Adamir

Well, storming storms, thank you conspirators - the suspicion on Kipper was to the extent that it would take a miracle for him to not get lynched this cycle. Their con artist no longer gets the extra kill. Have we seriously failed to lynch a single Eliminator? Back on topic, rust and ruin, conspirators - we just lost our second kill. Take this as gospel - don't target people with the Scoundrel Vote. We've lost two Brights, and by my estimations the only remaining Brightlord/Brightlady is likely to be an Eliminator. Now that I've said this, they will most likely go for the Wounded Gazelle Gambit and target one of their own, except for the fact that I have now stated that they are likely to go on the Wounded Gazelle Gambit, in which case their target is completely unpredictable. https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=5Gb7qjMkAcE

Requesting feedback for an interlude for a larger work; I've started out my novel by plotting out the general structure, then deciding to write the interludes before the main chapters to give myself clear points to place key events, directly before said interludes. I've just finished the first one, but I'm not sure about the quality; feel free to tear it to shreds with criticism, as should have been done with quite a few other authors before they got their works out. Remember, don't be critical and you may be unleashing another Eye of Argon on the world... --- The only thing that can contrast the calm before a battle is the celebrations that come after. The nine hundred or so men brought with House Estwenth were gathered in a narrow valley just inside the Yadwar border, singing, drinking, breaking discipline. Before a battle, this lack of discipline would have terrified me. Now, it just frustrated me. I was an officer and heir to House Curnow, and General Tobias saddled my squad with guard duty. Thirty of the savages were bound and tied to stakes at the edge of the encampment, watched over by four dozen men, forbidden from partaking in the celebrations. Here I was, forced to listen to lesser men celebrate while I had to remain vigilant. And what were the chances of a rescue? The Yadwar savages had been thoroughly broken at the Nine Valleys, their armies crushed by the Eastern Houses' united military. And the Estwenth encampment was directly in the center of the army; any rescuers would have to fight their way through fifteen thousand men to reach us. 'Don't look so grim, Adrik,' Castor said, tapping me on the shoulder. 'We won. Yadwar driven back, thirty of their finest generals ready to be tried, sentenced and executed. Crack a smile!' I turned to look at him. 'Lesser men are celebrating up there, and we are left down here. If Father knew of this...' 'Yes, if your father knew of this, House Curnow would petition the Emperor, I presume? It doesn't matter how influential your house is, nor mine. Military ranks have nothing to do with the nobility.' I scowled, unwilling to acknowledge a point. 'That doesn't make it fair,' I replied. 'Why not just bind the captives in the center of the encampment?' 'Because General Tobias is a complete idiot,' Castor said, dropping his smile for a second. 'You think I like this any more than you? I'm next in line for the High Seat of House Etorican, and an officer, and here I am, watching over the savages' military leaders.' Castor turned to glance at a gray tent in the middle of the clearing. The entire reason I, Castor and half a hundred men had to stand guard. 'Ossein of the Red Hill clan, the new great threat to Almer. Lucky for you,' he continued, raising his voice so the captive could hear, 'Lord Estwenth wants you alive, to parade around Etoro before a public execution. I'd like to thank you; if you had just died at Nine Valleys, we wouldn't be here watching over you.' 'Blame him,' I muttered, trying to force humor that fell flat before it left my mouth. 'Blame Ossein, blame General Tobias. Blame Lord Estwenth. Why not have House Etoro strip their titles?' He turned to me, and the venom in his voice cut short anything else I was going to say. 'I'm not Lord Etorican yet, but nor are you Lord Curnow. And until we are on equal standing, you will display more respect.' We stood guard for a few more agonizing minutes. Finally, I called to my squire. 'Yeden!' I yelled. A boy ran up to me, ten years beneath my twenty. Yeden of House Darelock, once great but now little beyond a memory. Until Father told me he would be my squire, I had assumed Darelock extinct. At his age, squiring for a member of House Curnow was the greatest honor he could think of. 'Go to the encampment, fetch me a glass of wine.' Castor gave me a light nudge. 'Two glasses.' Yeden ran into the encampment. He was the perfect servant; he never asked questions, understood almost everything I said to him, and didn't complain where I could hear it. I wondered what I'd do when he came of age and started getting ambitions larger than being my personal cup bearer. I turned to Castor. 'Why don't you have a squire?' 'Never could be bothered. The only possible result is letting some lesser family climb a step closer to the Etoricans. After all, King Jasin was murdered by and succeeded by his squire.' 'And I guess you shouldn't be focused on more imminent threats, instead of reading about dead kings?' 'Such as?' Castor scowled at me. 'Well, Pollux, for one.' 'We've talked about this before, Adrik. Pollux doesn't have the knowledge, will or subtlety to take me out.' This was a sensitive subject, but Castor had either gotten over it, or he was a much better actor than I ever could be. Lying was never my strong point; I doubted I'd have a good future as a politician. 'I have a feeling Gabriel said the same thing about you,' I replied. 'He was wrong. I'm not.' 'Thank god,' I muttered with sarcasm, 'I'm an only child.' Castor rolled his eyes. 'And how about Sareth? I saw him once, and he had the eyes of a Satyr. There's cruelty in there; If Pollux doesn't kill you, Sareth will kill both you and Pollux.' 'Sareth is different; he's too soft. Find me a Satyr to compare him to, then. I always thought he had the family eyes.' He said it, but his heart wasn't in it; a Satyr was the last thing Castor needed after Gabriel. 'Well,' Castor replied, 'I am filled with envy for you. An only child? It must be so relieving not to have to murder for your position, or to keep an eye open behind you every second of every day. I spoke to Pollux. He doesn't want the High Seat.' I snorted. 'I'll believe it when I see it.' 'You won't have to wait too long, then.' I stopped, considering the implications. 'You aren't going to... Ebris...' 