Devotary of Spontaneity

I've probably crossed too many items off the list this time, but here's my current spreadsheet. The bold items are the ones I consider to be the most likely item for that particular player, and any guess I made would likely include one of those items. Player Name Methods of Murder Pieces of Evidence Elandera / Oyh Sword, Deathweed Bark, Meekers, Dreok's Axe, Aon Daa (Power), Axehound Pup, Bullet Casings, Aluminum Hat, Ancient Text, Tears of Edgli Flowers, MetaTerminal / Felksi Fenweed Poison, Rathbore Monk, Scarf, Koloss Blade, Surgebinding, White Sand, Withered Hand, Singed Cloak, Aviar Feather, Message Written in Blood, Snipexe / The Witness Steelrunning, Nightmaw, Nightblood, Midnight Essence, Poisoned Wine, Pet Monkey, Red Flag, Ceremonial Bowl, Piece of Ralkalest, Religious Text, Droughtbringer / In Bloodsealing, Metal Poisoning, Rioting, Dagger, Punch, Water Bottle, Chull Dung, Vandalism, Dust, False Beard, Madagascar / Mad Acid, Dueling Cane, Bow & Arrow, Ettmetal Explosion, Aimian, Children’s Book, Cracked Gemstone, Fancy Dress, Larkin Corpse, Boots, Steeldancer / Squid of Steel Skeletals , Enhanced Strength, Poisoned Needle, Backbreaker Powder, Atium, Ice, Blood, Straw Man, Scorch marks, Vandalized Statue, Paranoid King / The Ghost of John Smith Blackbane Leaf, Deathants, Birchbane, Whitespine, Awakened Rope, Triangular Razors, Aon Kii, Pot of Stew, Aon Ashe Plate, Spectacles, Randuir / Holmlock Shears Bare Hands, Burned at the Stake, Obsidian Axe, Swampvine, Kick, Tattoo, Survivor Pendant, Crem , Firemoss, Hairpin, I Think I am Here. / Itiah VII Lost Divine Breath, Dakhor Ritual, Shades, Blood Loss, Venomous Bite, Horseshoes, Stick, Empty Vial, Ink, Spanreed, Bort / May Bebort Jeskeri Cult Ritual, Booby Trap, Mistwraith, Grandbow, Firesnap Lizards, Bones, Footprint, Cigar Case, RaiDel Pepper, Lavis Beer, Rathmaskal / Harry Hemalurgic Chimera, Smoke, Toxic Fungus, Glass Dagger, Air-powered Crossbow, Artifact, Scorch Marks, Dirt, Priest’s Robes, Fashion Magazine, Devotary of Spontaneity / Fourth of the Twilight Poisoned Dart, Cut-away vines, Torture, Highstorm, Shardplate, Broadsheet, Aon Reod, Crab Legs, Map, Wetleek Sap Trail, A Joe in the Bush / Various Divide Beheading, Shardblade, Cliff, Deepwalker, Betrayal, Medallion, Lockpicks, Safehand Glove, Soulstamp, Shu-Korath Pendant, Kidpen / Alvron Duel, Hammer, Patji’s Finger, Strangle, Hook, Aonic Dictionary, Purple Blood Droplets, MaiPon Sticks, Saddle Strap, Lak, Cadmium Compounder / Spork Soulcasting, Explosion, Lifeless Soldier, Rifle, Dehydration, Hoofprints, Glow Paste, Wig, Smoke, Rotspren, Walin / Higsedal The Shaod, Chasmfiend, Black Frayn, Fire, Martial Arts, Forged Painting, Infused Spheres, A'kar's Symbol, Lamp, Skull, Feel free to ask why any of these items have been crossed out and/or bolded.

Fourth of the Twilight is rejoining.

