Kasimir

Ista reached for another cord, repeating the gesture of plucking and combing. It was a man, one of the officers; his mouth opened on a beginning scream. I'm not getting it all sorted, she worried. I'm not getting it right. You are brilliant, the Voice reassured her. It is imperfect. So are all things trapped in time. You are brilliant, nonetheless. How fortunate for Us that We thirst for glorious souls rather than faultless ones, or We should be parched indeed, and most lonely in Our perfect righteousness. Carry on imperfectly, shining Ista. —Paladin of Souls, Lois McMaster Bujold

Dw, Steel reactivated, which means the entire list got hard-jossed. It's between Ash and Steel now (currently Ash is deferring to Steel, I believe) so you can just chill

Edgedancers and Windrunners are cool ngl

Welcome to the Shard! I take it your favourite KR order would be the Truthwatchers?

Welcome to the Shard! Nice to find another Skybreaker, though that was my second result Who would you rather armwrestle, Hoid or Kelsier?

What happened to you only die once smhhhh Can you be bribed with a super exclusive fist bump? 'Cause I don't wanna write yet another death I'm tired.

Repeating the ping Shard-side: MR's next on the list. 1. @Ashbringer 2. @xinoehp512 3. The Unknown Flame 4. @Elandera 5. @The Wandering Wizard 6. @Archer Ash is currently making his decision and has 48 hours to figure stuff out. If not, Xino, are you ready? Pinging everyone else in the top few: you may want to start figuring out if you have ready rulesets and are prepared to run something.

Hi, welcome to the Shard! Are you planning on picking up any of Sanderson's other works?

Too late for that. Weasel read the whole dead doc

Thank you. I think you've put it perfectly. Agreed on Venli. I do think that's one of the strengths of Stormlight Archives for me as a series. I really like characters who try to move in the right direction. Edited to add: I'd've loved to see that. You cited one of my favourite lines from Princep's Fury.

Misc Announcement: We are currently running a large-scale effort to interview players and other members of the SE community about their experiences in SE and their relationship to SE. The overall aim would be to improve everyone's experience of SE and the community. If we haven't interviewed you before, and you are willing to answer some questions, please get in touch with me, either via your Anonymous Animal account or your main account. This call goes to anyone reading this thread as well, I just thought I'd drop it here since the AG ending but the Finale and voting not yet concluding means we have a conveniently captive audience

Note: We ask spectators to refrain from posting until the Finale goes up, as the inference that you are not playing is pretty obvious. We are aware that the Four Horsemen of Deanonymisation are not playing this game, but you know, let's not make it even worse than it already is Shoutout to Araris for GMing, helping me fulfill my GMing bucket list items, and for inadvertently creating some of the funniest nonsense to happen in this game. The Oops Award rates have never been so low. Clearly it's all connected!

