Kasimir

Keep in mind Transformation roleblocks skew off as the game carries on - they roleblock one random action, which can be bonkers weak in a landscape with three action slots and an extra free kill, effectively a 25% chance of getting the right action. Only Gravitation roleblocks are absolute, and this is where I agree 3 of 'em in a game is too many. That's a distro and intel problem, not a design problem. Yes, but it's also a target scan though. It's effectively a passive and active. I agree with the idea the WS needs more love, I just don't think Transportation is clearly broken. Fair. Yeah, WS lags as the red-headed stepchild.

Going to contradict some of these as I don't want these taken as uncontroversial for feedback for next round: - Cohesion is fine IMO. You get to advance faster than pretty much everyone else. Not every Surge needs to be frontloaded for the KR. The ability of Cohesion to detect redirects IMO is also pretty decent, as is some phishing uses of the ability, even if I chose to play things straight rather than go there. Keeping in mind it effectively let me clear Raven. It's an informational ability and I'm cool with that. - Transportation passive cannot be roleblocked. The 50% chance feels alright in that light, but does make advances for the WS feel pretty underwhelming. - SBs are fine to me: I do think two was a bit much, given we also had a WR. I'd rather say Division and NKs shouldn't be differentiated, which still keeps the Ideal but prevents the SB from knowing for sure.

Ngl that was why I claimed C1 to everyone I could - more or less transparently similar to what I was thinking in LG96. I reasoned that Elims might want Tension, and would try to pocket me (I'm fine being pocketed - my V!side philosophy is to just let them reel you in so you can stab them in the face at a convenient opportunity, which TJ and apparently Devo paranoided af about. Elims often tend to overestimate the depth of the pocket and assume you aren't going to rethink, which is a notorious E blindspot, comes I think from being the informed minority, but it's something worth exploiting a lot of times as a Villager because when you are pocketed, you become an E!asset they can argue against not killing this cycle, and your job is to make this cycle crucial ), or that they might believe I was not a threat (true!) and focus on actual PR hunting. Basically: I either get left alive and given time to correct my reads/establish myself in the game, or I guarantee a C1 shot (and in fact, a failed shot once Araris was on board with this) that gives Araris 2LW and ostensibly takes out a SW, which felt like an eminently disposable role. (Listen Fifth I get it but I was the glorified Tineye on stilts! And you did plan for me to be a kamikase role!) I also did need to find roles to give Tension to, and I'd resolved to play this game more aggressively, with Maili-style roletrading. So that's what fell out. In a way, I guess: so - sort of according to keikaku.

Don't you mean Lightweavers? Wit can certainly be an honorary Stoneward if he wants - in my book, he's earned it. FWIW you didn't need 3DB for this. With the way Devo and I were planning the final set of actions/dispositions, I think the PtV for you guys would've been: -You DB shoot me. -Devo RBs STINK and kills him. What she saw, but all three of us (Fifth, myself, Devo) missed was that since Fifth endorses RB transitivity rules, Devo RBing STINK opens you up to use your kill shot. -Shooting me as I'm the guaranteed kill - I forgot Wit was redirecting. -TJ and Wit v. Devo - TJ would have to Tension Wit, and Wit has a 50% chance of a correct redirect. If Wit guesses wrong, Devo shoots the undefended partner. If she doesn't, she has to contend with a Return to Sender but has 50% survivability. -If Devo guesses right, she goes to the next round 1v1 and wipes the floor with TJ unless TJ gains BS4, and forces a mutual draw. -If Wit is the final survivor, as long as the votes are a tie, Devo murders him and another mutual kill results.

This was not referring to you, but Wit's reaction to watching a hammer go down that he knew nothing about. IMO the natural Village reaction to seeing a hammer is to think E!hammer - V!hammers are more rare, and Wit believing he's witnessing a E!hammer opens up a new layer of unpredictability for Village. Edited to add: The issue with making a play like that is if it's say, Archer, there's a decent sense of how he'd respond and adapt. With Wit, there isn't. This risks opening Wit into the third front/pivot of the game, where everyone is basically fighting to get Wit on board. That's pretty overwhelming for him potentially, which also re-opens the risks we don't know where the endgame was going to go. Fundamentally, keeping Wit onside was more important than fancy V!hammer tricks.

