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Elend Venture?

This has changed a lot of my views. Seonid, your argument has brought several things to light that I should have taken into account earlier. Yes, we do need to hunt down the Mistborn quickly. However, I don't see exactly why you want to keep Drake alive so badly. He's given good points on overall village action regarding the Mistborn, but otherwise... On the other hand, Araris's reply has changed my opinion of him as well. He seems to be village, just misinterpreted. Additionally, the combination of your posts have raised my suspicion of both Darkness and Sart. Sart's random, evidenceless votes are quite strange. I hadn't paid much attention to him previously, since there were more obvious suspicions elsewhere, but his mysterious inactivity has me wondering. Darkness's reaction to others' votes on him also makes me a bit suspicious. Rather more than was needed, I think. But what gets me confused is Straw. What was with her vote on Drake? She said it was to "solidify the lynch" meaning she wants Drake surely dead. If Drake turns out village, then I'd think Straw would be a good person to consider. But in all, I'd like @Sart to come out and say more things, and will reconsider my vote on Drake.

I will be frank with you, and tell you that I am not the mistborn. The actual mistborn knows that I am not the mistborn.

How many of your socks have holes?

Thank you Joe, for the extension. I was quite busy this weekend, so as you could tell, my activity has been quite low. Drake is the leading lynch currently. Let's take a look at the arguments. @nutellaspren used the brilliant term "supatown", which from my understanding is an analogous term to Mayor. She believes that Drake is trying a bit too hard to make himself seem useful, and that seems suspicious. @Darkness_ labels Drake's actions as Mayor-y, and lists his evidence. @Droughtbringer feels Drake's behavior is suspicious because it seems like his posts are trying to distract from something. As to what that is, unsure. @Araris Valerian accuses Drake of trying to lead the village in a string of lynches, recalling Drake's post that rationalizes a series of lynch and possible Elim targets. If I counted correctly, Drake has the leading number of votes. Steeldancer has kept his vote on Araris, perhaps because he was accused of Mayor-y like behavior himself and did not want to appear like a hypocrite in voting on Drake. However, I would press that Drake has much more evidence against him that Steeldancer did, and that he continues to display similar behavior in his posts. Drake also seems to be getting anxious, as seen in his various vote changes after a larger bandwagon began to form against him. All of the accusations against Drake are based on the same evidence, of which there is not a few. Now it comes to the jury to determine whether Drake was doing this through malicious intent (which through his experience, could have been hid subtly), or from altruistic roots. This comes unfortunately after a discourse from Seonid about inactivity, and Drake is one of the more active members of this game. Purely on a gameplay level, lynching Drake might be detrimental. But for the good of the village, I believe it is best to vote Drake Marshall.

Thank you!

It's my birthday!

Today is my brithday!

Wow, I didn't see Asterion get caught up at the end. That was a quick bandwagon.

Okay, so the cycle is just mere hours from ending, and Ornstein has still not appeared. I think it's a good move to push through with a lynch today, and I'll add my vote to Ornstein to make it mostly safe against vote-manip.

Good! What do you think?

What are your thoughts on Ornstein, whether he should be lynched or not? He is an inactive, and currently leading in votes. I feel guilty, since he hasn't even logged on the Shard since Saturday.

Hey everyone, I checked Ornstein's profile, and he hasn't been on since Saturday. That's before the game started, so he hasn't seen any of our tags, or the Shard in general. Should we give him a chance to see game before we lynch hims? Or is it not worth it? Right now, we have enough votes to lynch him.

No. I am.

I'm not sure if it's just me, but I feel that this game lacks enough RP. Drake started a little, and Joe went through the trouble of giving everyone little descriptions in the player list. So here goes mine... Another day it was, just as all the others had gone by. Ash in the sky, soot on the ground, smoke in the air, each distinct and yet the same. Why do people have different words for the same things? Marv tossed the apple in his hand to the other and back as he strolled down the busy street. Feet scampered over the cobbles, but Marv remained aloof. He had no place to be, being unemployed. He just told interesting stories of things that came from the recesses of his mind. Maybe they were true, somewhere, but people liked them. It was a living, of a sort. Marv turned a corner and accidentally bumped into a group of people huddled together. He tucked his apple into his pocket and probed his mind for an interesting bit to share, but then he caught a whiff of the conversation he had interrupted. Murder...intruders...danger... Nope. Not the right, receptive, happy people to get apples from, or maybe even boxings. Their anxious mood was reflected in their eyes, which were now trained on him. Their scrutinizing gazes seemed to peer right through his skull. Marv gulped down his fear and flashed them a grin and began to back away, but his exit was blocked by an intimidating man. He was obviously overthinking it, right? He tended to do that. These people didn't want to hurt him, they were just frightened, maybe didn't get their caffeine boost this morning? Right, definitely that. A leading member of the group pulled him from his thoughts. "You look like a man who spends quite a bit of time on the streets. What have you heard?" "What are trying to say, spends quite a bit of--" The glare of the man silenced him. "Oh, um, well, not much?" Marv stammered. The brawny man behind him grunted, and Marv began to mentally panic. He tried to bring back his previous rationalizations. No caffeine. That man has digestive issues, it's not polite to stare... The leader was still waiting. "No, nothing about sketchy people with swords or knives in the dark. Those types lurk in the alleyways, in the mists. They like the shadows, and most of the footpads around town don't get along very well with the pickpocketer gang, so I've heard." Marv's storytelling mode began to kick in, and slowly the anxiety began to fade away as he wove his yarn. "During the day, oh, you could be emptied of boxings in no time flat, by the Lord Ruler. Happened to me once, and I didn't notice until three streets down. But as for the frightening sort? I try to keep my distance," Marv said. His performance seemed to sate their curiosity, and Marv let out a slow breath of relief-- --but caught himself before his tension showed. Never let your audience know your terror, he always told himself. And sometimes he told that to street performers who were having a bad day. It usually cheered them up a bit, that and a story. Marv sidestepped out of the crowd and briskly walked away. After a few houses, he pulled his apple out from his tattered coat and began to toss it back and forth. Before long, he was whistling a little tune.

Seeing as things have definitely moved along since I voted, I will retract my vote from Devotary. Now, for the votes placed so far, Steeldancer has the most votes (as previously stated), and Araris may switch his vote from Drake to Steeldancer (please note that he has already previously voted on Steeldancer and Straw). I do not see much reason in lynching Ornstein, even if he isn't active for the first cycle, because he may become active later and we do not want to unnecessarily lynch a villager without giving them a chance. (But please, @Ornstein, please be active) Because of the three vote minimum, if we are to have a D1 Lynch, I suggest that we refrain from pokevoting (especially without tagging) and only provide legitimate targets, with reasons listed. Steeldancer is the closest to being lynched, and my thoughts on him are rather mixed. His contributions are at first glance helpful, but as Straw has said, implicate Mayor-like behavior. His pokevote on Darkness is not very helpful either ( @Darkness_, please contribute), but it came before my thoughts on pokevotes (see above), so I will let it slide. All in all, it is too soon to get a definite read, but my gut has an off feeling about him.

Thank you for pointing out the three votes bit. I had overlooked that and went directly to Day 2.

Additionally, I would like to remind everyone voting that 2 votes are required for a lynch. So even if votes are cast, the eternal D1 Lynch dispute will be decided in favor of none if there are not at least 2 votes on someone. However, I am not sure of who to vote on. I see no reason to vote on Asterion, because Legend's reason is terrible and equates to nothing more than a poke vote. The vote on Drake is simply a base to start discussion and provide evidence for more voting. I believe that it would be best to bring variety to the voting pool. Devotary. You have yet to make an appearance, state your opinions, and this one vote will not hurt you. This also provides subsequent voters more established candidates for a lynch, so blame them, not me, if you get lynched. Not saying that you will, or anything. *knock on wood* Edit: It might help if I tag you @Devotary of Spontaneity.

My exact same feelings about this! Though I have heard some good reviews about 6, so I might actually get it. And I would love to also see some Roshar civs too.

I know exactly how you feel. I struggle with that sometimes, and just know that we care for you here. I mean, I haven't fixed my problem, so I can't really help you with yours, but perk up! Think of something to do with all of your free time, because if you just waste it away, you'll feel like crap.

Fan art, sounds right up my alley. Of course, you're not getting a professional, widely skilled artist, just an enthusiastic and creative one.

'Tis the season to play SE! Signing up as Marv.

There has to be some sort of reconciliation between Rey and Ren, because I want neither to die. Hux is such a great character, and this would be the best way to end it, especially if Hux decides to actually overrule Ren and become a leader, not a follower.

Western as in "Wild West"? Well, for the first one, it'd go a little bit like this.... I heard from an old hermit out past Fort Eldreda when I was out herding cattle. The man was decrepit, a walkin' corpse, with snaggly yeller teeth. He was stumblin' on the side of the road, and I, being the gent' I am, offered my assistance. The weirdo hermit starts babbling, a creepy blubbery language that gave me the shivers. I try to slap him out of it, like you would do the same, but he hisses at me! I was about to just put that filthy mutt out of his misery when I heard his raspy voice--" "What?" "'It comes from Elders' Pass...' the gremlin whispered. I begged his pardon, since his voice sounded like sandpaper on sand with extra dust, and he said it again, with that same rattly voice and that frenzied urgency. I stared at the crazy fool, then saddled my horse and rode away. I didn't think nothing of it for a while, kind of slipped my mind. But then the sheriff, Sheriff Weathers, the poor man, went missin'. It was about a month later, just had a dark moon, and got word of it when it was a teenie crescent. Rumor had it that the ol' sheriff was chasing outlaws out north of Salsdale, by the Indian lands. The last feller who saw him was a rancher, by the name of Davis. He said ol' Weathers asked him for directions, a lead on them criminals. He said he pointed him towards..." "Now don't tell me--" "Elders' Pass." "You've got to be kiddin' me." "No kiddin' here, Henry. Straight from the mouth of that feller Davis. So one can only assume that Ol' Sheriff Weathers went a-hunting up at Elders' Pass and didn't come back. So when I caught wind of this, I had an inklin' of what happened up there. Now, being the dashin' cowboy I am, I went to search the sheriff out. If you didn't know, Elders' Pass is one of them Indian sacred places. Hard as stone to get in there without permission. So I went and visited Chief Thundering Bison and told him my s'picions. He told me that someone did go up to Elders' Pass that very night, but he didn't know who. But he also told me that no one, no one, goes to the 'place of the ancestors' when the moon is dark. Now I'm a smart man, I can put two and two together, (that's four by the way) and I was sure that something must of happened up in Elders' Pass. So with my most respectable mannersisms, I asked Chief Bison if I could visit Elders' Pass. It took some talkin', but you know my charm, so he agreed to let me go, and had some of his braves go with me. "It took a little while to get up there, into the mountains, and man, you haven't see majesty 'til you seen those mountains! They must be the ones that tear holes in the Big Blue. So it was gettin' dark, and chilly, 'cause that's how it is up in the mountains, and we made camp. Those braves know their firemakin', that's for sure. So quick as lightning, we have a roarin' fire. After a quick supper, Quick Snake, I think his name was, leaned over the smoke and told me a story. Told me 'that back when the days were young and man had just started walking the broad plains, that monsters ruled the world. They had defeated the gods, so by reason, they got the world to themselves. They lived in these very peaks, twisting, hulking, powerful beasts that were beyond what the mind could think. They could swallow the sun and control men's minds. The people back then were very scared. But there was one brave, named Burning Eagle, that challenged the monsters that ruled the world. He called upon the gods, who were hiding, and with their power struck down the king of the monsters with a golden arrowhead, right in its seventh heart. The king of the monsters roared, then fell off his mountain throne. So great was his fall, that it split the earth, and all the monsters fell into it. Then Burning Eagle sealed up the hole and preserved it with the power of the gods. The tale had been told to grandson, to his grandson, to his grandson, and on. And the tale tells that Elders' Pass is the place where the king of the monsters fell.' Now I was bedazzled. Monsters? There were no such thing, it's fairy tale stuff you tell lil' Johnny to keep him in bed! I went to sleep right after that, and we started up bright and early. A little ways off from the Pass, the braves stopped. "We will go no farther,' they told me. I supposed they were too scared of their story to follow. And no, I was just shivering because of the cold. Not scared at all." "The Elders' Pass is this big gap between the mountains, and it goes down into this valley, with some little trees, at the bottom. I could tell there was a path carved into the rocks leadin' down. It was probably for rituals, or whatever the Indians do here. Pow-wows? I'm not an Indian, so I don't know. Now, as I'm walking into this valley, it gets all cold all of the sudden, like a shadow. It didn't make any sense, but it must of been the weird fancy weather patterns of the place keepin' it cold. I follow the path after a while, and I hear this rustling in the stand of trees to the right. I crouch down and finger my trusty revolver. Then a horse bursts out! It had shiny buckles and whatnot, so, as you must have figured out, this is the sheriff's horse! I was gettin' close! With new determination, I follow the trail. It ends in the smack-dab middle of the valley, and right there in the middle is a cave. Now, of all times, this is the moment that creepy story the braves told comes back to me. Holes with monsters in them, oh boy. But the darin' cowboy I am, I goes in, match in hand and revolver in the other. In this cave, there are these real handy stairs that go right down, carved a long time ago. I creep down them real stealthily. The stairs go on for a long time, and I start to run out of matches. Finally, at the end of another long, dark, windy tunnel, is this cavern. Way at the top are those stal-- stagmie-- stagermites? Whatever. And in the middle is an altar, covered in carvings. Scattered all around the altar are bones and skulls and candles. I was darn spooked, some crazy witchcraft happenin' here. But then I saw the sheriff!" "About time..." "Shuttup, Henry. As I was sayin', I saw the sheriff, all trussed up in the corner. Looked easy. But that's when I saw the outlaws. They were all camped up in the cavern, with tents and bags and stuff like that. It seemed like they were waiting for something. I hid up in the tunnel for a while, tryin' to plot out my course of attack. So when the big guy standin' in front of O'l Sheriff Weathers when to get some water, I snuck from my hidin' place. I kept up against the wall, edgin' my way over to the sheriff. You know how sneaky I am--" "Like a drunk mule." "Shut it Henry! You know, if you do this one more time, you've got to go. I am sneaky! I got all the way up to the sheriff, and I got out my pocketknife. As I was slicin' away at the rope, I hear some footsteps behind me and -BANG- I drop like a log. When I wake up, all of the outlaws are standin' over me, and I'm in no better shape than the sheriff! All of those dastardly no-goods had on matching cloaks, and they started to make a circle around the altar. I got dumped on the ground in front, back far enough from the bones so I didn't mess up their voodoo aesthetic. A true cowboy respects the aesthetic. Then while I watched, helpless, tied up, and a bit hungry by now, the outlaw-witches began to chant. It was low and whispery, so I couldn't hear very well at first, but then it became strikin'ly familiar. It was just like the creepy old hermit, out past Eldreda. Monotonous slurring chant, garbled words, and a fearsome rhythm. I broke out in a cold sweat. Then they lifted the sheriff onto the altar. Now that all us were by the candles, I could see the sheriff's face clear, and he did not look like the best of days. The poor feller was unconscious. The outlaws began to cut off the ropes and stretch out his limbs on the stone, still chanting in their low voices. They took off ol' Weather's jacket and unbuttoned his shirt, took off his boots and stockings... then they took out a crazy knife. It was jagged and pale, like it was carved from a bone. It probably was, now that I recall. The chanting got louder as the head outlaw stood at the head of the altar and held the knife over Weathers. There was nothin' I could do as the man raised the blade above his head while the voices got louder and louder, so I just shut my eyes. "Then the chanting stopped. I thought I was dead, in all honesty. But I took a peek, and everyone was still there, just like before. I was too scared to speak, but then the head outlaw did. O Great Dtlorach-Qzetmar, accept our call and sacrifice. O Great Dtlorach-Qzetmar, we offer our blood for thee, and the blood of our enemy for thee. Come forth and reign! Sweet glory, I thought in those final moments. Then they all yelled together like some forsaken chorus and plunged the knife into poor ol' Weathers chest. The cave got suddenly cold. The head outlaw pulled the knife out, now crimson with blood, and let it drip onto the altar. One, two, three. That's how many drops. Then the outlaw slit his own wrist and added a drop of his own blood. Now, I don't think that's very smart, sharing knives, but it's not the worst thing goin' on here. Each outlaw stepped forward and added a drop of their blood. There was quite the puddle once they were finished. All of us were quiet as the outlaws returned to their positions in the circle. Nothing happened, but I felt a crawling up my spine. I dearly hoped it was not a scorpion. It was then I remembered the razor in my boot, which I fadangled out and began to discretely saw at the ropes. One of the outlaws look at his pocketwatch. 'It's time. The hour approaches.' The head outlaw nodded. I held my breath, and kept working at the rope. "It was like a breeze rushed through, and all of the candles went out. It was pure blackness. The color of pitch. I could taste it. One of the outlaws gasped, and I peeked open my eyes, which had somehow been closed. The altar was on fire, and all shimmery like the horizon on a summer's day. The ground began to shake, and rocks fell from the ceiling. It was at this moment that I cut through the rope and burst free. Providence was watching over me, because the outlaw next to me was knocked out by a stone. I made a dash for the tunnel, but I tripped, the ground shakin' and all. The altar collapsed into the ground, and the stone floor began to split in two. I looked at the crack, and if my eyes did not deceive me, smoke was risin' out of it. I don't know what became of those outlaws, because I was hightailin' it out of there after I saw the eyes. Oh yes, there were eyes. Two, red, bulging eyes peerin' at me from the darkness. You couldn't have gotten me to stay down there with ten shots of tequila! I ran as fast as I could, right out of that cave. When I got out, it was night, so I checked for my matches. Those criminals had snatched them. Luckily, I could see by the light of the stars, and I found the sheriff's horse to ride back on. And so gentlemen, that is how I saw the devil's face and ran." "You are the drunkedest man I've ever met." "Shut up Henry! I'm stone-cold sober. Every word of it is true." "Forget about it. You're drunk, and everyone in the bar can tell you so. Now go home, Cooper." "Alright, but take my word for it: dark things lurk up there in Elders' Pass."

If the future is uncertain, though the past is, if someone continuously put their time into a rock per say, but then took years to themselves, there is the possibility that they could have contracted a terminal disease, become crippled, or have some other sort of traumatic or devastating event happen. So there is a risk every time they take years, and that risk increases with the more time taken (because there is more time for such an event to happen). This with the old-age risk makes taking time very dangerous and uncertain.