Amanuensis

Since I was the GM for that game, I'll go ahead and chime in again. If that's from D1 or D2, he wasn't an eliminator, but a neutral role with an executioner-style win condition at the time. So not really valid for the point you're trying to make. Additionally, I wouldn't really label it as a common eliminator tactic. It's just something some people do. Usually it's luckat, Lopen or I, and usually it depends on which one of us has the time to get to it first. Anyway, leaving for the theater now. Doctor Strange isn't going to watch itself.

Just here to point out the fallacy in this statement. If someone always does something, how can they especially do it in specific circumstances? Also that the reason I do it never has anything to do with alignment, but just that I like to think strategy and have policy on being open with my thoughts.

Note to all players: my primary focus this month will be on NaNoWriMo, so do not expect usual amounts of activity from me.

Well, if you can falsely accuse me of being something I'm not, than aren't I free to do the same?

Nah. Three or four people, at least one from your team, will very likely throw random votes on me towards the end of the turn. This is a faction game, after all.

Elbereth isn't? Huh. Already figured as much about Seonid, though. How do you feel about me PMing you tonight with a list of people I think are the Monarch?

Well, I certainly missed that. Still has nothing to do with me wanting SB dead, at least. @Aonar Faileas, any results worth sharing so far?

I'm pretty confident you're wrong. If the Monarchists win all faction leaders and independents who met their win condition win too. GMs, can you confirm this publicly for me? Edit: Never mind then. I either misunderstood something a faction mate told me or was intentionally mislead. Now that I checked the rules again, I see that faction leaders can not win with the monarch (independents still can, though, which is another reason why I don't want SB around in case he teams up with the Monarchists), which is a problem for me since my primary concern is surviving. The nonsense with you and the Advertiser. Plus the fact that you're intentionally ignoring the actual "eliminator" faction (the Assassins) in favor of the Monarchists (who literally aren't a problem so long as Dalinar is kept alive). And I've already asked you for the logic that I'm a monarchist, which you still haven't answered. Could be a thief, too, given Yafeshan was a Pickpocket.

Each faction is an eliminator faction by that logic, since them winning costs everyone else the game. The only difference between a Monarchist and the rest of us is that they can choose to either win as a member of their faction or as a Monarchist. If anything, you should be going after the Assassin's, since even the rules state they're the closest thing to eliminators (which you won't since you seem to be one) And okay? I mean, I just read that post as he wants to kill someone, not caring who. But if you want to interpret it because I specifically voted then go ahead. I mean, I could literally use any neutral as an example, because that's the point of neutrals. To be wild cards; potential game changers. As a player, I don't like wild cards. Especially when there's at least 4 different teams he can work for that aren't my own. Well I've already told you I'm not one. So if you're going to vote for me because I'm not an Assassin too, then go for it. At least say as much, given how strict you've been on other players the previous day turns for being vague about their intentions. I want Silver dead because he's a neutral with the means and the motivation to harm me and my team, yes. And given my team is already a minority I'd rather get rid of an enemy I know specifically can do us harm.

Did I say it was a good lynch for discussion? No. My vote was literally just his name and then links to my previous two posts. I had no intention to spark discussion, as discussion is pointless in a game with no eliminators. Even in a faction game with eliminators, people ignored reason and discussion for faction posturing. And "had someone make a second vote"? I had nothing to do with JUQ's vote, other than being the first person to cast a vote, as far as I'm aware. That's not different at all. Your win con was to survive. You could have chosen any side. You intentionally chose a side that wasn't mine, just because you were "converted" (which Joe ruled conversions do not effect neutral win cons). No neutral, especially Dibbler's, is an exception to that rule. That potential is exactly what makes neutrals neutral in the first place. You did? When? I don't recall you making statements about wanting me dead. Won't respond to the rest of this paragraph because I don't care if you're a monarch or monarchist or whatever your intentions are. He's welcome to so long as he's alive, since I'm a Regular anyway. And what faction mate are you even referring to? If anything, my faction mates would probably rather me be the one roleblocked since compared to them, I can't do much.