'Of course not. Father's getting old; how many people do you know who have lasted until sixty? At most, ten years; plenty of time for me to learn how to rule. Probably less. Why would I want to nudge him along? Time will do the work for me.' I cut short my reply, seeing Yeden walking towards me with two wine glasses on a tray. We both took our glasses, Castor gave a muttered word of thanks, and Yeden scampered off. The world looks much better when seen through wine. I've never claimed to have a high tolerance, and one glass was all it took to dull my reflexes. It was an unfortunate fact that Lord Estwenth chose that moment to interrogate Ossein. I first noticed the vaguely blurred shape when he stood directly behind Castor. I then squinted, and made out the details, tuning out Castor's intoxicated rambling. The grey hair down to his neck, the sigil stone on the band around his forehead, the scarlet robes. 'Castor...' I whispered. He stopped talking. 'What is it?' Lord Olidan Estwenth coughed, and Castor spun around. There were no real rules for interaction between a Lord and a Lordling who would one day outrank him, and so Castor performed impressively for the situation. He stuttered, gave a half bow, remembered his own rank, stood up straight again, and dropped his wine glass, before snatching it as it fell to the ground, spilling half. 'Relax. I'm here to interrogate the prisoner; to keep up appearances, your squad has to stay here. But that doesn't mean you can't join in the celebrations; I've had the men bring down a cask of wine and ale for the soldiers.' If I were fully lucid, I might have thought his informality was odd. Instead, I nodded, muttered my thanks, and called Yeden to refill my glass. A few minutes later, Lord Estwenth went back into the main encampment. By then I had decided to stop after my third glass, when I started seeing the world from under a pond. A guard went into Ossein's tent to deliver food. Meanwhile, I decided to sit at the foot of a tree, trying to recover from the drink. Castor, meanwhile, was still standing, and mostly lucid after four glasses, ready to start his fifth. Castor noticed it first. 'Adrik,' he whispered to me, 'the guard hasn't left Ossein's tent.' 'What?' I muttered. 'Just, why don't we take a look?' Castor suggested, strapping on his sword. I nodded, trying a few times to reattach my own weapon. In the end, I had to call for Yeden to attach it for me. After a minute, with Castor's confident walk and my own drunken stumble - how was he still lucid? - we reached the tent. Castor pulled out his sword, but I just pushed through the tent flap. There was a two meter stake hammered into the ground where Ossein would be tied, but that wasn't what held my attention. The guard was dead. A knife had gone in the back of his neck, slipped between the bones, and come out the other end. I felt the sudden urge to un-eat my last meal. Castor walked in, and seemed to notice the same things I had. He pointed to a cut in the back of the tent, and the guard's missing sword. 'Ossein has escaped,' he muttered. 'He won't escape alone,' I replied. 'What?' 'The captives we have, they are all from the Red Hill clan. He's going to free them, and then they will escape.' That was what I tried to say, but it came out slurred. Castor grasped my forehead. 'What did you say?' I repeated it, but once again, it came out slurred. He squinted, and suddenly, my head felt clear. As though the three glasses of wine I'd drunk had no effect on me. Father used to dunk my head in a freezing bucket when I had anything to drink, and this felt much the same, down to the unpleasant cold. 'What... was that?' I asked, clutching my head. 'I'll explain when I can, but what was it you said?' 'Ossein won't escape alone. The captives we caught are from the Red Hill clan. He will free them, then escape.' 'Or he already started,' Castor muttered. 'We need to warn the soldiers.' A second later, he had leapt through the cut in the tent flap. I ran after him. After around a minute, we reached the stakes where the other prisoners were kept. Hands tied behind them. But where was the rope? 'Guard,' I said to the clearly intoxicated man watching over them. 'Yes?' he muttered. 'What is it?' 'How long have they been untied?' he squinted at me. 'What?' 'I said, how long have they been untied?' 'They... My Lord, they are still bound. They can't escape, just watch!' He walked over to one of them, staggering. I cursed Lord Estwenth for bringing in ale. And why had he done that? Didn't he know what it would have done to the soldiers if we were attacked? 'Stay away from them,' I said to him, but the guard didn't listen. Castor spoke again. 'Go warn the others, I and Adrik will deal with this.' I turned to him. 'We will? I don't think I agreed to that.' The guard raised an open hand, and I realized what he was going to do. 'Stop!' I yelled, but the slap came down onto a savage's face. His face remained impassive, just the slightest recoil that told me I hadn't imagined the blow. 'Get away from them,' I said again. 'What? My lord, these savages are harmless,' he replied, before kicking another in the ribs. 'They won't even raise a hand to defend-' One of them grasped his upraised arm, stood up, and twisted it behind his back. The crack of breaking bone. The guard tried to scream, but the Yadwar savage's hand was around his mouth, before a sharp twist of the arm broke the guard's neck. Faster than I would have thought possible, the savage flipped the guard's corpse, pulled out the sword and let go. The other savages stood up. Twenty nine, not including Ossein. For a long moment, we stared at one another. Then, the lead savage took a step forwards. 'Run!' Castor yelled, before bolting for the main encampment. I turned to follow him, as the savages split to deal with my squad. I could worry about them later, for now, I needed to escape. A few minutes of running, and we had nearly reached the main encampment. I leaped across a small stream, duck beneath the branches of a tree, and slide down a slope twice my height, before springing back to my feet. I needed to reach General Tobias, he- A moment later, I saw a shadow sitting on a branch above, in front of me but behind Castor. Another moment, and that shadow leaped down, one knee pinning my arms, a hand across my mouth to cut off my air supply. First, I tried to scream, but Castor was already a hundred meters ahead and the grip only tightened as I tried to bring out some noise. Thrashing was ignored as though I were struggling against a wall rather than a man, and with each passing second my vision dimmed. Thoughts began to cloud as lucidity fled. EDIT 1: Switched present-tense to past tense. EDIT 2: Not meaning to be racist, that's the character's opinions on the 'savages', not mine; bear in mind that he hasn't actually seen their civilization, and all he knows about his opponents is that they have armies.

