coming shortly!
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1 hour to go! Get your votes in, and get 'em in soon, 'cause this won't last long!
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I pretty much already auto-extended this turn to 48 hours, but seeing as this is only an MR (and is getting fairly long at this point), I won't accept any further extensions from that, or during the Night.
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Day 9: Backbreaking Work The rest of the day was quiet, almost unnervingly so, with the remaining nobles each spread out across the warcamps, doing their own things. The perfect weather from before proceeded into the late evening, many of the nobles in Dalinar’s warcamp choosing to watch the nighttime skies, filled with hundreds of stars, arise over the Shattered Plains. Arilir, however, chose to spend the evening in a local tavern, sampling their finest foods. “Would you like to partake in some of our famous chouta?” a Horneater barkeep asked. “This thing is Soulcast daily!” “I think I’ll pass,” Arilir said, glancing over at the platter of meat in disgust. “What is that meat over there?” Arilir pointed to a large plate behind the barkeep. “Mmm, this thing is fried skyeel,” the Horneater said, grinning toothily. “Very delicious.” “Skyeel?” Arilir asked incredulously. “You can’t be serious.” The Horneater looked at Arilir quizzically. “I am confusion; have you not heard of this thing?” Arilir blinked. “Erm, no… What kind of breads do you have?” “Mmm.” The Horneater seemed disappointed, but gestured over to a rack of fresh bread. He took out a long loaf, and set it on the wooden counter in front of him. “This is fine bread, made fresh. Has exotic seeds in it, some from out in the western kingdoms.” “Interesting. I think I shall have a loaf.” “Ha!” the Horneater chuckled, his belly rumbling. “Good choice!” He looked down at the bread, as if making sure it was still there, and handed it to Arilir. “That’ll be a firechip.” Arilir nodded, handing over the ruby sphere, and eagerly accepting the loaf. He nodded to the jovial Horneater and sat down at a nearby table in the tavern, next to a window. It was now dark outside, and a few stars twinkled in the light. Arilir thought he saw a dark spren crawling on the window, with fiery red eyes, but whatever it was -- if it was there in the first place -- suddenly disappeared. Arilir raised the bread to his mouth, and took a bite. Peculiar topping, Arilir thought, looking at the top of the bread. Is that flour? Suddenly he coughed, letting go of the bread. For some reason, he was reminded of the night this first began, with Renvas Galad’s death. “Backbreaker powder!” Arilir shouted, louder than he’d intended. As he gazed upwards, he saw the Horneater laughing in his direction. “Airsick lowlander!” the Horneater cackled with glee. “Sadeas will be proud of my feat. I’ve always been known to pack quite a culinary punch, after all.” Arilir groaned as he fell to the ground, the air wavering and swirling around him. Soon the sound of his heart pumping became the only sound he could hear. Noo… he thought in distress, as inky deathspren crawled in his field of view, so that he became unable to see. Soon, his vision blackened out for good. The poison had run its course. Arilir was killed by the conspirators! He was a Noble Brightlord! Nobody received an extra vote today. Day 9 begins now and will end in 48 hours. PMs are now open. Good luck!
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This game's thread is dying faster than the players in it... 1 hour and 40 minutes to go!
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Night 9: Moments of Silence The lighteyes awoke and gathered in the morning, alarmed yet unsurprised at the death of Klanal. “We’re doomed!” Owain cried. “We have barely over half of our original number left; how are we going to survive?” Caesarae glared at the lighteyes, especially Owain. “Hopefully by not trying to kill me.” “Gentlemen, I believe that Efrihm should be our target today,” Eradin said. “He’s been brought up far too often, but nobody has bothered to do anything about him.” “I didn’t realize that something needed to be done about me,” Efrihm responded tersely. The lighteyes stood where they were for several long moments, contemplating their surroundings. Despite the grim outlook of their situation, the morning was quite beautiful, with lifespren growing around rockbuds and cremlings skittering across the stones. There would be another highstorm in a few days, but until then, the sky was almost cloudless, the sun shining bright and orange on the horizon. It was, as many would say in other circumstances, a perfect day. “I… think that Owain is the culprit,” Maggus spoke, breaking the silence. “He’s himself admitted to being a courier, and--” “And is anything wrong with that?” Owain interjected. “It’s my job! What am I to do about it?” “Efrihm’s more suspicious,” Arilir said, nodding to Eradin. “There’s just something about him that I can’t--” “So we’re going off of mere hunches now?” Efrihm asked. “Such hunches have gotten us nowhere so far. Only facts have done us any good.” “Fine,” Arilir continued, letting out a brief sigh. “Let us put out the facts.” “I think that the fact is that we won’t be able to decide on who to execute today,” Draela Heb yawned, stretching out her arms. “And frankly, I need a day off to relax from all of this talk of death and killing. Dalinar can certainly look into it himself, right?” “I’m not so sure…” Arilir frowned. “Look,” Draela insisted, “the last time we took a break from the executions, we managed to pick off Wannan the following day. I think we need more time to enjoy everything and think.” Most of the nobles nodded, but glared at each other. The tensions had certainly mounted since the start of this whole debacle, almost ten days ago. Of course, who knew when it would end… or who would survive… And so the nobles parted, willing to enjoy the day, but frightened at what the night would hold. Vote Tally Efrihm (2): Arilir, Eradin Owain (2): Maggus, Caesarae Arilir (1): Mace Maggus (1): Sheon Idris Caesarae (1): Owain Nobody was executed! Night 9 has begun! The turn will end in 23 hours and 22 minutes. Good luck!
