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Kasimir

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  1. Kasimir
    Sart. Kas. I hate dying early. It blows. But if Wyrm's currently leading the lynch, then I'd rather take it for him than us losing a Tineye this early. (See: Hreo's and Maili's points about the Spiked Tineye.) Plus, I'm technically just tying things up. And with the amount of attention Wyrm and myself has gotten (so, why isn't Hreo getting more attention? Now that HS has brought up the Seeker claim, why hasn't Hreo responded? And what exactly are his reasons for voting for me? We've never heard them, despite my hypothesis that it had to do with my Coppercloud. Is he even a Seeker to begin with? And is he Team Village? We have answers to none of these. And yet no one bothered to ask at all, choosing to focus on the easy targets.)--anyway, with the amount of attention Wyrm and myself have gotten, I figure a lynch with the most amount of information will come from killing me or killing Wyrm. And really, if it comes down to it: in a Smoker versus Tineye tossup, Smoker wins the lynch each time. So don't worry about how harsh it is for me to get killed several cycles in a row. Go on. I'm going to start by throwing my vote on myself first. And when you see I'm a Villager, I want you to at least look at some of the questions I've asked and treat them seriously. I'll rework the info dump in a bit and make the drop shortly after. Kas's Questions So long and thanks for all the fish, folks. See you on the other side. (Will be back with the last dump before I head on out.) [...And I've probably been ninjaed by several other people at this point...]
  2. Kasimir
    For me, it would be simple. I've already placed a vote, so all we need to do is to change my vote to a no-vote. In fact, if you want to test both, then depending on what Meta's response to my question is (i.e. how Emotional Allomancers can interfere with each other), an easy way is to ask our Soothers to Soothe my vote, and to ask our Rioters to make Mashadar Mistborn vote for himself. (Of course, if Emotional Allomancers do interfere with each other, then I think it becomes rather tricky to manage, as it then wouldn't be obvious if the vote changes were nullified by Smoking, or if they were nullified by the lack of coordination from fellow Emotional Allomancers.) Edit: Alternatively, if it matters that much to you, I could always Smoke you (j/k)
  3. Kasimir
    Meta, what happens if two Rioters hit the same person but Riot that person to different targets? And what happens if a Soother/Rioter hit the same person? I've received a claim from someone that they've Smoked themselves and Mashadar Mistborn last night. I'd like to test this claim out, but it hinges on how a multiple Rioter situation is dealt with.
  4. Kasimir
    Wait. Wait. Chief, how's that square with you telling me that I'd be Public Enemy #1 if you went down?
  5. Kasimir
    I had been suspicious of Wyrm since Night 1, and I'm not certain what to make of him now. 1. On Night 1, he roleclaimed to me right off the bat (it was the second message in our PM sequence.) Keep in mind that I hadn't posted in thread at that point in time. I responded with a flat-out what, angry emoji, and told him he was unbelievable. 2. I prodded him on why he told me his role early. After all, if I were an Eliminator (keep in mind that while Wyrm can read me, this was at the very start of the game: he had no baseline off which to work), I'd likely have gotten him killed (take down Village communication? Hell yeah!) and so I saw no reason for him to have claimed to me this early. His response was that if I were an Eliminator, I'd likely have killed him on Night 1 anyway, so claiming to me wasn't going to change anything. Additionally, I'd be a prime suspect on his death. Largely, he claimed he wanted to see my reaction. (See: Troll/attention chull.) 3. After a few pages of tangents, I pressed him on the issue again. I told him I found his response somewhat unsatisfactory. I pointed out that given his public standing as a high-threat player and thus a high-priority kill target, it would be hard-put for players to immediately connect me with his death. (In fact, the last time someone did that was Aonar, and he was dead wrong.) In fact, those who played with me in MR9 would remember that as an Eliminator, I decided against Wyrm's death for reasons of expedience. Which further weakens the claim I'd be a prime suspect. His response: A. He's not playing this game seriously: he just wants to promote as much discussion as possible before being lynched/killed, rather than the usual Day 1 'should we lynch or should we pass' debate. If he gets a Lurcher, great. Otherwise, there's little point in hiding. B. He contacted me early because he wanted to troll me and see exactly how much he made me despair. (A lot, Wyrm, stop it, you attention chull.) He also wanted to ask me for help with the Amazing Wyrm poster before I mentioned I was busy. 4. I did help him with the Amazing Wyrm poster in the end. (Procrastination will kill me :/ ) Which probably explains why I was accosted by Maili, who thought I was Tineye #1 before Wyrm went to press. Tsk. - What I believe at this point is that I'm not sure about Wyrm. (Well, I always am, so I guess I've got to try harder.) I more or less just shared this exchange because I felt there was no harm in it now, and I may as well since the Wyrm issue is now on the table. I was really suspicious of Wyrm throwing me this curveball on Night 1. But he is a troll, and he's not the only one who role-revealed to me, just to see my reaction to it. This Village is full of trolls, I swear... I will say it doesn't fit his Eliminator style. In four of the games I've seen him play Eliminator, he's generally gone with the overly-friendly/helpful route. But at the same time, I also know that Wyrm has been making efforts to keep changing his Eliminator style, so what he used to do isn't very helpful a metric in terms of gauging how evil he could be now. Edit: Almost forgot--thanks, Araris. At this point, I'm going to just go with Sart, with my main criterion being by and large players who can slip past in the background but are deadly. What's up?