If we assume there is a single Eliminator courier, using codes in PMs is probably the smartest option. I'm putting out two examples to test whether they can stand up to close scrutiny. 8.1.10.16.10.36.30.12!.50.26!.46.30. 40.16.14.18.36!.4.30.20!.50.26!.30.8!.40.30.28!.8.18.8!.18!.38.18.16.40!.8.1.10.36!.28.1.6!.42.30.50!.12.18.

Good point - time to completely miss the point and bandwagon Araris instead. All right, then, can everyone please post what times they will be online and active so we can decide on when to cast our final votes? I am seven hours ahead of EST, and so I'll submit my vote at 5 PM EST tomorrow evening, otherwise known as midnight here in Turkey. For now, I suggest that, unless you are certain that you will not be online before Night 4 begins, everyone should retract their votes and wait for more discussion, casting them again at a pre-set time without changing them after that point. This will give Eliminators fewer opportunities to set up bandwagons. I am not trying to deprive anyone of the right to defend themselves by giving them no opportunity to change the votes - all I ask is that, if you are planning on voting for someone, share your suspicions now if you haven't already so that they can defend themselves. As you can probably tell, my suspicions are equally split between Raven and Araris. I suggest we use part of this time to debate which to lynch (if either) and which to ask the assassin to murder next turn (once again, if either). EDIT: After some convincing arguments, and the fact that Araris withdrew his Day 1 lynch from Stink, I am disqualifying him as a lynch target unless he does something incredibly suspicious. I've just realized that I can make good things - such as not getting lynched - sound like failures when I fit the word 'disqualify' into them.