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Time is up!
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1 hour left!
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That depends... how much are you paying? No, I'm just kidding, of course. If it comes to that, I can pull come strings and make it happen.
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Day 8: The Gauntlet An alerter fabrial glowed atop Klanal’s bedstand. The sleepy man groaned, reaching for his hat as he made his way out of his bed. “Storming conspirators,” he grumbled to himself. “You’d think that if they’re going around killing people, that might as well have the decency not to do so in the middle of the night.” Nevertheless, while Klanal was indeed worried about the conspirators, he was excited that this would give him the opportunity to test out his new fabrial traps. A loud thunk came from the hallway as a large metal blade descended, hopefully cutting off his would-be attacker’s neck. I really don’t understand why they only allow females to be artifabrians, Klanal thought, keeping an eye on the alerter fabrial, which was still glowing brightly. Do they just think that we’re only good as human meat shields in wars? Horribly unfair. Klanal leaned to the side, sipping a drink from his cup. Pow, pow, pow, pow. A series of noises from the hallway indicated that the murderer had reached his arrow trap. There were so many things one could do with fabrials, which nobody had bothered to experiment with. Of course, if Klanal survived, he’d now have a number of holes in his wall to repair. Better than dying, obviously. Womp. A section of the hallway’s ceiling fell. With the augmenter fabrial that Klanal had attached to it, the ceiling tile was harder than steel. Unfortunately, even after that trap, the alerter fabrial’s glow persisted. It was time to take extra precautions. Klanal grabbed a pair of conjoined daggers from his dresser drawer, placing one of the daggers onto a stool beside the door, and holding onto the second one. He twisted the rubies within the daggers, and tested the dagger in his hand. The other dagger copied the movements over the stool by the door. The only disadvantage to this was that the dagger was now twice its normal weight, as he lifting one dagger would require lifting the other, but it was a small price to pay for its usefulness. Clang! The murderer had now sprung a series of axes and hammers. Though, at this point, Klanal doubted that it would stop them. Glancing over at the fabrial, Klanal’s suspicions were confirmed. They’d just have to get past one more trap in the hallway before reaching his room, which was locked, and had another trap tied to it. One could never be too safe. Hopefully, the next trap would… BOOM! A loud explosion sounded in the hallway, rattling the locked door. If the conspirator managed to get past that, Klanal would be impressed. A Shardblade appeared through the door, slowly cutting a hole through it. Klanal raised his span-dagger so that its conjoined pair was hovering just in front of the doorway. His foot hovered over a fabrial footpad that would activate several arrow launchers, aimed directly at the door. The conspirator cut down the hole they carved through the door, pushing it forwards. Klanal put his foot down. The arrows fired, soaring towards the gap in the door, but struck nothing at all. Storms! Klanal cursed. The conspirator must’ve realized that there was going to be a trap at the door. Where were they getting all of this information? A cloaked figure flashed straight through the hole in the door, almost so fast that Klanal didn’t notice. He quickly regained his wits, and jabbed the span-dagger downwards, so that it would jab into the conspirator’s neck. The conspirator, without looking, grabbed the other span-dagger from thin air. With a nimble wrist, they flicked the span-dagger around, so that its counterpart was now facing Klanal. Then, they pushed the span-dagger forwards. Klanal gasped, struggling to keep his span-dagger from reaching his face. But it was no use. The dagger struck the side of his face, and he fell to the ground, moaning. Black, inky deathspren ominously crawled around Klanal, and he knew that he was no more. “How?” he mouthed to the conspirator. The conspirator seemed to give Klanal a smile. “It was genuinely nice of you to leave your window open during the day. Allowed me to see what kind of traps you had prepared. Including that fabrial you’re trying to reach on your dresser, which will collapse this room’s floor onto a large bed of spikes. Honestly, don’t you worry that will accidentally go off while you’re sleeping?” Klanal said nothing, retracting his arm from the fabrial he had been trying to reach. He’d been outmaneuvered by a clever foe. There was nothing he had left to do. Klanal was killed by the conspirators! He was a Noble Artifabrian! Nobody received an extra vote today. Day 8 begins now and will end in 48 hours, since I’ll be busy tomorrow night. As usual, PMs are now open again, and the player list will be updated shortly. Good luck!