Abec clamps a clothespin over his over-sized nose and quickly falls into a deep, pleasant slumber. Ultimately because I have no reason to want anyone else dead, though I do have a few personal reasons. For one, last time I let a neutral live (and even helped them achieve their win con) they betrayed me in the end and cost my entire team the game, and as such no longer have any reservations killing said neutrals, especially when they ask for it. For two, said neutral already made an effort to weaken me, and has since made statements that they want me dead. For three, he's the only role I'm aware of that can simultaneously 1: prevent a player from taking any actions, 2: steal ten pennies from them, and 3: keep them from gaining the money they should have earned that cycle, due to sickness. That's pretty powerful, in my opinion, and bad for everyone who doesn't manage to get on his good side, which is always going to be me, apparently. Snoring loud enough to wake the dead (fortunately his apartments weren't built on an ancient burial ground), Abec dreams of fried chicken. Out of curiosity, why would a monarchist want an independent besides the Patriarch dead, anyway? Not really following that logic.

Abec grumbles as he pulls his blanket over his head, attempting to shield himself from a horrendous stench leaking in through the cracks of his floorboards. In the context of this game, you're wrong. Outside it, I'd say yes (and you're welcome). I do intend to be king of the world some day.

Remembering why Abec hates the day time (light hurts his eyes, the sounds of birds chirping grates his nerves) he returns to his bed, yawning obnoxiously loud enough to disturb his neighbors. That's about 33.33% true, if you lump Abec in along with Amanuensis the character and the living person that is referred to as Aman on these forums. Abec is not a monarchist, no, though he has a couple friends who are. Abec's a nice enough fellow that he won't stop liking someone just because their political beliefs differ from his own. As for Amanuensis the character, I would describe him as a theocrat, if anything. But even that isn't an accurate description of his beliefs. He serves his god, the Author, and no one else. So he's definitely not a monarchist either. As for me, the real live person currently speaking in black text, thematically I would describe myself as a monarchist, as I'm quite fond of the concept of kings and emperors. But what fantasy nerd isn't?

@A Joe in the Bush I'm assuming this isn't role madness, but since you didn't mention the possibility of vanillas in the initial post, can you please confirm, Joe?

Fully recovered from his near-fatal illness, Abec takes a deep breath and bellows "Good morning, Ankh-Morpork!" Silverblade.* *See previous posts for reasoning

First (that's my characters name, by the way. Due to complications, First of the Dawn is out, and just First is in. He's just the firstborn of a skaa couple with dull minds and terrible senses of humor.)