  6. Kasimir
    Actually, HS is claiming that there would be no point in the Spiked doing that. His claim is as follows: A. The Spiked know that everyone else knows I can Smoke myself. B. The Spiked believe that no one would want to use any sort of ability on me if it could be blocked by Smoking (for the reason that people would always be unsure of whether I'm Smoking and therefore waste an ability.) C. From A. and B., The Spiked would, therefore, conclude that there is no point in Smoking me; it just wastes a Smoke and is redundant. I'm not sure how much I think B. is a claim that should be endorsed, as I've found that players don't always follow the logic we expect them to (my Smoking myself, if we'll permit me the assumption I'm on Team Village, is probably an example, as I'd bet that before the game started, many people would believe that someone Smoking themselves or being Smoked had a high chance of being Spiked.) Edit: Open In Case Of Death
  7. Kasimir
    You definitely did not see all the cursing and swearing I did after getting offed relatively early in LG15. (...Considering the dead doc had to be PG-9, not that surprising.) Frankly, my death rate is absurd, and I'm sick and tired of it. It was the last straw for Maili after getting killed on Night 1 three games in a row; similarly, getting killed early on was more or less the last straw for me last game, and pretty much has been. I joke about it now with Wilson, but back then, Maili and I were both truly angry. I refused to speak to Wilson immediately after, because I did not trust myself to be civil enough to politely laugh off my death. It took us both a good chunk of time to deal with the anger enough to do what we had to do. It seems like I took too much pains to avoid making my feelings about the matter known, which is kind of funny, in retrospect.
  8. Kasimir
    Should clarify this will not include roles. While I know a few (...I don't know why either, but it seems 17S is full of trolls), I'm not about to out anyone to the main thread who doesn't want to be outed. And I take it that because they haven't outed themselves, they didn't want to be outed in general.
  9. Kasimir
    You're assuming I had a plan. Unfortunately, your assumption does not bear out. My plan had nothing to do with claiming; I'm claiming on the basis of pre-game advice from Wilson. My reason for Smoking myself was that I felt I was likely to be a tempting target for a votechange (see: stable vote, not likely to be suddenly withdrawn and therefore wasted, in the case of Soothing), as compared to how likely it was I would be Seeked in a game with a number of priority targets. Other than the fact that it seemed to me that the natural question (if confirmed that Hreo did in fact Seek me) would eventually go down to whether I should be scanned, and it's practically zero effort for a Spiked Smoker to Smoke me to further mess with what the Seeker is doing? Assuming, of course, y'all aren't going to lynch me to avoid wasting a scan, in which case I'll: A. Be very pissed off, since the whole point of taking Wilson's advice was to not die early/on Night 2 again, as I usually do. B. Give the hell up and just dump whatever info I've got so it doesn't go down on me. What have I missed? Edit: *so it doesn't go down with me.
  10. Kasimir
    Except that I smoked myself (and no one else) last night, so whatever a Seeker saw, it wouldn't have been my alignment. I reasoned that a Seeker was less likely to hit me; I was more likely to get votejacked since I'd made it clear I'm gonna be busy this week, so I'd be less likely to be able to change my vote. Had PMed Hreo offering to drop my Coppercloud tonight, but thanks, Hellscythe, I guess that won't bloody fly anymore because the Spiked will just cloud me anyway. Thank you for throwing a spanner into that plan. (And yeah, in case it isn't obvious, I was already planning on going hot and claiming Smoker publicly: there's a reason for my defending the Smoker's choice to Smoke rather than to go bare, and the first letters of each paragraph in the above RP post spell out 'SMOKER'.)
