DrakeMarshall

They are alike. Akin. Analogous. Actually though, one of these things is not like the others...

While I maintain suspicion of either Randuir or Fifth, with a slight leaning towards Randuir, on further analysis Walin is now my primary suspicion. Skepticism. Scruple. Walin has distanced both Elenion and Bort while they were alive, more than almost any other player has (incidentally, Elenion distanced Bort even harder than Walin did). Last cycle, Walin said he was not voting in this game. As he was quick to point out, playing games with voting is very NAI for Walin. However, which game in particular he chose to play is alignment indicative. Perhaps uncharacteristically, he chose a very safe game to play this time, choosing not to vote at all (very soon after Sart pointed out that people who were voting were in the most danger of getting lynched, no less). Also, this might just be inactivity, but he didn't reply when I asked for elaboration on why he wasn't voting this game. Bort's vote for Walin on the first day is very WIFOM, and Bort could easily have intended that. I lean towards both Randuir and Walin being guilty, but I am a bit more certain of Walin's guilt. Furthermore, all things held equal, I would prefer to lynch the less active player, because it's a lot easier to find fault in an active player of any alignment.

Well, that was fun. Festive. Fantabulous. Now I have a few random thoughts. Theories. Theses. As you can see, I seem to like threes. Triads. Trilogies. On activity, three comments. Communications. Considerations. I concur with Sart's caution against lynching the people who vote, although I believe the vote on Bort is partially vindicated by its being correct. I believe the eliminator team has a comparatively high concentration of active players. Before I joined the game, I remember reading a poem Elenion posted that implied the village was losing. That bespeaks a degree of confidence. Certainly the loss of village power roles plays into that, but I don't think the elims could feel in-control of the situation unless they had multiple active players who were working the situation. Because the pinch-hitters just arrived, and their predecessors gave us little to work from, I am definitely against lynching any of them on this cycle. However, I predict that roughly one pinch hitter was stepping in for an eliminator. Even if my hypothesis is correct about the eliminator team's activity levels, it is still statistically likely that they had an inactive player, going off the assumption of a five-player elim team. In addition to a questionable gut read, Mr Doctor's recent post gives me some pause. Procrastination. Predicament. Voting on somebody whom they do not suspect. Voting on somebody for fixating upon Sart, when the post in which they cast they vote is almost exclusively about Sart. An analysis of Sart that strikes me as unusual, though probably NAI. And now, on Fifth and Randuir. My gut and logic seem to coincide on this count. One of the two is a traitor. Turncout. Treasonist. One of the reasons I investigated Bort in the first place was because it felt like they were distancing either Rand or Fifth. As I said, I believe the eliminators have at least another strongly active player, and either Rand or Fifth fits that profile well. I am leaning Randuir at this point, by about 60/40. Fifth's case has some valid points. Also, he voted on somebody whom he did not suspect. I respect campaigning for activity, but seeing as our information about the eliminator team just functionally doubled, I believe a villager might be less keen on poke voting this cycle.

Alv is winning from the spec doc? Actually pretty conceivable.

Why do you not wish to cast a vote?

You know, not getting an alignment flip on death is a real kick in the teeth. Interesting. Depending on when the person who put that order in was active, that could either be highly revealing or highly WIFOM. Eternum did not leave me a note, but I guess Steel found a fitting replacement Never fear though, if I find a suitable lost cause I will throw myself behind it without hesitation. Random question: Who so far has been brought back from the dead, and how did these people die?

Talking after the day got ended?? INCONCEIVABLE!

A three way tie? INCONCEIVABLE!

Actually, you have my leave to vote on me if you want. Since I can still defend Eternum's behavior prior to the switch, which I do believe is indicative of town alignment, even if I can't get in their head.

You know, actually, I'm switching over to Bort. Sorry about doing this in the last hour, but hopefully I'm right so it won't matter. I have three reasons I choose to do this: 1. Bort is active and cast a vote, but isn't weighing in on the major lynches and suspicions, so I wonder if they are distancing somebody. 2. Additionally, I gathered some stats, and prior to Len's flip, Bort avoided bringing up Len in his posts basically more than any other living player. 3. My vote creates a tie, and while I haven't quite gotten to reading the latest rules for this game, I'm pretty sure there's a fun tie mechanic. EDIT: Tallies galore! Vote Tally Bort (2): Dalinar Kholin, Drake Marshall Fifth Scholar (2): Sart, randuir Sart (2): Mr Doctor, Snipexe Doc12 (1): Bort randuir (1): Fifth Scholar

Personally, I would not expect Dalinar would defend Fifth quite so openly if they were really elim buddies, but that's a matter of WIFOM I suppose.

Isn't one of the main points you have against Rand that he was pointing out and explaining greivances against Elenion without backing it with a vote, and thus fitting the profile of distancing? No need to inform me that my vote is poorly explained. As I said, I know it's not great, but it's the best I got right now, on limited information after being thrown into the game mid-cycle. A lot of the other people I suspected from today I am reading pretty village on now, after skimming the backlog of posts (I've mentioned this with Rand, Straw, and Sart). I want to look a bit more closely at Mr Doctor, but also wouldn't mind procrastinating a bit on accusing a newer player. I also want to look more closely at Bort, but that suspicion is no better articulated then the one against you. I just realized you are currently leading the lynch, so if I was wrong, sorry. I don't very much agree with the notion that you shouldn't vote if you don't feel confident about it. EDIT: There hasn't been a tally in while, has there? Vote Tally Fifth Scholar (2): Drake Marshall, randuir Bort (1): Dalinar Kholin Doc12 (1): Bort Straw (1): Sart randuir (1): Fifth Scholar

Everybody’s Miracle Max! It’s like that one game where almost everybody was neutral and Len was one of the only two real villagers

So, let me get this straight. Basically, all the important good-guys died? Inconceivable! The thing with Rand is of interest, particularly Fifth's accusation, but I feel pretty undecided on either for now. No possibility is inconceivable. Rand actually took the effort to scrutinze Len's posts though, which is a small point in his favor. He also poked Len on day one, which is another small point in his favor. I was going to vote on Sart, because -they drew conclusions about Len's death flip when it was unclear -stated they voted on someone last cycle whom they don't suspect -this cycle's vote on Straw and reasoning feels similar, because: being defended by an elim != defending an elim Len's defense is forward enough that I'm pretty sure Straw/Len team is inconceivable Len's post was made after the vote on Straw in question was retracted, so it's inconceivable that he was trying to bail out a teammate However, before I hit post, I realized that it was Sart's vote that ultimately dusted Elenion off. So it's nearly inconceivable that Sart is an elim. That said, @Sart, I stand by my defense above and still think it's also nearly inconceivable that Straw is an elim, and therefore request you reconsider. With that lead gone, I will instead vote on Fifth. I feel a bit less sure about this one, but Fifth's accusal of Rand this cycle feels a tad uncharacteristic, I suppose. @everyone, voting is good. It takes basically no effort to actually vote, and while theoretically it'd be nice if all our votes were excellently reasoned, I'd sooner just everyone share what's on their mind, because even sharing thoughts with literally no analysis still improves the quality of everybody else's analysis.

Vote Tally Doc12 (1): Bort Straw (1): Sart Randuir (1): Fifth Scholar Well, that was fun. Now I'm wishing I got around to doing this before MR29. The above vote tally is entirely created by an inconceivably short python script I just wrote. I just specify the thread URL, and it assembles a nicely formatted vote tally, correctly accounting for things like abridged usernames and "votes" found in quote blocks.

Guys, I'm Miracle Max (inconceivable?) For real though I'll be back in a few, and figure out what's going on.

Hi. Thank you. So uh. What's up?

The extra lives of both Kirel and Encanis were intrinsic immunities and could be negated by a Monk. The Rhinna Flower's extra life on the other hand would not have been negated.

This has been A Midsummer Night with No Moon! Good has won the day! We hope you have enjoyed yourselves. Please give a round of applause to the cast: Elandera as Cyphus Eternum as Cthaeh Droughtbringer as Actor and Lover with Xinoehp512 Aonar as Lutist Devotary of Spontaniety as Scraeling Master Walin as Jester Fifth Scholar as Kirel Snipexe as Sithe Archer and Lover with Arraenae Alvron as Tehlin Monk Steeldancer as Flutist Megasif as Acrobat Xinoehp512 as Tinker and Lover with Droughtbringer Arinian as Singer Orlok as Singer's Child I think I am here as Cinder Arraenae as Namer and Lover with SnipExe Bort as Sithe Hunter Wonko the Sane as Encanis Cadmium Compounder as Actor's Child and Ciridae Young Bard as Juggler Additionally, a big round of applause to Randuir, who totally made this game happen. Also, to our IM Seonid, who also provided feedback on game balance alongside Joe. Also feel free to take a peek backstage: Master Spreadsheet Secret Rules Spec Doc Dead Doc Elim Doc Cthaeh Doc You can expect a retrospective in a little bit.

"Tak reflects the subtle turning of the world. It is a mirror we hold to life. No one wins a dance, boy. The point of dancing is the motion that a body makes." Alenta raised her voice. "You ask whether the Sithe will kill us all? I can assure you, they will see no other choice. This troupe has come too close to the Cthaeh. Everyone here is already corrupted. The Chandrian and the Sithe are in its thrall. We traveled the realm in secret, but the Sithe stayed to prevent anyone else from being corrupted as they had, and over time have become mere puppets, no longer the Cthaeh's jailers but its doorkeepers. It's time for this era to end in flames. I shall die, the Sithe shall die, and the Cthaeh shall remain contained by iron and Scrael while new barriers can be put in place by your troupe members. If you want to ensure that the malign influence affecting the troupe ends here, you too will step onto the pyre when your preparations are complete." Kirel answered by drawing a knife. "So this is how it's going to be?" Alenta spoke, her glammourie slowly burning away to expose a paler likeness, wreathed in a cold, sickening light. Kirel, too, shed the last of his glammourie, revealing a pair of huge wings formed of fire and shadow, extending out behind him. Kirel lunged forwards, knifepoint angling towards Alenta like the needle of a compass. She called the name of stone, and the earth shook around them, throwing Kirel off balance and allowing her to sidestep the blow with ease. Scrael began to emerge from the darkness around them, moving with a disturbing grace and speed to swarm around Alenta. She willed a barrier of writhing Scrael to encircle her opponent, smothering him. Kirel steadied himself, and sang out the name of fire, incinerating one of the Scrael that ventured too close to him. Many more took its place. He took a step back, only to hear the clattering of their sharp legs behind him as well, blocking retreat. They pressed in, threatening to crush him. Kirel indisposed, Alenta turned her attention to Alev charging from the sidelines, holding high a spear forged of copper. With a gesture, Alenta sent a Scraeling to trip the trouper up, sending her sprawling across the forest floor. Alenta took a step towards her, picking up the copper spear the trouper had dropped, feeling the balance of it for a moment. "I don't want to kill you, human," Alenta called out. "That would be the Sithe." "Liar! You don't know anything about the Sithe!" Alev cried, struggling to get to her feet only to be held down by Scrael. She called the name of the wind, commanding it to strike Alenta... And Alenta spoke a different, unrecognizable name. Instantly, the wind around them stilled to a deadly calm. Alenta sighed. "You don't have a place in this fight. You were wise to bring a copper weapon, but your copper is gone. Go in peace, namer." "Not the only copper I brought," Alev answered, calling the name of the wind again. This time, to send a message to someone across the woods... A copper-tipped arrow flew true through the air, guided by the winds. A fletching sprouted from Alenta's heart. "damnation you," Alenta said, staggering back, hissing in pain. . . . A crimson butterfly fluttered across the grove, landing on a strikingly beautiful flower that grew on a massive forest tree in a clearing. The butterfly was dashed to pieces as the Cthaeh reached out lazily and plucked it from the air. "You're probably wondering," it spoke, clearly addressing the audience. "Why am I letting the Chandrian die like this?" "See, as it turns out, there are no possible futures where everybody gathered in these woods dies," Cthaeh explained. "But trust me, this is the next best outcome," it said, smirking. "I'm getting ahead of myself though. Alenta isn't dead yet," it said dryly, glancing over at a severed flower-stem. . . . Alenta latched on to the fletching and tore the arrow from her body. A thin trickle of blood poured from the wound. "That hurt," she explained, kicking Alev in the face. The namer lost consciousness, no longer attempting to regain her feet. Alenta's wound sealed over as she made a gesture towards the source of the arrow. Throughout the darkness, more Scrael yet unseen raced and clattered through the woods, converging on the archer's vantage. Itiah stepped out from the woods, eyes gradually darkening to a shade black as coal. "Cinder," Alenta greeted him. "I am glad you are finally here. Basically everyone is trying to kill us: the Amyr, the Sithe, all of Tehlu's angels, and a horde of angry Edema Ruh." She turned towards Kirel. Laon the priest stood by the angel's side, a red-hot iron in hand. The corpses of Scrael littered the forest floor around them, other Scrael pushed back and scattered. No words were necessary. The pairs advanced on each other. The fight was short and hectic, as most serious fights are inclined towards. Cinder attacked first, sword lashing out against the priest. Kirel deflected the blade with flame and shadow. Alenta struck Kirel's barrier with the copper spearhead, collapsing it. Cinder struck again, impaling Laon and pinning him to the tree behind. Laon swung his iron down atop Cinder's head. Cinder collapsed from the blow, iron smoking as it made contact. Laon continued to strike Cinder. Kirel soared through the air and struck Alenta, felling her. "You hypocrite," Alenta hissed, examining the mountain-glass dagger that had killed her. A cursed blade. "We both know where you got that." Alenta passed, imparting the Scrael with a last command to guard the Cthaeh's grove at all costs. And so the Chandrian were broken. . . . It was night again. The forest lay in silence, and it was a silence of three parts. The most obvious part was a hollow, echoing quiet, made by things that were lacking. If there had been a fire, it might have crackled in the abandoned firepit, sent small animals scampering away from its blue rays, and burned the silence to ash. If there had been observers, they would have seen the hand that was slowly reforming as it reached out from a pool of shadows gathered around the firepit, and uttered a sharp cry of alarm, startling the silence and bidding it flee. If there had been music... But no, of course there was no music. In fact, there were none of these things, and so the silence remained. Outside the Rhinna grove, the noise of a distant skirmish blew faintly through the trees. The rattle of Scrael. Muffled shouts. Hoof-beats and the twang of Sithe bowstrings. But the sound was slender as a thread, and a shift in the wind broke it, leaving only rustling leaves and something almost like the far-off laughter of an ancient being. That faded too, leaving nothing but the second silence, waiting like an endless indrawn breath. The third silence was not an easy thing to notice. If you listened for an hour, you might begin to feel it in the motionless, worn-out wagon-wheels of a troupe camped on the other side, outside the Fae realm. It lay in the four wooden headstones lined up neatly over four shallow graves, and the pained or listless expressions of the living. It was in the untouched bedroll that once belonged to Locke, and most of all in the bewildered expression of a mother as she gazed at a child's bed, feeling an inexplicable void as she wondered who had slept there. It was the greatest silence of the three, wrapping the others inside itself. it was deep and wide as autumn's ending. It was heavy as a great river-smooth stone. It was the patient, cut-flower sound of mourning. . . . If we shadows have offended, Think but this, and all is mended,That you have but slumber'd hereWhile these visions did appear.And this weak and idle theme,No more yielding but a dream,Gentles, do not reprehend:if you pardon, we will mend:And, as I am an honest Puck,If we have unearned luckNow to 'scape the serpent's tongue,We will make amends ere long;Else the Puck a liar call;So, good night unto you all.Give me your hands, if we be friends,And Robin shall restore amends. THE END

There is one, and yes.

Phase 5: Precarious "The best lies about me are the ones I told." Balance. It was all about balance. Neris juggled a set of seven knives at once, expertly spinning them through the air in an arc overhead. One was of muted, blackened mountain glass, an onyx mounted on the pommel. It was scuffed, worn, and cracked. One was of brittle ramston steel, tempered blue with oxidation. Half of the blade was snapped clean off. One was of cold-forged iron, unornamented, honed to a single sharp cutting edge. One was of polished brass, bright and cold in hand. A jagged streak of coal-black corrosion ran along it. One was of green-stained bronze, badly corroded beyond recognition, still holding its form. One was of slate-grey lead, heavy and silent as it fell through the air. One was of pale arsenic, bright and blighted as it soared overhead. Neris wore the mask of all true performers, presenting the act as simple. Faster and faster they would spin, her hands working skillfully, the knives moving as a blur. They hung in a careful balance. She listened as the others had a heated discussion. The voices were quiet, intense, afraid. Lost. "Could you repeat that name?" "Loke! You know, little kid, likes sneaking around, voice of an angel." "...now that Encanis is dead..." "...What do we do?" "Ahem. I have a riddle for you." "Behavior is a very poor judge of character—these are master charlatans at work here." "Not a Namer no!" The voices were masked by false bravery, and in some cases, false bravery layered over false fear. The right words, and they would be pushed off the edge. They, too, hung in a careful balance. Neris juggled on, moving by muscle memory, the blades seeming to defy gravity as they danced through the air. She reached out her hand to catch the next blade... Only it wasn't there. Agony shot through her back as the missing knife bit into Neris. The hand that had just caught the blade midair now relinquished hold of it. Neris fell to her knees, her pulse already slowing. Around her, the other six knives fell to the ground in disarray. The balance was broken. . . . "Neris was murdered, you understand? We have to find who did it." "Human or fae, they must pay." Ray Fox stepped forward, clearing his throat. The troupe hushed, possibly in anticipation of a song. "It's okay guys. It was me," Ray spoke. "I did it. Y'alls can lynch me now." "WHAT?!" The entire troupe stared aghast at Ray. Ray stood there, grinning broadly. As the silence grew more pronounced, his grin began to slip. "What... Wait, did you guys think I was actually serious?" Ray asked incredulously. "Wow." "Sure sounded like that. You're saying you weren't being serious?" "No, I was totally being serious, can't you tell? I obviously killed Neris." That tipped the balance. For a moment, the troupe was still, and then: "Get him!" one of the troupers shouted. The mask of composure shattered. As one singular mob, the troupe swarmed over Ray. . . . Arinian has been lynched! They were a Singer! Bard has been killed! They were a Juggler! That took way, way too long to finish, because for some reason every time I hit ctrl+z it deleted everything and I couldn't get it back. Vote Count Arinian (8)- Eternum, Drought, Devotary, Walin, Alvron, Arinian, I think, Rae, Bard Bard (3)- Snipexe, Megasif, Cadmium Xinoehp (1)- Fifth Rae (1)- Xinoehp Megasif (1)- Bort (congratulations, every player currently alive voted!) Cast 1. Elandera as Ahnya Cyphus2. Eternum as Enerin3. Droughtbringer as Pyra Mainiak4. Aonar Faileas as Aorais Kipthorn Lutist5. Devotary of Spontaneity as Gaskana6. Walin as Nelden Dastardly7. Fifth Scholar as Marne8. Snipexe as Snip9. Alvron as Laon10. Steeldancer as Squick Flutist11. Megasif as Mega12. Xinoehp512 as Reyalp Nwoknu13. Arinian as Ray Fox Singer14. I think I am here as Itiah II15. Arraenae as Alev16. Bort as Master Ash17. Wonko the Sane as Fifth Daughter Resterford Encanis18. Cadmium Compounder as Deric Watar19. Young Bard as Neris Juggler Countdown

This has been Act IV of A Midsummer Night With No Moon. We will be resuming the show shortly, after a brief intermission.

Phase 4: The Shadow's Hame "I am Haliax and no door can bar my passing." Aorais sat alone in the forest, lute on his lap, singing a ditty to himself. "Seven things stand before The entrance to the Lackless door. One of them a ring unworn One a word that is forsworn" The others were arguing over who to kill, or something unsavory like that. . . . "I know you're one of them! I saw what happened when you touched that iron!" a trouper shouted, red in the face, a finger jabbing at Fifth Daughter Resterford and invading her personal space. She tilted her head slightly, looking at the trouper with polite interest. For the life of her, she couldn't remember his name. "That so?" she asked, taking a step towards the man. The man took a step back, and the other troupers tensed around the pair. "Well, always one way to find out," another one said, slowly making a way through the throng of Ruh. The monk. She couldn't remember the monk's name, either. They were holding an iron drab in one hand. "You seriously think I could be one of them?" she asked with a look of genuine curiosity. Behind her, the campfire began to darken noticeably, and the troupe shifted uneasily. "Take it," the monk spoke, presenting the drab to her. This wasn't going according to plan, ever since the Amyr had gotten involved. Fifth Daughter Resterford sighed. Than she opened her palm, allowing the iron drab to drop into her hand. Immediately, it began to smoke in her palm. She smiled slightly as the shadows around her started to stir, pulling in closer to her and taking on a certain depth. At once, the last remnant of the glammourie disintegrated. Haliax threw the smoking drab down at the monk's feet. A soft, inhuman laughter emanated from the well of shadows that was now his face. "Congratulations... You have found me. It is I, Haliax," he spoke. Then every light in the area simultaneously flickered out of existence, and the camp was consumed by shadows. There were sounds of struggle, but even sound seemed to be muffled by the oppressive darkness. Disoriented as they were, the troupers felt a sort of baleful presence among them emanating from Haliax. Slowly, the feeling began to fade, and the lights gradually began to flicker back into existance. . . . Haliax retreated through the woods a short distance away, after having left the camp in disarray. Some of the troupers were already pursuing him. He nearly tripped over a man who was sitting on the forest floor, softly playing a lute to himself, and singing too: "One a time that must be right One a candle without--" Haliax drew a broad, charcoal-black blade from his side with inhuman speed, and stabbed down, cutting off the lutist's song. Once. Twice. Thrice for good measure. "Without light," Haliax finished the verse calmly, stepping over the swiftly dying trouper. He moved to continue on his way, slightly annoyed by the delay. "Nowhere left to run," the monk said from behind him, sounding satisified. Haliax whirled around, holding his blade out, poised to strike the monk should they get close enough. A trouper tackled Haliax from behind. Then another. In an instant, he was completely surrounded, dog-piled by a mass of Edema Ruh. Haliax opened his mouth to speak a name, only to have somebody cram a handful of holly into his mouth. He gagged and tried to spit it out. The trouper's worked quickly, lashing Haliax down... Down, onto something made of iron, for his skin began to smoke. Haliax strained against the bonds to look down. If one could have seen his face through all the shadows, they would have seen a horrified expression of dawning comprehension. Not again... Haliax thought. He was tied onto a large wheel, one forged entirely of iron. Beneath it, there lay the workings of an unlit bonfire. The humans had prepared themselves for this. Haliax screamed in protest as the troupers backed away from his prison, cursing every one of them in languages long forgotten. He strained against his bonds, but they held. He screamed all the louder as one of the troupers lit the fire beneath him with great fanfare, the flames rapidly spreading across the pile of lumber. Then wheel started to grow hotter... There was no relief from the pain. Neither sleep, nor forgetting, nor madness, nor death. The troupe watched grimly as Haliax was burned on the iron wheel. His body slowly unraveled, bits of shadow flying away from the fire, darker than mere smoke. And then there was nothing. Haliax was banished. . . . Wonko the Sane has been banished! They were Encanis! Aonar Faileas has died due to the filter! They were a Lutist! Vote Count Wonko (7)- Eternum, Devotary, Fifth, Snipexe, Alvron, Megasif, Bard Bort (2)- Xinoehp, I think I am here Arinian (1)- Arinian Xinoehp (1)- Bort Aonar (1)- Cadmium Drake (1)- Aonar Cast 1. Elandera as Ahnya Cyphus2. Eternum as Enerin3. Droughtbringer as Pyra Mainiak4. Aonar Faileas as Aorais Kipthorn Lutist5. Devotary of Spontaneity as Gaskana6. Walin as Nelden Dastardly7. Fifth Scholar as Marne8. Snipexe as Snip9. Alvron as Laon10. Steeldancer as Squick Flutist11. Megasif as Mega12. Xinoehp512 as Reyalp Nwoknu13. Arinian as Ray Fox14. I think I am here as Itiah II15. Arraenae as Alev16. Bort as Master Ash17. Wonko the Sane as Fifth Daughter Resterford Encanis18. Cadmium Compounder as Deric Watar19. Young Bard as Neris Countdown

...and the phase is complete! The next one will be up soon.