AG11/AN15: Aftermath - Knockin' On Heaven's Door The day of the apocalypse came to Tyrian Falls not with a bang or fanfare, but with a whimper. The crowd had dispersed following the blacksmith’s death, their bloodlust sated for the moment. The nails and the caltrops had been cast into the furnace, to be melted down and destroyed, at Ade's exhortation. To root out the Spiked within Tyrian Falls, after all, the source of the spikes had to be destroyed, and the spikes as well. Some Tyrianers had privately expressed misgivings about the whole thing in the cold, sobering morning light of the aftermath. Sure, they’d beaten Connal’s boy to death with his own hammer, but no one’d found any spikes on him anyway. If he wasn’t Spiked, was he even making spikes for the Spiked to begin with? Others continued to affirm the rightness of the decision. They remembered the Market Square Massacre and were of the view that the tainted fruit didn’t fall far from the poisoned tree. So what if they hadn’t found spikes on Clem? Wasn’t his entire smithy all full of spikes anyway? Foolishness, Aralis thought, leaning on his thwacking staff as he surveyed the ruins of the smithy. He felt a strange, fleeting sorrow. Sure, Clem’d been taken in by all the hysteria and whispers about the Spiked and the koloss, just as the rest of Tyrian Falls, but the lad had otherwise seemed to have a fairly sensible head on his shoulders. It just went to show what the rumours of Spiked were doing to everyone. …And he made fairly good nails. Aralis remembered using them in his carpentry, a long time ago, before he’d closed his regular shop down, because his aging hands had the unfortunate tremor now and then that disrupted the precision of his work. Staring at the smoke, drifting like mist from the wreckage left behind by fear, by paranoia, and by Ade’s newly-discovered talent for demagoguery, Aralis came to a decision. It was, in a way, a decision that surprised him, just a little. It was probably a decision that had been brewing at the back of his head for several long days, allowed to reach the point of readiness, like a good stew. You could never rush a stew. You had to allow it to simmer, until the flavours were properly released. He seemed to recall Satrams saying that, once, before Nibbles had come and brought all those…experiments with him. Sometimes, Aralis thought, grouchily, the world had gone and gotten itself into a bothersome and great hurry to change. But you were allowed to be surprised, he concluded. You were allowed to discover that there were still things in the world that surprised you, things to set against the inevitable gloom and hardening of your own heart. There, before the ruins, Aralis discovered that he didn’t particularly care for what Tyrian Falls was doing about these so-called Spiked. And he decided to do something about it. It was a sorry group that gathered in the village square on this cold, misty morning. Nibbles once again had a platter of strange cookies that he was trying to foist on everyone. Lysia hung back, keeping to herself, and smirking as Sauve Chad eyed her warily. Ade basked in the satisfaction of a job well done. She’d gotten rid of the source of spikes in Tyrian Falls. All of this meant her powers had doubled since the last time they met. All she needed to do was to find some actual Spiked, and then Tyrian Falls would once again become an empire unto itself. “Safety, security, justice, and peace,” she whispered, as a reminder to herself. Those were the things worth fighting for. That was worth doing what they had done. No matter the cost. “The next person to deal with is Aralis,” Ade said, aloud. She ignored the startled looks that the others shot at her. “Oh, come on now. Look at how often the blacksmith spoke to him. Sure, he’s older than dirt, and the closest person we have to replacing Mayor Tema, but that was why they killed Tema, don’t you see? It was all part of the plan. How does the so-called blacksmith make hundreds on hundreds of spikes without anyone in Tyrian Falls realising? Because Aralis was shielding him.” “Nibbles made cookies for everyone so you can enjoy the show,” Nibbles repeated, impatiently, shoving cookies at Sauve Chad. Sauve Chad sighed, and began to munch on the cookie. At least it wasn’t half bad. Footsteps off the cobblestones. An echo. Aralis, his thwacking staff in hand, was walking out across the empty village square to meet them, a thunderous scowl on his face, and his mouth set in an expression of grim determination. “Ade!” he shouted. Lysia’s smirk, if possible, deepened. This was going to be good. “I challenge you to the juris macto! And may the crows feast on the unjust!” “The what. You can’t just—you can’t just do this.” "You would know. It's the trial of the fist. Trial by combat, remember?" "...Not what I meant." “C’mon, if they get it, it’ll be funny. Besides, Penguin did take it upon himself to go after you next.” “.......” “And if you think about it, he said it himself: his powers have doubled since the