  11. Kasimir
    Stock-taking was necessary. Sometimes, Kassien even relished organising things; making sure they weren’t out of important herbs, and making sure that everything in their stores was properly kept away, and was as fresh as conditions permitted. He did this every three months; if it was a laborious exercise, it was also an important one; Darine had long instilled in him the importance of making sure that the herbs he used were still efficacious. Look at these, she’d said, holding out a handful of mudwort. They’re wilting, practically shreds. She shook them for emphasis, and tattered fragments of leaf drifted to the ground. Imagine using something like this in a mixture meant to soothe burns. You may as well fill it with dried leaves picked from outside, or grass. There’s nothing these leaves can do now. Mostly, though, he had come to treat stock-taking as a ritual; a way of grounding himself, of assessing what the most frequent demands from the townsfolk of Tyrian Falls were, and of preparing to anticipate future requests and ensuring he had the stock to fulfill them. The past three months, he’d been inundated with the usual requests for wound salve, for burn salve, and—he was surprised to notice this—for philtres meant to encourage stamina. No serious apothecary talked about that last category of mixtures, but all knew that it sold, particularly in the large cities and amongst the nobility. Evidently, the same was true of Tyrian Falls. Of course, he figured that blends of calming tea, herbs meant to soothe and to grant restfulness might also be in demand. With the death of Senn Conrad and the bloodied message in the snow, the town’s nerves were fraying. Already, he’d filled out a number of requests for calming teas and tisanes. At this rate, he’d need to bring in more from his supplier. Absently, he reminded himself that he would have to spend more time taking El out into the field, showing her how to harvest her own herbs. With connections to a good supplier, such tasks became largely unnecessary, but as Darine had always told him, skills remained. Skills taught people how to fend for themselves when no crutches were available. She had taught him, and so he would teach El. Kassien sealed a crate containing dried helith berries, and moved on to the bloodstanch. It was a pale green moss that was highly useful in treating wounds: bloodmoss could even be directly applied to the wound and packed around it in an attempt to stem bleeding. When drunk, it was a coagulent, encouraging the blood to clot, to seal. Which meant that it could kill, too. Next it was leechmoss, its opposite. Leechmoss thinned the blood; someone taking concentrated leechmoss bled out from the slightest of wounds. But it was a good way to deal with apoplexy, particularly when induced by strokes. Eren had always confused bloodstanch and leechmoss, Kassien remembered, fondly. But he’d learned, in the end. Just as Kassien had learned, after making his own fair share of mistakes. It was what he wanted for El: room to grow, room to blunder. But, after all of that, room to pick herself up and to become a proper apothecary. Redbark lay in neat strips in the second-last crate. He sealed that one again after checking through its contents. He kept redbark, even though he hoped never to have to use it. Yet if there was something Kassien knew, it was that the world never tried to bend, to conform to the demands he placed on it. Hopes and wishes were just that; his own desires, expressed. We learn all the things, Kassien thought, the good and the bad. And the last and most important lesson that Darine had taught him: There’s a time to heal, Darine had said. And a time to kill. The most important thing you’ll ever have to remember is to tell the difference between which is called for, healing or killing. He stared at the crate of redbark for a long time. What is a weed? Darine had asked. And what is a plant? She nudged at the greycrown before her. These grow everywhere; in the cities, lords have their skaa rip them out of their manor gardens. But greycrown is used to ease the birthing process; you can eat it, too, though it doesn’t taste good. The same applies to people. Who will you kill? Who will you heal? It’s the gardener’s choice, Kassien. The trick is making a choice you can sleep with. Resolutely, he turned his back on the redbark and moved on to the last crate.