Chapter 9: The Lion's Rise Quintus hummed as he wandered the halls of the Aerie, his gait more confident than usual, eyes locked forward and chin held high. Ever since his duel with Tenebrum, the young Fabii truly felt his Color. Idly, he wondered if it could be considered ironic how desperately he avoided violence all his life, when in the end all it took was shedding his first blood to realize he was no different than the other Golds. Forever changed by that epiphany, he abandoned his mother's family name, Tribellius, in favor of his father's, Fabii, and forsook his youthful fancies of purity and righteousness in favor of what really mattered; power and reward. For hours he drifted the corridors, seemingly oblivious of the world around him. Occasionally he passed the same Brown twice, yet still offered them a greeting as if he didn't just see them a few moments ago. Once in a while his dataPad would buzz and he would stop to reply to a message, until eventually he had no choice but to give up on looking for Jefry. Such a shame, too, for he very much would have liked to apologize for murdering the boy's Faithful companion. Not that he actually would have meant it, of course, though it would have been a kind last gesture before he inevitably murdered him too. In the beginning, Quintus would have never guessed he could last this long. Especially not after Sevro was beheaded and Sanis was caught red-handed. With those two gone, Lucius had quickly taken control. Khazad had tried now and then, too, but due to his lineage, no one really trusted him. Now that they were all dead, it was up to him, the last of the original Forsworn, to meet up with their secret benefactor in the shadowed vales of the fortress' spires. If his newfound allies were a bit more helpful, they might have been able to meet the man in his stead, but alas, they preferred to play at remaining neutral and converse through text messages only, too frightened of the repercussions if they ever got caught. Quintus had no such reservations. Arrogant as any Gold, he already believed he had won this game of murderous politics. In his mind, it was just a matter of time. Unbeknownst to him, the Gold he had been searching for earlier that day had been following him the whole time, his steps soundless, his body invisible to the naked eye. If the Thorne had the power to strike him down then, he would have, though instead he went to gather the others and inform them of what he just witnessed. Before he could, that peculiar Gold who claimed to be his long lost cousin confronted him in the gardens, just below Tiberius' High Chair. "I, Burgaana au Thorne, challenge you, Jefry, to a duel. Do you accept?" "Listen, cousin, but I don't have time for this. Quintus is the last traitor. I need to tell the others." "Oh? I have good reason to believe the opposite to be true. What proof do you have?" "Well, I just watched him receive an ionBlade, and-" "-Tho what?" bellows Quintus as he enters the scene from the treeline, causing Jefry to jump with surprise. "Ith a Gold not allowed ta buy the meanth to protect himthelf when a murderer like you ith about?" "Like me?" he spits, turning on the man. "And what do you mean, buy? That Brown practically thrust that ionBlade into your hands. Since when does Quicksilver deal through Browns , anyway?" "Is this true, Quintus?" interrupts Burgaana, a hint of doubt tinging his voice. "Of courth not, my goodman. Ith clear that Jefry ith one of Nero's thpieth, and now ith making up dethperate lieth to thave hith own thkin." "Yes, that makes sense. Much more sense than the alternative. Should I use my stunFist on him now, or?" "No, no. You need that for the monthter who killed your thithter. You know I can't kill him alone" "Danii... of course. Gregor will die, if it's the last thing I do." "But first," says Nirgal, crimson and green shawl waving like a flag in the wind. "The Last Forsworn must die," says Stick, face sad and rigid like a stone withered by wind and rain. "Where did you two come from?" Jefry asks, voice quaking, now nervous and afraid. "Did you not read the message from Tiberius?" chimes in Priam who leans casually against a tree across the courtyard. "No..." hands shaking, Jefry lifts his dataPad in front of him and opens the new message sitting in his inbox. My faithful lancers. Meet me in the Gardens where you swore your vows to me on that first day, and you will find the last of the traitors. Present me his head, and you each will be justly rewarded. Fail and I'll tear your contracts to shreds before your very eyes. Yours Truly, Tiberius au Bellona, the Scarlet Eagle, ArchGovernor of Mars. "Surely you can't think he means me?" Jefry demands, his breath growing increasingly rapid from panic. "But we do," answers Burgaana as he steps before him and Quintus kicks the back of Jefry's knees, forcing him to the ground. "Any last words?" Nirgal asks from afar, a curious expression pulling at his face. "I've told you all the truth, and you refuse to listen. So kill me if you must. I only wish I could see the look on your faces when you realize the mistake you made by ignoring me." Looking over his shoulder at Quintus, Jefry spits in his face, prompting the Fabii to slap him in disgust. Rubbing the flaming mark, he barely notices Quintus hand Burgaana a razor. "Finith