AliasSheep

A thing I want to add about this - I chose the name Gemini-Aries at random. Then we looked up the traits for Geminis and for Aries on a whim. Turns out Gemini fits Mi9 amazingly and Aries fits N amazingly. That was prettttty cool.

Shallan Davar was standing at the food table. Ashetvl looked at Ralaani and then back at Shallan. This might be the only chance she got to speak with her, for who knew what duties the Radiants might have to attend to at a moment’s notice. She turned back to Ralaani and tried to put on the most apologetic tone she could. “I’m sorry, but I think I need to talk to someone.” And with that, she turned away, placing her glass back down on the food table. She took a moment to breathe, preparing herself, simultaneously smoothing down her dress and brushing back her hair with her hand. Neither fit properly. She pulled down her silk glove further onto her hand, covering it completely, and then moved the sleeve of the dress over it just in case. She didn’t want to offend the Radiant who, being from Jah Keved, was much more inclined to Orthodox Vorinism than Ashetvl herself was. She took one final deep breath, pushed down her anxiety and then approached the woman. “Brightness Davar.” Ashetvl opened, trying her best to put on a pleasant smile. She was terrified. Shallan turned to face her and only slightly managed to hide her surprise at Ashetvl’s appearance. Disheartening. “May I speak with you?” “You may, though I don’t know what… good, it might do you.” Shallan replied, chuckling uneasily. Ashetvl felt Shallan’s eyes on her like fire. She felt… judged. “I was hoping that you might be willing to instruct me as a Lightweaver. Everyone said that that was what you were. And since I’m a Radiant now, or going to become one, I want to become a Lightweaver.” “No.” She didn’t even blink. “No?” “You’re not a Lightweaver, and that’s not how it works. Sorry.” She turned and walked off. ☩ The cloth was wet. The tears dripped down now. Reaching the bed. For just a little while, she had become hopeful and she had gotten ahead of herself. She always did that. Always. Always. She hit the bed. It hurt. She stopped. She just lay there. Sobbing. And yet. She was still a Radiant, wasn’t she? If she wasn’t to be a Lightweaver, then what was she to be? What else could she be? Her tears stopped. Or at least, they began to stop. It wasn’t quite as simple as that. It never was. Ashetvl stood up. Even as a Lightweaver, she still would have been simple pretending. Pretending to be something she wasn’t. Wasn’t that what the Lightweavers stood for? Pretending to be what one wasn’t? And she didn’t want that. She wanted to be what she wasn’t. She needed something to distract herself with. She picked up her bag and opened it, pulling out the case she had found in the upper floors the day before. It was long, with several symbols she didn’t understand carved into the top of its lid though they looked somewhat like Alethi glyphs, at least stylistically. Ashetvl clicked the latched on the side of and flipped the case open, revealing an aging scroll within, which she drew out, laying the case to the side and opening up the scroll over her lap. The writing was fading, but even where it wasn’t faded beyond visibility, it was written a script that she couldn’t read. It appeared to be some kind of map, and she could see some of the distinctive features of the coast of Thaylenah at the top of the map. It showed a landmass surrounded by water, which she assumed was Longbrow’s Strait. “What’s that?” she heard from behind. Ashetvl jumped and turned around to see something floating in the air behind her.

"Kelkholinar? Now that's not a name I've ever heard before. Would you tell me about it, what it was like growing up there?" Ashetvl asked, as innocently as possible. The woman had slipped up and they both knew it. Ashetvl could act innocently, but now she’d let on that she knew - she began to chuckle. “I’m sorry, I just can’t do it. I’ve never visited Kholinar before. I take it you’ve spent a good amount of time there? What’s it like?” She said this as the two reached the food table and she picked up a glass of Yellow wine, a little milder than her previous drink, but she didn’t think she needed much to be intoxicated right as this moment. @Arraenae

Ralaani didn’t seem to be looking at her. That was odd. It almost felt like she didn’t want to be talking with her, certainly reinforced by her uncertainty at agreeing to get drinks, but at the same time every so often, Ashetvl would catch her looking her over. It was definitely odd. It was almost as if she was trying to hide it. Maybe if Ashetvl started conversation, the other woman would feel more comfortable. More liable to.. mentioning things she hadn’t intended to as well. “So from what parts do you hail?” Ashetvl asked. That always seemed to be a good place to start. She would get her comfortable, talking about home, about childhood. Then she’d let something slip. @Arraenae

Ashetvl pulled Ralaani up, helping her to her feet. “Ralaani? That’s a beautiful name.” Ashetvl smiled at her. Her drink. She sighed and made a motion of apology towards Ralaani before kneeling back down again and pulling her towel out of her satchel. She started to wipe up up the drink that had been spilled, a kind of Orange coloured wine. It wasn’t particularly strong but it had had a nice flavour to it and Ashetvl had been enjoying it. She was tempted to get annoyed at Ralaani for knocking it over and ruining it for her, but she resolved not to. It would not do her any good as a soon to be Lightweaver to be going around calling people down. Perhaps she could find retribution in more, subtle ways. That was what Lightweavers did, wasn’t it? Deception and trickery. That was what she had heard from the gossip of some of the other Initiates before Ralaani had knocked into her. Yes. She would do that. Just as she was finishing up cleaning the spill, a servant came off and began fussing about how it was improper that a to-be Radiant was cleaning, especially in a dress like the one she was wearing. She turned to face the servant and he stared at her oddly, every so often scanning her body up and down. He looked like he was about to say something, but then thought better of it. He took the towel off of her and then took the glass away. She stood again. “I seem to be out of a drink. Do you care to come fetch another with me?”

