I think I am here.

Lusk continued looking towards Voidus, but out of his peripheral vision he caught one of the less powerful DA denizens arching an eyebrow as well. Huh, he thought, attention back to the god in front him. Same reaction. “No, actually,” Lusk said, simply. This was a person he couldn’t overpower, couldn’t challenge authority of. His forty-one years was nothing compared to thousands. But, he met Voidus’ gaze and tried to play his cards as best he could. He tried to keep his voice cool and calm, emphasising each word. “However, for an ‘ill-conceived plan’, I very distinctly remember the ‘all-powerful’ creator of the universe trapped within a cage for 16 years.” But, veiled daggers weren’t going to win this battle. He had gotten Voidus’ attention, now it was time to divert that to the issue at hand. The image of the Vortex flickered into view again, and Lusk stepped back to give a better view of it. “But speaking of ill-conceived, the enemy’s crown jewel, this... Vortex, is not. Excuse for thinking that such power is your domain, or rather your guilds, is it not?” He finally broke eye contact with Voidus and looked at the hologram. “And yet, I see it in the hands of a random organisation, newly formed and already attacking the city with unprecedented levels of force. I can’t help but think this may be a security concern, or am I reading too far into it?”

Ian approved of the mission to gather cow brains for the zombie. He knew that success lied with not immediately assuming danger from the zombies. If they could understand, understand what the message meant, understand what the zombie was going through, together, they could catch the cause of this.

Ian was a bit of a fool for forgetting the original post as soon as he’d read it, but through some way or another, he’d realised that private communications between zombies and humans were just not possible. “Alright, well, I feel there is a lot of information to be gathered from the Zombie. As in, how does their role look like, how did thy become one, etc. and since currently it does not seem we will understand what they’re saying, I will use my actions to do so. My actions will be the following: “1. Spread berries and fruits among everyone here. “2. Try to learn how to communicate with the zombie “3. If #2 is successful, ask the zombie what it’s GM PM looks like and how it became a zombie. “It seems we have a lot of people finding food, water and shelter,” Ian said. “So I think using two of my actions to try and get info from the zombie will be a worthwhile investment. Especially if we want to understand that,” He gestured to the carving in the wood. WE CRAVE PEACE, NOT SUBJUGATION.

“Guys,” Ian said. “I have found one days’ worth of fruit and berries. I’m going to use my action to spread them around so we don’t starve.” He had also been given a sharpened stick, which he planned to use in the way anyone used a sharpened stick. “It’s interesting we now know who the zombie is,” Ian said. “But, in order for the game to be balanced, there would have to be more to it. Maybe there is a sort of “elim-kill” but it’s a public conversion, made in order to keep us distracted so we don’t catch the real perps. “Or maybe each zombie has a certain ‘countdown’ of cycles before they’re revealed, or they have conditions that if met will turn them into zombies. “Either way,” Ian said. “I suggest trying to communicate with the zombie, maybe that can provide us with useful info. Wait,” Ian turned to look at the GM, shattering the fourth wall. “Can we still PM Zombies?”

Lusk paused in what he was saying, looking between the DA members. A slight blur from the powerful ones, a quick glance between the not-so powerful ones, something was going on. And a life spent disciplining underlings told Lusk when something off was going on. He smiled, trying to practise his deduction skills. He hadn’t done that in a while. The darkness was Voidus’ anger? He looked at some of the DA members when it had grown dark, maybe he wanted to end them. Maybe they were a traitor? But then why would he hesitate? And then why would the darkness go away? So, he was conflicted about killing the DA people. Which either meant he wanted to kill them but knew he couldn’t, or he didn’t want to kill them but knew it needed to be done. Lusk knew there was very few things the DA couldn’t do, so it had to be the latter. But why would Voidus feel the need to kill some DA members? “If we could keep our destructive tendencies aside for a second,” he said, looking pointedly at Voidus. “It would really be appreciated.” @Voidus

“Oh, yes,” Brillin said, suddenly unnaturally worried. “I don’t want to break my neck, and books, yes they might be great, it’s... I’m so glad you agree..” he followed Attayl’s instructions, moving towards a nearby chair. “But I’m not drunk, you know,” he insisted. “Just a bit woozy, but I’m sober, promise.” Just then his vision became blurry and he stumbled forward, calling into another chair, but he pretended like that was what he had been aiming for the entire time.

