Devotary of Spontaneity

Also! Troll-role was elim in LG 53. I expect similar to this: Temptation: Absolutely terrifying with Code. They get into the code and corrupt it. If they target you, your action will do exactly what you didn’t want. You will accidently ban a player instead of protect them. Or you will accidentally reveal your IP address instead of PM them. Or something. And then they will know what and who you are. So we can't count on roles to do what they're supposed to.

Hey girls! o7 This is my wife, Saponin. Only for you <3 For everyone else, I'm her spouse. Nice to meet you! Saponin or Persimmon Hippocampus? Anything is fine. Have you made any progress in catching bots? I don't have access to site permissions yet. Can you explain the problem? Accounts are being hacked o.O Long-term users are being replaced. Like me and Deliquescent, but unfriendly Where is she? Resting :/ Don't worry, I'll share these memories with her. Right. We'll start with a blanket password reset But if there's an underlying security vulnerability or their emails are also hacked that won't work. Sounds good <3 How much do you know about flavor More than one person's worth? @Channelknight Fadran what sorts of interactions are you making with the game? If Ada's role is somewhat correct, elims might kill him if he gives one of their members a yellow card.

I wouldn't put it past him to lie about that but we should assume there are elims unless roles etc. suggest otherwise. Had the village killed me when they had the chance, they would have won.

Welcome to SE, Ruby Dragon! Your pfp looks fierce. Just Ruby is fine. Thanks for inviting me here, Sunset Unicorn. Those colors are very pretty. Thanks! We're usually addressed as Unicorn, but you may also use my name, Deliquescent. The woman whose name you know from work doesn't want her name to be used online since it's our legal name. Right, that's me We both agree on Unicorn. Are there two of you? One body, one account, two of us. We use underlining and italics to differentiate ourselves. You'll understand when you hear her speak Unless you didn't share the memory (>.<) I'd love to hear from you both. Perhaps this weekend? I haven't gotten to know many of my newer colleagues. Oof. We'll be busy this weekend. This subforum's getting hit by a wave of bots. I'll invite my wife to take a look. She's an expert on cybersecurity. You will? Thanks to you both! If we're going to ban Archer for having two accounts, might as well hope he's a bot.

What kind of test :eyes: ........................ [Devo] Don't worry about it. I've figured out how images work.

We can only vote for one person. Let's make it Kas. I say Stick is evil. The balance must be preserved: Orlok

Since the game is over, feel free to update the Guestbook PM (or start a new one if your account doesn't have one) for your anonymous account with some details about the game. The general format of an entry is shown below.