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One hour left! Edit: Time's up!
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Day 8: Shattered Plans Caesarae showed up in Shardplate today, which drew a number of looks from the nobles. “What’s with the Shardplate?” Arilir asked bluntly. “Are you for some reason afraid that you will be the next one on the chopping block?” “By the Tranquiline Halls, no,” Caesarae said, crossing his arms. “I’m just being safe. I will not let my fate be like the others who were killed in the waning hours of light.” “Well, if you haven’t noticed,” Arilir countered, pointing at the sky, “it isn’t exactly nighttime yet.” “Yeah, so what?” Caesarae said tersely. “Day becomes night faster than you know it. Judging from how long it’s taken us to just kill two conspirators, it’ll take weeks or even months for us to catch all of them.” “No thanks to those who are being too quiet,” Bortholemew said, absently rubbing his shoulder. Last night’s attack had not been pleasant. “The sooner we get rid of these miscreants, the better.” Maggus, the newcomer, opened his mouth in protest. “You think?” Klanal rolled his eyes. “I think Caesarae’s one of them. A public showing of your Plate? You’re simply doing that so we won’t try to execute you.” “Well, in that case, it isn’t really working well!” Caesarae shouted angrily. “I don’t want to get killed by these conspirators, so I brought my Plate with me today. Is that too hard to comprehend?” “Too aggressive,” Owain noted to himself, barely loud enough to hear. “Aggressive!?” Caesarae roared. “You’re considering killing me simply for the fact that I have Plate on me! Do you expect me to not be outraged at this?” “I expect you to behave in a civilized manner,” Owain said. “My life’s on the line for a trivial matter such as this! In no way is that civilized!” “I’ve heard enough,” Rengar spoke, hefting his sword in one hand. He pointed at Caesarae. “This one is guilty of treason!” “I am not! This is ridiculous! Dalinar will not stand for…” “Quiet, you!” Rengar yelled. “Once Rengar has made a hasty, uninformed decision, he cannot be swayed! Now stand down!” “No!” Caesarae shouted in response. “You’re mad!” “I said, STAND DOWN!” Rengar swung his sword with all his muscular force at Caesarae’s chest, knocking the man back a good ten feet, and causing the Plate to leak stormlight. Fearspren sprang up around Caesarae as he backed off from Rengar, looking around for an escape route. They had gathered just outside of Dalinar’s warcamp, close to the Shattered Plains, so he could either head northward or southward. Going south would be heading towards Sadeas’ warcamp, which might implicate him as being a conspirator. So, north it was. As Caesarae took off, a huge wall of flesh crashed into him, sending him sprawling to the ground. Rengar had apparently taken note of where Caesarae was heading in his hesitation, and rushed towards him. The Plate absorbed most of the blow, but pain blossomed from his back and neck, on which he landed. Rengar struck again and again, systematically shattering the different pieces of Plate. As he finally broke the final piece of Plate, he raised his sword to kill Caesarae. “Rengar!” a voice shouted. “What is the meaning of this?” “Erm, Dalinar,” Rengar said, lowering his sword to his side. “We found another one of those conspirators you wanted.” Dalinar took a look at Caesarae’s bruised body, and glared at Rengar. “There is little evidence of it, I think,” Dalinar said. “From now on, you are only to execute those whom I’ve approved are traitors to my Princedom. Understand?” Rengar mumbled, nodding. And with that, Caesarae stood, battered and bruised. Vote Tally Caesarae (3): Arilir, Klanal, Owain Sheon Idris (1): Night Vote Bortholemew (1): Maggus Caesarae was a Shardbearer, and survived the execution! Night 8 has begun! The turn will end in 23 hours and 3 minutes. Good luck!