The woman seemed almost dazed, lost in her own world. She just stared at Ashetvl for several seconds, but those seconds seemed to drag out. Ashetvl was very confused. At least they weren’t hurt. Ashetvl began to stand up again, holding a hand out for the woman to grab onto so that Ashetvl could pull her up. “I suppose that after such an encounter it would be rude of me not to introduce myself. My name is Ashetvl, it’s nice to meet you.”

Ashetvl cried out in shock as the woman knocked into her, dropping her chalice to the ground, spilling the drink everywhere. A moment passed where she simply held her breath and then the world came back to her and she realised that the poor woman had stumbled backwards and was about to fall over. Ashetvl reached out to stop her from falling and grabbed onto the shoulder strap of her dress. The strap began to slide down and Ashetvl let go immediately, not wanting to unclothe the young woman before the entire crowd. The woman fell down to the ground, fortunately not falling on her head or any other important part of the body, for she had managed to put her hands down in time to break her fall. Ashetvl rushed over immediately, kneeling down beside the poor woman and putting her hand to the woman’s head. “Oh, I’m so sorry!” She cried out, sounding panicked, “Are you alright? Do you want me to go fetch one of the medics?” @Arraenae

A Début Ashetvl pushed her face into the basin full of hot water, pulling her hair down quickly after. She kept it under for a few seconds and then pulled out, gasping deeply for air as she moved strands of her out from her eyes. She put her hand to the side and scooped out a handful of tonic and then began to rub it into her hair, closing her eyes and letting herself relax in the soothing motions, dragging her fingers through the fibres of hair and slowly letting the herbally infused liquid soak into her hair. After several minutes of doing this, she took another deep breath and pushed her face back under the basin. She used her hands again to agitate the hair, getting off all the excess tonic, and she lifted herself back out again. Grabbing a towel from the side, she dried off her hands and then her face, taking great care around her eyes. While the tonic was good for hair, it would be nothing but an irritant to her eyes. She then proceeded to dry off her hair with the towel, spending upwards of half an hour simply trying to get the rest of the water out. It was time consuming, but somehow relaxing. Finishing drying, she gathered her hair back and began to comb it out using a delicate bone comb she had been given by someone who had travelled on her caravan, as a farewell gift. As she combed out the slight curls in her hair, she stared deeply into her own reflection. There hung a large mirror over the washbasin, so detailed it could have been for royalty. Yet, she knew that almost every room belonging to Initiates had one. Such a bizarre thing. She looked deeply into herself and considered what she was doing. Perhaps it was safer to put the whole thing behind her, to go to the gala as Tvazn. Maybe she should have never tried to become an Initiate in the first place. She should have simply left. But she had been declared now, and from that, she supposed, there was no turning back. Not only that, but she had been declared as Ashetvl. This is what she had wanted, and now she would be forced to live it. After finishing combing, she was tempted to braid it but decided against it. She did not know how. She stood up and took out her dress from her bag. It was creased in places, but nothing too bad that it would be noticeable when she was wearing it. She looked down at it affectionately. For so long she had wanted to do this. She slipped it on, taking care not to get her hair caught in it at all. Turning to the mirror, she smoothed the dress out and then looked at herself. She looked awful. A tear came to her eye but she shook her head and wiped it away. She would be fine. She would speak to Shallan… to Shallan, and she would become a Lightweaver. She picked up her satchel and walked out the door. ☩ The stars were majestic that night. They were every night, but somehow, being where she was and being what she was right now made them seem all the more so. She climbed the stairs up to the final, highest floor of Urithiru, and each step seemed to be both a blow and a boon to her confidence. With each step she regretted it more and more and yet felt more the strength to go on. She reached the final flight. She took the first step. And then the second. And then the third. Ashetvl ascended the final step onto the open terrace and looked around. She was one of the earliest there, the others were likely to arise later. She could see the two Kholins talking to each other and being crowded by some of the few Initiates already there was Shallan Davar. Ashetvl gulped. She checked her eyebrows, tucking them back behind her ears again, and then walked over to get a drink. If anyone wants to approach Ashetvl we could get some conversation going. And Aman, thank you, I do love these gatherings you have at the beginning of your games.

"Slow down, slow down," Ashetlv said, interrupting the boy and pausing for a moment to let him catch his breath, "that's a lot of questions you've got there. I'm a refugee, like most of the others. From the Shattered Plains, that is. Things did happen, yes, but that's nothing you need to worry about." He was remarkably observant for a lad of such a young age. Ashetvl wasn't quite sure how he had guessed what he had, though she supposed that the dress helped confirm whatever suspicions he had. "And yes, I... am. That's why I'm wearing the dress, I suppose."