A preliminary cancellation: # Player Name Means of Murder Pieces of Evidence 1 Steeldancer Squid of Steel Torture, Betrayal, Koloss Blade, Blood Loss, Rotspren, Aonic Dictionary, Boots, Ragged Cloak, 2 A Joe In the Bush Various Divide Martial Arts, Venomous Bite, Obsidian Axe, Aon Sheo (Death), Mistcloak, Cigar Case, Straw Man, Sketchbook, 3 Droughtbringer In Garotte, Hammer, Sword, Air-powered Crossbow, Medallion, Bloodseal, Gloves, Fearspren, 4 Devotary of Spontaneity Fourth of the Twilight Deathants, Fenweed Poison, Acid, Parshendi, Cup, Blue Skin Scraps, Aluminum Ingots, Uniform, 5 Metaspren Selksi Kick, Booby Trap, Grandbow, Dreok's Axe, Writing Board, Elantrian Slime, Musical Instrument, Skull, 6 Rathmaskal Larry Soulcasting, Jeskeri Cult Ritual, Highstorm, Ettmetal Explosion, Skaze, Gloryspren, Words Inscribed in Steel, Vandalism, 7 Elandera Oyh Rope, Deathweed Bark, Smoke, Tompher Poison, Cremlings, Bullet, Red Sphere, Crem , 8 Wiritospren <name pending> Shades, Suffocation, Aon Daa (Power), Hemalurgic Spike, Technology, Aviar Feather, Smoke, Lak, 9 Madagasar Mad Birchbane, Drowning, Swampvine, Hook, Piece of Ralkalest, Shelldry Cards, Pet Bird, Make Up, 10 Snipexe Snip Pistol, Blackbane Leaf, Poisoned Wine, Black Frayn, Water Bottle, Seafood, Colorful Scarf, Saddle Strap, 11 Araris Valerian Aralis Aon Ehe (Fire), Stone, Bare Hands, Essence Marks, Ice, Contract, Portrait, Aluminum Bullets, 12 Kidspren <Name Pending> Aimian, Metal Poisoning, Deepwalker, Sacrificial Altar, Hallandren Dyes, Soulstone, Ash Stains, Empty Pouch, 13 Phattemer Bobby Tables Steelrunning, Bow & Arrow, Glass Dagger, Nightmaw, Fingernails, Tarachin Ball, Artisan’s Script, Hideout, 14 Paranoid King John 'Not-A-Murderer-At-All' Smith Whitespine, Dakhor Ritual, Poisoned Dart, The Bands of Mourning , Bay Wrap, Dust, Larkin Corpse, Lucky Hat, 15 I think I am here Itiah VII Buried Alive, Toxic Fungus, Midnight Essence, Spear, Hoid’s flute, Shu-Dereth Pendant, Ichor Alchohol, Metallurgy Equipment, 16 Randuir Tezed Rifle, Poisonous Sting, Kandra Digestive Acids, Rioting, Footprint, Dirt, Purple Blood Droplets, Forged Painting, 17 Cadmium Compounder Rettih Chnip Meekers, Mistwraith, Punch, Disease, Silver Dust, Tattoo, Cracked Shalebark, Lockpicks, 18 Bort May Bebort Explosion, Sand Mastery, Bloodsealing, Coins, Child's Toy, Trap Door, Vandalized Statue, Red Flag, 19 Arinian Niar Burned at the Stake, Awakened Rope, Sandling, Fire, Bright Green Hat, Hidden Message, Firestarter, Letter, Those who have no items relating to Sel have had their names crossed out. PK has been crossed out as well because his only Selish item, Dakhor Ritual, is unlikely to be an accident. For those players with only one Selish item, which was everyone except Joe, Metaspren, and Araris, I then crossed off every item in that category(weapon or evidence) except for the Selish item. Next, everything that didn't fit the method of death, including all poisons, disease, suffocation, buried alive, drowning and garrote. The few items that are highly unlikely to be accidental, including torture, sacrificial altar, and the aforementioned Dakhor ritual have been eliminated. Betrayal has been eliminated for violating the stranger clue, and ettmetal explosion has been eliminated as a result of PK's accusation. It could be argued that some or all of the following: Aons, soulcasting, essence marks, midnight essence, rioting, and bloodsealing count as supernatural, rather than accident. However, these have not yet been crossed off. Most weapons are unlikely to be accidentally lethal, or at least would fit better in either blood loss or severe injury. While not conclusive enough to cross off, the weapons list consisting of: Koloss blade, hammer, sword, crossbow, grandbow, Dreok's axe, hook, spear, and rifle are second tier suspicions. Kandra digestive juices are also unlikely to be accidental. That leaves the most likely murder weapons in my opinion as being: martial arts, kick, booby trap, highstorm, swampvine, aimian, and deepwalker. As none of these weapons except martial arts are specific to Sel, that would necessitate a Selish piece of evidence; which would be Elantrian slime, Elantrian slime, skaze, ralkalest, soulstone, and soulstone respectively for the remaining items. However, I am not yet ready to commit to any cancellation not noted in the above table, so the guesses in this paragraph are premature.

Tsynr was an excellent Babsk, but he had a truly bizarre passion for poisons and other hazardous substances. For some reason, the Thaylen Singer took particular pleasure in selling dangerous items for innocent purposes, and as his apprentice, Fourth of the Twilight helped him do it. The truly deadly wares were only sold to trusted customers, which none of the attendees of Investicon were. In addition to more mundane wares, Tsynr had prepared a shipment for a long term client, a Scadrian detective, who was supposed to have arrived an hour before the announcement of the murder. Shortly before Eban had burst in, Tsynr had left Investicon in search of the delayed client, leaving Twilight to watch over their merchandise. Now, there had been a murder and Twilight was sitting at a booth stocked with strong acids intended for metallurgic use, distilled fenweed leaf to treat the Scadrian's insomnia, and, for some inexplicable reason, a tank of deathants. Twilight didn't know what possible reason the Scadrian would want deathants for, but Tsynr hadn't answered her when she'd asked. All she knew was that Tsynr had been trading with this detective for years, long before Twilight became an apprentice merchant, and the pair had a cordial relationship. Twilight trusted her Babsk, but she really wished he'd hurry up and return to Investicon. The glass of the tank was strong, but Twilight feared the prospect of the deathants escaping far more than she feared the assassin that apparently lurked among them. They could and would kill everyone in this room who didn't escape quickly enough; mandibles strong enough to penetrate even Tsynr's tough carapace and poison that could kill with a single bite made deathants one of the many creatures Twilight had been glad to leave behind when she'd left First of the Sun.

Both Steel Ferrings were going for the 25 PM action, with Rathmaskal managing to get all five charges, but they both died before they managed to tap their charges. The only Synod member who voted to burn down the Tathingdwen Tautological Sciety of Tautology was Cadmium Compounder, as a secondary target behind Kredik Shaw. Darrel has not yet made it to Luthadel, but perhaps he'll meet up with Steel and together they can attempt to burn down the Lord Ruler's palace.