him," Quintus tells the Returned as he gets a feel for the weight of the blade. Burgaana was never very fond of swords since a close encounter with Nightblood, but he could hardly Awaken a Lifeless rabbit in a place like this, let alone explain it. Hesistant, he places the razor's edge against the side of Jefry's neck, though he can't stop staring in the kneeling Gold's eyes as they fill with tears. "What are you waiting for?" Quintus asks impatiently, clutching Jefry's hair and pulling his head to the side. "Kill him!" he urges the Returned again, worried what might happen if the ArchGovernor reaches the garden first. Drawing the blade back for momentum, Burgaana takes a deep breath. Though it wasn't his first time killing, he'd be lying if he said he didn't wish it was his last. "Do it now! Quickly! Tiberius wants his head!" A gust of wind and a whooshing blade. The sound seems to last an eternity while Jefry's whole life flashes before his eyes, though he barely notices. All he can think about is how each memory with his best friend, Tenebrum, is more colorful than the rest. Lifting Jefry's severed head by its hair and turning his face towards him, Quintus can't help but laugh. Nirgal himself barely manages to fight down the smile creeping across his face, glad that he did not make a mistake in turning his cloak earlier that day. Priam, as always, watches the scene unfold with boredom, though he does sigh with relief once the deed is done. Stick backs up slowly, searching for an exit, while Burgaana drops the razor in stunned disbelief. "Still want that holoBox, Burgaana?" Quintus asks as draws the hilt of an ionBlade from his belt, not hesitating to drive the blade into the Returned's gut before it can finish manifesting. Within the Aerie, a little girl rocks back and forth on her heels outside of Morsde's bedchamber, struggling not to peak through the crack in the door. Beyond it, the Carved Red wipes his slingBlade clean of the last Thorne's gore, thankful that the androgynous lancer didn't wake in time to scream. "Mista Gregor, what's taking sooo looong? I wanna see those haymonenthis blossoms you keep talking about already," she calls in without looking, thinking how proud her big sister Tia would be if she could see how well she was behaving. "It's pronounced haemanthus, young Tarna" Gregor says as he silently slips into the hall, surprising the young Bellona by grabbing her by the waist and hefting her onto his shoulder, tickling her sides gently with his rough but now-immaculate hands. Giggling, she pounds her tiny fists on Gregor's head until he stops, each blow feeling like tiny pillows to him. "Are you sure I can't see my daddy before we go to Dio... Diodus?" "Deodes," he corrects fondly, then answers "and no. Your sister asked me to get you to safety immediately, and Tiberius attracts little else but danger, lately. You'll see him again soon, though, I promise you that much." "Oooookaaaaay," little Tarna answers, satisfied but sleepy, and slumps into the crook of his shoulder with a great, big yawn. "Can you wake me when we're there, then?" "Of course, young one. We'll be there soon. I've just got to say goodbye to a friend." Faster. Faster. Come on you tall, dumb thing, move faster! Running through the halls of the Aerie like a madwoman, Stick chided herself over and over, furious that she didn't see this all coming. Not only was the Hearth Knight right about Priam, but her suspicions about Quintus turned out to be true, too. Worse, Stick knew Nirgal's true nature and still trusted him when he said he remained faithful to the ArchGovernor, which inevitably turned out to be a lie, and now she was paying for her naivety. Imagine her surprise when she turned a corner and hit a wall. Not a wall, exactly, though Gregor certainly felt like one when she collided with him. Despite her height, he still towered over her. A giant among Golds, though if the rumors were true, he was a monstrosity carved from a Red, not that he looked it with a sleeping girl draped across his shoulder. If she had to guess, he looked like a father. Strange enough, the Red-Gold-whatever knelt and offered her a hand. "You alright?" he asked, seeming concerned. Either there was more to this monster than she expected or he was a really good actor. "Why are you running?" Instead of gripping his hand she stood on her own, then made an effort of patting her backside despite the fact the halls were barren of dust. Perhaps if she weren't so tall or if he weren't so wide she would try slipping past him, but instead Stick just stepped back and told him the truth. "Jefry and Burgaana are both dead, and Quintus, Nirgal and Priam are all Forsworn. It's over, Gregor. Nero has won. They're confronting Tiberius in the gardens now." "What?!" Gregor burst with rage, waking the young girl on his shoulder. Rubbing the crusts from her eyes, Tarna's voice cracked innocently. "Mista Gregor, what's wrong?" Hearing her voice soothed his anger, and suddenly he was tickling her cheek. "I'm sorry for waking you, Tarna. It turns out my so-called-friend is an evil liar. Now my mission is failed and we have no choice but to leave. It's okay though. I'll keep you safe." "Ooookaaay. If you say sooo. Ooo, who's this? Your girlfriend?" Gregor and Stick both burst with laughter. "No, no. She's