last time you met.” “Okay, so what happened to ‘Piplup is too cute, we can’t smite him’?” “Hey, he said it himself. He’s Empoleon now. Sure, he’s stronger but he’s less cute, and he’s still vulnerable to getting struck by lightning. Twice the pride, double the fall.” Sauve Chad munched on his cookie. Had a double-take. There was a flash of white: something was inside, something that wasn’t cookie. He tugged on it, tentatively, and realised it was a strip of paper. He unfolded it. Paper rustled in his fingers. DEATH, the strip of paper read. Followed by: Tyrian Falls is doomed. Your lucky numbers are 1800-PRAISE-RUIN-666. Sauve Chad looked at the strip of paper. And then at Nibbles, who was smiling, a broad, slow smile that Sauve Chad instinctively distrusted. He looked down at the strip of paper again. “Nibbles calls these fortune cookies,” Nibbles said, easily. “Because they give you a glimpse of your future. How do you like Nibble’s cookies, hmm?” “You,” Sauve Chad snarled. “Don’t worry,” Nibbles continued, beatifically. “Nibbles has more where they came from.” He strode forward; confident, relaxed steps and grabbed Sauve Chad. Sauve struggled, but Nibbles’s grip seemed to as though it was iron. He’s a Thug, Sauve remembered, belatedly. There wasn’t anything he could do against the Misting burning Pewter. Nibbles pried open his jaw, Sauve trying to resist in vain, and shoved the entire platter of cookies down his throat. Sauve Chad choked, gasping for air. But Nibbles stood there, relentless. “Let’s try another fortune,” Nibbles said, brightly. The world was beginning to fade, going blurry at the edges. Sauve Chad struggled to breathe, to utter anything at all. His vision was greying, narrowing to a single point. Nibbles’s smile. “DEATH. Tyrian Falls is doomed. You see, Nibbles put the same fortune in every cookie.” They never had a chance, did they? Sauve Chad thought. It was...laughable to think they'd ever believed otherwise. Tyrian Falls was doomed, always had been doomed. It was the last thought that he ever had. If it were another story, Aralis would have fought a legendary duel to end all duels, to rival the tale of the time Araris Valerian fought Aldrick ex Gladius. But that was another story. Aralis was old, and he was practical, and he was not particularly minded to take Ade on in a fair fight. He’d come to do one thing, and one thing only, and that was to stop Ade before she got more people killed. Duels and that sort of fanciful nonsense were for striplings; the sort of youthful foolishness that got people killed trying to find nonexistent Spiked in Tyrian Falls. His thwacking staff was a blur of motion as he lashed out in the instant Ade had been distracted by the nonsensical callout. The first blow smashed into Ade’s knees, knocking her to the ground. The staff quivered as he drove the head into her throat, crushing it ruthlessly. Wheezing, struggling for breath, Ade couldn’t help the smile that spread across her face. It had been chaotic. It had been beautiful. Tyrian Falls was doomed anyway. She had seen that, when the clay pot had struck her on the head. What had mattered was that it was a beautiful end. Funny, even. She slipped away, for the last time, not into unconsciousness, but into the mercy of a swift death. Aralis stood over Ade’s body. He had not particularly liked what he’d set out to do. He’d done it with the efficiency and ruthless pragmatism of a carpenter, who’d known the exact way the wood needed to be cut, and had just set about doing it because it needed to be done to save that particular piece. There was a thwack! One that hadn’t come from his staff. A sudden impact. Aralis felt it jerk him, spinning him about. His hand went down to his chest. Discovered feathers there—fletching he didn’t recognise. A thick shaft—not an arrow, then. One of the newfangled crossbows he’d heard of, from the big cities. Some of the Hazekillers carried them, though how they did against Mistborn, Aralis didn’t know. This time, he heard the clack! right before the thwack! A second bolt appeared next to the first. And then a third. Lysia held something that Aralis didn’t particularly realise in her hand. Nibbles was just beginning to let fall something—someone—limp. This is how it ends, Aralis thought. He’d had a good run of it, didn’t he? “There’s no such thing as Spiked,” he whispered. “Then it’s a good thing I’m not Spiked, isn’t it?” Lysia said, calmly. His life, whistling in front of his eyes with the last bolt. And then death came, as the end. @Chartreuse Penguin was executed! She was a Village Vanilla! @Araris Valerian was killed by the Spiked! He was a Grouchy Old Dude and a GM! The Spiked have won! Another Tyrian Falls has once again fallen to the curse! Congratulations to @Mint Heron, @Indigo Weasel and @Charcoal Hyena for ending a short three years of Village dominance! Please stand by for further instructions from Araris - do not reveal your identities yet! There's still one last segment of this game to go through Player List:

I would argue in fact that the missed opportunity element is what made the Elhokar loss so acute, and made people so fed-up with Moash, given that Kal's antagonism towards Elhokar in WoR is at least somewhat understandable to the reader.

I agree. I think the healthiest part of my return to the Shard (I was sporadic between 2016 to 2019) was accepting what I had was gone. I could make new memories or I could just keep chasing things that didn't exist any longer. I think that's a bit at the back of my head on the second round: do I try again? The barriers felt less high the last time. Treamayne gives me reason to believe it's maybe worth a shot. But I don't believe in recreating experiences. Experience is by its nature impermanent. Anything else is dukkha.

But are they in bulk, hmm? Sp Atk EVs ain't gonna do you any good against a 120BP Thunder smhhhh

I initially read this as you saying you only use desk pens and was a little "whoa, what happened to your collection man, desk pens is such a switch" Then I got it. Preppies are really so value-for-money too though. And unlike the Kakuno, they don't need extra work to be eyedropped filled I do have a bunch of Jinhao 82s as well but mostly because I like pens I don't have to baby for testing weird inks, and again, work etc. I did have a colleague just casually take up my Delike Alpha and use it wrongly before, and I'd probably have been more bothered if it was a Pel, but that's why I bring pens that are meant to be abused to the office. RIP, but also, fair! Easier on the wallet, too. My local pen stores actually are quite hooked in to the Taiwanese and Japanese markets as well so that's no good. Sailor in fact I think just ran another price increase a couple of weeks back, sigh.

So, do you have bulk EVs? >>

Oh God, that one was so good. Enjoyed both the story and cinematography. Dong-mae and Eugene both had arcs I liked. I liked the Righteous Army coverage - I do feel it was a nice breath of fresh air from modern dramas or sageuk and set in a period that I don't pay as much attention to.

Good choice! What are you considering for that one? I've...well...does it count if the kakunos were last year? I'm really beginning to love kakunos for cheap throwaways that are office-safe. Then I don't need to worry very much about them, they go into the pencil case, and the nib is almost always perfect out of the box.

Belated, but since it's the Lunar New Year: happy Lunar New Year everyone! Any pen-related resolutions you're setting yourselves?

Thanks for sharing. I feel like maybe that's a healthy and grace-filled attitude to ageing out of the Shard a little? It's like Cavafy's Ithaka - Ithaka has given you the journey, even if you outgrow Ithaka and you can be grateful for that. Maybe that eases the struggle. I do remember encountering you on the TLM sub-forum at that time. I think I mostly hard-bounced off WaT so that's another reason I have felt a bit burned out with regard to discussions. (It isn't a WaT thing, it's a me thing.) Oh, sweet. I really need to swing by that thread again. It's on my to do list at some point Some fanfics are cursed and I was really hoping to fix their formatting so I can read on Kindle. It does, but the downside is you have to be friends with everyone to make the message. I think there's a variant where you can drop a link to join the DM to people you haven't friended but I've not tried it. I really liked Shard PMs in the day, but there's a reason everyone jumped from them to Facebook Messenger eventually after a while I guess. Discord kind of has that. And I think my younger self was a lot more gung-ho about exchanging IRL contacts with a bunch of relative strangers. I'm lucky the Shard is pretty nice in that regard Shhh, your soul is old and evil >> Welcome, welcome to venerability! Thanks, it's nice to see yet another person feels that way too I actually want to ask you some questions on Alleyverse. Archer recommended I DM Ene, which I have, and he's been very helpful, but he also suggested I talk to someone a bit more recent in Alleyverse. Some of it is we want to understand your generational transition. There's definitely an overlap in our playerbases, though maybe not as big as it used to be, and I guess I should feel bad we poached Archer and Ash from you but they're great GMs and players, and their RP quality has left me a healthy respect for Alleyverse I'll add I remember Voidus's initial posts - I saw the cookie memes when I first joined the Shard but always felt a bit intimidated in terms of joining Alleyverse at that time. Anyway, I don't want to derail the thread, so I'll drop you a PM in a bit? I'll likely be looping in @little wilson in it because I'm just a venerable (not ancient! ) Sharder and community member, and I think she has had enough of me dropping sudden surprises on her.

I'm giving this thread a light bump It's our landing zone for new players (hi and welcome guys! If you have questions we don't bite! ) At the same time, it's exactly this low on the SE main page, with a counterintuitive title, and at least three players have complained about not being able to find this. I'm gonna just punt this right to the top and the AG people can deal with the combo breaker Statement of the problem.