A man without a name, face obscured by his cowl, paced back and forth around the entrance to the Synod. Distrustful of Olaf as a result of the news articles, the Nameless Ferring waited for the Synod to emerge from the crowded building. Hearing talk of arson drift along the breeze that swept through the cool evening air, he began to grow more concerned. What was that Olaf planning to do to the Synod? He sat there for a time, contemplating if he should relocate his house to an area with a ready source of water, when the Synod emerged from their council. They walked purposely down the steps, several brushing against his Terris robes as they descended. Olaf was one of them, and as the man passed, the Nameless tugged on his sleeve. “Um, so, you know, the Synod, they’re, like, planning things, right? I mean, we’re nearly dead here as a congregation, and, um, that’s bad, you know. So, I was wondering if there was, like, something the Synod would do.” Olaf paused, smiling tersely at him. “We’re about to take our first steps—we’re about to burn down the Tathingdwen Tautological Society of Tautology, which we have little patience for in a time when stating the obvious is not enough. We’ve also dealt with Darrel—the man’s hatred for merchants is getting in our way. He’s been sent to burn down Kredik Shaw, by the orders of the Synod.” The Nameless recoiled. “Arson?” he muttered to himself. “Like, um, what’s that supposed to do to, you know, help?” Making sure nobody else could hear him, he continued muttering to himself, rounding a street corner into a narrow alleyway to escape the furtive glances others were shooting him. He kept his face looking downwards, still softly speaking to himself under his breath. So it was that he did not see the hurried approach of Zihel as he tore down the alleyway at top speed, heading towards the Synod building. Completely oblivious, the Nameless stooped suddenly to pick up a stray boxing, and Zihel was unable to check his high-speed rush. Slamming into him, Zihel tapped Pewter, enhancing his bulk to cushion his fall. For his part, the Nameless frantically tapped iron, allowing him to keep an unsteady footing even as the cobblestones cracked underneath him, and Zihel fell awkwardly to the ground. It was then that he noticed the object in Zihel’s hand: a slender Pewter spike. Uncertainty and social awkwardness vanishing in an instant, the Nameless drew in a breath to shout the presence of a Spiked. However, Zihel was too fast. Tapping speed to move faster than his eye could track, Zihel zoomed up to the Nameless and rammed the spike through the Skimmer’s heart. As the Nameless’s life drained away, and Zihel began to tow the corpse, a burst of energy found its way into his almost-dead body. Placing all his remaining strength in his right arm, the Nameless delivered a solid punch to the chin of Zihel, who collapsed, caressing a fractured jaw. At peace finally, he passed from the realm of the living. The Tathingdwen Tautological Society of Tautology was surrounded by a torch-wielding Synod. With its president absent, the building was unguarded, and under the expert guidance of Olaf the Synod had the structure aflame in no time at all. Watching the banner which read “All are Welcome in this Welcoming Society” slowly being subsumed into a pile of ash, Olaf grinned. The exultation of starting a fire was something that a person who had not watched flames devour an unsuspecting piece of land could ever understand. In addition, Olaf had sent a strong message regarding speech that would hopefully be reinforced: speech that is pointless will not be tolerated. Only constructive speech, which could lead to the discovery of Spiked Infiltrators, would be condoned. And with the Terris population at half its initial size, discovery of the Spiked would be vital in the coming days. Three years ago, Zihel had come to this colors-cursed planet hoping to find his brother. Well, not his actual brother, he had died years ago, but the man who called himself Zahel was the closest thing he’d had to family at the time. Apparently, Zahel hadn’t felt the same way, for while he had sent a letter detailing the important scientific research he and his fellow Scholars were pursuing, he hadn’t bothered to let Zihel know their current whereabouts. After months of fruitless waiting, Zihel had set off in search of his brother. Having no real clue where they could have gone, Zihel decided to wander around random planets asking after a tall muscular man, possibly traveling with four others of similar build. He’d tried Threnody first. Nasty place, but the resident Shades might have attracted scholars searching for better ways to animate the dead. After breaking all the Simple Rules and wasting copious amounts of silver without any trace of Zahel, Zihel decided to try a safer planet. Sadly, Zihel was not a good judge of what constituted ‘safe’. After nearly being torn to shreds attempting to reach Sel, he’d stopped by Scadrial, appearing in some sort of mine. The sheer walls were no match for his rope, which he Awakened with the last of his Breath. He was not satisfied with this, for he sympathized with the plight of the slaves. His attempt to free the prisoners enslaved in the mine attracted the attention of the guards. They mercilessly crushed the escape attempt, and Zihel himself was captured. Having noticed the strange behavior of the rope, the guards called in for backup. Zihel was personally escorted to the feet of the Lord Ruler by one of his Inquisitors. Bound in silver manacles, Zihel was forced to bow before the Lord Ruler. A pair of Inquisitors flanked Zihel, the one to his left holding the still-Awakened rope. The second Inquisitor addressed Zihel directly. “Who are you? Where do you come from? How did you get to the Pits of Hathsin?” Zihel looked up briefly, and uttered only two words. “Strangle things.” The remaining color drained from Zihel’s clothes, and the rope immediately wrapped itself around the second Inquisitor’s throat, squeezing tightly. This appeared to have absolutely no effect whatsoever. The constricted Inquisitor merely laughed, and slashed the rope with an obsidian axe. The action drew blood, but as Zihel watched, the gushing flow seized and the wound closed up. The rope fell to the floor in pieces. “What should we do with him, my lord?” asked the no longer wounded Inquisitor. In response, the Lord Ruler began to smile wickedly. Several hours and nine spikes later, Zihel arose from a stone bed. The pain of his newfound spikes hurt almost as much as the knowledge that nine men and women had been butchered beyond all recognition for his sake. The two Inquisitors who had accompanied him before returned, and Zihel was brought back before the Lord Ruler. Feeling he had nothing left to lose, Zihel attacked the Lord Ruler, but was thrown backwards by an invisible force. As Zihel struggled to rise, his fury was obliterated by a crushing wave of numbness. All that was left was fear, which was immediately intensified tenfold, leaving Zihel a gibbering wreck, curled up on the floor. “I trust we have an understanding then?” the Lord Ruler inquired. Zihel merely whimpered in response. “Excellent,” the Lord Ruler announced. “Take him away.” For the next three years, Zihel did the Lord Ruler’s bidding as the Final Empire’s only Feruchemical Inquisitor. He was constantly attended by at least one other Inquisitor. They constantly manipulated his emotions, drowning him in anger and hatred. Under their influence, Zihel murdered hundreds of Skaa, Mistings, and errant nobles. His personality was beaten down until Zihel began to enjoy the bloodlust. Finally, the Lord Ruler deemed him ready for his first mission unaccompanied by an Inquisitor. Numbed by three years of mental torture, Zihel offered no protestations as he was ordered to travel to the Terris Dominance and slaughter any Feruchemists he found there. The quest had not gone as planned. They had found Feruchemists, an entire village of them in fact. After some initial success, the village had fought back, killing Valwyn and HanTor. Zihel felt no particular sadness for their loss, only a sense of irritation that they’d made the job more difficult for him. Rubbing his jaw where the nameless Ferring had punched him, Zihel experienced a similar surge of irritation. That was too sloppy, he thought to himself as he tapped Gold to heal his jaw. He headed back to their new headquarters, envisioning ways he could have more effectively killed the Iron Ferring. Caught up in his bloody reverie, he failed to notice Marne until the other Feruchemist had rushed in and snatched the Pewter spike from Zihel’s grasp. Zihel tapped Pewter in preparation for a fight, but he was too slow to stop Marne from ramming the stolen spike through Zihel’s throat, pinning him to the wall of the alleyway. Zihel tapped Gold, which healed the impact wound but failed to fix the internal damage. He would have to take the spike out first. As he reached to his throat, Marne smashed a Pewter-enhanced fist into Zihel’s forehead. Stunned, Zihel was helpless to prevent, Marne from ripping out every last spike. “You thought you had gotten rid of me when I was deposed, didn’t you?” Marne spat out as he tore away Zihel’s powers. “I’m here to let you know that I will never stop working to protect this village and these people, whether they want me to our not.” He might have said more, but Zihel was no longer listening. Soon, eight bloody spikes littered the cobblestones, leaving only two pewter spikes. The one where his heart had been, which supplied him with healing, and the one through his throat, which granted him death. Surprisingly, Marne’s hand reached for the latter. Zihel dropped to the ground, his metalminds empty, the hole in his throat finally closed. “I know there’s a real person in there somewhere,” Marne said in a much kinder tone of voice. “You can be redeemed as Olaf was,” Marne continued as he grabbed the final spike. “Or not,” he concluded, as Zihel died instantly upon removal of his last spike. Shaking his head sadly, Marne went off to meet Count Olaf, leaving Zihel dead in the alleyway. Sart was killed by the Spiked! He was a Village Iron Ferring (Skimmer)! Randuir was killed! He was a Spiked Full Feruchemist! The Synod has burnt down the Tathingdwen Tautological Society of Tautology! Even if the overwhelming consensus was to burn down Kredik Shaw. Sorry about that, _Stick_. You’re still President. Day 5 has begun! It will end in 48 hours on Saturday the 25th of April, at 9 PM EDT. Player List: 1. Rathmaskal as Laksam, an ash sweeper from the Eastern streets Village Steel Ferring 2. Xinoehp512 as Ereheman Tresni, a man with his priorities backwards 3. Steeldancer as Steel, the fastest sculpture of a squid wrought entirely in steel in all of Tathingdwen Village Brass Ferring 4. Randuir as Zihel, a worldhopper looking for his twin brother Spiked Full Feruchemist 5. I think I am here as Itiah VI, a missionary on a mission Village Steel Ferring 6. Bort as Tee Mai, a tailor specialising in offensive clothing 7. Cadmium Compounder as Ethin Hallil, a cadmium Feruchemist and SCUBA diver 8. _Stick_ as Stick, President of the Tathingdwen Tautological Society of Tautology 9. Jondesu as Remart, a man back from vacation armed with vaguely ominous statements 10. Kidpen as HanTor, a lonely Kandra that’s definitely not Spiked, nope Spiked Zinc Ferring 11. Elandera as Era, an old woman who claims to have been alive before the reign of the Lord Ruler Village Pewter Ferring 12. Snipexe as Snip, a fabric cutter in the local quilt shop Village Iron Ferring 13. Worldhopper from Yolen as Tarin, a Sparker with a wonderful, awful idea Village Zinc Ferring 14. Alvron as Izzy Dedyet, who is not dead, feels happy, and thinks she'll go for a walk Village Full Feruchemist 15. Phatterner as Citona Vinid, a seemingly faithful follower of the Lord Ruler 16. Ark1002 as Kardik, a Full Feruchemist 17. Araris Valerian as Valwyn, an honest rug merchant Spiked Pewter Ferring; Rug Merchant 18. Coop772 as Irion, a Full Feruchemist with hidden potential Village Copper Ferring 19. Sart, a stuttering Nameless Village Iron Ferring

Count Olaf is an unrepentant arsonist, a man who finds joy in seeing structures burn down around him. With him in charge, nothing would be safe. I believe that in the short term, we need to update our infrastructure in response to our current crises. As seen by the destruction of Pulling The Rug, the Spiked think nothing of using fire to destroy even their own property. To combat this threat, we must work to fireproof our buildings. New infrastructure projects should be built using non-flammable materials, such as stone. While no method can truly fireproof existing wooden structures, keeping the wood moist will make it more difficult to burn. Buildings aren't the only thing that needs to be fireproofed, as evidenced by the destruction of our gardens. Strategically placed stone and brick will make it harder for fires to spread. Creation of greenhouses with interior fire protection is an intriguing possibility. Long term, of course, we'll have to abandon Tathingdwen. Now that the Lord Ruler knows the location of the last surviving group of Feruchemists, we'll never be safe here. Preparations for migration and the construction of a new village can begin as soon as we deal with our current Spiked threat.

I'll be Fourth of the Twilight, a female mainlander whose family named all their children in the trapper style.

I feel that being able to choose the evidence and murder weapon is important for the assassin's strategy. Perhaps cards could be publicly dealt out as each player signs up, and then every player would send in a PM before signups end stating which evidence and murder weapon they would choose if they happen to be selected as the assassin. It isn't the most elegant solution, and starts to fall apart if too many people sign up at the last minute, but it does shave 24 hours off the preparation time without sacrificing the assassin's ability to choose the cards they feel will be most difficult for the oracle to represent.

Marne called the Synod to order. The experience was unreal for him. Today, their scheduled monthly meeting was to be held, yet in the chaos of the hunt for Spiked, none of the agenda seemed relevant. Budgets, news of the surrounding world, minutes of their last meeting together—none of that mattered anymore. The Synod’s finances were immaterial if they were unable to survive the onslaught of the Spiked. The only news that mattered of the surrounding world was how close the Lord Ruler was to knowing that Tathingdwen was the last outpost of Feruchemy. And the last meeting’s concerns were a trifle compared to the crisis each Synod member now faced. The Synod, at least, had recognised that the current situation merited strong leadership, and had striven to act accordingly. Marne, however, realised something else. He had lost control of the Terris, and the Synod could no longer check the rising tide of suspicion. The Synod’s credibility had shattered, if not when the news of the Spiked reached their ears and they had failed to act, then instead when Valwyn had been killed and revealed to have a Pewter spike embedded within him, a typical Synod aristocrat—and a Spiked servant of the Lord Ruler. However, whatever control the Synod had ever held over the Terrismen was slipping, and essentially gone. The Terris had not heeded Marne when he had called for a nonviolent response to the Spiked. The Terris had not heeded the Synod when they executed one of its members, despite the protests of those who knew him. And the Terris had not even heeded Olaf, who commanded their respect for wilfully rejecting the Lord Ruler, when he too had stood up for the condemned. So it was that Marne stood at the head of a toppling aristocracy, Olaf at his side, with the man pensive as ever. Robbed of its effective power, the Synod, its numbers greatly diminished by the attacks of Spiked and innocent alike, sat in a half-circle around him, waiting patiently. Marne rose to speak. “My friends, I believe the first order of business that we have to attend to is not the typical item on our monthly agenda, yet with the recent turmoil, it has become the only concern of this body for quite a while. With the Spiked having infiltrated our very congregation, the Synod has held emergency meetings, stirred up the Terris populace, and attempted to judge the accused, in an effort to contain and resolve this situation. I admire everyone who sits on this council for their dedication to this task for the past week.” Taking a deep breath, Marne continued. “However, given that the Spiked pose such a serious threat, and since the Synod is so integral in resolving any and all threats the Terris face, I believe it is wise to assess how well we are controlling this...situation. And I must say, I believe we have lost all control.” A subdued mutter ran throughout the room. Marne pressed onward. “I do not mean that we have lost all our power. However, we do not exercise the degree of control over the Terris that we normally hold. Neither my efforts nor those of Olaf have stopped the bloodshed, despite our high positions, and at this point, they are unlikely to. Therefore, I see only two things that can be done. “The first is to allow these killings to continue. I dislike this greatly. All you know my distaste of violence to decide arguments. However, the Terris will kill regardless of my stance on the current trials. All that remains for us is to pick battles that are more winnable, and to serve as seasoned voices in the proceedings. Our influence in that manner may be of greater help. “The second is also against my liking, but was suggested by Olaf. Would you like to explain it to the Synod, Olaf?” Marne asked. The thin man nodded, rising from his seat and facing the congregation. “I’ve leveraged some connections as the leader of House Ffnord, and it turns out one of the spies assigned to this city in my network knows an assassin, a deadly Coinshot. His services are expensive, and I do not think our wallets could withstand more than one use of his...talents, but should we as the Synod decide that someone merits removal, we have a means with which to do so.” He sat back down, impassive as ever, and the whispers of the Synod drifted up to Marne, conveying a mixture of distaste and excitement. Marne fought down an urge to weep. Here was a group of men he had known his whole life. Now some were dead, some were Spiked, and the others, including him, were resorting to coins in the dark and mob rule to preserve their institution. Hardly what he had envisioned when he took the oath as the leader of the Synod, five years previously. Hurriedly dismissing the meeting, Marne turned away from the Synod as the tears trickled down his face, and the trials outside the meeting-house of the Synod commenced. --- HanTor had never told his fellow Spiked that he was not, in fact, a Ferring. Nor was he a human. The Lord Ruler had wanted someone who could be trusted to obey his commands unflinchingly, and as his personal Kandra was away on a separate mission, HanTor had been assigned to the job. As a Fifth Generation Kandra, HanTor had spent most of his life in the Homeland, but his skills at crafting a body were not diminished by his inexperience with the outside world. He was more practiced with his True Body of quartzite perhaps, but he adapted quickly, if not happily, to the more fragile bones of humans. As the protégé of his Second Generation tutors, he had learned a lot about the Terris people and their traditions, enough to fool even his companions so long as he kept quiet. The most pressing problem had been gaining Feruchemical powers, for no Kandra possessed those abilities and he would rather avoid faking it, even with the Blessing of Potency granting him some of the strength and stamina of a Pewter ferring could gain. HanTor had therefore been smuggled into Tathingdwen a night early, searching for an isolated Ferring whose life he could steal. HanTor could not disobey the First Contract, even on a personal mission for the Father, so he had been forced to rely on an infiltrator who had been in place long before the Spiked had arrived. He never saw his contact’s face, even as he stood and watched while they tortured an isolated Sparker’s deepest secrets out of him. HanTor hoped never again to see a human pierced with so much metal that they resembled nothing so much as a pincushion. A simple pair of spikes was all well and good, and an exception could be made for the brass spike that had now been inserted into his shoulder, but metal was meant to go on the inside of a body, not protrude from the flesh. HanTor shuddered as his contact limped away with a sack of spikes and discarded bones thrown over one shoulder. He hoped the rest of his team would be more sensible and less … violent. HanTor found that he regretted Valwyn’s death. There were the obvious reasons of course; his death meant their infiltration of the Synod had been exposed, there was one fewer member standing between HanTor being forced to choose between his mission and the First Contract’s prohibition of killing humans, they would have to move out of the caverns that reminded him of the Homeland, and HanTor would be forced to speak up more despite not being confident in his ability to properly imitate a man he’d only known for an hour. Yet beyond all these practical reasons, what HanTor found he missed most about the deceased Spiked was the loss of a man who had treated him as an equal. He knew that this was only because he was disguised as a human, but he found himself resenting the Terris people who had killed Valwyn. Cleansing Tathingdwen of Ferrings was no longer merely a mission to him. Alongside his remaining companions, he would avenge the death of the first human to ever respect him as an individual. The next day, HanTor formally began his campaign of vengeance. The Sparker whose bones he wore had been a recluse, which limited HanTor’s ability to publicly act. Nevertheless, he worked to fill the void left by Valwyn’s death, quietly suggesting to the townspeople which Ferring should die next, contributing more to the secret conferences his fellow spiked held. For most of the day, his new plan of action was successful. The Synod, splintered by the loss of two of its members, one of them a traitor, did nothing to prevent the chaos spreading through the village. Accusations were being tossed every which way, and it appeared no-one could come to an agreement. Then, everything went wrong when Citona suddenly declared herself to be a member of the Synod and announced her intention to kill HanTor. Where before anarchy had reigned, the villagers were suddenly all too eager to obey the dictates of an authority that had been found to be corrupt just the previous night. As the angry villagers converged on HanTor, he tapped his Zincminds, draining every drop of power he had amassed during his stint as a Ferring. Instantly, his mental processing sped up, beyond even what he imagined a Blessing of Presence would do for him. In the few seconds remaining before he could be consumed by the mob, he crafted a last, desperate speech. “My friends!” he cried out. “I am not your enemy. I-.” His words were cut off as an irate Ferring smashed a chair into his head. The impact caused no harm, but it served as a signal to the rest of the group. Quartzite would have been able to resist the trampling of feet and the crushing blows of furniture and garden implements, but human bones were not nearly as sturdy. The initial attacker leaned over HanTor’s broken body. “You realize of course that you don’t have any friends. You never have, and now, you never will.” When Marne came out later to view the carnage, he found HanTor still alive, but immobile from having his entire skeleton fractured. HanTor tried to cry out to the Synod leader, but his shattered jaw rendered the sound as an unintelligible moan. Marne seemed to understand, though. He rummaged through HanTor’s pulped organs, finally managing to pull out the three spikes that granted him life, sapience, and power. Marne began the walk back to the Synod with the artefacts, leaving HanTor’s corpse lying in the field. Kidpen was lynched! He was a Spiked Zinc Ferring (Sparker)!! Vote Count: Kidpen (4) randuir (2) Cadmium Compounder (1) Worldhopper from Yolen (1) phattemer (1) Sart (1) Night 3 has begun! It will end in 24 hours, on Monday the 20th of August, at 9 PM EDT. Please note something—I’ve been occupied, and have had little time to post rules questions in-thread, but if you successfully double-fill your metalmind, please send in a fill order at the beginning of the Day or Night turn immediately following your double-fill, to confirm that you wish to fill your metalmind. Player List: 1. Rathmaskal as Laksam, an ash sweeper from the Eastern streets 2. Xinoehp512 as Ereheman Tresni, a man with his priorities backwards 3. Steeldancer as Steel, the fastest sculpture of a squid wrought entirely in steel in all of Tathingdwen 4. Randuir as Zihel, a worldhopper looking for his twin brother 5. I think I am here as Itiah VI, a missionary on a mission Village Steel Ferring 6. Bort as Tee Mai, a tailor specialising in offensive clothing 7. Cadmium Compounder as Ethin Hallil, a cadmium Feruchemist and SCUBA diver 8. _Stick_ as Stick, President of the Tathingdwen Tautological Society of Tautology 9. Jondesu as Remart, a man back from vacation armed with vaguely ominous statements 10. Kidpen as HanTor, a lonely Kandra that’s definitely not Spiked, nope Spiked Zinc Ferring 11. Elandera as Era, an old woman who claims to have been alive before the reign of the Lord Ruler Village Pewter Ferring 12. Snipexe as Snip, a fabric cutter in the local quilt shop Village Iron Ferring 13. Worldhopper from Yolen as Tarin, a Sparker with a wonderful, awful idea 14. Alvron as Izzy Dedyet, who is not dead, feels happy, and thinks she'll go for a walk Village Full Feruchemist 15. Phatterner as Citona Vinid, a seemingly faithful follower of the Lord Ruler 16. Ark1002 as Kardik, a Full Feruchemist 17. Araris Valerian as Valwyn, an honest rug merchant Spiked Pewter Ferring; Rug Merchant 18. Coop772 as Irion, a Full Feruchemist with hidden potential Village Copper Ferring 19. Sart, a stuttering Nameless

It should be noted that a PM was opened last night.

Three and a half years after his first visit to Dol Amroth, a number of families ventured one by one near Eleryn's family cottage, intent on starting a new village. They were primarily hunters and herders, bringing with them their dogs and sheep. Though Eleryn's family lived far from the center of the nascent village, Eleryn would no longer enjoy the tranquility of solitude mixed with the knowledge that civilization was just seven leagues away. Many herders brought their sheep to the Morthond to drink, and some of them were even permitted to graze by the river bank. The villagers were delighted to learn of the excellent fishing opportunities in their new home. While a few tried their hand at fishing with little success, many others preferred to buy fish directly from Eleryn's father. That year, Eleryn and his father did not travel to Dol Amroth, as they received all their necessities from the villagers. Despite being richer in supplies than they ever had been before, the work of fishing became harder. A greater demand for fish forced the pair to travel further upstream than usual. On one particularly fruitless fishing trip, Eleryn caught a glimpse of what he thought was another boat. "Is that a boat, Father?" he asked. His father turned around and peered in the direction Eleryn was pointing. "That is indeed a boat. It must be from the fishing village that's around here; I hadn't realized we'd gone so far from home. This close to the village, fishing will be futile. Too many competitors." As the boat turned around, Eleryn continued to question his father. "How did you know there was a fishing village here?" "I've come this way a few times before, when you were too young to accompany me," he replied. "I saw men with their boats full of fish, though they never had as many fish as I was able to catch downstream," he lied. "Unless our life gets really desperate, we're better off staying closer to home." Eleryn accepted this without question. His father was the best fisherman he'd ever known. If he said more fish could be found in their home waters, then he must be correct. After all, if there was better fishing upstream, they would have packed up and moved long ago. When they returned home with only slightly fewer fish than usual, Eleryn didn't even mention the boat to his grandmother, and neither did his father. I don't think we can afford to wait for Walin to string out his roleclaim over a period of cycles. @Walin, you have less than two hours remaining to explain why you shouldn't be lynched. If you're available, I would like to hear your full explanation before the end of the cycle.

If you're only going to be online for a little bit, and you're committed to roleclaiming, you should probably do so now to give everyone time to change their votes if you provide a sufficient argument for your innocence. As everyone started out with a full vial of antidote, this claim does nothing to indicate at your alignment.

It was the Hand of Sauron who tied the lynch on day two. There had been three votes on Walin and two votes on Bort at the end of the cycle, but then Rathmaskal's vote was removed, tying the vote. As the Hand of Sauron is the only vote manipulator mentioned in the rules, with the ability to nullify someone's vote, the tie can be blamed on them. I invite @Rathmaskal to comment on the second part of your suspicion.

Anyone who was poisoned on night 1 would have died last night and been declared dead in this day's writeup. This could well be true. There are enough low-actives that there's a good chance at least one is among the Agents of Mordor.

Despite hinting that he had a role ~6 hours before the cycle's end, Walin was not killed by the Agents of Mordor. Instead, Araris was killed, quite possibly because of his threat to poison a random minimally active player. If so, this could indicate that the Mordor faction is okay with having inactives use up their antidote or face death. The Agents might all be relatively active, be willing to sacrifice an antidote or two as insurance, or perhaps they just intend to sacrifice animal crackers to the Gods of Luck and Chance and hope for the best. There were apparently no poison deaths, but it's possible that some players were poisoned with a half dose. As far as I can tell from the rules, such players are unable to communicate unless asked a question and will not die of inactivity even if they never post again for the rest of the game. I would like @Jondesu to re-confirm that, though.

Unless the Hand of Sauron was around within ~15 minutes of rollover, they would have seen the votes at 2-2 between Walin and Bort. If neither Walin nor Bort happen to be Agents of Mordor, the Hand could very well have attempted to make *someone* die. In this scenario, saving Walin makes sense, as he was already under a certain amount of suspicion for surviving the lynch D1, and thus would probably be easier to lynch tomorrow than Bort. Walin definitely still could be an Agent of Mordor, and there's a good chance I'll vote that way a third time unless something else comes up, but I do believe your second scenario is more likely than you might think.

Looks like I've been given another chance to break a tie. I'm going to vote for Walin again, as I believe that his lynch will give us more alignment-related information than a Bort lynch. I see @Snipexe viewing the thread. Would you like to cast a vote?