just one of your father's lancers. But it seems she's got business elsewhere too. Hmm... I've got a ship waiting for me in the hangar. Care to join us, Stick?" "Depends. Where are you going?" "Home," Gregor answered, suddenly sad. "Well, I'd quite like to go home too, if you don't mind bringing me there. I've got some things to bring up to House Arcos." Considering it for a moment, he nodded. "I've always wanted to meet Lorn. From what the books say about him, I think him and I would get along great." "Well if you want to live that long, I suggest you turn around now and start leading the way." The sound of accelerating footsteps echoed from down the hall. One set from the direction of the gardens, two pairs resounding towards the hangar. "It's about time you showed up, father," Eon laughed from atop Tiberius' High Chair. The boy who called himself Priam was no more. In his stead, a crueler, colder Gold sat, legs crossed and hands interlinked in his lap. Of course, it was no mystery to Tiberius who "Priam" actually was. He had raised the boy, after all, ever since the day he was ordered by the Sovereign to purge the Cylus family for their crimes against the Compact. It was he who insisted that the boy be spared, to preserve the once proud Martian house's lineage, hoping that he might one day be able to marry it into his own. As such, he always made sure to give Eon more love than he ever gave his first and only son, Sevro, equal to that of his daughters, Vesta and Tarna, who never did anything but make the old man proud. "Why, Eon?" was all the ArchGovernor could manage, his shattered heart now ground to dust by this final betrayal. "I never intended things to end this way. Not exactly, at least. At first, I only intended to slaughter your family, just as you did mine. I wanted you to know what it feels like to be the last of your name. To spend the rest of your life knowing you were powerless to save those you love. But then someone else killed your son, Sevro, and again your daughter, Vesta, and I had no choice. If I could not have that satisfaction myself, I would make sure you suffered a different kind of torture." Looking at the two corpses on the ground nearby for the first time, Tiberius knew that he had lost. Even then, he would not give up. If he were to die, then he'd do it with a sword in his hand and the taste of his enemies' blood on his tongue. "I loved you, Eon." "I loved you too, dad." "When did you stop?" "When you sent me to the institute. Do you remember what you said?" Tiberius ponders the question for a moment, then sighs. "I didn't mean for him to die, Eon. I sent Priam in the Passage with Sevro so that he would kill him. I wanted you to inherit my throne. Not Sevro. Not Nero. You know that, right?" "I know, but it changes nothing. You made the wrong choice, and now you must pay... Quintus?" Eon yells his companions name, prompting him to walk out of the shadows. "What? Don't got the globes to kill me yourself?" "Kill you?" Eon laughs. "Now why would we do something crazy like that?" Boom. A burst of plasma hits Tiberius in the chest, sending him flying across the garden into a cluster of bushes. Sparks crackle all around him, the last breath of his puseShield before it dies, kissing his skin with heat and setting a few dry leaves aflame. Slowly, the ArchGovernor rises. He never was the type to back down from a fight, fair or not. Bam. A second blast hits him and this time there's no getting up. Unconscious, his body twitches as the flames grow large enough to consume his hulking mass. All the while, Eon watches with that same look of indifference. "Well, are you going to put him out? Nero wants him alive, remember?" Sighing, Quintus goes to fetch a bucket, thinking fondly of when he was in charge, short though it may have been. Whelp, that's all she wrote, folks! It's official, the Forsworn have won! Congratulations to Magestar, Wonko, Jondesu, Sheep, Bugsy and Lopen for their victory. Sadly the Carved Red (Bard) was not able to win (he just needed to kill one more Forsworn) but at least he broke the SK curse. Also, shout out to Stick for being the only Faithful survivor! I hope you guys had as much fun playing this game as I did running it. I've got a lot of comments to make about lessons I've learned, but I'll have to post them later, as there's some work commitments I need to take care of first. In the future I'll also work on compiling all of the Forsworn Group PMs into a google doc for easy reading. Otherwise, here's the link to the dead doc. I'd hand out the spreadsheet too, but honestly I stopped keeping track of that D2, so sorry to anyone who cares about that. Dramatis Personae Darkness Ascendant as Pierce au Fabii Daniyah as Dimsari au Thorne Doctor12 as Spartacus au Thorne Assassin in Burgundy as Burgaana au Thorne Magestar as Lucius au Arcos Wonko the Sane as Sanis au Julii Jondesu as Quintus au Fabii AliasSheep as Nirgal au Rath I_am_a_Stick as Lignum au Arcos livinglegend as Rylos au Telemanus Bugsy6912 as Sevro au Bellona The_Lady_of_Chaos as Tenebrum au Lune Elenion as Khazad au Rath The Young Bard as Gregor au Audromedus TheMightyLopen as Eon au Cylus Burnt Spaghetti as Vesta au Bellona Arraenae as Nyanah au Thorne Elbereth as Lumina au Julii Doxis as Morsde au Thorne jefrywlfersn as Jefry au Thorne