  12. Kasimir
    Kassien woke up to the sound of distant hammering. He moved over to the window and glanced out, enjoying the morning air. It was an unusually clear day; no ash blew over from the ashmounts. By the entrances to Tyrian Falls, the watchmen—turned militia now—were busy hammering in stakes and logs of wood, meant to form a rudimentary palisade. He headed down to the apothecary proper, whistling to himself. El’s door was shut, and so he passed it, scribbling a note and leaving it on the desk where she would see it. Do up 20 batches of antiseptic, he wrote. Use wetrot, feverbane and laceleaf. He left out the instructions and the note that she should add arrowroot to bind the ingredients of the salve to each other more effectively. At this point, El needed to be able to think for herself and to recognise deficiencies in her instructions. That should occupy her for the morning, and a decent part of the afternoon. Someone had slipped two envelopes beneath his front door. They rustled as he stooped down and drew them out, carefully. The first contained a colourful flyer, advertising for some travelling magician show. Kassien rolled his eyes. Only half-rates went to Tyrian Falls, rather than following the more prosperous route further into the west. Fadrex and Tremredare were still more productive places for a travelling performer—or mountebank—than a trading town along an artery of the Haverfax. Of course, the killings had begun after the magician had come to town… Kassien hesitated. In a small town like Tyrian Falls, it was always difficult, he thought, to accuse a fellow townsperson of murder, of wanting the entire town to be massacred by koloss. For who would desire such a thing? It seemed inconceivable that Maill the cobbler, who always seemed to have a finger squarely on the latest gossip, or grouchy, creaky old Aralis, or creepy Inor Haze, for all he stuffed animals and dealt with the dead—it seemed inconceivable that any of them, that any of the people he’d known and helped for years could wish such ill upon them. Or at least, it seemed a kind of madness. He looked down at the flyer he held, and stuffed it back into the envelope. The second envelope was slightly more interesting: it contained a cipher, and an initial glance told Kassien that it wasn’t within his ability to crack. And yet it looked familiar, somehow. He’d have to hit the books later this evening, to try and see where he’d encountered such a cipher before. This one, he folded neatly before replacing it. The two envelopes went into the drawer of correspondences. The one at the top fluttered free—Kassien caught it, just as the shop door tinkled. This time, it wasn’t Teys, but Jaelin, one of the newer watchmen. “Morning, Kassien,” he muttered. “I’m here to pick up the, well, you know.” Kassien did know. It was an embarrassing little problem, but he’d mixed up the batch of herbs all the same, solemnly listened, swore himself to the strictest confidence, and told Jaelin to take it regularly, particularly on nights before he’d planned anything. Jaelin’d flushed and promised to follow his instructions. “Thanks,” Jaelin said, paying up as Kassien slid the packet of herbs—discreetly labelled—across the countertop, after locating it in the basket of finished orders. “Did you hear about Senn Conrad?” Kassien concealed his surprise. Senn, after all, had visited him on the previous evening: it was, in itself, a rarity. “No. Should I have?” But Jaelin wasn’t here in his capacity as a member of the Watch. He nodded eagerly. “They found him in his own study,” Jaelin confided. “Murdered. The captain isn’t happy; we’re investigating this, of course.” Senn Conrad. Kassien felt a shiver run down his spine. He hadn’t given any sign of fear or of being hunted, last night. “I have no reason to trust you,” Senn’d said, bluntly. It had been hard to get rid of that last veneer of nobility; no matter how many years he’d lain low and pretended to be skaa, it all came rushing back, with Conrad. “I don’t know and I don’t care why you’re doing this.” “Then what do you want?” Kassien had asked, keeping quiet so El couldn’t overhear them. She had, in any case, likely been sleeping. Senn shrugged. “You should know,” he said sharply. “You can’t trust me either, but neither of us wants to see Tyrian Falls destroyed, and this is exactly what will happen if we continue along our previous path.” “You don’t know that,” Kassien said. “Know what?” “That I don’t want to see Tyrian Falls destroyed.” Senn was silent, for a long moment. “True,” he acknowledged. “But then, Tyrian Falls is as much your home as mine. I can, at least, count on your self-interest.” Kassien accepted the point with a nod. “I can’t do this,” he said. “Oh?” “I’m the town apothecary, for the love of the Lord Ruler,” he said. Another slip there; no skaa loved the Lord Ruler, who was, in any case, unfortunately deceased. Hence the root of their current troubles. “I’m not about to get mixed up in cloak-and-dagger matters; what with forming support groups and trying to find the skaa. I’ve stock-taking to be done, salve that needs brewing, herbs that need sorting, and an apprentice to train. Simply put, I’m busy and I don’t have the time for this.” Senn nodded, simply, accepting. “Very well then,” he said, getting to his feet with a slight groan. “I shan’t trespass upon your hospitality any further than I already have. Good night to you, Estvaril.” Estvaril. A name he hadn’t used in ages. A man could forsake any right to a name, Kassien thought, but it stuck with you: clung to you like mud, all the same. He thought, then, of his parents. Of the whipping post. He forced his clenched hands to relax. It was in the past. No point exhuming the dusty bones of the dead. “Good night, Conrad,” he said. “And good luck. You’ll need it.” He had needed it. Right now, Senn Conrad was dead. He realised that Jaelin was staring at him. “Sorry,” Kassien said, forcing himself to smile. “Woolgathering, I’m afraid.” They all had secrets, after all. He’d rather protect his own. Jaelin shook his head. “Don’t know how you can manage that, these days.” Kassien saw him out. “Practice, boy,” he said. It wasn’t an unearned appellation: at forty-three, he was beginning to feel old, if not as creaky as Aralis, but Jaelin was more than half his age, and it showed in his enthusiasm. He closed the apothecary door on Jaelin and braced himself for the business of returning to stock-taking.