@Devotary of Spontaneity - In short you were not wrong but I can't be making mass lying plays every game Especially not with how much FUD was costing me in reads stability this round. Nice parallel to QF62 here where I also suffered reads stability issues after coming back off a month's break. Something that very nearly did happen, i.e. not wrong: -I was quietly making more extensive anti-Aeo cases to TJ and STINK to sell them on it, along with the fact you were the most likely E!partner. -My plan was to get STINK and TJ on board to split the vote and, in a nice tribute to you, V!hammer Aeo after you all were content with the thought we were complacently exeing TJ with Aeo in 2exe to gain an Ideal promotion. -In the end we discarded this, or rather I unliterally dumped the plan without asking them to go for it because rollover was at 2AM for STINK and TJ which was rough. -Also, there was Wit to consider: I didn't know if I could get Wit to go with a hammer especially with how new he was. The flip side of my V play you might forget is I try to minimise lying to my own team because this just confuses and alienates everyone who wasn't in on it, and if I were Wit, I'd certainly lose my chull at a hammer out of nowhere! I was concerned the Village couldn't recover from a potential catastrophic lack of trust, regardless of Aeo's flip, and the votes were too close to necessarily expect the hammer to carry through.

@Fifth Scholar Neither you, me, nor Devo saw it. I love that my calling it a hoover inadvertently gaslit us all Good showing everyone! Was fun!

Honestly this is why I committed to the Kaharis RP instead. Not saying this helps you on the making RP side, but while Kaharis (betting no one gets the ref ) doesn't have the sort of rich RP backstory I'd want, writing in that sort of style is going to be substantively easier for people to understand and engage with. Just occasionally call Evil people irredeemable and seek to burn the sick and twisted in heaven's purifying flame and I'm good. I can't help on the RP side, but I really want an RP-only game to succeed, and worries from multiple players about RP being too impenetrable or annoying to read - well, this is the best I can do.

Given player concerns about the game, I think I'm going to retire Cinthio for another game. This should make my posts pretty easy to parse even if I can't get Village points for this as the game hasn't started yet and god only knows what curses Araris's RNG may inflict >> Changing my sign-up to Kaharis, a soldier apparently on a holy mission. The legions of Evil stand at our doorstep. The Deepness darkens our skies and blots out Amaneth's glorious light. It sickens men, and twists others. We turn on each other, rather than standing shoulder to shoulder against dire Evil. "Wait for Alendi," they say. Even in Copper's Bend, the village of my birth, where children starve and men gaze with hollowed cheeks and lay the last stalk of wheat at Jahidi's shrine, as we have always done—they say we must wait for Alendi. That Alendi, even now, is on a journey to save us. I served in Alendi's army. I fought at the battle of Kordelan, at Vhkandi and then Ulendiru, against the armies of the fiery West, before Alendi negotiated a peace with them. I saw bodies stacked up—like cordwood—before the walls of Jhmir-Ampu. They think I tired of battle, and of slaughter. They are only half-right. There is a foulness, in this world. The Deepness blights our harvests and starves generations alike. In cities, they squabble in the shadow of storehouses as soldiers struggle to keep the peace. Here in Copper's Bend, they sell ore to the army and pray to Jahidi against the losses of winter. All this while, our own kill, as though they know nothing of light and mercy. As though something terrible has befallen them. There are graves, newly-dug in the village graveyard. Gentle, kind souls gone mad, gone to the reaving. Graves like scabs on Jahidi's earth. The legions of Evil stand at our doorstep. The Deepness ravages us, killing young and old alike. Killers stalk in our mists. I returned to Copper's Bend because Radiant Amaneth called me to her service, and I knew I must answer. Show them the light by your words and actions, Amaneth teaches us. But at the same time, those beyond redemption—those beyond the light of her truth—must be redeemed by the sharp edge of the sword. It is an hour of wolves now. The sick and twisted, the irredeemable, must be purified in Amaneth's holy fire. If it is the will of Amaneth, who am I to deny it?