EDIT: Thinking about it, this list helps Eliminators more than it helps villagers.

Greetings, Non-Reckoners-Reading-Heretic! Don't eat the cookies!

My vote on Araris could lead to a tie vote, and we don't have time to keep debating while more villagers get murdered. Ravenradiant, I am securing semi-early seats on the lynch train before it gets too crowded.

I've been working on an idea for a magic system that anyone on my world can access; what I myself like to call Potential Magic, which, going by Brandon's definitions, is about 35% hard magic and 65% soft magic. It relies on killing a sacrifice with certain incantations to access their Potential. To give an example, a goat I keep has the Potential to, given enough time, cut down the length of grass in my lawn until it looks neat and tidy. Normally, grass would grow back soon after the goat were finished, and it would be unlikely that the goat would systematically cut down on the length of grass itself. But it has the potential, and so sacrificing the goat could cut the lawn without effort. You can squeeze long-term Potential into a short span of time, but there is always a loss of potential by doing it that way - thus, you could sacrifice the goat and have the lawn finished within a few seconds, or you could keep some of that Potential in reserve and have it cut the grass over a day instead. Potential depends on many factors, such as what you are asking the magic to do, whether the sacrifice would have been capable of doing that, how quickly it could have done it, and whether the sacrifice had any actual likelihood of doing so. If there isn't enough Potential in the sacrifice, the task is usually left only partially complete. I spent a while considering the applications of this magic system and how it would fit in to common usage. You could sacrifice an animal and use the Potential to fill your stomach, as it has a very high likelihood of being killed, cooked and eaten, then cook and eat the meat later on, thus doubling the food you could get out of it. Kidnappers would replace assassins when it came to highly defended targets, capturing bodyguards and sacrificing them for their Potential to kill their charge, usually taking several bodyguard sacrifices if they are particularly loyal. Enemy generals and captains could be sacrificed to force their squadrons to give up their tactical advantage, force a charge against a well defended opponent or break their own defenses. If you have any ideas on how else the magic system could be applied, I'd like to hear them.

Back in Cycle 2, I told the assassin in the main thread to murder Stink so we could find out whether Araris was innocent or guilty. While it didn't give us a definitive answer, I am leaning towards guilty. EDIT: Also, Stink, sorry for ordering your assassination, but if Araris is guilty, it will all have been worth it.

IrelukeStink has finally snapped and gone insane after I ordered his assassination, and defected to the vile forces of the dark lord Vashikaran Babaji. http://s18.postimg.org/6onqpmzi1/rsz_screenshot_1.png And now for some actual discussion on the game itself - twenty three players left, assuming for five conspirators as the worst case scenario. We cannot afford to make more mistakes at this point.

Well... now, I am feeling the sliiiiightest bit guilty about telling the assassin to kill Stink back in Day II. But, with Stink proven innocent, I now have heavy suspicions on his chief accuser from Day 1. Araris Valerian, anything to say for yourself? I didn't even suspect Stink - I just told the assassin to murder him to stimulate discussion. If Araris was right, yay. If he was wrong, it is more likely he was wrong because he already knew who the Eliminators were than blind luck, in my opinion, mostly because I've rarely seen a game where new players are thought to be acting suspiciously - they have no routine yet, and are still learning the game, so of course they are going to be acting suspiciously. And so, I await your defense.

Just call me Tywin Lannister, I have very little criticism and too much praise to fit into one post. My only problem is how I managed to exist in a bubble almost completely independent from every other House for the first three generations, and found it to be far more interesting when scheming with and against other Liveborn. Perhaps more Global Events that affected all Houses, or singled out particular Houses to convince other Houses to interact with them? That, and more reasons to interact with and/or conflict with other Houses could force others into betrayingsocializing, therefore leading to a more enjoyable game in the long term; as I said, I was mostly self-sustaining and decided happy endings where House Farrsolin gets rich and slinks into retirement were boring, thus getting involved in other Houses' conflicts.