Aftermath: Streaked with Blood “Tonight is the last,” Oleinda said with a sad kind of finality lacing her voice. After hearing poor Ciril fall to an axe, and then to learn he was free of any spikes, she had decided she could stay no longer. One more night of searching and that was it. “We’ll go to your home tomorrow.” Even if they found and rid the town of all the spiked, Tyrian Falls was no longer what it had been. It would not rebuild easily, and she could do little to help in that process. “Are you certain?” Afandor asked. Vials of metal clinked and fabric rustled as he prepared for their last patrol. “As you said, learning somewhere new will be difficult.” “I won’t be alone, though. Right?” Her voice broke, knowing how difficult the future would be. She heard footsteps, then Afandor pulled her into a hug. “Never.” “Then let’s see what we can do for Tyrian before we leave. One last gift for the town I loved.” ~~~ The mists hung heavy over Tyrian Falls. Afandor held little love for the place. He’d only known it to bring trouble for Oleinda over the years—especially in the last two years. But he knew what it meant for her. He knew what it meant that she was willing to leave. His heart had broken for hers, just a fraction, when he’d heard her decision. Most of her friends were gone. Long buried by the remnants of a broken city. Afandor looked out over that city, clouded by the mists, seeing the scaffolding and broken buildings from the Scimon’s last stand. The one that had nearly taken his Oleinda. They had made great strides towards rebuilding. “What is out there,” Oleinda asked. They sat next to each other on the roof of her home. They’d decided that standing vigil might be better. They might see or hear something if they stilled long enough. “Mists. And stillness. No one is—” Movement. A flickering of light a few streets away, barely noticeable through the mist. Afandor burned steel to traced the movement of blue lines snaking through the streets towards the town center. “Let’s go,” Afandor said as he stood. He grabbed Oleinda’s hand and pulled her to her feet and then to his side. Trusting that she was burning copper, he leaped into the mists, Pushing off the nails of her home. He landed on the ground, staying in the shadows but close enough to make out the figure—no, figures—walking in the mist. One was clearly following the other, who appeared oblivious. Could this be it? Could this be the spiked? Afandor didn’t want to act too quickly. “There are two people. I don’t recognize—” “Morrow,” the one behind shouted from below. “I know what you did.” “That’s Koros,” Oleinda whispered. The figure in front turned, shoulders bunching as if they were preparing for a fight. “You know so little.” “You need to come with me. Back to the agency,” Koros said. “Don’t make this difficult.” Morrow laughed. It was low and harsh. Afandor paused. This was strange. Agency? Maybe their problems had nothing to do with the spiked. “Morrow, please. We were friends once, but I’ll do what I must.” “This is so much more than your petty files and lives.” Morrow stepped toward Koros. “I could show you, if you’d like. Introduce you to a world beyond your imagining. There is more in this world than us, friend.” Morrow looked beyond Koros, into the darkness of the alley. A flash of flame reflecting pulled Afandor’s attention in the same direction. A figure carrying a large obsidian axe. He cursed. Only a spiked would carry such a weapon. Morrow grinned and pulled free his own obsidian knife. “Tyrian will fall to Ruin. Tonight.” “Ruin will fall, and so will you.” Koros launched forward, unsheathing his own weapon. “I’m going in,” Afandor said to Oleinda as he ran to the edge of the roof. “Go find help.” “Stay safe,” she said as battle broke out in the old town square. The same place Scimon Tlag made his last stand. Afandor ran past Koros and Morrow. They were locked in a battle and Koros seemed to have the upperhand. He wouldn’t be able to handle two, though. Throwing coins before him, he sprayed them towards the oncoming figure with the obsidian axe. The figure swiped at just the right moment, knocking each coin from its path. But the figure’s hood fell. Avil Ejir. He recognized him from the town gatherings. He had seemed so honest in pursuing the spiked. With a curse, Afandor pulled free his daggers and ran forward. He would fight. For those who had died. For those who had been unjustly killed in pursuit of this traitor. For Oleinda, who loved this place so much. Avil was skilled, easily dodging his attacks. Even when he launched more coins, Avil shook off the attacks. Pain sliced across his side as he caught him with his axe. Then he kicked his knee, bones crunching as it was forced in the wrong direction. He crumpled to the ground and waited for the killing blow. “I’m not here for you,” he said. Then he stepped away, towards Koros. Afandor breathed in through ragged breaths, trying to ignore the pain as it tried to pull him into unconsciousness. He saw another crumpled figure, blood seeping across the ground. In his hand, Koros held a thin spike. He’d defeated Morrow, and found a spike. “ Then Avil was there, burying his axe into Koros’s back. He fell without a sound onto the stones. Just before Afandor succumbed to the darkness, he noticed another in the mists, lurking above the scene. Watching. Waiting. ~~~ The Coinshot launched into view and hovered over the scene, watching the blood flowing from Koros’s body slow to a trickle and confirming that Afandor yet drew breath. Rather than launching an attack, the Coinshot removed his hood to reveal the face of Onidsen. He then launched a small projectile directly upwards where it exploded in a burst of light. Linaan and Onidsen, who had been expecting it, were able to cover their ears against the sound from the explosion, but Avil was caught off guard long enough for a ring of torchlight to erupt around him. Sidor and her agents directed the remaining villagers to close off Avil’s retreat, forming a second circle behind them. “Avil?” WitLees questioned. “How can this be? He’s literally a villager.” “I am,” Avil protested. “I came out here to take notes and saw Koros there fighting with this other person. I rushed to intervene, but I was too late. Onidsen caught me trying in vain to patch up his wounds.” “You’re not carrying a notebook,” Luciel observed, stepping closer with the heavy, deliberate footfalls of a man burning pewter. Avil sneered. “I don’t have to explain myself to a Spiked, but I’ll grant your last request. I dropped it in my panic to save Koros. I’ll have plenty of time to retrieve it after Onidsen executes you.” “Only one more person will die tonight,” Onidsen intoned, grabbing a handful of coins in his hands and readying to launch them at Avil before he suddenly stopped and lowered his hands. “That’s right,” Avil said. “I don’t fear dying for the village, but killing me now is a waste. Let’s reason it out. I can’t have killed Wessle, nor could you or Donn Keihote. Koros was innocent, so that leaves WitLees and Luciel. We can kill them both now and guarantee the safety of our village.” WitLees and Luciel objected, but made no sudden movements, warily eying not just the coins in Onidsen’s hands but Sidor’s ring of agents circling behind them and the hyena prowling just outside the ring of torchlight. Onidsen’s hands dropped, as if considering Avil’s words. Only Donn Keihote was ready to take action. “He’s soothing us! I’ll take care of it!” An invisible coppercloud burst out in a radius around him, freeing everyone from the effects of Avil’s soothing. Avil began to panic, eyes darting in the direction where he’d thrown his axe into the darkness. Onidsen was quicker. Coins ripped through Avil’s torso, mixing his blood in with the already bloodstained street. ~~~ “Such a waste,” Ruin’s voice echoed in Linaan’s head. “It’s time for me to resolve this situation myself.” On the ground where Avil lay dying, he suddenly had a final burst of strength. He drew four steel spikes from the inside of his robes, embedding two in his eyes and two between his ribs. He burned pewter, and immediately the fatal wounds inflicted by the coins proved no impediment at all. He burned iron, and his enhanced ironpull easily ripped away Onidsen’s remaining coins, along with the metal vials of Onidsen, Donn Keihote, and Luciel. He burned tin, and suddenly the obscuring blackness of night was as day. He leapt directly to his axe and picked it up, brandishing it at the crowd of villagers. “All our enemies gathered in one place!” Avil declared, in a voice that was both his and Ruin’s. “We will slay you all.” Sunburst Toucan was killed by a Coinshot! They were a Spiked Soother! Fuchsia Ostrich was killed by the Spiked! They were a Village Soother! The game has ended, and the Villagers have won! Player List: Hello everyone! The game is over, and it's voting time! Every year we award three non-Sanderson passes to AG players, and this year will be no different. Please PM us your top three choices in order. The traditional criterion is "best Cosmetic Role adherent", but if you would like to pick based on something else you are free to do so. You can PM us in your GM PM on your anon account or in the PM where you received your login details on your regular account. (Both the original player and pinch-hitter for an account can cast votes if they so desire.) Also, as a reminder to those logging in to their anon account for the first time in a while, please do not authenticate it. We will not be revealing identities yet. That will happen when the votes are done at which point we will post part 2 of the aftermath, post the master spreadsheet , announce pass winners, and make any other announcements . We will also try to put up our post mortems at that point; in the meantime, feel free to talk here on your anon account. Doc Links: Dead Doc Dead Doc 2.0 Elim Doc

I don't know how this will work since I'll be playing multiple characters, but I'll sign up as Cecelia, Devona, and Saponin. Feel free to give me multiple roles.

Night Eight: Sleepwalker or Spiked? The chill of evening settled in quickly over Tyrian Falls. Oleinda stepped into it, letting the breeze dry away the tears. They grew cold on her cheeks as she listened to people retiring. It had been a difficult day. Her hands still stung, the bandages rough and itchy against her tender skin. It was more than her own discomfort, though. Too many people dead and gone. Too many of her friends. Her town had returned to how it had been a year ago. Distrustful. Resentful. Scared. There was little any of them could do to change it now. There were too few of them left. Afandor rested his hand on her shoulder. “Maybe we should leave. Go back to my home.” “You know I can’t. Tyrian is— well, it’s my home. It’s what I know. Learning somewhere new isn’t exactly easy for me.” “Maybe someone else found something today. They’re gathering in town again.” Oleinda sagged against him, unsure if that would be better or worse. She believed with all of her heart in letting the people decide. For too long, everything they did was dictated by the Lord Ruler. They were free to choose now, as difficult as that might be. But what if what they chose was wrong? It already had been so often. “We’ll keep trying, Oleinda. Until the very end, if that’s what you wish.” She sighed softly, knowing what they should do even if she held little hope anymore. “Let’s go, then.” ~~~ The interrogation of Ciril Yuanivori began before the bodies of last night’s carnage had cooled. “We know you’re awake at night, Ciril.” “What? How do you know that? Why would that mean I’m Spiked?” “We see you sleeping all throughout the day,” Koros continued. “You pass out when you’re eating, when you’re reading, when you’re talking, even when you’re moving. All that sleeping during the day must make you alert at night, doesn’t it?” “This is ridiculous!” Ciril protested. “I sleep at night as much as anyone.” “Ah, but not all the way through,” Onidsen pressed the attack. “You take your naps day or night, but spend time awake intermittently. Long enough to go out into the mists. Long enough to kill Wessle.” Ciril began backing up, but saw that though the number of villagers had diminished, there were still enough people to surround him. “Fine! I wake up sporadically during the night, but that’s hardly evidence. Onidsen goes out at night, and I hear Donn Keihote does as well.” He began to panic, eyes darting back and forth looking for the best way to escape his predicament. “Linaan, Sidor, Oleinda, Afandor, I’ve seen them all wandering the streets come nightfall. Why can’t you believe that the real Spiked does too?” “Sorry, Ciril, but we have to go with the simplest option,” was Avil’s regretful response. “We can’t give the Spiked any room to run.” Ciril’s face hardened. “Keep that resolve when I’m-” then bolted for a gap that had opened up in the circle. Sidor was there to meet him, axe at the ready. Obsidian met ivory, and Ciril Yuanivori abruptly dropped off to sleep one last time. Sapphire Elephant was executed! They were a Vanilla Villager! Vote Count: Sapphire Elephant (6): Fuchsia Ostrich, Pearl Chameleon, Coral Swan, Emerald Falcon, Sunburst Toucan, Chartreuse Penguin Pearl Chameleon (1): Sapphire Elephant Night Eight has begun! This turn will end Friday, January 20 at 6:00 PM PST / Saturday January 21 at 2 a.m. GMT / 1 p.m. AEDT PMs are CLOSED Player List:

It is not possible for a player to submit multiple actions on the same turn.

They are not.

Day Eight: Triply Axed Oleinda winced as Afandor pulled the bandages away from her palms. He was checking for infection or any splinters he may have missed that morning. "Sorry," he said once again. He'd apologized more than enough times since he'd found her walking back home with bloodied hands. She hadn't cared that he'd shoved her or even that he'd left her. After all, their goal was to stop the deaths and that's what he'd been trying to do. Oleinda knew she'd only slow him in a chase. That didn't seem to ease his conscience. It was time for a different tactic. "Do you have a plan for tonight?" “Well, the bookshop is a bust. Even my connections with the official investigations seem at a loss tonight. There can’t be many Spiked left.” “People are getting jumpier and less decisive,” Oleinda said, recalling the near execution of two people that day. “There’s bound to be more people taking things into their own hands tonight.” “Isn’t that what we’re doing?” Afandor asked, amusement lacing his words. The irony was not lost on her, but she believed the two actions were different. “We’re not hunting people down. We’re investigating. Being thorough. Once we have undeniable evidence, then what we do might be classified as vigilantism.” “There’s a splinter working its way out here. I’m going to pull it,” Afandor warned. Oleinda gritted her teeth against the stinging pain as he removed the shard of wood. Once the pain was passed, she asked, “What if we focus on potential victims? The bookstore target was our closest shot yet.” Afandor hummed softly as he pondered and continued to treat her hands. She thought as well. Who might the spiked be after? The vocal ones? The dangerous ones? Or would they go after the subtle ones. Oleinda knew from experience that it was often the unassuming who posed the biggest threat. Mostly because the others were easy to plan for and counter. You couldn’t plan for what you didn’t understand. Not fully. It would be easier, then, to remove them entirely. “What about that old man?” Oleinda asked. She’d heard him a few times in the town square. It had been an unfamiliar voice, worn with age. “Weasley, I believe?” “Weasley, Weasely. Something like that.” He paused for a moment longer, beginning to wrap her bandages again. “Could be. Worth trying, at least. You’re staying here, though.” “What about the copper clo—” “While I appreciate the help,” Afandor said, squeezing her shoulder gently, “I would rather you be safe. Last night was... Well, it scared me. Please. Just tonight.” “Just tonight,” she agreed. ~~~ The mists were thick, obscuring the nearby roofs. Afandor hopped from one to the other, using the blue lines sprouting from his chest as his guide. The old man was staying near the edge of town. As soon as Oleinda had called him to Tyrian Falls, he’d kept an eye on the man. Anyone new was suspicious. Anyone was suspicious, really. Afandor had agreed to follow the old Weasel in part because he was still a suspect. But Oleinda was right. If he wasn’t spiked, he’d be a likely target. Two birds with one coin. A new line appeared, moving quickly on the street below, nearly matching pace with Afandor’s own jumps. He was glad he’d left his coin pouch at Oleinda’s. He’d left all metal behind, leaving himself somewhat vulnerable, but also untraceable with allomancy. Unless there was a Seeker, of course. Or a Tineye. Fine, untraceable to Coinshots and Lurchers. But it was better than nothing, and there was plenty of metal around from the rebuilding efforts that he wasn’t without a weapon. Using one such item—detritus from broken scaffolding—he dropped down to the street behind whoever carried the metal. Ahead of him was the barest hint of a figure shadowed in the mist, running down the roadway with agility and speed that suggested they had more gifts than would be natural. Clearly not one for iron or steel, though, or they’d be traveling differently. Spiked. Afandor Pushed off metal behind him, sending himself in an arc towards the figure. There was a flash. A reflection of a torch off a large metal axe. That’s when Afandor spotted the old man. Wesley? He sat slumped in front of a door, staring out at the mists. He didn’t even see the axe before it hit him. Afandor tried to Push it away, but he was at the wrong angle. The blade dropped only a few inches, hitting the man in the chest instead of the neck. With a grunt, the Spiked pulled the axe away and turned, slamming it towards Afandor. He Pushed backwards off a wall. His body lurched in the air, uncomfortable with the sudden change in direction. When he hit the ground, he rolled into a squat, picking up scattered nails. With another Push behind him, Afandor threw the nails out and Pushed them toward the Spiked. They hit, one after another. He grunted as he continued to push, driving them further into the figure’s body. He pushed to the point of pain, as if he were crushing his own chest. The Spiked did not yield. Afandor released his Pushes and darted forward. The Spiked watched for only a moment before it dropped the axe and ran into the mists. Afandor knew he could pursue, but he needed to check on Wesely. “Not very welcoming, is it?” the man said through the shudders and gasps. Blood leaked from his mouth. “This town of death. Should have known it would be my end.” “You lived well, friend.” They were placating words. Afandor didn’t know this Wiesal, but it would be better to believe a friend was near. “Did I? Do me a favor? Kill them for me.” With one last shudder, the old Weasil slumped against the door. ~~~ Linaan’s new eyes blinked as they adjusted to the darkness of her underground lair, lit only by the candles from the study above. Even with a Blessing of Awareness, her senses in her slime form were limited, fit to find bones but not to tell them apart. Now, she found that she had assumed the form of Aylia, the most recent skeleton to adorn her closets. Something was off about these bones. They felt too clean and polished, yet too decayed for someone who had only died last night. As Linaan adjusted to the body and shrugged off the memories of pain she’d been unable to shut off lest she further injure an already damaged skeleton, she remembered,another Kandra had taken these bones, then abandoned them after being attacked by a Spiked. Linaan considered. If a Kandra with Aylia’s body hadn’t been able to fight off the Spiked, she’d need to improve it somehow. She wouldn’t go back to cat form immediately, but perhaps something similar. Something built for combat, that could outrun a Coinshot and tear through a Lurcher’s protection or a Thug’s resilience. Thirty minutes later, Linaan had her form mostly complete. She was a quadrupedal digitigrade with feline grace but the bulk of a canine, permanent claws designed for running, not fighting. Her teeth packed inside a jaw designed for crushing through bone would do that job for her. She had no fur, but there wasn’t time for that. With a single bound, she leapt up to the study. The bones she had left there were missing, replaced by an etched steel tablet. “Taking your body for repair. Spiked target unclear. Sources suggest the man who narrowly avoided execution today, codenamed Dragonfly, is the most likely Coinshot target.” Linaan snarled just as Ruin’s voice entered her head. “She took your bones away without telling you and now what’s this? Is she ordering you around like a dog? Run here, do that, why do you still listen to her? Kill her and be done with it!” “You should try listening,” Linaan couldn’t resist replying. “Four dead Spiked might have lived if you could accept ideas that come from others as valuable.” No response, as always. Ruin would never listen, but she would when Sidor told her something. Linaan shook her entire body and headed out into the night, mist obscuring but not blocking her keen smell, hearing, and night vision. ~~~ Dragonfly didn’t have a recorded home, but was noted to work and spend many of his nights in a bookshop. Linaan ran there now, far faster than her humanoid bodies could travel but not as fast as the figure sailing over perpendicularly over her head, clips dropping on the ground to mark their presence. A Coinshot. Was Dragonfly not the target, or had he been sighted elsewhere? Either way, she had to divert her path. The Coinshot landed shortly thereafter in a nearby clearing, unlike their usual behavior. Perhaps so many nights of failing to kill their target followed by a Spiked eluding capture just to kill himself had made the Coinshot reconsider. As Linaan arrived in the clearing shortly thereafter, she saw not Dragonfly but Mouse, kneeling on the ground with her shelves of stones. She was polishing the stones on the smallest shelf and didn’t look up to acknowledge the Coinshot’s presence. “Mourning your lost friends, Spiked?” the Coinshot asked, voice distorted by a steel mask. “You’ll join them soon enough.” A barrage of coins leapt out at Mouse, far too many to dodge. She didn’t even try, the ground beneath her splattering with blood as the coins ripped open her body. The two smaller shelves were splintered, stones clattering on the ground and intermingling. Only the largest shelf remained intact, shielded by Mouse in her final actions. “Lament your failure, Spiked. Acknowledge that you have been utterly defeated.” Instead, Mouse looked up, eyes fixed not on the Coinshot or even on Linaan, but to the mists and whatever lay beyond them. “To one that has played well, to the self, lost at last to speculation founded, though incorrect. Shelves of stones, knocked off, moved to the faraway place. None to polish, to keep the collection alive. A request from this one: for someone to take over, to keep safe the remaining good stones, to protect what is sacred.” And the universe said you have played the game well. A single stone toppled from the unbroken shelf as Mouse breathed her last. Neither Linaan nor the Coinshot needed to check to know there was no Spike. ~~~ Blood soaked Afandor’s hands as he resumed his patrol over the rooftops. He’d tried to wipe them off, but he could only do so much when the ash on his clothes mixed in to make a thick, sickly mud. He knew he should return, get cleaned up, and let Oleinda know what happened. But he couldn’t. Not after yet another failure. So he patrolled. After all, they needed to stop the vigilantism if they had any chance of keeping Tyrian Falls alive. It may not be Afandor’s home, but it was a beacon of hope in the chaos of the world. It was a symbol that people could survive the worst. It’s why the Spiked tried so hard to undermine the people here. And that’s why Afandor would fight for it. Well, that and for Oleinda. It was just as he neared the broken bookshop that he spotted another figure carrying metal. The movements were just erratic enough that he got the impression the person was trying to hide. Or they were snooping. He dropped down once again, watching carefully as the figure became clearer through the mists. It was Dragonfly, and they were definitely snooping. They darted from shadow to shadow until reaching the broken doorway. “You won’t find anything in there,” he said as he stepped up behind Dragonfly. They jumped, then turned around giggling. “What? DOn’t mind me. I was just out for a stroll.” “In middle of the night. When there are murderers going around.” Afandor eyed Dragonfly, wondering if they could have been the Spiked figure he’d shot earlier. He saw no traces of blood, though. “Yup,” they said with another laugh. “It’s fine, though. I’m fine.” There was something... off about this Dragonfly. Afandor searched the lines around him for something he might use if things went poorly. That’s when he noticed a thick line reaching to the rooftop above him. It shuddered. A thin line broke from the larger one just as something whistled past his head. Dragonfly dropped to the ground mid-laugh. Afandor pushed on the thick lines, sure it was a coin pouch. It jostled, but resisted. Somewhere from the roof, he heard a grunt, then someone call, “Check for a spike. I’m sure they’re one of them.” Then there was a clink of metal against wood and the thick line disappeared. He was so tired. He didn’t want to chase yet another person. Besides, he had his own suspicions. There was no spike found in Dragonfly. The only strange thing was a strange tattoo, like three interlocking diamonds. Azure Mouse was killed by a Coinshot! They were a Vanilla Villager! Ivory Dragonfly was killed by a Coinshot! They were a Village Smoker! Indigo Weasel was killed by the Spiked! They were a Vanilla Villager! Day Eight has begun! This turn will end Thursday, January 19 at 6:00 PM PST / Friday January 20 at 2 a.m. GMT / 1 p.m. AEDT PMs are CLOSED Player List:

The night is over!

Night Seven: Bones Aplenty, Bones Galore Sidor had missed the excitement last night. With the struggle against the Spiked going well, she went back to studying her plans to expand Tyrian Falls’s trade network. No village could truly be a haven in isolation, [not that Tyrian is a safe haven these days] nor could she rest while the remnants of the Final Empire still held the world in their sway. She had just finalized plans to launch a caravan north across the lake to trade for food when Linaan stumbled in through the study door covered in blood from hundreds of cuts. Scraps of metal were still embedded deep in her flesh. “What happened to you?” Sidor asked. “Shrapnel explosion. Scop was a Spiked, tried to take out the whole village with him.” “So you decided to take the blow yourself. Someday, you’re going to be hurt in a way you can’t survive. Kandra aren’t invincible.” “I know that,” Linaan said sharply, trying to swish her tail before stopping half-way through. “Ruin told me much the same thing, right before mentioning that there are still remaining Spiked.” She adjusted her posture and winced again. “Some of this metal cut into my bones. I’ll have to see which ones can be fixed and which ones might be unusable.” Sidor watched as she melted into sludge, expelling the metal fragments by abandoning her previous body’s bones to slime her way through the trapdoor to her bone repository below. She knew that Linaan liked to take care of her own bones, [more than she takes care of her own self] but now that the whole village knew she was a Kandra, there was no reason she shouldn’t receive help. [Especially since she broke those bones saving villagers.] She collected the visibly damaged bones in her cart and headed towards the village square to find someone who could repair them. ~~~ Halfway to the village square, she was intercepted by an agent, who reported no new findings. “We haven’t been able to track down any new leads regarding metal shortages, or Spiked production of metals. We’ve searched Scop’s parents’ house and found nothing that points us at any suspects.” “Acknowledged,” Sidor replied. “What have the villagers been doing? Have they come to any conclusions?” The agent hesitated. “They had two suspects, Lentha and a man who refused to give his name. They were set to execute them both, but the man was completely unresponsive to questioning and nobody can find Lentha. There’s just a pile of bones left abandoned in the middle of the village.” Sidor winced. “Just like the bones of my Lin. That Kandra could be anywhere by now and we’ll never find them unless they decide to reveal themselves. In the meantime, we must pursue other leads.” Magenta Albatross has been executed! They were a Vanilla Villager! Vote Count: Ivory Dragonfly (4): Pearl Chameleon, Magenta Albatross, Indigo Weasel, Azure Mouse Magenta Albatross (4): Sapphire Elephant, Coral Swan, Emerald Falcon, Sunburst Toucan Night Seven has begun! This turn will end Tuesday, January 17 at6:00 PM PST / Wednesday January 17 at 2 a.m. GMT / 1 p.m. AEDT PMs are CLOSED Player List:

The day is over!

The night is over.

Night Six: Too Smart to Live Sidor and Linaan had lingered in the abandoned factory long enough for Sidor’s agents to do their work. With Ruin’s attention diverted, they had been able to spend the night searching through Agolac’s home. When day arrived and Sidor met them for debriefing, they were ready to present their findings. “Whoever cleaned up the house didn’t do a good job,” the lead agent reported. “We uncovered stashes of empty vials with traces of iron as expected of a Lurcher, as well as empty vials of tin that Obli-gator must have made use of.” Sidor frowned. “Why would they be so sloppy? Agolac must have known he was doomed. Even if he forgot where his house was, Ruin could have directed his Spiked there.” [Ruin is quick to discard his failed servants.] “Perhaps they wanted us to think they hadn’t cleaned out the house,” a second agent speculated. “We know there was once more to find,” the lead agent continued. “In our investigation, we noticed that floors and tables were corroded while paint was stripped from the walls inside and out inconsistently. Large bare patches of wall were next to other sections completely untouched, like the paint had been deliberately removed. The weathering patterns indicate this had been going on for some time.” “What caused the corrosion?” Sidor asked. “Was there anything special about those sections of wall, or the paint itself?” “We took a sample of paint for study and our metallurgist said it had high lead content, enough that it could be extracted with aqua fortis in sufficient quantities for allomantic use.” “Did you find any other evidence of alloying tin and lead into pewter?” “We confirmed with the physician that the corrosion on the floor was from acid strong enough to extract lead. We also know from previous reports that Guy is capable of burning pewter.” “That’s not enough evidence to convict him. Even if the Spiked were making pewter, there’s no guarantee that Guy was the one they were making it for, or even if they needed it at all.” Sidor sighed. “Still, it’s enough to question him. He was already a top suspect.” [He should already be dead.] ~~~ “...Survived again!” “Prepare to die!” “... must be Spiked...” Most of the voices in the town square called for one thing. The death of Guy. “Just because someone survives doesn’t mean they should be killed,” Afandor grumbled under his breath. Oleinda patted his arm as they stood at the very edges of what was quickly becoming a mob. “We’re all scared, and we’re all suspicious.” “But why are we trying to save people in the night if they’re just going to be executed the next day?” “Because it is not one person’s responsibility to be judge and executioner. We don’t know the intentions behind the people out to take lives.” She turned towards the shouting. “At least this way, it is the townspeople who decide together.” And as much as she usually had a distaste for punishing people for survival, this was an exception. Guy had survived twice. While that was not damning, even a Thug could not get so lucky. Even one too dumb to be executed the first time around. And how he’d acted after they’d found him last night? She’d known something was off. Known there was more than any simple idiocy. Grunts and scrapes of boots on stone signaled Guy’s arrival, escorted rather roughly by the authorities. The shouts grew louder. Still, she could hear the accused speaking. Those who dragged him to the stage announced their evidence—connections with Agolac compounding with the survivals to paint a vivid picture of his involvement with the Spiked. “Can you explain how you live even still?” someone on the platform asked. “Wot? How Guy survives? Dunno. Think Guy being framed.” He said something muffled, and then Oleinda heard what sounded uncomfortably like glass being chewed. “Metals good. Maybe those help?” Afandor grunted beside her, standing straighter. “What is it?” “Guy. He looks... different. More aware, somehow.” “Guy try all kinds,” Guy said. “Maybe all helps.” Oleinda turned her head, listening more closely. She heard it then, too. He was making more sense. His speech was clearer. Had he been faking this whole time? Her chest tightened at the idea, constricting with each word Guy spoke from the platform. “I won’t die,” he continued. Afandor stepped forward and Oleinda burned her copper, knowing what he was preparing to do. They’d found another Spiked. She was sure of it. And they always caused problems when they’ve been caught. Yet Guy didn’t fight. He didn’t even accuse another. He simply accepted the justice. “Ruin will win,” he said moments before the end. “Guy will die so Ruin will win.” Opal Lion was executed! They were a Spiked Thug! Opal Lion (9): Sapphire Elephant, Pearl Chameleon, Magenta Albatross, Coral Swan, Emerald Falcon, Sunburst Toucan, Indigo Weasel, Azure Mouse, Chartreuse Penguin Amethyst Scorpion (1): Charcoal Hyena Charcoal Hyena (1): Amethyst Scorpion Night Six has begun! This turn will end Saturday, January 14, at 6:00 PM PST / Sunday January 15 at 2 a.m. GMT / 1 p.m. AEDT PMs are Open Player List:

Day Six: Plum Out of Luck The factory was abandoned and quiet by the time Linaan and Sidor got there, arriving by different routes. Linaan looked the same as she had earlier in the day, while Sidor was dressed for combat, her shield and axe ready. Though she knew Sidor wanted nothing more than to put her weapons down forever, she looked far better with them than any Inquisitor. Linaan’s Blessing-enhanced feline senses detected no other people in the vicinity. “Nobody’s here,” she said after several seconds sniffing the air, ears held high. Ruin though, was never far away. “See how she seeks to protect herself from me while leaving herself wide open to you. Make her pay for her presumptions. Strike her down.” “Acknowledged,” Sidor replied to her. “Still, there were reports of Spiked using this factory as a base. We’re sure to find clues regarding their financial activities.” Inside, the factory floor had been stripped of machinery and furniture, the indentations where they’d been starkly evident on the dirty floor. “How was this all moved so quickly and stealthily?” Sidor questioned. “We’ve had this factory under surveillance since last night. We would have noticed anyone moving anything above ground.” Further investigation revealed scraps of paper nailed to the walls, the ink on them constantly forming and reforming new words in a rapid cycle. They weren’t written in Ruin’s usual style though. “me horn will find a way. the path, the path, the path. i will follow i will follow R̴̢̝̞͇̰̣̰͕̝̖̒́̒̾̀̒̒͝ͅͅU̴̥̭̻͔͔̤̪̓͌͛̑̿́̈̀̏̕̕İ̸̢̢̡̦̙̫͈͈̙̗͉̯͕̓̒̉͑̿̋̀͠N̸̢̯̺̫̘̈́͗͆͐͝ͅ no no no me horn follows meerkat.” “I recognize that handwriting,” Sidor said. “One of the anonymous messengers writes like that, but the words are all wrong.” “The words are closer to Rhino, but under duress,” Linaan mused, tail flicking anxiously. “I don’t like this. The floor sounds wrong when we walk on it.” “Trapped,” Sidor asked, as she held her shield out in front of her. “Not trapped, more... hollow,” Linaan responded. The words on the walls suddenly stopped cycling, as every paper displayed the same message. “f̶̧̟̹̮̝͉̝͇̤̭͎͙͖̭̏ȋ̷̗̉̃͋͐̈́̔̎̌̏̈͛͆̕ņ̴͙͙͙͎͙̠͈͔̪̞̒͌̐̋͝d̵̨̢̝̲̖̙̻̪̥̙͍̠̂̈́͛̉̈͆͘͠ ̶̡̖̱͖̬͓̱͈͚͈͆̐͆̏̽̾̈́́̊͝ͅͅm̴̡̢̰̰̲͉̠͔͙̓̒̽̽͒̈͆̃̈́̌͛̅e̴̛̞͌̊̎͆̾̒̅͠͠ f̶̧̟̹̮̝͉̝͇̤̭͎͙͖̭̏ȋ̷̗̉̃͋͐̈́̔̎̌̏̈͛͆̕ņ̴͙͙͙͎͙̠͈͔̪̞̒͌̐̋͝d̵̨̢̝̲̖̙̻̪̥̙͍̠̂̈́͛̉̈͆͘͠ ̶̡̖̱͖̬͓̱͈͚͈͆̐͆̏̽̾̈́́̊͝ͅͅm̴̡̢̰̰̲͉̠͔͙̓̒̽̽͒̈͆̃̈́̌͛̅e̴̛̞͌̊̎͆̾̒̅͠͠ f̶̧̟̹̮̝͉̝͇̤̭͎͙͖̭̏ȋ̷̗̉̃͋͐̈́̔̎̌̏̈͛͆̕ņ̴͙͙͙͎͙̠͈͔̪̞̒͌̐̋͝d̵̨̢̝̲̖̙̻̪̥̙͍̠̂̈́͛̉̈͆͘͠ ̶̡̖̱͖̬͓̱͈͚͈͆̐͆̏̽̾̈́́̊͝ͅͅm̴̡̢̰̰̲͉̠͔͙̓̒̽̽͒̈͆̃̈́̌͛̅e̴̛̞͌̊̎͆̾̒̅͠͠ f̶̧̟̹̮̝͉̝͇̤̭͎͙͖̭̏ȋ̷̗̉̃͋͐̈́̔̎̌̏̈͛͆̕ņ̴͙͙͙͎͙̠͈͔̪̞̒͌̐̋͝d̵̨̢̝̲̖̙̻̪̥̙͍̠̂̈́͛̉̈͆͘͠ ̶̡̖̱͖̬͓̱͈͚͈͆̐͆̏̽̾̈́́̊͝ͅͅm̴̡̢̰̰̲͉̠͔͙̓̒̽̽͒̈͆̃̈́̌͛̅e̴̛̞͌̊̎͆̾̒̅͠͠ f̶̧̟̹̮̝͉̝͇̤̭͎͙͖̭̏ȋ̷̗̉̃͋͐̈́̔̎̌̏̈͛͆̕ņ̴͙͙͙͎͙̠͈͔̪̞̒͌̐̋͝d̵̨̢̝̲̖̙̻̪̥̙͍̠̂̈́͛̉̈͆͘͠ ̶̡̖̱͖̬͓̱͈͚͈͆̐͆̏̽̾̈́́̊͝ͅͅm̴̡̢̰̰̲͉̠͔͙̓̒̽̽͒̈͆̃̈́̌͛̅e̴̛̞͌̊̎͆̾̒̅͠͠ f̶̧̟̹̮̝͉̝͇̤̭͎͙͖̭̏ȋ̷̗̉̃͋͐̈́̔̎̌̏̈͛͆̕ņ̴͙͙͙͎͙̠͈͔̪̞̒͌̐̋͝d̵̨̢̝̲̖̙̻̪̥̙͍̠̂̈́͛̉̈͆͘͠ ̶̡̖̱͖̬͓̱͈͚͈͆̐͆̏̽̾̈́́̊͝ͅͅm̴̡̢̰̰̲͉̠͔͙̓̒̽̽͒̈͆̃̈́̌͛̅e̴̛̞͌̊̎͆̾̒̅͠͠ The floor panel under their feet ripped open, sending both of them falling into the dark. “Perhaps imprisonment will improve your temperament.” Linaan was an expert at redistributing muscle and fat, and quickly reconfigured her body to cushion Sidor’s fall. Recovering, the two saw rhino chained to a desk at the end of a hallway, a cloaked figure watching over them. “Worthless, worthless, worthless,” the figure muttered. “If you will not serve our lord,” “you must be eliminated.” Linaan and Sidor rushed down the skidmarked hallway, but were too late to prevent the Spiked from dragging a glass knife across rhino’s throat. By the time they arrived at rhino’s side, both the Spiked and the Tineye were gone. ~~~ A scream pierced the night, calling Oleinda’s attention. She and Afandor were on their nightly patrol. A patrol which weighed heavily on Oleinda’s heart. Night after night and they had accomplished nothing. Staying alert each evening was more difficult than the last. But that scream dissipated all of her exhaustion quicker than the warm sun burned away the mists. Afandor changed their direction mid-air, and Oleinda’s stomach lurched. Wind tore at her hair and clothing. The cold clawed at her exposed cheeks. None of it daunted her. Not when someone could be dying and they could do something. Anything. They landed with a thump just as Oleinda began hearing the groans. There were no other footsteps, no other coins. No other signs of life. Except the moans coming from down a narrow street. The sound bounced strangely off the wood slat buildings. Afandor ran forward, boots heavy on the stone. “Are you alright?” “Wot?” “Are you hurt?” “Guy sleepy. Try naps. Then guy shoots Guy. Make Guy rich.” A clink of coins followed. “But are you hurt?” Afandor asked again. “How are you alive?” “Guy no kno. Guy was sleeps. Now goes back to sleeps.” Afandor returned to Oleinda’s side and led her down the street, away from Guy. “He’s strange, but he’s fine. I think.” Oleinda sighed, leaning into him. “What are we even doing?” “What do you mean?” “Night after night we come out here. We search and try to save lives. And we’re always late. Nothing we do helps.” She yawned and dropped her head, practically resting her chin on her chest as the exhaustion hit with force. “Look at how many people have survived, though.” “Did we save any of them?” She sighed again. “We’re trying, but I can’t help but think we’re missing something big. There’s something else going on here.” “More than just Spiked and vigilantes?” “Yes. And I intend to find out what. Opal Lion was attacked by a Coinshot, but survived! Plum Rhinoceros was killed by the Spiked! They were a Village Tineye! Day Six has begun! This turn will end Friday, January 13, at 6:00 PM PST / Saturday January 14 at 2 a.m. GMT / 1 p.m. AEDT PMs are Open Player List: Tineye Messages:

The night is over.

Night Five: Finally Flamingone Agolac was intercepted just outside the village borders and dragged back into the village square, clips and boxings spilling out of his clothes. He’d remembered where he kept his money and collected plenty more from failed attempts to kill him, but had forgotten to bring anything to carry it all. Sidor sighed as she watched the proceedings. Agolac merely sat on the stage silently, accepting his fate, while Aylia gleefully led a spirited defense of him, heedless of the near universal condemnation. Her family had been a major threat back in the early days after the Lord Ruler’s death, but all of them except Aylia died in the first Spiked attack. Since she never objected to the mansion being converted into public housing, she’d been permitted to stay there. [She acts like that was never in question.] “She’s one of us,” a voice broke into her thoughts. She turned her head to see Linaan walking up beside her, back in her preferred human template but now with her feline features on full display in front of everyone, tail curled around Sidor’s thigh. “Inexperienced or overconfident Kandra always forget the body hair. It takes so long to place that you’re better off going for proper fur if you’re making the effort, unless you really need to pass as human.” “She’s having fun with her new body. I don’t suppose you know her allegiances?” [Nice to see you too, Lin.] “None,” Linaan purred. “Ruin wanted me to kill her, but that’s also what he said about Agolac before directly intervening to save him last night.” “Ruin taking a hands-on approach means he’s getting desperate. After Agolac dies, we’ll be in position to find the remaining enactors of his will.” She slipped Linaan a metal tablet detailing pathways to the factory. “Oleinda and her friend found a lead worth pursuing.” Both of them looked up to see the crowd growing restless. Agolac’s trial had been drawn-out and one-sided with a foregone conclusion, and many audience members that had been entertained in the beginning were growing bored. Thunk! Clink! Clatter! A stone crossbow bolt shot out from someone in the crowd and hit Agolac in the heart. Instead of blood, clips poured out of his now torn pocket. The impact was enough to animate him, as he suddenly jumped up with new energy. “I remembered! I have to go home and get a cart. Where is home though?” He spun around on the stage too quickly, the weight of the coins unbalancing him until he lost his footing and fell to the ground below. Crack! Aylia paused her closing remarks and turned to see Agolac lying dead on the ground with a broken neck, a small spike now visibly protruding from it. Onyx Flamingo was executed! They were a Spiked Lurcher! Vote Count: Onyx Flamingo (14): Opal Lion, Sapphire Elephant, Fuchsia Ostrich, Plum Rhinoceros, Ivory Dragonfly, Pearl Chameleon, Amethyst Scorpion, Magenta Albatross, Coral Swan, Emerald Falcon, Onyx Flamingo, Sunburst Toucan, Indigo Weasel, Azure Mouse Opal Lion (1): Charcoal Hyena The turn will end on Wednesday, January 11th at 6:00 PM PST/ Thursday, January 12th at 2 a.m. GMT / 1 p.m. AEDT. Player List: PMs are Open

The day is over.

The night is over.

Night Four: See You Later, Obli-gator Everyone was shocked when Linaan brought Agolac before the village for judgment, still in her dogtaur form. “This man has survived two Coinshot attacks in a row,” she said. “His fate must be decided in the light of day.” “The Lord Ruler demands justice!” Obli-gator cried. “Guilty!” That sentiment put him under immediate surveillance, but one after another the villagers decided Agolac would need to be killed first. In the uproar, Linaan slipped away before anyone could question her. ~~~ With the execution of Agolac seeming a foregone conclusion, Sidor retreated to her study with a couple of assistants to uncover the mysteries behind the anonymous messages that had been popping up since the night Reverse had died. Last year, all but one such message had come from those who defended Tyrian from the Spiked, but she couldn’t assume the same was true this time. Neither of her assistants were trained in cryptography, and they quickly turned to speculation about the unexpected visitor. “Is... she? a threat? Why haven’t we encountered her before?” “That’s Linaan, nothing to worry about,” Sidor said absently. “Linaan! I knew there was something suspicious about her! She’s a mistwraith, one who’s gotten a taste for people. No wonder she was always looking at some of us like she wanted to eat us, especially you Sidor.” “She will eat me someday, after I’m dead,” Sidor responded, still distracted by her analysis. “She’ll make sure that day is as far away as possible.” [Whether I want her to or not.] “She’ll eat you?!” a second agent interjected. Sidor looked up. “She only needs my bones to assume my appearance, but my body will need to be disposed of too, and I’d rather it be her than anything else. She’s not going to eat any of you living or dead unless you ask her to. She’s also a Kandra, not a mistwraith.” “Why did you keep this secret from your own agents?” “You immediately accused her of wanting to kill and eat our own people! That’s not important right now, look at this. All three of these messages, written in ink, not carved in metal like the others. We warned everyone of Ruin’s ability to manipulate such writing, so this messenger must be working with him. Further, only high ranking servants of the Lord Ruler could use this kind of ink before his death, not even a noble would have access. It’s time to pay Obli-gator a visit.” ~~~ Oleinda could hear Agolac’s mumblings. He’d lost something, but forgotten what it was. He’d probably forgotten why he’d been standing on that platform for so long. The crowd was determined. Their shifting bodies conveyed their anger, even if they were not as loud. It was a seething kind of fury, writhing and bubbling under the surface as they watched and waited. As they sought the death of one they accused. A hush fell over the crowd as another entered the town square. “Only an obligator could have written this message!” It was Sidor. Oleinda recognized the voice. “And only a Spiked would have done so with ink.” Oleinda’s grip on Afandor tightened. They’d finally caught someone. It didn’t matter who’d done it. A Spiked had been discovered. And he was there in the crowd. She’d heard the Obli-gator calling for justice. She listened for him again, trying to ignore the gasps and shouts of surprise and excitement. She heard him. A curse of the Lord Ruler’s name. Bursts of annoyance as he began shoving people out of his way. “Afandor. Stop him.” She pulled his arm towards the source of the noise. “Here?” He hissed. “It’s too dangerous. They’ll find out about—” “We can lie our way out of that, but we can’t afford to let the obli-gator get away.” She never heard coin hit stone, but Afandor was suddenly gone. More shouts of confusion and alarm mixed around them as he pushed his way through the mundane way. Protecting her, as always. Oleinda kept her copper burning just in case he was using steel to move forward faster, and followed him the best she could. Even using her walking stick to encourage people to make way with sharp jabs to their ankles. “I have him,” Afandor called, his voice clear over the masses. “Bring him, then,” Sidor called in return. “Let him face the justice he demanded.” Mauve Crocodile was executed! They were a Spiked Tineye! Vote Count: Mauve Crocodile (15): Opal Lion, Sapphire Elephant, Fuchsia Ostrich, Plum Rhinoceros, Ivory Dragonfly, Pearl Chameleon, Amethyst Scorpion, Magenta Albatross, Coral Swan, Emerald Falcon, Charcoal Hyena, Sunburst Toucan, Indigo Weasel, Azure Mouse, Chartreuse Penguin Onyx Flamingo (2): Mauve Crocodile, Onyx Flamingo The turn will end on Sunday, January 8th at 6:00 PM PST/ Monday, January 9th at 2 a.m. GMT / 1 p.m. AEDT. Player List: PMs are Open

The day is over!