Sorry for the delay, but works busier than usual tonight! Chapter 8 is officially over. I will post the next thread as soon as I finish the write up.

Abec sits down dizzily, attempting to make sense of the numbers spinning and swirling before him. So, does this abide by normal scoring rules, or is it more like golf? Either way, I can't imagine this bodes well for poor old Abec. RIP

There would have been a 50% chance he followed either you or them.

Abec frowns, a dribble of brown, regurgitated mush from the night before seeping from the corner of his lip before he wipes it on his sleeve. I mean, all you really did was roleblock me, which is a bit pointless since I'm a Regular anyway (sad about you taking nearly half my pennies, though), so that isn't exactly removing me. Plus the fact that since my previous post was my first and only response this game so far, mostly because I'm busy GMing a game and trying to prepare for NaNoWriMo, I'm hardly shepherding anyone not the best logic but eh, to each their own. Abec coughs without covering his mouth, a cloud of germs obfuscating the air in front of him. Those closest to him recoil in disgust. Still think removing an independent roleblocker / money stealer is in everyone's best interest, though. So I'll keep my vote on you for now.

I'm going to certainly try. I've been furiously worldbuilding for the last few weeks, trying to do the finishing touches now. Will try to prep a storyboard before November, too. Unfortunately this month is going to be pretty rough for me work wise, but I'm hoping I'll be able to manage, still.

Abec stumbles into the crowd and begins vomiting profusely on everyone's shoes. A bit sad you revealed yourself before I had the chance, but yeah... Silverblade. I don't know about the rest of you, but even if I wasn't the one he made violently ill last night, I'm pretty sure this is one of the roles I'd want to make sure gets taken out of the game sooner rather than later. If there was an eliminator team in this game I might suggest we keep him around to prevent kills, but alas, the closest thing to them is the Assassin's, and it's not like they can really choose who they want dead; that's up for the rest of us to decide, I think... Abec proceeds to dry heave several times, mind too feverish to recall a majority of the rules. Point is, roleblocks for sale... yeah, not really liking the sound of that. Why did you decide to sicken me in the first place?