  13. Kasimir
    Except: 1. Seonid wasn't the only one who spoke out in favour of not Smoking, enabling Seekers (if any; whether Village or Spiked) to do their job. STINK and Luckat agreed with him. Killing him for voicing an idea that gained acceptance tends to be pointless if other advocates survive. 2. I was the lone stubborn barve who argued that Smoking had its own benefits and that it was a bit of a stretch to assume Meta'd been so kind as to give Team Village Seekers in the first place. (Rule 1 of playing a game Meta GMs: it will be balanced, it will be hard mode for Village, and never assume role distributions. See Maili's comments on the Gunners. By your logic, I should've been the one killed, although I might very well die on Night 2 anyway (fulfilling my usual tradition...)
  14. Kasimir
    Except that we now know Seonid is a Villager. No comment.
  15. Kasimir
    I was one of the people Seonid PMed last night. While it's too early to determine the nature of his death (threat kill? grudge kill?), in the interests of sharing information, I'm going to summarise pretty much the only thing he said to me before he died. He wanted to repeat Wilson's idea (although flawed in execution) in AG1, with a different emphasis. The plan was to divide the entire player list into several different PM groups, with myself or Seonid in each group to 'chair' those PMs. (We now know Seonid is cleared; at that point in time, he told me he had neither reason to trust me, but neither did I have reason him: in fact, I had been a bit concerned as I had thought that a position of informational superiority would be something that would also help an Eliminator.) His objectives were twofold: 1. Draw out inactives and get them more engaged in the game, by interacting with them in a smaller PM setting. 2. Helps the Seeker: the Seeker could start scanning the people in their PM group and then once they'd cleared their group, they would have a bunch of people with which to strategise. I declined to take part in this plan, citing RL reasons. (Work, thesis, co-GMing MR10, and hospitalised family member. I'll be happy to put that again in blue for anyone who is suspicious of black text, even though I consider it extremely bad form to lie about these things. Work, thesis, co-GMing MR10, and hospitalised family member. Will be sporadically active despite my procrastinative tendencies, Don't Count On Me Singapore.) I do not know if Seonid had then decided to approach someone else; I do not know if he was then killed for this idea. To me, it's a decent idea, but I'm not sure if it's worth killing for. But it's worth sharing with the class anyway. I'm leery about discussing the identities of the Tineyes. I recognise PMs are not indispensible, but I do find them useful, and all things considered, I'd rather not end up losing a Tineye. But then, at the same time, even if we don't talk about the Tineyes, I bet the Spiked will be trying to figure out who they are in their doc (assuming neither of the Tineyes who've posted thus far are evil.) So I guess it's worth talking about. I do have some idea about who the second Tineye might be, but because this involves information from MR10, and I'm not certain if the Spiked have access to this information, I'm rather inclined to sit on it for now.
  16. Kasimir
    Except that I'm not saying 'Kill inactives'; as seen earlier, I advocated turning the Coinshot kill into a secondary lynch. What I am saying is that as nice as it sounds in theory that everyone can affect the course of the game, the fact remains that not everyone does, and a decent amount of that has to do with inactivity. Anyone can analyse; I grant some people can analyse better than others. But roles give us options, and for that reason, all things being equal, I'd rather not lose a role. Deliberate or incidental misrepresentation? That's the last I'm going to say on this matter. Back to work for me.
  17. Kasimir
    Do we, though? Because if we do want to overpower Emotional Allomancy, then we essentially need a lynch with a decently-sized margin. Given the activity in recent games, I'm hesitant to say we might get such a margin. Moreover, I think that voting "so as to avoid emotional allomancy" kind of defeats the point of voting; it provides an easy smokescreen for Eliminators to hide. Tell that to the number of inactives cropping up recently. I don't disagree that everyone can have an impact, but you can definitely bet that all things being equal, I'd rather trade a Regular or a Smoker for a Lurcher or a Seeker. And I definitely argue that while in theory everyone can, in practice, not everyone does, and more often than not, roles are important because they are a Village resource. That's perfectly compatible with the claim everyone can have an impact: it's not about preserving the important people, it's about preserving assets so the Village is in the best position it can possibly be in. Of course, you do realise you're basically advocating Follow the Cop, right? You want to go down that road again?