We're talking about King Redshirt the Third? I am praying that Brandon doesn't take inspiration from Dragon Age for what to do with Elhokar.

Granted. You arrive ten minutes after the Everstorm, at a convenient lobby and elevator that has a 24/7 force of two dozen parshmen keeping it clean and dust free. I wish to be able to erase the spoiler of Tyrion's death in Season 5 Episode 10 from my brain. Edit: Sorry for the lack of originality, I could not resist when you put Everstorm in your boon request.

Even more RP - switching POVs once again, this time to Thay. I'll get back to actually writing the character I am playing as one day. The knife was hidden in a slot beneath his inner wrist, ready to flick out into the grasp of his left hand. In his right, Thay held a long, thin dirk, held to add a visible layer of defense. Of course, he had layers and layers of hidden wards weaved from Stormlight enveloping him, but the bad thing about hidden wards was that they weren't really intimidating. He could go as a Voidbringer, the Voidsphere enveloping him in pitch black and scarlet crimson, but that would draw too much attention. No, time was a necessity, and he couldn't afford to be slowed by thugs looking for spheres in his pockets. Sadeas’s warcamp was practically a densely populated city, and any city worth its people would have a decent criminal underworld to accompany it. This a unified underworld; from what his sources had told him, it had been almost completely obliterated years earlier. But the lack of certain services always leaves a gap in a society, like a hole in a pond. Water would always rush to fill the gap. In this case, the underworld consisted of three dozen different smaller groups, by his count, unified only under the title of criminal. Of course, they kept far away from guard posts or the barracks portions. But on the outer reaches of the warcamp, individual streets would be fought over in dark alleys like a miniature war. The six or so larger gangs, who could afford to excersize their control over more than just a few streets, would scrawl their markings on alleyway entrances and exits. It was a pact between civilian and thief; if you come through this alley, expect to be robbed, then allowed through. With the majority, the criminals here were oddly civilized. With members of another gang, they would have crossbowmen put a dozen bolts in the invader before he crossed halfway. At least, that was what Thay had been taught about the warcamp criminal underworld. The markings behind Thay had been old and worn, faded against the brickwork, but he could still make them out, regardless of the lack of light from above. Even without the moons, his eyes denied the darkness. A bleached white skull, with a knife in its eye. Thay couldn't remember which gang that stood for, nor did he care; if he didn't recognize it, it wasn't worth remembering. The markings were pale enough for him to safely assume the occupants long since gone. Just in case, he held his dirk exposed to the moonlight above. It was far too unwieldy to be used in an actual fight, meant more to present intimidation. He regularly applied a thin layer of pine sap onto the inside of the sheathe, though it occasionally made the blade stick. That was an acceptable compromise; the sap held to the blade like glue for weeks, and reflected light sources better than the weapon's dull iron would. The result was a clear announcement of his presence, and danger, to any gangs who noticed his presence. There was a time when Thay had experimented with more expensive and reflective metals, such as silver and gold. That had done no good. In the end, cold iron treated with pine sap was the best solution; it looked dangerous, but not expensive enough to take the risk for. Thay gave a mental command, and the Voidsphere pooled around his eyes. No one in the alley. No one within thirty yards of him.This place was safe enough, and the guardsmen would not take kindly to someone carrying a knife outside of the alleyways where the criminals roamed. Those detestable places were someone else's problem, of course, as far as the Watch were concerned. If Thay ever found the Watch Captain, he would have let his Voidsphere have him. And so he slid the knife back into its sheathe, focusing a small fraction of his Stormlight to help it slip through despite the sap. His hands briefly ran over the sheathes of three other concealed weapons, mostly from force of habit. If disarmed, he had four other weapons to choose from. If searched, he would still retain one. Sareth’s words lingered in his mind. Even if he wasn't a true Voidbinder any longer, a Voidbinder’s mannerisms remained. (Turn left, climb) Thay slipped to the left, making his way around an empty market stall. Next, he sized up the nearby buildings. Smooth Soulcast stone in front of him. A street curve on the one next to it. Lights on in the building on its other side. None of them would do; instead, he looked to the market stall itself. The wood was weak, but it would hold long enough for him to climb and leap onto a nearby roof. One hand to the tarpaulin to pull himself up, both feet on top of the same support post. He balanced with perfect ease, leaning just enough to compensate for the light wind in the air. His training would allow him to maintain that position for hours, if need be. Sareth had made sure of that. But he didn't have hours to dawdle. Instead, Thay leaped for a nearby roof edge, focusing his Stormlight while in the air. Two phantom arms extended from his hands, nearly doubling his reach and pulling him onto the roof. The buildings of Sadeas’s warcamp might as well have been built to be scaled. A slight upwards tilt to the Thay of each roof made a mild obstruction, but the angle also helped with his grip. Thay scampered over the rim, glancing around. His contact wasn't here. What now? Thay asked his Libatis. (Wait) Sometimes, it became unnerving to have his Libatis listening in to his thoughts. It had become a far more efficient method of communicating, however, than whispering; less effort, and less noise. After five minutes he began to get impatient. At ten, Thay was irritated. What was delaying his contact? There was no sound, but Thay felt the stone vibrate with the silenced footsteps. There was no sight, but Thay sensed a presence making its way towards him. And there was no wind, but Thay’s skin flared pitch black and scarlet crimson as the Voidsphere enveloped him. Another half second later, he had a sword in his right hand, the knife in his left. ‘Kagé,’ he whispered.