Chapter 8 will close on Thursday, October 27th at 8PM EST! Chapter 9 will begin approximately two hours later! Chapter 8: The Hearth's Last Light With the death of every lancer, Tia's rage swelled, her previous submerged memories resurfacing, bringing both pain and clarity. Most recently, witnessing Tenebrum's slaughter and Jefry's resolve had triggered a particularly agonizing scene for her... Marching. Cheers. Her hand tightened around a razor. The release of a deep breath. Her eyes, opening. Crowds. Crowds all around. Watching. Yelling. Screaming a name. Her name. Her real name. Vesta. A hand on her shoulder. Tensing. Glancing to the side. A face. A familiar face. But. No. She knew not who he was, yet she felt something stir within her. Emotions. Love? He says something. She responds, though she doesn't comprehend the words. They're in a mine. Walls red. Bleak. She's anxious. He reassures her. A deadly calm. Then screams. More red. So much red. Victory... yet disaster. Fear. Terror so potent it suffocates her. An explosion. Incessant ringing. Terrifying silence. And pain... so much pain. A sliver of light. A tiny window for her to peer out of. Head light. Energy depleted. And that face, again, lingering above her. Determined. She's being carried in his arms. And then, a sudden rush. He looks down at her. Fear. Fear turns to horror, then terror, than agony. She falls, then wakes up on someone else's shoulder. They carry her away. She wants to yell, but can't. For she sees the man, life draining from the strong, handsome features of his face. His body goes slack. Sorrow. Crushing sorrow. Then darkness. Absolute darkness. No matter how hard she tried, "Tia"... Vesta... could not shake this particular memory. Over and over, it played in her mind, each time more detailed, each time leaving her more sad, more angry. How many were dead, now? How many friends? How many loved ones? How many at the hands of Lucius and Priam? Yes. She was certain. It was their fault. Spartacus told her his plans the night he disappeared. She would kill them both for this. She had to avenge him. Avenge the others. She would have vengeance, or else die trying. Lucius, though... killing him would not be easy. It would take all of her resources, vast as they were. But she would see it happen. She was the Hearth Knight, after all. A legend in the modern era. But first, she'd need to deal with Priam. Determination rising, blood-lust surging, she drew her razor and faced the man, hopefully for the last time. Why me? thought Priam as he stared down "Tia" from across the hall. The woman was tall, significantly taller than him, the muscles of her arms rippling as she clenched her fist and the hilt of the razor at her sides, eyes glowing red with what could only be described as murderous intent, strangely juxtaposed against the childish grin spreading beneath her slightly upturned, button-nose. She really was beautiful, in a sort of vicious way, but something about her face just made him angry, though he couldn't quite place why. At least not until she announced her name. Once she did, everything seemed to click. "I, Vesta au Bellona, challenge you, my goodman, to a duel to the death" Priam would not hold back. Drawing a knife from his boot, the lancer sliced open the flesh below his eye, the wound quickly weeping a tear of blood. Before his death, Priam's father did not teach him much, but one thing he did make sure he knew were the ancient blessings from the Conquerings. Those who recognize it... Quintus, Lucius, Nirgal and eventually even Stick, couldn't help but look at him anew, and inevitably drift behind him. Only Morsde took Vesta's side, not that it would really matter in the end, because as soon as she announced her name, the battle could only end one way. "I accept!" Priam yells, throwing his knife at the woman with the deftness of a Violet acrobat. Charging forward, he draws the razor loped around his waste by its hilt and lashes it outward, not bothering to trigger the chemical reaction that straightens the blade until it's a mere inch away from her gut. To his surprise, Tia doesn't even try to block the knife, her own razor searching his just before it can bite into her flesh. Just as two blades collide, she loosens her razor and allows it to coil around his weapon, then uses the man's momentum and the fulcrum of her arm to lift his hand above his head, exposing his unarmored armpit. It's then he notices she caught - caught! - the knife by the hilt with her teeth. He just barely dances out of the way as she attempts to drive it into his side. Grip tightening on his razor, he pulls the woman closer and knees her in the stomach, forcing her to let go of the knife. As hard as he pulls, he cant seem to wrench his weapon free. Could this woman really be stronger than him? Looking at the gleam of crystal beads on her armor, he finds it hard to believe, though now that he thinks about it... yes, Vesta au Bellona, the legendary Hearth Knight. He'd have recognized her, surely, if not for her dyed hair and dulled mind. Not that it seemed very dull right now... Suddenly, victory seems less certain. Nothing left to do, Priam loosens his razor, causing the two blades to become a tangled knot, rendering them both useless. Furious, Vesta rips it free from his grasp and tosses him aside, then leaps on top of him, driving him to the ground. It takes all of Priams discipline to keep his hands guarding his head as she boxes his ears and drives the air out of him with the occasional blow to the stomach. Meanwhile, he weaves his head to avoid the brunt of her punches, eyes searching frantically for an opening through the cracks between his arms. There! Planting his feet, Priam thrusts his hips upward, rocketing the Bellona over his head. Attempting to establish a base, Vesta lays her forearms down, but by then he's already shrimped to the side, one of her legs hooked by his foot, while one of his arms wraps around her elbow and the other firmly plants itself against her shoulder. With strength and fluidity, he