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Time is up! The write-up will be coming eventually.
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58 minutes left! Also, as to inactivity: While I can't prohibit anyone from going inactive for an entire week, as it could be a legitimate strategy, I do not think it would be in the nature of the game to be inactive from the entire site simply for the sake of this game. Of course, it is ultimately up to you whether or not you'd like to pursue such a strategy.
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I'll never tell...
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Day 7: Broken Plots Night fell over the Shattered Plains, and all of Dalinar’s nobles were wise enough to stay get home early, with the looming threat of the murderous conspirators. The conspirators, it seemed, had done their job well, spreading terror throughout Dalinar’s warcamp. It was only a matter of time before Dalinar himself would fold beneath their pressure. Bortholemew the Blind stroked his beard casually, sitting on the side of his bed. He’d been through a lot of dangerous scenarios before, so the threat of conspirators was not something new to him. Nevertheless, there was still a bit of fear lingering there. I ought to go fetch my Shardplate, Bortholemew thought. Has anyone even slept in Shardplate before? Shrugging, Bortholemew walked down his hallway, and opened up a side closet, containing his prized set of Shardplate. Getting it on was always rather difficult to do, but after a good twenty minutes or so, he was fully suited. Time to get some rest. Immediately, Bortholemew heard a loud crash in his room, followed with a curse. “Blasted conspirators,” Bortholemew mumbled, creeping down the hallway towards his illuminated bedroom. Fortunately, his Plate, unlike poor Kipper’s, was charged with plenty of Stormlight from the highstorm two days ago. As long as his opponent didn’t have any Plate, he could almost certainly kill them -- or at least chase them out. Not to mention that the conspirator wouldn’t be aware of his location. The conspirator poked their cloaked head out of the bedroom, immediately spotting Bortholemew. Bortholemew, on the other hand, didn’t notice the conspirator, as they quickly ducked back into the room. Instead, he continued tiptoeing forward, trying not to make much sound in his Shardplate, which was by no means an easy feat. “Aha!” Bortholemew and the conspirator shouted simultaneously, as Bortholemew reached his room. The two adversaries stared at each other for a moment, before the conspirator struck, wielding a Shardblade in anger. Bortholemew easily parried the shardblade with his forearm, and used the other arm to strike a blow on the conspirator. The cloaked figure was knocked to the ground, a pile of cloth on the floor. They took in a gasp, then struck back, hacking away at Bortholemew’s shoulder joints with the Blade. Bortholemew twisted, then crouched down and punched out at the conspirator’s legs, eliciting a loud yelp in response. The two fought back and forth in the hallway, trading blows and parries. Bortholemew had severely wounded the conspirator, though the relentless murderer had already broken one of Bortholemew’s gauntlets, and the rest of his armor was leaking stormlight at a frightening pace. If he waited too long, the Plate would freeze up, trapping him. Storms, need to get out! Bortholemew landed a kick on the conspirator’s jaw, then ran down the hallway towards the door. As Bortholemew opened the door, his Plate shuddered as the conspirator rammed their Blade straight into his chestplate, shattering it. Bortholemew kicked backwards at the conspirator, but just barely missed. The conspirator took the opportunity to knock Bortholemew aside, blocking his means of escape. Storm it! Bortholemew threw all of his weight onto the conspirator, and the two toppled in a heap on the ground. The conspirator’s Shardblade fell from their grasp, dissipating as it hit the ground. Should I attack? Bortholemew questioned himself. If I can’t kill him within the next few seconds… He shook his head, and ran off into the warcamps, shouting, “Conspirator! Murderer! Help me! Help!” The conspirator, looking around for any signs of trouble, immediately dashed away, their attack foiled. ----- The next morning, a messenger ran up to Dalinar in his study. “Highprince Kholin, an artist managed to capture an image of the conspirator who assaulted Brightlord Bortholemew last night. They say that he looked somewhat similar to Sheon Idris…” Bortholemew the Blind was attacked by the conspirators, but saved by Shardplate! Sheon Idris received an extra vote on him today! Day 7 begins now and will end in 47 hours and 20 minutes (I auto-extended it due to the fact that I’m expecting someone will just ask for an extension anyway). As usual, PMs are now open again, and the player list will be updated shortly. Good luck!
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Time is up!
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One hour and 31 minutes left!