If the Eliminators have any sense, they would try to construct a code of some sort during the Night Phase, then apply that to their Day Phase PMs. That way, it would look like regular villager strategy talk if a Courier happened to spy on them. For example, if they have someone marked as a threat to be lynched/murdered they would say something along the lines of "(NAME) is acting suspiciously, he/she might be an eliminator." They would most likely talk about mechanics such as Corruption as if they were unconnected to them; "The Eliminators might corrupt (NAME)" would be them debating whether or not to corrupt said person. Couriers, even if they look like they are discussing how to counteract Eliminators, you can never be too paranoid in Sanderson Elimination.

Question 1 - who the storms changed my vote? Question 2 - who the storming storms changed my vote? In my opinion, this looks more like a villager Con Artist/Worldsinger changing my vote to stop the conspirators tying it; if the conspirators had a Con Artist/Worldsinger, they could have transferred a vote over to Venture and potentially tie up the vote. This is to account for timezones - I myself last checked at 3 AM in my timezone, which was around when it looked like there was a lynch train building up behind Ven. If said Con Artist/Worldsinger lived in any similar timezone, he/she could have tried to diffuse a potential tie and ensure that someone would be lynched without remaining online to see that the Venture Train doesn't go past two votes. If it were an Eliminator ploy to draw my vote away from Winter Cloud, then we are dealing with chull-brained Eliminators; I put the vote on Winter as a poke vote to stimulate discussion, and if that poke vote had them panicked enough to forcibly transfer my vote - and Mailliw's - then those Eliminators cut their own throat. Which is why I think it is the least likely scenario; this was, in my opinion, a village Con Artist/Worldsinger trying to avoid a tie. EDIT: The alternative is that it was an Eliminator who moved my vote, and is thus either a complete idiot or trying to frame Winter. I'm leaning towards the second option.

WayneSpren changed his profile pic again. Vashikaran Babaji maintains his war of attrition on the Shard, slowly chipping away at our sanity, and is either actively trolling or does no market research. Kobold probably has one-eighth of the total Reputation Points on the entire site by now. He is slowly creating a singularity wherein every upvote given to anyone on the 17th Shard is absorbed and added to its infinite mass to increase its gravitational pull and consume the earth.

Slight suspicions about Winter Cloud for voting for RavenRadiant when we know the Eliminators are out to lynch him; I'll put my vote there for now, since I have no better suspects. Yes, it could still be a Wounded Gazelle Gambit, but we can wait for an ardent to test Raven after Kipper. If someone gives me a better target, I'll happily change my vote. I am also putting Wilson a slight step above Kipper and Raven in terms of suspicion, simply with the chance that the Eliminators orchestrated the nobility vote on her; I am not saying this clears Wilson, as for all we know there was only one Eliminator Brightlord/Brightlady and it could have been Nobles with that role who set that vote.

Feeling like a complete idiot - I forgot that Ripple was a Brightlady, meaning that the anonymous vote on RavenRadiant is an Eliminator ploy. I'm not discounting the WGG, but I'm shifting RavenRadiant alongside Kipper as the two people I am currently convinced are not Eliminators.