Just for anyone on the fence or cautious about RP-only games: QF29 wasn't RP-only but it de facto ended up being RP-heavy in the early stages, and you can really do it without getting too deep in the weeds with character arcs and the like: Though I'd also caution QF29 had one big issue with a player using another player's name for laughs and then the improv went to places that made the impersonated player feel extremely uncomfortable. Quick example of how it can be done in a short post that has very little fancy RP but would pass Araris's requirements, minus the [OOC] tag there: Even simpler, shorter RP interaction from Alv to Devo here, with Alv's character essentially being paranoid as all heck: My views are generally aligned with Drake's in that I don't think it's worth persuading players who are self-excluding for RL/commitment reasons to play a game as the result is potentially inactivity. That being said, I felt that people might be overestimating what it takes to couch a post in RP language. The samples show it can be less daunting than expected.

You know how I feel about this, Mr Infiltrator sir

Can I please, for the love of Wormmon, ask prospective GMs to post your sheets after the game. I don't care about your distro. I care about your logging player actions because nothing is more annoying than having to hunt in three different docs and five different tabs to try to figure out what happened to a missing Elim kill so I can fix the public SE data spreadsheet. Please, for the love of God, SE, and my sanity, document things properly. Some of these spreadsheets were meant only to be viewed by demons. I swear this is the fifth time I have seen a cursed spreadsheet, and this includes my own. P.S. Mods - feel free to get me to move it if necessary. I'm sort of undecided about whether this should go in Meta or not but figured it's better off here where a prospective freakin' GM might actually see this.

Apologies for the late necro. I'm trying to add this game to the player data spreadsheet and I notice the GM mastersheet does not seem to be linked publicly. @Szeth_Pancakes any chance you could make that available, please?