throws her over onto her side and then jumps on top of her, one knee planted against her neck, pushing her head down and away, while the others sinks into her stomach, driving the air out of her. With a savage twist, he tries to break her arm, but a ripple of electricity forces him to retreat, then try again. But no. No matter how hard he twists, her arm resists. A pulseShield, eh? In that case... Bursting from the ground, Priam kicks Vesta in the side of the head, then axe stomps on her throat, disorienting her. Flipping backwards, he scoops up the knife before his feet hit the ground, and lunges on top of the woman again. Driving the knife not once, not twice, but three times into her clavicle with enough force to shatter the shield. If he could just get one more blow in, he'd be able to finish her off, but she's already recovered and sweeping his legs out from under him, her legs forming a triangle around his neck, pinning his arm and the knife underneath her weight, and stretching her body out to choke the life out of him. Unconsciousness creeps towards him, but before he can pass out, Lucius rips Vesta off of Priam. "That's enough!" he yells, throwing the Bellona like a rag doll towards the wall. She rolls and rises to her feet effortlessly, hands reaching into a pair of pouches hung on each side of her waist. "And so you reveal your true nature! Spartacus was right, wasn't he, Lucius? You've been working for Nero this whole time!" "And so what if I have? It matters little, now. Haven't you wondered where your father is? Tiberius is already dead! And you, Vesta! You're next!" "NO!" Too late, Lucius notices the cylindrical cannon shaped around her fist discharging a bolt of energy straight towards him. It takes him in the chest, sending him flying across the hall and into a wall, though he doesn't feel either impact, nor the ionBlade she drives into his heart. Above his corpse, Vesta pants, exhausted. Sprawled on the ground nearby, Priam gasps for air. Surrounding them, the last of the remaining lancers watch the Hearth Knight, awestricken by her fury and rage. When she barks for them to move, they leap, none quite willing to challenge the woman. Not after the battle they just witnessed. At least, not the sane ones. Vesta ran. Not to Tiberius' chambers, but to her little sister, Tarna's. It was still hours before dawn, which meant she should be there, fast asleep, dreaming of unicorns and glitter and new ways to prank the Browns. But if what Lucius said was true... if the Forsworn had already gotten to the ArchGovernor... maybe she was dead, or perhaps captured, too. She needed to know that she was safe. Nothing else mattered in the world. She already lost every other person she loved in the world. She would not lose her too. When she found her safe, she was thankful. Less so when the Red entered the chamber, a crude, curved blade limp in his hands. She contemplated waking her, telling her to run, but then the man nodded towards the hall, and she breathed a sigh of relief. Careful not to disturb her, she kissed her baby sister's brow and followed the man into the hallway. "Please, if you must kill me, don't let them hurt her. She's just a little girl. Surely you have younger sisters of your own, somewhere?" Without a word, the man nodded, face grim, motion's deliberately slow. His sisters were all dead now, as was the rest of his family, but at least they inhabited the Vale, now. Golds had no Vale, however. And just because they had to be child killers didn't mean he had to be one too. Vesta smiled when she died. It was a quick, clean death, and not one entirely without meaning. For a Gold, that was the best they could hope for. Not that they were very hopeful often. Burnt Spaghetti was Vesta au Bellona, a Faithful lancer in the ArchGovernor's Employ. She was defeated in battle by Priam, who was cheered by Quintus, Lucius, Nirgal and Stick, then finished off by the Carved Red. Vesta's whisperGem contained the following message: Magestar was Lucius au Arcos, a Forsworn lancer secretly working for Imperator Augustus. He was slain by Vesta. Lucius' whisperGem contained the following message: Quicksilver's Coffers (4) jamField(s), 5 Merit: Any device that is used within close proximity of you and another lancer you target is disabled (not destroyed). This can interfere with a Lunes research, but no other House ability. (4) stunFist(s), 10 Merit: Stun another lancer, preventing them from taking any further actions this Chapter. If your target is protected by a pulseShield they will not be stunned, although their pulseShield will be destroyed. (4) fleshMask(s), 15 Merit: Disguise yourself as another lancer, preventing any action that would be used against you at the cost of potentially becoming the target of an action that would target the lancer you disguise yourself as. Likewise, any further action you take will be observed as being executed by the lancer you impersonate. (3) ghostCloak(s), 15 Merit: Stealth yourself, causing any action that targets you to fail. In addition, you can stalk another lancer to discover the targets and actions they make, but you yourself are unable to take any more actions. (1) pulseShield(s), 20 Merit: Passively protects you from a single death (includes duels). (1) ionBlade(s): 25 Merit: A generic, energy-based weapon that's perfect for assassinations. Dramatis Personae Darkness Ascendant as Pierce au Fabii Daniyah as Dimsari au Thorne Doctor12 as Spartacus au Thorne Assassin in Burgundy as The Jackal Magestar as Lucius au Arcos Wonko the Sane as Sanis au Julii Jondesu as Quintus AliasSheep as Nirgal I_am_a_Stick as Stick livinglegend as Rylos au Telemanus Bugsy6912 as Sevro au Bellona The_Lady_of_Chaos as Tenebrum au Lune Elenion as Khazad au Rath The Young Bard as Gregor TheMightyLopen as Priam Burnt Spaghetti as Tia au Bellona Arraenae as Nyanah au Thorne Elbereth as Lumina au Julii Doxis as Morsde jefrywlfersn as Jefry

Chapter 7 is now over. Please refrain from sending any additional PMs. Chapter 8 will be posted in approximately 2 hours.