There is a chance that Kipper is attempting a WGG, but said gambit has, from what I've heard, happened often enough to be recognized; he's experienced enough to know that we would suspect a WGG. Then again, it may be a double bluff in the hope that we would assume he is too experienced to attempt a WGG... Which is why we need to make good use of our Seeker roles. Allow me to give my suggestion. Step 1 - Ardent scans Kipper. Step 2 - Ardent reveals scan results. Step 3 - Artifabrian purges Ardent for every cycle from then on, without revealing him/herself to avoid being Corrupted. Now, if our only suspect is RavenRadient, I would like to advocate that the Assassin should kill IrulelikeStink, on the basis that, should he prove innocent, we will have plausible cause for Araris Valerian being an Eliminator. Or, should no one want to risk both Stink and Araris being innocent, wait for an Ardent to be able to scan Araris later on. This is the equivalent of a Day 1 lynch to promote discussion.

Most likely, especially since Harmony has excess Ruin since the Pits of Hathsin were destroyed. I wouldn't be surprised if Hemalurgy began to weaken when the crystals start to grow back in the next few books. Also, welcome to the forums!

I don't really have anything to add to the discussion, so let me start off by apologizing for my terrible RP post during Day 1. Hopefully this can at least partially redeem me - switching POVs to Lysen. Actual RP post No. II - Lysen 'There are usually guards posted out front,' Caesarae said. 'Give me a moment with the lock.' I sighed, closing my eyes and glancing into the Semata. The Plains were barren in terms of Gifted, both aware and unaware, leaving time mostly inaccessible. But a man like Thay and his heresy could crack the barrier by simply passing through. The Libatis were muttering among themselves of the force that gave them vision of the Physical. I paid them no mind. The Sight was too close to Kagé's blasphemies for my liking, but I understand the difference between Libatis and gods. For once, I don't even have to question them; there is still an immense pressure on their world. Thay is in the mansion. Caesarae pulled out a thin stick from his pocket and started twisting it in the lock. This was going to take too long; every second he spends tinkering with the lock is another second for Thay to escape. I brushed Caesarae aside with a mild wind, before applying a stronger current of air to the door. It flew free from its oppressive hinges and slammed into the guard with his back turned. I heard a few ribs crack; he wouldn't be up to fight back. 'That...' Caesarae muttered. 'That was unnecessary. Do you want to get us killed? Congratulations, you've announced our presence.' I pulled free both scimitars from my back. 'Tabhair dom Fuaim do mo spiorad.' The funeral chant rang in my ears as I caught the first attacker's sword with my own. A kick disoriented him, allowing my other scimitar access to his chest. It sliced through the padded leather and thin cloth, sliding neatly between two ribs. I engaged the second. 'Tabhair dom leigheas do mo spiorad, do mo chroí.' Two dead. I was distinctly aware of Caesarae dispatching a third, but my mind focused on the three men closing in on me. Spearman leading, trained swordsman to the left, axeman to the right. Sirona sing them souls anew. The swordsman stood back to analyse my methods, while the spearman and axeman stepped in. I stepped in close to the spearman, too close for his weapon to be effective, while crippling the axeman's aim. If he didn't want to hit his ally, he would have to hang back. Three seconds. I don't need the Semata to tell what the spearman will do in this situation. He does what any trained soldier would, trying to slam into my ribs with his elbow. At that close range my scimitars are both useless and unnecessary, and so I lash out with another kick. A blade catches him above the collarbone before pulling out. Two left. There is only one way to use an axe with any great efficiency, and my opponent attempts it. A full charge while I step to the side and slide a weapon along his ribs. Not quite fast enough, but my opponents would need to be precognisant to stand any hope. I gave the swordsman as little to learn as I could. My methods against the spearman will not work against a rotu swordsman, whose short blade is designed for close quarters. The axeman was bleeding on the floor due to his own sheer stupidity, a mistake the swordsman would not have made. He would have to act on his own instincts. He stepped to the left in my vision a moment before he actually did. I continued to sing in a soft whisper while taking a small bound to the right. We continued to circle as Caesarae fended off a knifeman behind me. For now, my attention was on the fight in front of me. I didn't even need to see his leg twitch to know he was going to step to the right; The Semata warned me moments in advance. Just as I twitched to the right, he leapt to the left as his Semata vanished. A flick of the wrist, and he held a knife in his other hand. The knife flew, end over end, at a pace too fast to respond to. It caught me in the shoulder, blade first, but without pain. I raised a scimitar to block it as the Semata vanished - and the swordsman hesitated, knife gripped in his hand. This wasn't any untrained mercenary or unskilled soldier. A master with his weapon, one who adjusted during the act for any developments. If any Stormlander could kill a Sematin, it would be a Stormlander like him. In any other circumstance, I would close my senses to the Libatis and take him for the challenge. But every second was another second for Thay to escape. I blinked through a grey haze, focusing Agony to his sword-arm. He clutched it, close to but not quite screaming in pain. But pain... pain was enough for what I needed. I opened the floodgates. Libatis surged forth from the Cognitive, a hundred, two hundred, three hundred, emerging from my Voidsphere and focusing on the greatest source of pain in the room. They flitted across the floorboards, claws scraping Soulcast stone and leaving long gashes and dents, swarming their target. He screamed, flailed, then an arm dropped from his shoulder where a half dozen had gnawed it off. More began to work on the neck stump, as the Libatis began their feast. Four seconds. Bones. Seven seconds. Nothing but blood on the floor. Nine seconds. The Libatis lick the topmost layer of stone free, leaving a four inch hollow in the floor. Three hundred Libatis gazed up at me. I focused Fear onto the Libatis, going from naught to all I could channel through the Voidsphere at any one time. They began to shriek, rushing for the walls and trying to claw their way through. The transition from Cognitive to Physical would only last a few minutes, and Fear would likely keep them running until it ran out. I turned to Caesarae, quietly retching in a far corner of the room, as far from me as he could get. I sighed, then hit him with a burst of Loyalty; he cringed further into the wall, abject terror in his body language. Coward. A burst of Obedience has him standing straight, ready to follow my every command. Loyalty vanishes, the two opposing concepts warring in his mind and the one I am still fuelling gaining victory over the old. He was one of the weak, who could only handle a single Manipulation at a time. He would still fear me, but he would at least obey. ‘Be quiet. If anyone comes in, kill them.’ Having left my commands, I went through the mansion, methodically searching it room by room. Two bedrooms, a dining area, a small library, a wine cellar... And a balcony without its railings, a figure disappearing into the distance. I went back to Caesarae, still rooted at the entrance, standing guard against his will. ‘Thay has escaped, but there is something he wants from the feast. He will be back. Find him, and kill him yourself. You may now speak, but not to me. You are to say nothing of what happened this night.’