"T-Tvazn!" He exclaimed. "Why are you in a dress?" Ashetlv blushed. This kid. He knew her. And she recognised him from somewhere. He knew her by her… old name. That meant that he knew her from her days of sailing. That or from her childhood. He seemed Alethi by the looks of him. Which was bizarre. What would an Alethi child have been doing in Thaylenah or even on a Thaylen boat. And then she remembered. A small child, maybe ten years old. He had come to her parents shop when she was between ships. His clothes had been in tatters. He had effectively been wearing rags. So she had taken him in and she had fixed them up. He’d stowed away on the ship she’d arrived on. And so they had bonded. Neither of them had particularly liked the captain (he had never been particularly nice to her and when he’d found the boy, even if that was understandable) and had complained about him together. The clothes had taken weeks to fix, they were so damaged, especially since she could only work on them between actual jobs for her father who needed her help in the shop. She had given him somewhere to sleep. His name was Rea. And he knew her old name. “Rea… it’s… it’s nice to see you again.” @TheSilverDragon

The Legendary City Crumbling stone dusted Ashetvl’s hair as she wandered the cold, dark halls of Urithiru. As much as it had been searched before, the floor she was on had only been noted, surveyed and then left, as more lucrative ventures were followed through. Fortunately, however, that meant that there was more for her to explore. She walked mostly in silence, every so often humming something to herself but for the most part simply mulling over the events of the last few days. She was a Knights Radiant now or at least on the way to becoming one. She would have control over the forces themselves. It still shocked her, even now. She was going to be a Lightweaver. That was what they were called, she had learnt, those who were like Davar. The ones who wielded illusions. The ones who could give her freedom. She didn’t know for sure what she had to do to become a Lightweaver - little information had been given on how one actually became a Radiant - however she was sure that she could achieve it. She stopped for a second and slowly made her way around a large pile of rubble. that had collapsed in from the floor above leaving a gaping hole in the ceiling. Even though Urithiru was still standing after so many years and even though it had been built to perfection, it still suffered the same fate as any abandoned building, if slower. After making her way around the rubble, she knelt down and turned down a displaced rock that she had noticed on the side. A cremling had made its home under the rock and seemed to be quite comfortable there, so she placed it back, smiling to herself. Life was everywhere, all perpetuating. It was one of the few things that comforted her. She continued to make her way down the dimly lit corridor, the only light being small rays that had found their way in through the thin slit windows in the walls of the various rooms. Ashetvl stopped at each room she walked past, bathing herself in that light and peering in to see if there was anything interesting, but ultimately carrying on. In one or two rooms she stopped and had a closer look around, often finding some interesting oddity that she put in her bag for examination later. So far she had found an old doll, itself covered in dust and dirt, that she intended to clean later, as well as some kind of carving from when Urithiru was still a thriving city. She picked the rooms mostly on intuition and each time she found something interesting. Maybe she was lucky, or maybe there was something of interest in all of Urithiru. She would have to investigate that sometime. Hours passed and she found herself growing more and more attached to the dead city. She was almost saddened that it was returning to life. There was so much history here. So much to learn and to see. She almost wanted it to stay like that forever. Perhaps she could do something about that. She would talk to Dalinar about it at some point; he did seem to be leading the city after all. As she decided this she stepped out into a light brighter than most of the others that she had walked past before. She turned to her right and saw that the wall in this room had been demolished completely, leaving an entrance out into the outer gardens, where the sun was shining and people probably should have been working. They weren’t today, for whatever reason, but that suited her fine, especially when she was exploring. She put a foot inside the doorway and then simply let herself be drawn in, her excitement building. This room was special. Over on one wall there was a large, wooden chest. A chest. She ran over to it excitedly and then knelt down before it, not caring that she was getting dirt and dust all over her trousers. Had it been her jacket she may have cared more, for the work she had done had made it important to her, but these trousers were somewhat meaningless. Throwaways. Probably stolen now that she thought about it. Regardless. The wood on the chest was, surprisingly, not rotting. She didn’t know how it could stay there for hundreds, if not thousands, of years and not rot, but for the moment she didn’t question it, she merely wanted to open it up and see what was inside. She tried to lift the lid, but found that it wouldn’t budge, leading her to notice the padlocks on either side that dangled slightly down yet inexplicably kept the chest shut completely. She picked up a rock to the side and brought it down against one of the locks. It didn’t budge. She tried again. Nothing. One more time, then she would leave it alone. She closed her eyes and breathed in deeply, then brought down the rock one last time. She opened her eyes again. The lock was broken. She put down the rock and lifted up the lid. She dropped it again. Her hand was glowing. It was faint, but it was obvious. So it really was no trick. She spent a few seconds staring at her own hands in wonder but the glow faded quickly. She returned back to her task. She opened up the chest and leaned over to look inside. It was a padded chest with a smaller case in the centre which Ashetvl took out and opened. Inside was a finely made scroll. She heard footsteps behind her and closed the case and put it quickly inside her satchel. She turned around to see a small boy walking in through the doorway. @TheSilverDragon

Prologue Ashetvl whimpered. ☩ “Tvazn, shirt off! I won’t have good clothes be ruined by the damned ocean water!” Ashetvl turned and looked at Tanb, who was calling over to her. She was working on the rigging, nothing essential, just sorting ropes but disturbances were still annoying. She also didn’t want to take the shirt off. “Captain, it’s only water! How will it ruin the shirt?” she called back. “Salt, my lad.” “Salt?! How would that ruin the shirt?” “Don’t question, lad. It simply will.” Ashetvl sighed and reluctantly removed the shirt. She hid her chest for as long as she could, first with the shirt and then with her arms, but eventually there was nothing she could do. She felt exposed. So exposed. “Give it here, lad, I’ll take it down to your quarters for you.” “Can I not… Can I not keep it here? Use it to shield from the sun?” “What madness are you on about, lad. It’d still get the water on it then! Just give it here!” Ashetvl looked down at the shirt and then back at Tanb. She handed it over. “Thank you, lad. Now back to work!” Ashetvl turned back to the rigging, trying as hard as possible to crouch down and cover her chest with her legs. The others looked at her awkwardly. They didn’t understand. ☩ Ashetvl whimpered. She was lying in her cabin bed. Everyone else was asleep. There were tears in her eyes, but so far none had fallen down to the bed. She held herself tightly, her arms wrapped around her legs, going into a fetal position and trying to make herself seem as small as possible. Her smallclothes were uncomfortable. They were restrictive. She hated them. ☩ “Again, lad?” “Again?” “The shirt, Tvazn. Take it off!” ☩ Ashetvl felt between her legs and then recoiled again. Why had she done that? Why was she even here? She whimpered some more and rolled over so she was facing towards the wooden wall. The boat’s rocking was relaxing, and she closed her eyes and let herself focus on that. The rocking. Relaxing. She thought about the waves. That was why she was here. The waves. The ocean. She loved it. It was… nice. The Entrance to Urithiru Ashetvl clutched onto her jacket tightly. It wasn’t cold, she simply wanted to keep herself hidden away. Or at least, keep her body hidden away. The jacket wasn’t particularly fancy - she couldn’t afford much with what she had left - but the blue pattern it had trailing down the side was a nice touch. She’d added that herself using thread she’d found in an abandoned chest on the road. Most of it had been ruined by a highstorm, but the thread had been wrapped tightly in a beautifully designed sewing pouch. It must have meant a lot to whoever had owned it. She was surrounded by people, people of all different varieties. While most were Alethi, she’d seen at least a couple Makabaki folk and even a Reshi woman weaving her way through the crowd. Ashetvl felt less an outsider knowing those people were here, even if her eyebrows did stand out. Fortunately, most people seemed to be ignoring them, instead focusing on the grand city spanning out before them. They stood on a grand bridge which anywhere else would have dazzled and amazed and yet none paid attention to it, for what was before them was even more impressive. A hundred layers of stone rose up before them, towering higher than Ashetvl had ever before thought possible. Perhaps it was the work of the Radiants, or even the Heralds. They were said to have powers beyond human comprehension, and she did not see why that could not apply also to architecture. She moved along with the crowd, less making her own way than flowing with it, stepping this way and that as the countless people crossed the bridge as one, making their way into the ancient city of legend, Urithiru itself. It was hard to believe that she was really here and yet, at the same time, it seemed inevitable. There was something about it that just felt right. She couldn’t quite place what. As the crowd shuffled along, she remembered with a sudden fear of what she’d been told about thieves in the Alethi warcamps and she looked down at her bag, making sure that it was still closed and sealed as it was meant to be. She held it close to her, the strap somewhat hurting her shoulder, but it was worth it for the protection it might provide against thieves. Thieves blessed by the gods. Thieves that were gods. Despite knowing how little sense this made, it still panicked Ashetvl and she kept extra wary than she normally might be. What she kept in this bag was valuable. ☩ Dalinar Kholin was recruiting people to the Knights Radiant. That shocked Ashetvl more than a little bit. The Knights Radiant were supposed to be gone and, especially in Alethi culture, considered worse than evil. And yet, the near king of the Alethi was recruiting more. There was a grand line leading up to a set of stairs at the top of which stood Dalinar himself. The line was moving somewhat quickly and Ashetvl watched several people climb the steps and then kneel before Dalinar. The man would say something to them and then they would say something back. Dalinar would hope up a sphere to them and then would wait a few seconds. And then whoever had walked up the stairs would descend them again, often looked more angry than not. And then, something incredible happened. Another person walked up the stairs to the dais, bearded but otherwise nondescript. Dalinar spoke to them and they spoke back like all the others. Dalinar held out the sphere. And then the light had flowed into them. It had left the sphere and moved into the person kneeling there. They began to glow, almost as if the light was leaking out of them. Ashetvl gasped. The Radiants, there were more of them. She had heard of the few that had already revealed themself - the people in the caravan she had taken to the Plains had not stopped talking about them in all the time Ashetvl had been there - but not of more coming. And people seemed to be lining up, just to be given the chance of being one of them. It was insane. Madness. Wonderful. Ashetvl thought back to what she’d been told about the Radiants and about the one called Davar. Creator of illusions. Ashetvl looked down at herself. If she… if she had that power. She could be who she was. She could be herself. She walked over and joined the line. ☩ The length of the line was both surprising and completely understandable. On the one hand, it was strange that so many people thought themselves capable of being Radiants, whilst on the other hand, it made so much sense that they would want to try. Just in case. How could anyone turn down that chance, to gain powers beyond anything anyone had known in thousands of years. Like Ashetvl. She looked down at herself again and kept her gaze down. A tear formed in her eye. She hated it. Someone coughed. She looked up. The person before her had just walked up the stairs and was kneeling before Dalinar. Ashetvl could hear what he was saying to them now. “Speak the words.” Dalinar commanded. The person complied. “Life before Death. Strength before Weakness. Journey before Destination.” Dalinar held out the sphere to them. “Breathe deep and prove that your heart is true.” Ashetvl could hear the person breathing in, far too deep than was healthy. There was quiet for a second. Nothing happened. The person stood up and then stormed down the stairs, pushing past the people in the crowd that had gathered here. Dalinar looked after them and then turned his attention towards Ashetvl. She gulped and then began to ascend the stairs herself. She knew the words. She knew what she had to say. And yet, she was still nervous. This was her chance. Her only chance, maybe. She couldn’t screw it up. She went up, took her bag off from over her shoulder and lay it down at the ground beside her feet. Then she kneeled down before Dalinar. “Speak the words.” She knew the words in Alethi. She was very much fluent in the language. It was hard not to be when one had traded with them for most of one’s life. And yet. “Tvalor shal mralb.” Dalinar looked at her, confused. She felt confused. What was she doing? She could speak Alethi, so why was she not? “Mabn shal tvailr.” Dalinar looked even more confused. She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t do it. It just came from her, without warning, without any control. “Shlvan shal mrak.” Dalinar stared at her. Then he held out the sphere, a diamond broam. “Breathe deep and prove yourself true.” She breathed in. The light jumped into her. She began to cry. Dalinar put a hand on her shoulder and whispered to her. “Well done, child. Well done.” and then louder, “What is your name, Initiate?” Ashetvl went to say “Tvazn” and then stopped. She thought about it. What was she doing? She was free now. She had proved that to herself. “Ashetvl,” she whispered. Dalinar looked at her deeply. He nodded to himself. Of course he knew Thaylen names. He was basically a king. “Stand, Ashetvl, so that I might declare you to the world.” Ashetvl did as she was asked. “Here stands Ashetvl of Thaylenah. She has spoken the First Ideal not in Alethi, but in Thaylen. She has proven that we are universal. The Knights Radiant stands not for any one nation, but for all humanity.” She. Ashetvl began to sob harder. ☩ Ashetvl lay down her bag on the bed that they had provided for her. It was a room for herself, as all the initiates had been given. It wasn’t large, but it was enough space for her. The privacy it provided was welcome again. She opened up the bag. She was accepted now. The bag wasn’t bulky, but what was inside was the most important thing she owned. Ashetvl reached in and grasped onto a soft material and then dragged it out. A gown of a deep green. She had been told it matched her eyes. It was the only valuable thing she had left. She removed her clothes and then slipped the gown on. She smiled to herself. Yes. This was right. I'm signing up as Ashetlv, the sailor from Thaylenah! If anyone wants to RP with me, I think it would be pretty cool if there was someone who knew her from earlier on and knows her old name Tvazn. If anyone's inerested in doing that, ask, and I'll send over some details of the character history that we could use to build something interesting out of.

Funnily enough, only 1 DA PM was created in the entire game. Drake did incredibly well getting contacts without needing to use it at all. The whole DA did actually. It was really amusing to see Mage getting a PM with Joe on Cycle 2 for that very reason.

Also, would anyone be interested in playing another game in this format? Cause I have another QF slot coming up at some point...

They had one last chance. One, final, chance. Strider’s heart was beating fast than it should have been. He’d doubted himself before, but the stakes had never been as high as they were now, even when his friends and colleagues had been dying around him. He sat quietly on the rubble, thinking it over, mentally preparing himself. It was time to confront John Marshall, the final vole in MI9. Desmond set down his glass on the counter, finishing his third martini for the day. It was noon but already he was drinking. It was not going to be pretty what was about to go down, and Desmond wanted to be prepared for that. He took another gulp and downed a fourth, then swaggered out of the bar. He checked his coat, ensuring every weapon he would need was there. He walked over to the bridge, or what remained of it, and made his way over the Thames. Arin “White Eye” was not scared. No matter the circumstances, he would not be scared. He was prepared. He was ready. This confrontation was expected. It had been planned for. Meticulously detailed and every action laid out in advance. Even the chaos caused by Niobe’s insanity could not put a dent in this plan. It was time. Yiferien threw the wrapper down into the bin on the side of the street and put the last piece of chocolate - milk, not dark - into her mouth. The chocolate was pleasing, and calming. She expected that right now Desmond would be doing something similar, except getting himself hopelessly drunk. She knew him well enough for that. Yiferien made her way up the ruined staircase, up to the roof. It was a shame that he wouldn’t be sober when she killed him. The stone on which Joe was lying was uncomfortable, but unfortunately there wasn’t much better in this now wasteland of a place. He had laid down a picnic mat in an attempt to make it more comfortable, but to no avail. There was gravel in his shoes now. Gravel. Joe groaned and then hoisted his gun up, shaking his head and reminding himself that it had to be done. He put his eye to the sight and trained his Snoiper Roifle™ on Desmond. John looked out over the Thames and gulped. The rubble was silent. So it should be. A terrible thing had happened here and sombreness was only appropriate. Still, it disturbed him. He had agreed to meet the others, and he knew that there he was to confront Desmond with Joe and Yiferien. He hoped only that it would not end with him in a coffin. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Desmond could hear the wind gently grazing the dust. The quiet drowned his ears, and for a moment he revelled in the clarity it gave before returning him to drunkenness. Across from him, maybe ten metres away, standing herself on one of the old tiles that had made up the great mosaic wall in the central hall, was Yiferien. She was looking directly at him. She looked calm and yet angry at the same time. He nodded to her and she stared at him for a short moment, then broke and nodded back. He had not lied to her, as much as she might think he had. Desmond’s look was broken away by the sound of stone crumbling behind him and he looked around to see Arin and Strider, the two of them helping each other to climb up to stand next to him. He smiled faintly, a smile filled with grief, then knelt down and offered out a hand, onto which Strider took hold. Desmond pulled Strider up and then the two helped Arin up. They stood together and Desmond nodded to them. “Thank you for being here.” The two returned his nod, then turned to face towards the other agents. Marshall stood there, a foot maybe ahead of Yiferien. Joe knelt behind the two of them, aiming a gun directly at the three allies. John watched the wind whisper over the sands. It was quiet. Before him stood Desmond, visibly swaying, along with his two silent supporters. Behind him, Yiferien and Joe. He was so tense, yet he forced himself not to show it. He was so close to victory. Yiferien, one of his most ardent accusers, he had turned to his side. Honestly, he was amazed he had survived so long when his fellow brothers had been caught and executed so early. But now fate was serving him his victory on a platter, and by God, he was going to seize it. Everything rested now on where the wind blew. “We came here by agreement.” Desmond shouted. The wind did little to dampen his voice. The background was quiet. “As did we.” John shouted back. “We are here to end you, John Marshall.” “Marshall law is still in effect, Desmond. We are here to bring you to justice.” Desmond took one last glance at Yiferien and Joe. “I told you the truth, you know.” Yiferien averted her gaze. Joe gave an indifferent shrug. “It’s too late to change sides, Desmond.” “It is not too late for you to join me. Do you not see how obvious it is? The final Double Agent stands before you two and yet you do nothing.” Strider drew a pistol from his belt holster. Joe swiveled his roifle around on its stand, aiming at Strider. “Be careful who you point that at, Bond,” Strider shouted over, “we’re not your enemy.” Beside him, Arin sighed, drawing out his own sidearm. Joe pivoted again, moving round to face Arin. He glanced meaningfully at Yiferien, who drew her palm across her face. Reluctantly, her own pistol was produced. The tension reached its climax. Joe coughed. His finger slipped. The safety off. Desmond looked around, eyes wide. “Whoah whoah, wait just -” Bang!! Arin blinked as for a millisecond, a bullet flew past his face. Strider had fired the first shot. Bang!! Taken by surprise. Joe’s own shot went wild. Those two shots were the catalyst, and Desmond could only dive to the ground as a firefight erupted around him. Yiferien did the same, taking cover behind a stray block of faintly azure rock. She leaned out from behind the rock and took quick aim, firing haphazardly before jerking back to safety as Arin and Strider began to retaliate. Soon bullets were flying everywhere, and even Desmond had gotten enough of his bearings to