  18. Kasimir
    Cycle 7: Against the Dying of the Light Inor Haze paused to adjust the gloves he wore. Thaidakar was dead. The thought should’ve brought him some measure of relief; the easing of a burden from his shoulders. With the death of the man who was Thaidakar, the Ghostbloods were on the defensive. It would be easy to outmaneuver them, if they could only find the enemy hidden in their midst. No; those were divisive thoughts. He felt a trace of regret, that it had come to this. Had carefully left the body of Thaidakar where it was certain to be discovered by one of the man’s underlings, if not by the assassin who had killed his own leader. The thought amused him. It had a certain symmetry to it. But no; Thaidakar had been an opponent, and a respectable one. It was reasonable, then, to feel a measure of loss--not quite grief--at the man’s passing. I gave you the chance, Inor Haze thought. You were the one who spurned it. They could’ve worked together against a common foe; in fact, they had seemed to advocate it, at least in words. But promises, Inor Haze knew, were like pie crusts: easily broken. Words were a powerful thing, but words were not commitments, and in the end, men decided for themselves. They had to lie, now, in the beds of their own making. The lantern on the wall glowed; the spheres within infused with Stormlight. It was a small amount, but enough for his purposes. Inor Haze breathed in, contained the storm within his own skin, felt it urge him to movement, to action. He touched the frame of the door with his left hand and then breathed out the Stormlight; watching it coalesce into a glittering cloud in the air. He shaped it into an image of himself. He had to get it just right, thought Inor Haze--down to the black gloves, and the sword he wore by his side. The distant shouts and cries became louder. Sound carried, in these corridors, but they were still closer than they had a right to be, and the illusion would only fool them, and not for long. He glanced at the illusion for a moment longer and nodded reluctantly. It was not good enough, but it was time to be somewhere else. Anywhere else. He ran. The problem was that the crowd searching for him had carefully organised, and Alycia Kavdar and Slalassalas were waiting for him at the end of the corridor. Inor Haze drew his sword and charged. So little Stormlight, now. Slalassalas beat aside his blade, and riposted. He was quick; far quicker than he should’ve been. With the last of the Stormlight within him, Inor parried, dragging the tip of Slalassalas’s blade along the wall, gouging chips from the stone and striking sparks. He raised his forearm to deflect the knife that flew from Alycia’s hand a moment later. The knife scraped open a gouge on his forearm that slowly sealed together under the influence of the Stormlight. “I am Restares,” he said, quietly, infused with dimming Stormlight. “You would kill me?” Slalassalas laughed, roughly. “We’re Ghostbloods,” he said, with a glance at Alycia. “And as far as we’re concerned, you killed Thaidakar. Go burn in Braize, Restares.” He rammed his sword past Inor’s defense, through a lung, and twisted, slowly. The last of the Stormlight fled. - A knock on his door. Moros went over to open it. He hadn’t emerged since he’d secluded himself in anger over how Hellscythe had died, and he glared at the man who stood before him now. “What do you want?” he wanted to know, curtly. Agrigar Leiken said, “I thought you might like some festive cake.” “No,” Moros said. Agrigar wedged his foot behind the door, preventing him from closing it. A dark, secretive grin spread across the large man’s face as he grabbed Moros by the collar, drawing him closer. “Now,” said Agrigar. “Is this really the way to be talking to someone who baked you something special? After all, no one’s seen you in days. They’re all worried about you. What if he’s taken sick? What if he’s wasting away from hunger?” Moros ground his jaws together and tried to twist out of Agrigar’s hold, lashing out with his elbows and knees. But Agrigar managed to keep hold of him, all the while forcing the cake closer towards Moros’s clenched teeth. “Cake or death?” Agrigar taunted. Moros opened his mouth. “And death you mean--” Agrigar jammed the cake into his mouth. He watched with clinical interest as, a few moments later, froth began to bubble up between Moros’s lips. He relinquished his grip on the dying man, threw him onto the flagstones, and walked away. - They did not find Zas until the morning. There was no breakfast to be had, and so Deadeye went wandering. It was he who found Zas, lying on the ground. He knelt. There was no pulse; Zas’s skin had gone faintly blue-tinged, with flecks of blood spotting his lips and the ground. Sitting on the floor, next to his grasping fingers, was a half-eaten apple. The candle was half-burnt; still flickering. Deadeye didn’t see the point of waste, so he doused the candle with a single puff of breath and left the body behind. Inor Haze (5) : Alycia Kavdar, Slalassalas, Kael of the Forge, Frank Au Faliu, Zas Seixa (1) : Lopen Walter Kysley (1) : Cla Inor Haze (Creccio) was lynched! Moros (Deathclutch) was poisoned! Zas (Zas678) was poisoned! Player List:
  19. Kasimir
    I'd beg to differ on two counts. Rather than just killing inactives, one other way to utilise our Coinshots is to use the night votes as an indication of who we're suspicious of--effectively turning the night votes into a secondary lynch. Sure, the Coinshots can always choose to kill someone else, but this way, even the possibility of a follow-up during the day or a Coinshot kill (effectively a secondary lynch) would add more teeth to the night vote/suspicions. (As I've mentioned before, I think without a threat of death, discussions don't tend to be effective because people don't have incentives to reply. Or, at least, not as strong incentives. And the element of pressure tends to draw things out that the absence of such pressues, e.g. absence of threat of death does not. Second, Seonid, I think you're missing the lessons from the AG (in which you were the Eliminator.) We had lots of Smokers that game because we had lots of Emotional Allomancers. Smokers can shield people from having their votes manipulated; I don't think it's immediately obvious that they should value being scanned (do we even have a Village Seeker? And what if we have a Spiked Seeker? Spiked Seekers would want to be finding key roles for precision strikes) over ensuring that their vote can't be jacked for counter-Village purposes. As Meta said in that game, it's a trade-off, and it's one he wants us to be sober about making. Right, back to work.
  20. Kasimir
    Night fell on the horrible events of that had come to pass in Tyrian Fall during the daylit hours. In right corner of the apothecary's uppermost floor, a single candle burned. Kassien was not, however, in the study. He'd made brisk business today, after the bloodied messages in the snow. Many of the townsfolk had come calling, asking him to prescribe something for nerves. He'd let El handle some of the mixing: it was a simple proportion of mint to mallowsweet, and a touch of yures berries for liveliness. The cellar of the apothecary was freezing, he thought, with a shiver, but this was where the bulk of the herbs were stored. Freshness was important; many herbs had to be consumed fresh, although some herbs retained their properties when well-dried and stored in an airy place. He'd spent much of his apprenticeship learning what kind of herbs demanded what sort of treatment, as well as what they were good for. Among other things: astronomy, physicking, navigation, logic... He smiled, faintly. Darine had been a demanding master, but over the years, Kassien had come to see much of Darine's sternness as arising from her drive for perfection. And Kassien had, in the end, met those demands and surpassed them, hadn't he? Even if he'd disagreed with some of Darine's pedagogy. Eren, at least, had taught him that much. And so the master learned from the apprentice. The messages in the snow meant that some in the village were colluding with the koloss. He was certain of it. There had been a reference, too... He sighed, gave up on the stock-taking for the day, and bore the candle up, back to the study, where the candle he'd left burning--careless!--had all but burned down to the barest stub. He blew it out, and replaced it with the candle he carried. He went over to the shelves of books. Over the years, he'd accumulated an eclectic collection; books on all sorts of things, and while the books of clear use to an apothecary were well-marked, he'd still neatly filed the other types of books away by category. Neatness, Kassien thought, order--that was important. Eventually, he found it, and flipped--the book almost seeming to fall open of its own accord--to the page he wanted. Patient presents with no serious injury, Alcius had written. For all many contemporary writers considered Alcius to have gone somewhat mad and therefore unreliable in his final years, the truth, as Darine had reminded him, remained that Alcius had made significant contributions to the practice of modern physicking and his treatise examining and gathering folklore and standard practice on the properties of herbs throughout the Final Empire was still a seminal text. This case, though, had been written by late Alcius. Some apothecaries considered Alcius to have been in decline by then. Did he know? Kassien wondered. Had he seen the seeds of madness even then? Examination of his pupils indicates no use of wraithglove; --for wraithglove induced paranoia, and even hallucinations--and his pulse is quite steady. Slight flush in the cheeks, but no indication of alcohol consumption. Cognition is otherwise unimpaired. And then: the damning lines: A month before, the patient had survived a brawl with several men, among them a Thug. He made a remarkable recovery for someone so badly injured, by all reports. The records from the physician who attended to him suggested that a fragment of steel might've been embedded too deeply in the bone to be removed, & in any case is not causing him any difficulty. Below: in a much more jagged and shaky hand, reproduced faithfully in this copy of Alcius: HE SPEAKS. THOSE PIERCED BY METAL CAN HEAR HIM. HE IS GOD AND YOU'RE ALL GOING TO DIE HERE. CAN YOU HEAR HIM CAN YOU HEAR HIM CAN YOU HEAR HIM GOING TO DIE GOING TO DIE GOING TO DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE DIE Kassien frowned down at those words, for a very long time. Eventually, Alcius had been found, still babbling to himself, an entire rod of steel pounded through his brain with surprising strength. Those words, though. They had remained with him, even as Darine discussed Alcius's work on injuries to the mind. He thought again of the blood in the snow and shivered. Were there men, even now, moving through Tyrian Falls, with metal pounded through their bodies? Absurd, Kassien told himself. Alcius's claim had been thoroughly disproved over the years; there was no indication that piercings did anything, and metal piercings could not be affected by Allomancy. The Inquisitors were hardly any model of stable, healthy human beings, but then, he wasn't even sure if they were human in the first place. And yet... Spies, he told himself. There were spies in the village. But what did they gain from working with the koloss? Koloss could not be reasoned with; especially when they went on a rampage. He worried at the thought like a loose tooth for the rest of the night, but try as he might, he could not find any answers.
  21. Kasimir
    Because Wyrm, Hreo and myself belong to the batch of players who were playing when blue wasn't codified as the OOG colour but rather as the OOC colour. I'd say the use of blue is actually still ambiguous: players like Maili use it OOG, but some of us prefer to use it to denote anything we're stating OOC, i.e. that isn't RPed, hence the copious use of it. I admit, I've more or less fallen off the wagon on occasion because it's a godawful pain in the pula to keep remembering to code blue, but my impulse is still to blue anything that isn't RP. #PSAKas out
  22. Kasimir
    ...Why is it that everyone talks about PM safety and then doesn't practice it? The number of roleclaims in this game are too storming high! I've had two already! (Even if they totally claimed the role of Troll... ) Because I'm tired, Chief. And these things take effort. And I'm lazy. And I want sleep. And to finish SPCing. Go find someone else, or start the ball rolling...
  23. Kasimir
    So basically, no one kill M'Hael, or we won't get those quick links? I see your cunning plan
  24. Kasimir
    The bell tinkled as Teys let himself out. Kassien stood there a moment longer, just thinking. A band of koloss, Kassien thought, shaking his head. There had been a veiled threat in Teys's words, too. If you don't stay, I'll force you to. He hadn't liked that. Couldn't blame someone for trying to save their own life. You didn't stop koloss, no matter what Teys said. You just tried to get out of their way. Sure, Luthadel could hold out against a siege of koloss, if well-defended, but it was the only city that was walled. Tyrian Falls was a small town on a major trade-route, but no other city in the Final Empire was permitted walls, much less Tyrian Falls. They had metals, but for all Allomancy was a force-multiplier, he just didn't know if it would be enough. He wondered how much of that conversation El had overheard. After all, he'd tasked her with examining the differences between arrowroot and blackleaf. A good apprentice, he thought: a little distracted, but then, no one was perfect. He briefly toyed with the idea of keeping it from her, but discarded it almost immediately. He wasn't going to let Teys force her into anything. And if El chose to stay in Tyrian Falls, then she had to know what was coming. Anything else would be doing her a disservice. He pulled open the drawer. The letter from Eren was still there; still tucked neatly in its envelope and set at the very bottom of a stack of correspondence from fellow apothecaries, friends, and the occasional alchemist and physician. He'd need to change his will, Kassien decided. Eren had long finished his apprenticeship and was travelling; the last thing he needed was to be tied down to an apothecary in Tyrian Falls. El, on the other hand... If he was dead, Kassien thought, it was at least something he could give her. He made a mental note to do so, added it to his list of things that needed doing, and returned to sorting out the ingredients. As El's edit clarifies, within the game, she's RPing as Kassien's apprentice, rather than an illusionist. Also, I just wanted to get one more RP in for the road
  25. Kasimir
    As the poster boy for PM safety, I feel compelled to post this: You're welcome, guys
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