AG11/AN15: Day Seven - Everything Is Broken Ade was late. In truth, this was something that everyone had expected by this point: good old Ademordna Nigunep, late to whatever it was; just in time to listen to the juicy gossip, not in time for the event in and of itself. No one held it against Ade: as she said, doing housework kept her busy most of the time, and she only came by when she had the time. Perhaps some of them did dispute that doing the groceries or keeping house was more important than saving Tyrian Falls from the Spiked menace that threatened it. However, if they did, none of them voiced it. Presumably because they were particularly preoccupied trying to decide if Sew and Lysia were in fact Spiked. Ade scurried to the Hound and Hustle, well aware she was late, and well aware that she had a part to play in trying to help the other villagers of Tyrian Falls find and tackle the Spiked. Maybe write a letter of complaint to Aralis at the same time—he didn’t seem to be taking the matter at all seriously, saying everyone had it well in hand, and muttering under his breath that there weren’t any Spiked or koloss anyway and Ade thought denial of brute reality was a really poor trait in their de facto leader. It was, perhaps, sheer chance that the flower pot falling from the overhang of the passing house caught her when it did. Ade remembered a sharp starburst of pain in her head, flaring— —Ade opened her eyes. She was lying on the ground and had absolutely no recollection of what she was doing there. Her head hurt. Shards of broken clay and soil were scattered all around her, as were the brown, shriveled leaves of a plant she didn’t particularly recognise. Ade blinked. The movement sent more pain ricocheting through her head. She ransacked her memory, trying to remember what she was doing. Memory was slow to come. …The Hound and Hustle? Something about finding the Spiked. That was it, of course! They had to seize the means of production. Spikes were made of metal. Clearly, Clem the blacksmith was how the Spiked were procuring spikes. If they just got rid of Clem, they would cut off spike production, and then they could deal with the remaining Spiked in Tyrian Falls. Together, in solidarity, they could achieve greatness! After all, the citizens of Tyrian Falls only had their chains to lose! “You…didn’t smite him.” “Look, it’s not my fault I think penguins are cute and vultures are not. And Piplup is best starter.” “...the second-cutest water starter.” “What is this Piplup slander, I’m not taking Piplup slander from you ಠ_ಠ This just in, we are not smiting Penguin, we’re gonna respect the democratic will of the people and that’s it.” “Hey, it’s your write-up.” “Yeah, and you thought giving me something to write in which a bunch of water starters rock up and just started blasting and Penguin dies was gonna be easier?” “Okay, but what if…” *whisper whisper mutter mutter* “...Son of a chull, I’m in.” Falcon hurried after the growing mob of Tyrianers. Ade had stalked into the Hound and Hustle, burning with a new purpose. If he didn’t know better, skills of keen observation honed over months of intense social deduction practice told him that Ade seemed like a completely new person. Falcon wasn’t sure he disapproved. For one, Nibbles needed to stop having a monopoly on crazy in Tyrian Falls. For another, crazy Ade was at least a nice personality upgrade from Ade-who-was-barely-there and Ade who hurried into the Hound and Hustle at the end of the day, frazzled and her mind clearly elsewhere. Sure, he wasn’t really sure Clem was Spiked, either. There was something about Clem’s father and the Market Square Massacre, something that had seared a scar deep into the collective memory of Tyrian Falls. Falcon didn’t believe in laying the sins of the father on the son, even though he could see it had weighed on Clem, had never stopped weighing on Clem. But some birds wanted to watch the world burn. “PEOPLE OF TYRIAN FALLS!” Ade was rallying the crowd. At this point, the crowd was far more meagre than it had been. “WE HAVE ONLY OUR CHAINS TO LOSE! WE MUST RISE UP AND SEIZE THE MEANS OF PRODUCTION! TOGETHER, WE ARE STRONG! THE PEOPLE UNITED WILL NEVER BE DIVIDED! TOGETHER, WE WILL RID TYRIAN FALLS OF SPIKES! WE WILL CELEBRATE THE ANNIVERSARY OF THIS DAY AS EMPIRE DAY! FOR THE SAKE OF OUR CHILDREN! AND OUR CHILDREN’S CHILDREN! FOR THE NEXT TEN THOUSAND YEARS! SAFETY! SECURITY! JUSTICE AND PEACE! SAY IT WITH ME! SAFETY, SECURITY, JUSTICE AND PEACE!” The crowd took up the chant. Falcon recognised the other three from the regular meetings about the Spiked—Nibbles, Vulture, and Lysia—but there were other faces in the crowd, illuminated by the flickering light of the torches that he could not identify. There was a palpable energy now, moving through the crowd; a feral energy, moving much like lightning, with the force of an army of koloss. Falcon was beginning to have misgivings about the entire thing. Such forces as Falcon had unleashed could not be easily