duck behind cover and fire off the occasional quick shot. In the quiet of the clearing, every shot sounded like a bomb going off. Suddenly, a high pitched, incapacitating shriek screamed out of the waists of every single agent, causing some to drop their guns in shock. They ducked behind cover, eyes darting around in paranoia. Yiferien was the first to check her transmitter, realizing it as the source of the noise. “WHAT THE HELL IS THE MEANING OF THIS???” All heads swiveled at once to the middle of the clearing, where a figure stood in his shirtsleeves, a bloodied bandage around his torso. His arms were folded in disapproval, and his normally smiling eyes had been replaced with flinty grey. Mi9. At once, the agents straightened, some coughing awkwardly as they stowed away their still-smoking guns. It was then that Yiferien noticed that on their side of the clearing, John Marshall was nowhere to be found. “I saw them! Aries and John, running off together.” Joe shouted out. The battlefield had gone quiet again now, both sides tiring from the pointless fighting. “What are you suggesting, Joe? That you were wrong all along?” Joe looked down as if in embarrassment. “I’m… sorry, Desmond.” “You are forgiven, friend. This is a confusing time for us all.” He looked up at Yiferien and she looked away, seemingly unwilling to talk to him still. “What do you suggest we do?” “We work together,” Arin said, quietly. His plan was in pieces. “We find them both and we kill them.” Mi9 looked out over the river. “It’s over, agents. You have all done...well. Mostly.” He leveled a look at Strider, who gave a sheepish shrug and salute. He looked at each agent in turn, smiling finally at how united they were. “It’s time.” He said. “With me, agents. We move undercover, and we move as one. Cut off any escape routes.” For dramatic effect, he cocked his pistol. “Time to hunt some barbeque.” Aries stood looking out over the river. The area had been cleared almost immediately. The building abandoned. Only she was left. Her and the few others who dared to oppose her. She was turning over a gold disc in her hand, one inscribed with the zodiac symbol of Aries. She carried it with her at all times. Soon this would be over. Soon. Marshall stood a few steps behind her. He sounded solemn. “They know what you’ve done, John.” “It took them long enough.” “They’re going to come for you, John.” “I know.” Aries turned around and looked out back across the rubble. The silent rubble. From here, one couldn’t see the other side of the building, for the explosions had been erratic, turning the MI9 HQ not into a flat plain of dust but into a mountain range of old plaster and stone. “What do you intend to do about it?” “I don’t know, Aries.” “This is a difficult situation.” She looked up at a pillar sticking up out of the pile of rocks. “Let’s get to higher ground.” “Bah, Bah, Black sheep, I have all your wool,” Joe chanted. They were searching the ruins now. Aries and John couldn’t have run far away and were probably still on the site, hiding somewhere. That would be safer than trying to leave completely. “You, Sir, N, Sir, are being quite a fool,” Yiferien groaned. “Shut up, Joe.” Joe ignored her. “Killed by the Sniper, Killed by the Shears,” That John Marshall was the last of the Double Agents. He should have seen this coming. He should have known. But he had sided with him. Sided with the one who wanted to tear them all down and bring his beloved organisation to the knees. “Killed by the MI9, Killed by the Spies,” Yiferien groaned again. She walked away from him, determined to search some other place in this ruin, somewhere where Joe wasn’t. “Bah, Bah, Black sheep, you'll have no more wool…” He was in the right now, though. He had repented. He had seen his mistakes and now saw fit to make all right. He was going to find Aries. He wasn’t going to find that damned Sheep. He would find Marshall. He would kill him. He would kill them all. “I'll have all of it, three bags full!” And then he saw them. They were standing in a clearing, right in the middle of what once would have been the grand lobby of the MI9 HQ building. Joe was shocked. He had found them. He put his wrist up to his face and spoke into his watch. “I’ve found them. They’re in the lobby.” A crackling noise accompanied the reply, “Noted, Agent Bond. Agents, move in to surround them.” It was all about to be over. Joe waited a few seconds and then scrambled down what was once a vertical wall, now slanted towards the lobby, allowing him to make his way down. He sighted Yiferien standing in the shadows across from him and then nodded. He stepped out, and with him Yiferien, Desmond, Arin and Strider. The five of them, for a time enemies, but now united against a common foe. They would end this. Strider spoke up first. “John Marshall. We accept your guilt as fact.” He raised his gun up. John looked at Strider. Seconds again he had been hyperventilating, breathing faster than he probably should have been. But now, it was all calm. Perhaps he deserved what was coming to him. He had tried. Aries knew he had tried. He had stood out against all of them alone. It was fitting that he take his last breath with honour. He pulled out his pistol and then dropped it on the ground. He kicked it over to Desmond and then nodded at Strider. Oblivion was almost welcome. Drake Marshall was lynched! They were a Double Agent "Coffee" Vote tally: Drake Marshall (3): Amanuensis, Arinian, Assassin in Burgundy Amanuensis (3): Drake Marshall, Daniyah, Magestar The Spies have won! Thank you everyone for making my first game GMed so incredibly enjoyable. This was a new format to all of us and you all handled it amazingly. I literally cannot thank you all enough for the fun I've had doing this. I'd also like to thank Doc for being an amazing Co-GM and for handling everything while I was at school, plus his obviously wonderful sections by Mi9. They really made the game. Now, without further ado, what I'm sure you're all excited for: Elim Doc Spec Doc GM Spreadsheet All Write-Ups In addition, I'd like to find out how many people would be interested in a collection of all the PMs that were in the game, so that it can be read properly. If anyone wants it, Doc and I are happy to work on collecting them all together over the next week or two. Player List:

Cycle 8 is now over!

Rollover is going to be an hour later than usual today, at 7pm instead of 6pm.

Cycle 7 is now over! Cycle 8 is up now!

The music had a beauty to it. It was a terrible beauty. An overpowering beauty. 39214 sat there, in their room, in the darkness, with only a dim light from the moon shining in through the thin window in the wall, playing along to it. The light danced along the instruments and their fingers danced with it. Tears formed in their eyes. It was terrible. It was sad. The moonlight danced, and their mind danced along with it, sending them back to times past, times they’d rather forget. A blow to their head knocked them down, sending the chair flying. The music kept playing. 39214 lay sprawled on the floor. The carpet was wet. Tears dripped down. The music continued to play. They were sitting in an office, blood dripping from their face down onto the carpet, the folder in front of them and N briefing them on their death. They were in a concert hall, the conductor beating them down, over and over and over again. The music continued to play. They were in a lecture hall, the lecturer’s droning voice sounding like something hitting them on the head, describing a process that 39214 could not care to remember. The music continued to play. They were sitting in their childhood home. Their father came in holding a gun. The end clicked off. A puff of Dust. Moonlight through a small window into a dimly lit apartment. The music stopped. ------------------------------------------------------- [transmission begin] And now a message from our sponsors, the *coughs* wonderful agents over at MI9. [Message 1 begins] Greetings, agents. Just wanted to let you know that Marshall law is still in effect. Also, I'm voting on Bard. He is the second contacts claim which in of itself is dangerous. It also doesn't help that the two contacts I trust most both independently reached the conclusion that Bard is suspicious in addition to my own suspicions. Stay sharp, agents. [Message 1 Ends] And.... no more! *sigh*. [transmission end] ------------------------------------------------------- The Young Bard has been lynched! They were a Spy "Contacts" Vote tally: The Young Bard (3): Magestar, Amanuensis, Arinian Drake Marshall (1): Daniyah Cycle 8 has now started! You have 24 hours! Player List:

The launch codes had arrived. Niobe hadn’t expected Mi9 to comply, but they had done as asked. Their loss. Nine assault rifles, all loaded, at least two stuffed in each coat pocket. The long-range bomber was set up facing the office as planned. Niobe picked up the pictures of N and Mi9’s high school girlfriends. Cute. They chuckled to themself and walked out the door, leaving it unlocked behind them. They doubted they’d be returning. The first port of call was getting those two out of the damnation closet they’d locked themselves in. Fortunately, Niobe had some ideas about that. They walked into the front entrance of MI9. “Agent Niobe, how good to see you.” The receptionist said, grinning. A nice looking lad. Niobe had probably interacted with them at some point in the past. “Here to see N.” “N? I believe she’s busy dealing with her sister right now.” “Even better. Where is she?” “In her office.” “Thank you, I know the way from here.” Niobe got into the elevator. “Get your sister for me. And her friend.” “Sorry, what, Agent Niobe?” N replied. Seems like she was going to resist. Niobe pulled a pistol out of their jacket. “Get your sister from that storming closet and bring her here.” “I don’t have the key.” “You what?” “I don’t have the key.” “For storm’s sake!” Niobe cried out. They pulled the trigger. “I guess I’ll be getting them myself.” Gunshots. The lock came off and the door opened almost immediately, with both the Sheep and Mi9 tumbling out and sprawling on the ground in a tangle. Sheep looked up and immediately looked down again when she saw the gun pointed right in her face. “A-agent Niobe. Thank you for getting us out of there. You don’t happen to have any water on you, do you?” “Water?!” Mi9 perked up. “I’m afraid not.” Niobe replied. They took the pictures out from their pocket and threw them onto the ground where Sheep and Mi9 were sitting looking dazed, recuperating from their unusually long stay in the closet. Mi9 noticed them first. “You weren’t kidding, eh?” “Not at all.” “So you really are challenging us?” “Yes. I am here to kill you both.” “Mind giving us a breather before you do that?” Sheep asked. Niobe sighed. “So be it.” They turned and walked over to the window, looking out over the Thames and at the buildings beyond. It was so beautiful and yet so… awful. A click sound behind them. They turned to find both Sheep and Mi9 with guns pointed at them. “I have many explosive devices throughout the building as well as bombers ready to blow this place to kingdom come. You do not want to shoot me.” “We’ll be the ones to decide that,” the two said in unison. Niobe died. The window smashed behind them. They fell forward. Neither pistol had been fired. Sheep ran over to the window. A figure stood down on the other side of the river, too small to make out the details, but big enough to see that they were holding a rifle. They waved. A notification noise. YOU’RE WELCOME FOR THAT ONE - ARIN & DESMOND In capitals. On the screen. The building blew up. Sheep and Mi9 were thrown backwards, falling to the ground as it collapsed around them. The wall fell in beside them and sparks flew across the room as the computer bank folded over itself, snapping the electronics within and breaking the circuits. It took less than a second for Sheep to be back on her feet, pistol in hand. She pointed it down at Mi9. “This wasn’t me, Sheep.” “I know. It would be stupid of me not to take advantage of this, however. You found me out.” “I what?” “You found me out. I am Aries Mi9.” “You are?!” Sheep sighed. “I thought you knew….” “Well I claimed you were, but how could I be sure?!” Sheep sighed even harder. “Never mind.” She fired a shot to Mi9’s side. “I don’t want to kill you, Mi9. You are a friend, even if on an opposing side. But if you try to stop me, you will die.” She turned to go away. “Sheep… answer me one last thing. Who is Gemini?” Sheep turned back and chuckled. “Gemini? Only time can truly tell that.” And with that she was gone. -------------------------------------------------------------- This is the endgame. With me or against me, time is running out. Your sides are meaningless. Find the Double Agents or die trying, agents. --------------------------------------------------------------- Seonid was lynched! They were a Spy "Hacker" Vote tally: Seonid (3): Amanuensis, Arinian, Magestar Drake Marshall (1): Daniyah Cycle 7 has started! You have 21 hours! Player List:

Cycle 6 is now closed! Cycle 7 shall be up shortly!

Rollover's going to be at 9pm today as I have school stuff I need to do.

Could a moderator set the title to "Uncomfortable Sleeping Arangements" please? I seem to have forgotten to put a title in >>

----------------------------------------------- Gemini-Aries’s Secret Base, MI9 HQ ----------------------------------------------- “You’ve failed me, Mr. Oleny,” said Aries, somberly. Her voice had a digital tinge to it and Doc could tell that it was coming not from a person actually standing there, but from a speaker somewhere in the room. It sounded almost like she was whispering. “Where are you?” Oleny asked. The voice was disconcerting. He couldn’t place it in the room, and with no light to see by, he couldn’t find the speaker either. “That is no worry of yours.” A loud banging noise suddenly sounded out. The speaker crackled, the sound obviously far too loud for it. “Aries?” “Do not… worry about that. What is important is that you have been caught.” “I can… I can explain!” “No. No you can’t.” “Aries, please. I’m good at this job, you know I am.” “While that is true, you have compromised your position. You really expect me to leave you in the field when MI9 know who you are?” “No, no, but, you could reassign me! Put me somewhere else!” “With Joe?” “Yes!” “Joe is dead.” “What?” “Joe is dead, Oleny. Sorry. Thank you for your service.” The room was dark. ----------------------- A Joe in the Bush been lynched! They were a Double Agent "Coffee" Vote tally: A Joe in the Bush (2): Amanuensis, Arinian Drake Marshall (2): Assassin in Burgundy, Daniyah The Young Bard (1): Seonid Cycle 6 has now started! You have 24 hours! Have fun! Player List: --------------------------------------------------- Unfortunately, Mi9 seems to have... fallen asleep. It's very uncomfortable. Regardless, they have informed me that no missives were submitted. Agents, step your game up. How do you intend to catch the Double Agents without taking advantage of a vital line of information?!

Cycle 5 is closed. Cycle 6 is now up!