Public Action 1 Lord Anders Farrsolin transfers temporary ownership of his skaa population as well as mines, smiths, farms, and bakeries to Lord Votir Zerrung while Lord Anders still pays the upkeep and receives the profits until the generation has passed away, at which point, all Farrsolin skaa and properties will be returned to Lord Anders's heir. Lord Anders will compensate Lord Zerrung with 50% of net Wealth he accumulates during the time that Zerrung supervises his skaa. The payment will be made at the beginning of the new generation. A public proclamation is to be issued out to all skaa villages in Seran and its neighboring lands to inform the skaa that House Farrsolin no longer has any direct control nor authority over them. The intention being that the skaa have a problem with House Farrsolin; they will have the rest of the generation to calm down, by which point I will be prepared to deal with another riot. Public Action 2 Trying for an Heir Male: Regnus Female: Viridiana

Lighteyes were blind to everyone but their own. A darkeyed thief could go beyond notice in a crowd; if they found themselves relieved of spheres or purse, their first instinct is to look to the person with the lowest dahn in their vicinity. But with these storming lenses in my eyes, they looked at me with just as much suspicion as one-another. I'd have to speak to Kagé if I came out of this alive for a more effective disguise. Still, the servants kept out of my may, instead of asking inconvenient questions along the lines of 'what are you doing here? Is this your shift?' I was working in a different game, perhaps a distant offshoot of what I was used to. The rules were completely inverted. Darkeyes were to be ignored, Lighteyes to be avoided. I had lived a decade allowing Lighteyed faces to blur with one-another, and it was... disconcerting, to have to force myself to memorize their appearance. But how else was I to find out whom Lysen's target was? --- Written two pages of RP, which I'll post at Night II to give me enough time to write Day III RP (should I survive that long).