recaged. And he shivered as he imagined the force of that crowd being directed against anyone innocent. The mood was ugly tonight, and the people of Tyrian Falls were afraid, and had been afraid for so long. Tonight, they were going to strike back. Tonight, they were going to unite in solidarity. Tonight, they wanted blood. And they would get it, one way or another. Falcon began pushing his way through the crowd. “Excuse me, sorry,” he muttered, shoving his way past others with the strategic use of elbows, apologies, and the occasional brash stepping on feet. “Excuse me, sorry, excuse me, sorry…” He had to get to Ade. Had to stop it before it was too late. All of a sudden, lightning struck from the sky. Falcon died. The people around him separated immediately, screaming. “SPIKED PERFIDY!” Ade was shouting. “WE MUST NOT FALTER!” The Spiked in the crowd, who had, up to this point, been stealthily following Falcon’s progress through the throng of people, quietly slid a dagger back into a body sheath. Clearly, Ruin was pleased with them, and had chosen to display His favour by dispatching their target before they could sacrifice yet another Tyrianer to Him. The Spiked in question sauntered away, fading into the crowd, vanishing. Clem shivered. It was not a good night, he thought. It didn’t feel right. It felt too still, but it was the sort of stillness that hinted at pent-up energy beneath the surface. He’d felt nights like this before, working at the Garrison in Luthadel. Nights like this, a watch patrol began quietly, but there was always blood in the end. A brawl in the Barrel’s Bottom turned violent. A gang fight that erupted into a full-blown territory war that needed several squads and Soother stations to quell. That sort of thing. Those nights got Garrison killed. Sent someone or other home to the graveyard in a dark grey shroud. Wurek had died on a night much like this. Clem hadn’t forgiven himself, not really. Maybe that was why he had come back to Tyrian Falls, more than Pilu, whispering to him. Beneath the acquiescence still lay raw grief; the unanswered question—why? Why had his father chosen the path of ruin? Why had Pilu let Wurek die? Why had Clem survived that night, when his friend had not? The god has no hands but ours, he remembered his uncle saying. Cold comfort, in a broken world. He set another batch of iron rods to heat on the fire. Nails teemed in the quench-bucket. It was simple work, apprentice work, but he forced himself to keep working at it, something to keep himself busy. Something to force the mind to attention in the present, away from the growing intuition that Tyrian Falls could not be saved. Nails. The world was held together by nails, Clem thought. You made so many of them as an apprentice. Almost everything needed nails: doors, windows, horseshoes, furniture, unless you got fancy with the joinery and used glue instead. Maybe that was what they needed most, in a world where things were falling apart at the joints, and breaking. Nails. The door to his forge broke open; slammed back against the wall, and he quailed back from the sudden, furious crowd that poured in. “Spikes!” Ade howled, triumphantly, pointing at the bucket of nails. “I told you so! WE MUST END THE PLAGUE OF SPIKES IN TYRIAN FALLS! ONLY THEN CAN WE HOPE TO BREAK OUR CHAINS AND DESTROY THE MENACE OF THE SPIKED!” Pilu, Clem thought. A single word, as breath. The god’s name as prayer. He’d tried, hadn’t he? He’d tried his best. Sometimes you only got so far, leaning on once-broken faith. Maybe Pilu only cared about the trying. His hammer was wrenched from his hand. Maybe he should have fought them. But Connal had been a monster, in the end. The Market Square Massacre was written in blood. Clem hadn’t wanted to become his father, didn’t want to become his father. He felt the first blow of the hammer fall, with a scream of pain bursting red in his head. And then again. And then again. He was the iron now, being forged. Being broken. Being melted into dross. Wurek drawling, “You worry too much, the Bottom’s quiet tonight, it’ll be done, easy.” Connal, at the forge, teaching him about nails, about the joining. Just as you cannot ask me all the questions, his father seemed to say, with sad eyes, I cannot give you all the answers. And then there was Pilu, gathering him up in his flippers, blue eyes alight with a grief and love beyond comprehension. God was great after all, Clem thought—as exaltation, as final exhalation. @Kasimir was executed! He was a Village Tineye and Co-GM! @Chartreuse Penguin deflected a lightning strike with the sheer power of penguin cuteness! Consider yourself lucky you're that adorable, sule ಠ_ಠ @Emerald Falcon was struck by lightning and died before the Spiked could stab him! He was a Village Vanilla! Consider yourself lucky, or blame Penguin for provoking the Wrath of the Gods, I don't really care which PMs remain closed! Please stop PMing! The Day has begun! It will end in 48 hours on the 30th January 2025, 11PM ET. Player List: