I think I am here.

Agreed in terms of Fifth's death. A previous game (the Alendi one), he and Roadwalker pretty much smoked out all of the elims. So I guess it would make sure they'd take him out first. Anyway, onto you (Fura), I don't really know whether to be suspicious or not. Fifth's previous analysis of your posts is in my head. You seem pretty eager for us to claim what roles we had, but I don't really see much of a problem with that. Last cycle, I had Zinc. I didn't use it in the lynch, I was inactive, but I had that medallion. Now, I'm not sure who has it. What does this mean? (because ellipses don't make you sound suspicious at all :P) It doesn't seem like CadCom was lying about what medallions he had, and since he was a villager, I think we could clear everything he said as true? It also means all that talk about who his elim teammates would be was really just for kicks. Anyway, I need to check last thread for anything he said last Night now that we know his alignment.

Attacks are up!

The pigeon returned. Redatrick looked to Bella. “Do you know where the harbour is?”

“Thanks,” He said and got his clothes. He walked to Bella after. “Thanks, but I’m afraid I gotta go now.”

Redatrick nodded. If his ex-gang had tracked him, it must have through witnesses or somesuch at the hospital. Oasis looked appealing, of non-members couldn’t enter without an invitation. Redatrick could just become a member, and then never invite his ex-gang in. But they’d find a way, he knew that, and then he’d be trapped in the walls, like Mike said. “What she wants me to do,” he said to Mike, gesturing to Bella. “Is to join her gang. But I can’t be here, bound to this gang, if I want to keep on running, especially since they know my location. And I don’t think Bella’ gonna let me stay here when she realises I don’t want to be part of the gang.” He looked to Mike, and put a hand on his shoulder, beginning to walk to the storing room again. “And don’t worry. I’m sure we’ll meet again. Where’s this expedition you were talking about?” An expedition sounded like a good way to get away. But for now, he needed to get his hat and his normal clothes. He’d have to keep the dye in, he didn’t have time to wash it out.

Yes. You can’t tell if people watch you, and you get sick easier and are noticeably more dull than the average person, but you can’t be tracked with any lifesense.

@Lord Meeker Meanwhile: Three men approached at the city gate. “‘Oasis City,’” Crossbow Cameron read, looking back to his cohorts. “Sounds like the type of place a low level gang would stay.” “Aye,” Jarret said, walking forward with a smile. In his hand lay a toy spinner, like one you would find in a cheap board game. Something Jarret had figured out, a while back, you see, was that his luck - the stuff he drew out of his chromium - it was influenced by the way he thought. If he wanted to a roll a six on a die the luck would make it so, and if he wanted to roll a one the same. It was about how he thought. So, every time he spun the spinner, he tapped a bit of luck. And always, the spinner’s arrow just happened to point in exactly the location they needed to go. Spin, walk. Spin, walk. A sound system for tracking, but not flawless. They could only track stationary points with the spinner, like a gang’s hideout, a Worldhoppers home. Something that was constantly moving would require more luck and would be more vague. It was why they couldn’t track Red with it. Money Mickey walked to the gate. All of the members of the gang had their own cowboy hats, and their own bandanas. Most hats were the same normal model, and almost all bandanas were the same brown, albeit with slightly different details on each, like stripes, dots, and the like. Obviously, there were a few exceptions. Mickey’s bandana was black. His cowboy hat was not brown but black and gold. He wore standard bandit attire, used for fighting and hunting, but it was notably more fancy than the others, and it certainly looked more expensive. He rapped on the gate. “Hey, is anyone there to let us in?”

Hello! Sorry for being inactive. Did we ever get who used Bendalloy? Because it seems Bendalloy would be a better tool for the elims in general, keeping someone alive to do any actions. Though it could be handy for the village. Would Bendalloy imply Cadcom had allies? If not elims then some PM contacts? I have to say I have got no PM contacts I feel like this is a pattern for me. As for Fura. Correct me if I’m mistaken, but they were about to be lynched last cycle, right? I’ll have to check back on that to see whether there was any sort of counter-bandwagoning involved. As stated, there’s a Lum-Fura connection, as stated by Lumgol. But why would Lumgol say that there was a link between the two players when Fura was under suspicion? Either Lum is an elim and knows Fura’s a villager, and wants to be associated with that. Or Lumgol and Fura are both villagers, or they’re bith elims, but I don’t know why Lum (if they were an elim) would say that they were linked to Fura when (as far as I can tell from my skimming) there was no suspicion put on Lum?

Redatrick kept the place in his mind. Oasis City. It certainly sounded safe. And right now, an oasis was exactly what he was looking for. He saw Mike’s gesture and nodded. As he followed Mike, he wondered what the boy would have to say that was so private. “Yeah?” He asked.

Redatrick looked to the wall. He’d seekers refuge in this gang. But to join it? After before, he wasn’t sure if he wanted any gang connections. Especially if his ex-gang now knew his location. “Thank you,” he said. “But I’ll pass.” He looked to Mike. “Are there any other locations you’d say are safe?”

Gah! My secret has been figured out! Drat. Would you settle if I took out the ‘one’ and just left him as ‘N’?

“I should,” Redatrick agreed and heard Bella call everyone over. “And I did use to do bad things,” he said to Mike. “But I don’t anymore, and that’s why they’re hunting me in the first place. I wasn’t the only one to... torture. But I was the only one to defect.” Well, the third one. There had only ever three traitors to the Worldhunter gang. There was Redatrick, and then there was his brother, who’d ran away when Redatrick was ten. Redatrick remembered that moment, when he’d seen a group of men returns with his corpse, shot in a dozen places. And then there was the Hazehunter. The best of the best. While Worldhunter units hunted in gangs, he operated solo and did as good a job as any, even better. Redatrick’s father had been known the Hazehunter. And he’d been the one to put a bullet in his head when he betrayed them. Three traitors. Two dead. One being hunted. He walked to Bella. “Yes?” He said, wondering why she’d called them. “Mike said Sam ran off.” @Ark1002

Ok, fine. How about:

I’d like to introduce my newest OP character, None! Please don’t get put off by the lack of weaknesses How does it look?

Did he just... damage himself? Reply will come later.

Redatrick looked at Mike but the boy wasn’t making eye contact. “What do you mean?” He asked. What did Sam tell them? That he would murder them? “I don’t kill people,” he said. “Well, at least not without a good cause.” He looked at Mike. “And what cause would I have to kill you? You guys helped me.” He looked around, and sighed. If Sam had gone, it meant he’d tell the others about his location. “Though now they know where I am,” he said.

I’m fine with it

Noel Redatrick was a kid. “Nicro Noel, Nicro Noel!” His father taunted him relentlessly as he handed him another Nicrosil vial. And Noel took it wordlessly, Nicrobursted the whole crew without question, never stopping, never ceasing. “Watch this,” his father said to his gang, not to Noel. Noel wasn’t someone to be addressed. He was a tool, to enhance powers and to be used. His father pointed to a carriage riding some far away and outstretched his hand. He used his other to grab Noel’s wrist. Noel knew the drill. Any touch, nicroburst. So he burned Nicrosil for the thousandth time that day and Nicrobursted his father. The carriage in the distance suddenly tore to pieces, shooting away from them like bullets. “How’s that for a Push?” He asked. His gang murmered in agreement, and the hand that grabbed his wrist now grabbed his neck. “You don’t think so, Noel? You haven’t said a thing.” Noel gasped. He was in trouble. “No, fa —” “Idiot!” His father yelled. Suddenly Noel was being shaken like a doll, strangled. He grasped but his father overpowered him. “You think your father isn’t impressive, Nicro Noel? What do you say now, Nicro Noel?” Redatrick woke to being lightly shaken by Mike, and got up with a start. His hand automatically moved his shotgun, but there wasn’t any threat. “Where’s Sam?” He asked. *^* Sam Lurched. He was always one of the acrobatic ones. Him and Pell. He swerved and swung between lights and buildings, he Pulled to a building edge and flipped midair above it. He Pulled sharply at the top of a skyscraper like one he’d find in Elendel and began running up its surface. Usually, he’d be smiling and laughing. But now there was nothing. A second Snap. He found a bird in the general area and was going to kill it out of anger when he saw the message. Taking it out, he read it. Flipping to the empty back of it, he Pulled a pen from an open window and began writing a message of his own, trying not to tear up all over the message. He scrawled the message out, though it was still easily visible. And he sent the bird on its way.

Wes raised his hand. “I say aye.” His real name wasn’t Wes. It was Wesley. Wesley Miller. But that was another story.

The Atium Ferring nodded. Lusk looked ahead, and nodded back. She agreed. For him to teach her a few things. That was enough. “We can decide on a place later,” he said. “First, lets get rid of that person who seems to be so interested in glaring at you.” He gestured to the large woman staring at Freedom. “Storms, I need to get sober,” he mumbled.

Redatrick came out, the dye had almost completely set. He looked ahead at the burnt stones in front of him, standing next to Bella. Charred remains of the flesh of his ex-gang. Sam, Shaker Sam, lay the only one standing, little burns covering him. “Samuel,” he said. “Who?” The simple use of his full name, that little gesture was enough to topple Sam over the edge. He covered his eyes and wiped away tears as fast as he could. “Jones. Pell.” Redatrick stares ahead. Jones had been his second in command. Pell had been one of their best at stealth. He looked to Sam, a mess. Sam had always been the youngest in the gang. The most talkative, cheerful. Some people took that to mean he had to be protected, like some precious cinnamon roll, but Sam had proven he was tougher than his age. Smarter, too. But now, Redatrick could see the kid in him. Overwhelmed. Weeping. He looked to Bella. She’d caused this fire. So it definitely wasn’t any theatrics. He looked to Sam again. If he let him free, he’d be letting his ex-gang know of his location. He shut his eyes. The men who had been killed, they had been Redatrick’s friends in the same way they’d been Sam’s. Te effect was the same. He turned to Bella. His decision was made. “You shou —” “Noel.” Sam’s voice whispered. Redatrick collapsed. “They called him Bloody Red, you know,” Sam said. His voice was different. Twisted. “Jarret may have been the psychotic, Pell the stalker, but Red? Red was violent. Red tortured. Badly. He ever tell you about his victims? Worldhoppers. Mercilessly. Tore them from limb to limb. Lots of creative options, and he had an imagination.” It was all the truth. Sam smiled, still tearing. “And you call us the bad guys.” They were in front of the warehouse, and all of Sam’s vials had been burnt. But he still had the iron he’d swallowed at the beginning. Sharply Pulling on the warehouse, he flung himself towards it, flipping upwards and on top. He jumped between streetlights, Pulling him further and further away, further and out of reach, escapes. His tears wouldn’t stop.

All Sam saw was Prowling Pell, covered in flames. The man let out a yell as he fell and rolled to the ground, but the details were obscured by just how much fire there was. He could never stand the torture. When they’d hunted Worldhoppers, he’d always be outside of the room when Red or anyone else in the gang had their bit of fun. He brought two hands to his mouth and stifled a scream as one of his best friends dropped, a charred corpse. Some sort of metal boomerng flew threw the air and hit Jones, who hunched over in pain. The last thing he did was glare at Sam one last time before perishing. Sam just hang there, trembling like a leaf, both hands to his mouth, wide eyes tearing. Dead, both. Suddenly he felt helpless, controlled. Boxed in The ring of fire decreased and the woman- Phoenix, whatever, stepped forward with her handom her hip. She didn’t seem the least affected by killing them, and that disturbed him. “Still think I’m pretty?” Sam looked to her, then to the corpses. She could kill him with a glance. His hands went off his mouth and covered his eyes, wiping away anything he didn’t want. Men didn’t cry. Not even after their closest partners and friends over decades were burnt in front of him. “I say that to lots of ladies I see,” he said shakily, closing his eyes. “But, every girl I say it to is at least pretty in some way. It would lose its specialness if I said it to just everyone, y’know?” He was going to break down. The question was when.

Oof, you just necroed a necro. Necroception.

Sometimes I call you Devaan in my head, and just barely stop myself from typing it out. In fact, I’ve read Darth’s message so many times today and I didn’t even know something was off until you said it.