The little corner of Anfalas where Eleryn lived had been nearly uninhabited. Just him, his father, and his aging grandmother surviving within a small segment of river. Eleryn hadn't seen another intelligent being until he was ten years old, when his father had taken him to Dol Amroth on a supply run. At first, Eleryn hadn't believed the Númenórean inhabitants of that city were humans. They were tall, beautiful, and spoke in a language Eleryn had only ever heard from his grandmother. Surely, these must be the mythical elves of his grandmother's youth. In her stories there had been perhaps dozens of elves, but this city a mere seven nautical leagues away from home, there lived thousands upon thousands of 'elves'. While his father traded fish for salt and steel, Eleryn wondered if any of the 'elves' they passed had known his grandmother. Struck dumb by awe, Eleryn didn't speak a word until they returned home. "When will we see the elves again Father?" he asked. "Hmm?" said his father, distracted. "We got to see the elves today in that enormous city, and they were almost as beautiful as the elves in Grandma's stories. When will we get to see them again?" Without changing his expression a fraction, his father replied, "I make the trip to Dol Amroth every year. Now that you're old enough, you will always be able to come." Excited, Eleryn had run home to tell his grandmother about his adventures. His enthusiasm was such that he didn't notice the accusatory look on his grandmother's face, nor the minute shake of the head his father offered in response. ... Many years later, Eleryn finally got to meet real elves. The fallen Prince had been the first one to interact with the company as individuals. Now he was dead, killed by an assassin in the night. Such a cowardly act could not go unpunished. Unfortunately, Eleryn didn't know where to point his knife. He decided to wander down to the center of the group in the hopes of overhearing something useful.

I chose to lynch a then-inactive over someone who had checked in and promised to post more in the future. My decision was further influenced by the fact that Alvron decided to vote for Xinoehp over Dalinar, which potentially could have been an attempt of a teammate to protect Walin and/or Dalinar. I'm not sure why a villager wouldn't care who got lynched D1. Presumably, you had a reason to initially vote for Walin over Dalinar and Xinoehp, then switch your vote to protect Walin. Similarly, Alvron cared enough about the lynch outcome to tie the vote by accusing Xinoehp. While all of these votes indicate an interest in selecting the lynch victim, none of them necessarily mean the voter isn't village-aligned.

Since we apparently don't get a vote tally I can't be sure, but it would seem the Hand of Sauron decided not to intervene in the lynch. Perhaps they were inactive, or perhaps they didn't care which of the candidates for the lynch died and/or wanted to save their second action for tonight. It's nighttime, so there isn't any voting. Eleryn had been given his first fishing knife when he was eight years old. It had a ten centimeter long steel blade with a slight curve and a handle of maple, suited for the filleting of smaller fish. He hadn't been allowed to touch the knife for a week after his birthday though, as his father made him practice the motions with a similarly sized stick. Then, he'd been allowed to practice with the knife for measured intervals under close supervision, cutting nothing but empty air. Finally, three weeks into his ninth year, Eleryn had been allowed to cut into a fish too small to be worth eating. Upon encountering resistance, his hand had slipped, curving the blade downwards into the bone. He tried to tug the knife out, but as stopped by his father's hand on his wrist. Gently, the knife was guided back out of the too-deep cut. His father had flipped the fish over and again guided Eleryn's hand through a smooth cut, shearing the flesh from the bone. Trying again without guidance, Eleryn was able to properly fillet the fish, which was later used as bait. ... Several months later, Eleryn accompanied his father on a fishing trip, as he often did. The winds were strong, and the heavy rains of the past week had made the waters of the Morthond rise higher than usual. The weather wasn't poor enough to dissuade the pair from their trip, so off they went in their little boat. After floating around their desired spot for half an hour, Eleryn had felt a slight tug on his line and started to reel in his line, expecting a relatively small fish. Suddenly, the line tautened, and Eleryn felt himself be pulled towards the water, smashing his shins against the side of the boat. His father had wrapped one arm around him, but Eleryn still felt the inexorable tug towards a watery doom. With the other hand, his father had grabbed Eleryn's knife and slashed it across the line, severing it. Pulling Eleryn back to safety, the pair watched as an enormous fish swam away, having swallowed the smaller fish whole. The danger having passed, his father had given Eleryn another lesson. "No object is worth your life. A fish, a line, your rod, even the boat itself can be replaced. You cannot be. Disengage at the first sign the situation is too much for you to handle." Young Eleryn had nodded assent. ... As night fell, Eleryn pulled out a knife, the same one he'd had since he'd been eight years old. He'd gotten a new fishing rod after he outgrew the old one, and their old boat had needed to be replaced after years of repair had rendered the wood warped and twisted, but this knife had persisted. Perhaps it wasn't worth his life, but he'd counted on it to help sustain his life for decades. It was too late to disengage from the hazardous trek, but perhaps the blade could sustain his life for a little while longer. Eleryn rested his head on the grassy knoll, blade in hand, and closed his eyes. If any assassins came for him in the night, he might have at least some chance of survival.

I'm pretty sure that if you report your post, a mod will delete it for you.

I suppose I would support a Walin lynch over Xinoehp. I do hope @xinoehp512 and/or @Walin come back before the end of the cycle, but if they don't, my vote will probably stay here.

The Agents of Mordor aren't a neutral faction, as their goal is to kill three specific companions and they have a nightly kill to help them do it. The Gondor spies are an elim faction, though they apparently don't have any kill abilities other than posion phials, as Jondesu stated during signups. All of them have to be killed in order for the companions to win.