Ah cheers, I can just moodwrite then, thanks Mr GM sir

Signing up as Cinthio Kimarr: lawyer, exile, struggling innkeeper at The Last Sheaf. Think of Stardew Valley but darker and also inn-related instead @Araris Valerian Let me know if you need a clearer trait or characterisation of Cinthio, but the loose character arc I had in mind is thematically about displacement and exile: what does it feel like to come back in the worst possible time to a small village you've long outgrown? What would motivate someone to return somewhere he hated? What is it like to be a stranger in your own hometown? How do you handle that sense of dislocation, or the struggle to fit an old life you rejected? P.S. The RP doesn't name the inn but I'd go with The Last Sheaf. Edited to add: Araris - if you need a clearer articulation of a trait, Cinthio's struggling with a bit of a life crisis/sense of exile from everything, and trying to find his footing. Stormfather, I really hope this has a distinct enough voice to keep me engaged, because I was half-considering reviving Koren's template since he got N1ed anyway (thanks Mat ) but Sirtka there has already covered and I'm trying not to make Copper's Bend a village of drunks that so let's go broader Leaden grey skies and the sound of falling rain. The first handfuls of dirt on the coffin. The priestess Ferelda, looking older and more wizened than Cinthio had ever remembered, intoned the last of the burial rites: a prayer committing the deceased to Jahidi's embrace. The battered copper pin of Jahidi's wheat sheaf that she wore on her shawl glinted bright in the weak light of day. Cinthio Kimarr stared at the open grave being slowly filled in and wished he felt...something. As though he were anything other than a stranger. He never thought he'd return to Copper's Bend, really. Hadn't planned on doing it for all the distant messages he'd sent home, which his pa'd probably ignored. Or cast to the fire. But when the message had come, to his small flat in Kordel, written in the neat hand of a scribe, Cinthio felt—not grief, not quite, you could not grieve what you did not quite love, if he were being honest, but perhaps a strange sense of loss, mixed with longing and sorrow. And obligation. "It's a dangerous time," Wynar had said, peering over Cinthio's shoulder as he read the letter. "I know," Cinthio had said. The rumours of the Deepness striking in the villages and the rural heartlands abounded. Even in the cities, many were not immune to the Deepness. Everyone talked, with hope, about Alendi, who was gone to fulfill a Terris prophecy. Alendi, they said, was the Hero of Ages, and setting out to save them all. Even now, all they had to do was endure. Endure, and wait for salvation to come. Cinthio looked out the glazed glass window at the magnificent bloodfire of the setting sun and wondered if this was what it meant to live at the death of an era. "You should stay here, you know," Wynar was saying. He didn't plead. He wouldn't. What Cinthio heard was, stay here. Stay with me. Stay safe. But the old man, his pa. He'd been a pillar of Cinthio's world, and now that he was gone, Cinthio abruptly felt bereft. Alone. Could you miss or even grieve the loss of someone you'd never really loved? Maybe that was why he was back in Copper's Bend now, dirt and a new set of calluses on his hands, watching them fill in his father's grave. Mayor Arwhin hadn't talked very much about the cause of Rufus Kimarr's death, but Cinthio'd seen the new stones in the village graveyard, many of them newly-carved. Too many. Faces hollowed by hunger, hardened by the regular confrontations with the Deepness. You didn't fight the Deepness, in these parts. That was the business of lords and kings; the likes of Alendi. Here, you hid, and you helped your fellow villagers, and you hoped for the best. When the mists came up, people sickened. People died. It was something in the mists, Harim the gravedigger had speculated. But no one knew for sure. Cinthio didn't. The mists lingered long into the day now. They didn't burn off with Pahlar's divine light. The world was turning towards an ending, Wynar had speculated, over the last of the wine; that was why the kings and nations turned towards Alendi and ancient Terris prophecies, seeking any source of salvation. Cinthio didn't remember. It'd been months ago. Maybe two years. They were living at the end of an era now, the priest of iron Erevar had proclaimed, in Kordel's grand cathedral. It was the time to hold fast and to endure, for the Deepness stalked the lands, and the gods would see them through this. But the mists came now in the day, and lingered, thickened, even, so in some parts crops withered and died and harvests were poor no matter how much you entreatied Pahlar and Jahidi and—and Cinthio wondered. And Wynar'd wondered, of course. Maybe that was what had drawn them together, fresh out of law school at Kordel's university. That, and the fact it was easier to pay the rent if they shared the flat. The last of the dirt fell on top of the open grave. Still, the freshly-turned soil seemed like a scab crusted on the earth. Cinthio cast the last handful of dust over his father's grave—awkwardly—and then turned to speak to mayor Arwhin about his father's inn.

Ffs i s2g

Jawohl, Herr GM!

RP only playing??? Man that's too difficult I gotta think about this one, Porch bro (Says the guy who has been waiting a year for this game Taking my time to sign up. I have a bunch of characters in my pocket but want to pick one with a voice and arc I can keep up.)

Apologies for the double-post. I just wanted to finish the mini-arc I was working on for Keleran since I realised I'd hit Fourth Ideal this cycle, and I'd rather not deal with a morning rush. @|TJ| Specifically if you want me to change anything let me know, I just figured you were never gonna RP so whatever sure I can give Keleran a bro moment for the Fourth Ideal bump and sort of stole Galatar for laughs because why tf not ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ Keleran felt the restless energy coil inside him, much like lightning, waiting to strike. Saffron was busy accusing Galatar, which felt...too quick. Too ready, as though she was trying to seize the opportunity while it presented itself. While Keleran himself had made accusations against Galatar. And you? he wondered, watching as Galatar shrugged haplessly. He had that way of doing that, that made you want to let your guard down. "I was busy," he protested. "You know my spren is a little more particular, I missed the first meeting because I was caught up and thought I had more time, and then just forgot." Saffron said, "Most of Shay's potential co-conspirators include Galatar." Keleran knew this. He knew this. And yet, it seemed so unfair that every particle of his being screamed to put himself between his squadmate and this latest threat. Even if it was a threat that Keleran himself had instigated. Galatar looked at him. It wasn't a pleading stare. He never did beg, Keleran found himself thinking, numbly. Thought of the training manuevers that Callar had sent them together on, something about fostering teamwork and getting them used to their new powers as Knight Radiants. Galatar had never made Keleran feel...uncomfortable. Had always made him feel as though he was becoming part of something greater than the sum of its parts, something that meant something. That was worth defending for, no matter how hopeless. Around Galatar, he never felt like Keleran the surgeon's son, catastrophically-unsuited to be a Knight Radiant. He guessed that was just part of Galatar's charm, his easy indifference. "I didn't do it," Galatar said, earnestly, as they went aside and recused themselves for the moment. "You know me, Kel. I've always shown up when it mattered; to drills, to maneuvers, to exercises. I wouldn't. If it were me, Shay'd never have gotten caught in the first place." Keleran looked at him, searchingly. So easy to be wrong, Keleran thought. So easy to want something to be the truth, even if it was a pretty lie, if it meant you didn't have to face things that were uncomfortable. Was this Keleran lying to himself? He wanted Galatar to be telling the truth, wanted Galatar to not have been conspiring with Shay and Stormfather-only-knew who else to murder them all. He wanted Galatar to have been genuine. To have been real. He wanted to know his trust wasn't misplaced. Such a simple thing, to trust. Such a terrifying thing. And yet, in that moment, Keleran found himself making that step. That leap of faith. Everything in him screamed that Galatar was truthful. That—of everyone in their squad—it would not have been Galatar, not after so much. "In fact, I think you should be asking harder questions of Wit, and of Phil Swift." "Swift's dead." "Oh," Galatar absorbed that information for a moment. "Well, then," he said, brightly. "I think you should ask questions of Saffron. She hasn't really committed to much where Wit's concerned, it's always been about Orotha or me. It's like she's protecting him." The pieces fit together in Keleran's head, then, and he felt the sudden surge of adrenaline burn through his veins. "No," he said, quietly. Galatar cocked his head at him. "What do you mean, no?" "Think it through," Keleran said. It didn't flow. It didn't work. He wasn't the smartest; he'd struggled with his studies, since he was a boy. His brothers, though. They'd been the bright shining stars of the family and could do little wrong where their father was concerned. Keleran, really, had always been the troubled one, and a little of a disappointment. Maybe that was why it'd taken him so long to see it, until Galatar had said it, and suddenly all the pieces were tumbling like grains of sand through a glass. "It's not Wit," he said, urgently. The memory that Galatar stirred loose had Saffron accusing Galatar, then claiming that if Galatar proved innocent, they should cross-examine Wit next. And yet, hadn't Saffron also said that Wit seemed too guileless while Orotha was too enigmatic? If you thought about it, it didn't follow. He said it, haltingly. You could wonder if it was really suspicion, or a convenient noose, meant to fit any neck at all. "It's Orotha. She's shielding Orotha." He looked wonderingly at Galatar. Had they found the last two traitors? He couldn't have done it. Not on his own. Not fretting, not striding circles in the training yard. Not glaring at the problem as though it would resolve if he was more determined. If he went and was him at the problem. "Good catch," said Galatar. He was frowning. "Not Wit then..." "Thank you," Keleran breathed. Galatar's gaze was querying. "You handed it to me. What you said. I just...did the analysis on it. You helped me remember." He found himself saying. "We make a good team, don't we?" Pressure, as though a storm was bearing down upon him. Knowledge that it was here, now, and— And Keleran found himself able to say it. "We do," Galatar smiled. "Not alone," Keleran said. A Stoneward didn't have to be alone. You fought when you had to, even if no one would back you. Even when hope was lost. Even when you had nothing, no one at all. Even when you didn't want to, for no other reason than you were needed. But you didn't have to. You had your squad. Your team. Your friends. Fumbling, he said, "It's been distrust central around here, lately. I'd...almost forgotten." What it felt to stand shoulder to shoulder against onrushing Singer infantry. What it felt to be schooled in the use of their shared Surge, expressed differently. Be wary of Saffron, Gen-ku had warned. Keleran had carried the words, the warning, even now. Leading to this moment, when all of it coalesced in his head. Galatar, prodding him. Orotha devising the plans with which they planned to strike back at the traitors. TBD having done his own investigations, and then requesting support. A known face with which to bring the challenge forward. Jenel offering to shield TBD. They were each other's strength. He saw that now. Orotha was their cunning. Galatar and him worked so closely they knew each other's reactions by this point in time. TBD's investigative grit, meant for the benefit of all. Jenel's willingness to protect the rest of their squadmates. They made each other better. It was in the drills that Callar had them run, as a mixed squad of Knight Radiants. They had all sworn the Immortal Words. They were all on a journey together. They were in this fight together. "Forgotten what?" Galatar asked. We rise together, Callar had intoned. We are each other's strength. "That we're stronger together," Keleran said. "We carry the weight together." That they depended on each other, that he relied on them to be there for him, just as much as they relied on him to be there for them. Even when the highstorm struck and the rains began to pour. Thunder rumbled acceptance, bone-deep.

You knew what the Oaths were. Difficult not to, when the Coalition was determined to restore the ranks of the Knights Radiant, and there were Stonewards in the ranks above and below you, and you knew what shape their Oaths had taken, even if each Oath was difficult, and left you feeling raw, but strangely ebullient. Keleran steeled himself and moved among the rest of his squadmates. Wit seemed confused, but genuine. Keleran'd caught him asking Callar all sorts of questions about his spren and his abilities, which his senior was answering with patience, even though the Lightweavers were a subtler order than the Stonewards. As such, Keleran could not imagine Wit a traitor. There was Galatar. Keleran's stomach tied itself in knots. It was...important to him that Galatar remained loyal, that his squadmate wasn't a traitor. He supposed it was because they'd worked on a number of training exercises together. You put your life in another squadmate's hands, and trusted he would return the favour. For this reason, accusing Galatar had never sat well with him. He remembered Gen-ku, sent off to be court-martialled. Gen-ku whose last words to Keleran had been, "Watch Saffron. She knows too much." He'd protested, at that time. But Gen-ku's words curled about in his mind and wouldn't leave, especially when word returned that Gen-ku had been a loyal Skybreaker after all. A Skybreaker knew, surely, about treachery, about the insidious threat they were dealing with. Much better than a surgeon's son, who knew the texts, but not the topography of human motivations. He ran over the Oaths in his mind. The first was always the same, of course. Life before death. Strength before weakness. Journey before destination. A commitment. The beginning of the path. The second was the commitment to the fight, what separated the Stonewards from the Windrunners from the Lightweavers from the Elsecallers, the other nine Orders. "It's showing up," Ellu had said, and Keleran had understood. Sometimes you were mistaken about what the fight was. But the second was the commitment to taking it and holding it, no matter what you felt, no matter the cost. It was about being there, because no one else would. It had to start somewhere. The third he'd sworn, shortly after. Couldn't help but feel like a fraud for it, as though there was something strange about this path he'd swiftly walked. Callar'd said, afterwards, when congratulating him—the shared understanding they had of their Order's Oaths connecting them—that the third felt harsh, for Stonewards. The demand you stand your ground, even if no one else was. Even if all seemed lost. Even if it seemed hopeless. Did it seem hopeless? Keleran supposed so. Six of the squad remained. Two of them were likely compromised. Of those who remained, TBD was a Skybreaker, but could not guard himself. Keleran was no fighter, for all he'd come to a better understanding of his Surges. He felt the reflexive anger at Callar leaving them to it, and set that aside again. It was irrelevant. They had to deal with the situation as it was, not as Keleran wished it would be. Callar'd said something about Wit swearing the Second Ideal, for which Keleran was direly grateful. And there was Galatar, fledging Bondsmith, and how the storms the third Bondsmith had showed up in their squad was something Keleran did not understand but Galatar bore no Shards. Did storming things with his Surges that Keleran could not understand, so it balanced out, he supposed. Saffron, the resident Dustbringer, and Orotha, the enigmatic Elsecaller. At least one of them was a turncoat. At least one of them was a murderer waiting to strike again. Galatar hadn't been there. Keleran supposed he bore resentment over that, while Wit had been off on his own too often. He'd spent far too much time arguing with Orotha, and he and TBD alone weren't going to be able to ward off the traitors, if at all. He sucked in a deep breath. "Captain Junior," Shay had mocked. A dig, of course, at Keleran's Surges, and the fact he was of Callar's Order as well. As far as he could tell, the only other Stoneward in this squad. He felt the Fourth Oath, like an impending storm. Thunder in his bones. So much pressure. Knowing it was looming, knowing he had to face it. Knowing what Callar himself had spoken. The knowledge felt like a burden. It would crush him. Resting on his shoulder, Ellu said, and she'd been so quiet, uncharacteristically so, allowing him to brood, "Will you say it?" "I don't know," he said. How could he swear they would rise together, that his entire squad was his strength, just as he was theirs, if he didn't even know how many of them could be trusted?

Keleran thought he was going to be sick. His mind went back to the ring of Blades, the Ellublade in his hand. Watching as Shay's eyes burned with a fiery red light. Shay was dead, of course. The first time Keleran had killed. He didn't think the whitespine counted. The Truthwatcher, after that. Jenel falling over, slumping into Keleran's arms, as the Ellublade fuzzed into mist and Ellu said, concerned, "Keleran? Keleran!" and Keleran thought he was going to faint. There was so much blood and there was a roaring in his head and he hated the sight of blood, it made him sick to his stomach. There was a second death that day. A touch of irony to it; Keleran was not skilled enough to treat a gut wound, and Jenel too newly-bonded to their spren to wield Progression. By the time someone had thought to get a Stormlight sphere to Jenel, it was too late. And Keleran— Keleran had frozen up. As he had always feared. As he had always thought he would, when push came to shove. "You should never have—" he choked out, head buried in his hands. "Oh, shut up," Ellu said, fiercely, and Keleran actually did shut up, stunned by the peakspren's uncustomary viciousness. "You can't save everyone. I'm not an honorspren. I don't care about that." "But I do," Keleran muttered. "Jenel..." Had depended on him. Had trusted him. And Keleran had cold-bloodedly let Jenel step to TBD's side, blocking off the potential angle of attack, because he'd judged it more important that TBD stay alive, and he hated that calculation, the knowledge that it had to be done, when everything in him screamed to be the one to do it, to be there, to be the big storming target. If he couldn't even do that, what was he good for? He hated Callar, too. Hated that Callar had left them to it, left them to organise themselves. Or really, as it amounted to, left Keleran to organise whatever the storms they were storming doing. Wasn't Callar supposed to be there for them just as much? The thought of abandonment made him sick to his stomach. It was what they did. It was what they swore to, he'd known now. Taking the fight others wouldn't, no matter what sort of fight that was. And when Shay had called for TBD to face her, Keleran had hidden. He wasn't a warrior, and he knew that now. But not all fights were fought in the sand of the training yard, with what Ellu would've called a murder pole in hand. Oh, of course, he'd hidden TBD, or at least done his damnedest to. Sworn that Shay would only get to TBD over Keleran's dead body. Meant it, too. What good was he for, if he couldn't even ensure that their last Skybreaker still lived and breathed? "Made the choice," Ellu said, hands on her tiny hips, and in a moment, she'd fuzzed into a small, miniature stony replica of Jenel. "How about respecting that?" He looked at her, stricken. "I..." "Keleran," Ellu said, because she could never get the voice right. "If I were Jenel, right here, right now, what would you say?" He took a deep breath. "I'm sorry," Keleran said. "I'm sorry because I would do it again. I'm sorry because I would do it, but we knew they would never believe me. They wouldn't. I hate it because you trusted me, but..." But it had to be done, and that was the sort of person he was becoming. The sort of person Callar had become too, he supposed. "...But I had no choice." He warred with his own revulsion. Felt the wetness prickling in his eyes. But he would face this head-on. Jenel deserved as much. Keleran was not going to shy away from it. Ellu said, and she was Ellu now, "The Oaths don't demand perfection, Keleran. I'm a peakspren, not a high spren." "But they demand commitment." She nodded. "They do." He was committed, he thought. To the death, then. Every name was a sacrifice that Keleran didn't want to make. But, and he was beginning to see this now, there was the larger fight. That was what Ellu was getting at. That was the one thing they didn't remotely want to lose. The battle for the soul of the squad. That was what had guided him, when he made that decision to let Jenel take that fatal step. That was what mattered. But what came after... "Kel," said Ellu. "There were six others in the ring, and Callar. It wasn't just on you." "I can't control what they do. I can only control what I do." Well, no, that was the joke, wasn't it? He couldn't either. He couldn't even manage that, and he felt a sick fascimile of that old white panic clawing at his lungs as he remotely thought about the need to get back on his feet and work on finding out who Shay's co-conspirators were. Galatar. TBD. Saffron. Wit. Orotha. And of them, he was only sure of TBD. Who was he to do this? He had to, but he was a surgeon's son, playing at war. Ellu shook her head. "You can't control what they do, but you're a squad, Keleran. You all work towards the same thing, or don't. It's not about you. It was never about you. Everyone chose to hide TBD. Everyone made the choices they did." He stared at her, tumbling at the edge of paradox, caught between self and the greater whole. "I don't have all the answers, Keleran," Ellu said, patiently. "But I think we have to find out for ourselves."

Wir denken gut zusammen bhai. Glaub nie 'was Anderes.

If you're worried about me specifically, just to be clear, especially for players reading this, I'm fine with it, but I thank you anyway. FUD is a key Elim tool. I'd never ask it be off the table. I knew what I signed up for. I can’t say I'm thrilled to be the guy who keeps taking the brunt of it but that's on me for wanting to give potential Villagers every chance before exeing. I did resent being told or made to feel like I was doing something wrong when refusing to engage with Mat for my own mental health. I knew my limits and slugging it out with him wasn't good for me, so having Mat demand I not ignore him didn't sit well with me. There was an argument for exeing him. That was all. I'd say just leave links for after the game tbh. There's no good way around it because any GM or IM reaction is telling. Again, I'm poster boy for "would rather die than bus Orlok and 5v1 Illwei, Maili, Ash, TKN, and Archer" so I fully understand your position here.

Appreciated but I'm not touching a link that goes to Drive until after the game. If you are Evil, and a very small part of me is expecting a late hour Meerkat claim, a doc link that potentially goes to the Elim doc or through it is hard confirmation. That's not something I want to be trafficking in. I will admit that it is very likely that nothing short of peak!Aman himself resurrected would likely change my vote at this point, for reasons that include the circumstances of the game and the case I was arguing with STINK and the post I made in which I voted you. If it is a tunnel, I'll live with it. FWIW openwolfing is just a calculus between you and your teammate and if Mat's cool, then so be it. I can respect not wanting to go 5v1. I myself would probably have just slugged it out, but it would be so much suffering I absolutely get not wanting to, and I recall Orlok and I agreeing to hardgamble because I was suffering too much. So yeah. I get it.

The fact there is actually a PowerPoint makes the suffering of C3 worth it, Mat ilu