“Hum, book, yes,” Brillin mumbled, looking blankly ahead, but when he saw Nerin was looking up at him he quickly straightened, still leaning heavily against the wall but trying to appear professional, hopefully she wouldn’t notice he was drunk. In fact, Brillin was half sure he wasn’t even that drunk, and that Nerin wouldn’t notice, though it was apparent he was actually very, very obviously, drunk. “Oh, yes, the book,” he said distractedly, still thinking over her question. “Err, I can relate? Books, I... I think in a, a long time maybe yes it will, right?” He mumbled the last part and looked at her inquisitively like he’d asked a question that had made perfect sense.

“You’re part of the Ghostbloods, right?” Alask asked, thinking. “Surely you’d have some connections, maybe someone with the right Investiture?”

“Agreed,” Ian said. “In fact, it might be in our best interests to split up tasks. I will use my actions to see if anything around us looks edible. I would suggest others make different actions, but all based around our survival. Maybe one of you can say you want to look for a good place to camp, or a food source, but either way, claim what you’re doing, so we don’t waste actions repeating things,” he said.

Alask nodded, looking to others who were inside with him, finally looking to the child, sleeping peacefully. Alask had had a stuffed animal like that too, except the little bear had a cookie in one hand. Maybe with all that had been happening a cookie wasn’t the way to comfort a child anymore. Shaking the nostalgic thoughts out of his head he responded to Lena. “It does sound like a real quest,” he said. “But, like you said, we might be too late to help people. So,” he thought about what she had said, that they could find someone who could mind control and then use them to work for them. “I think we’d have to use the other option, to get someone to help us, one way or another.” He looked through his files again. Yes, it had to be mind control. In Oasis, the main bad epic, who’d massacred people, he had mind control. And in the Seven Day War, there had been that whole speech thing about angering all of the abominations, mind control. So, it had to be that. But, the question still remained, on how they kept the Phoenix from doing more harm as it should. As Eve had said, it always came at a price. “But, if we keep the destruction limited to the building, I don’t think there will be too much of a loss.” Because, Lena didn’t care for lives. And when it came to the selfish guilds that had ruined the city, Alask certainly didn’t care for theirs either. And Eve, well, by her posters she and that friend of hers kept posting around the city it seemed she wouldn’t mind if some guild members were destroyed. The only person Alask could see against it would be Tels, the Ghostblood. But... Alask wold deal with that later. “If we just allow it to hit the PlasmaCore building, it would destroy all the problems PlasmaCore created, right?” That’s how it worked. Destroy the base, destroy the problem. “So, once it destroyed the building, we could summon it elsewhere? So it went in another direction?”

Brillin noticed the glass of liquid and bucket someone had put beside him but when he lifted the drink to his lips he was disappointed to have it be just water. Something had happened, something important. They had to do importwnt things, there was things to be done. But his mind was a thick and cloudy haze, and Brillin found it hard to think even slightly complex thoughts. His body seemed not to work the way he ordered it to, he tried to stand up but his legs gave way before him and he dropped to the ground. Not wanting to make a scene, he lurched upwards and stumbled to a wall, leaning against it and corss8ng his arms tightly around himself, eyes wide. There they were, Attayl, another man. He watched them, feeling a little sick, but not enough to throw up. Just another benefit of his heritage, he guessed, but the disdain that came with it vanished as his vision turned blurry again and his stance wobbled, grabbing onto the wall for more stability.

“I thought that as well,” Alask said, flipping to the last page of the document. “But it didn’t appear in the Great Game, and clearly that was important enough for the DA to step in, so it had to be something else. I also thought that it could be if a lot of people died at once, but then again with PlasmaCore and these bird things it’s clear that might have happened. So my conclusion is this: that it’s summoned by mind control.”

“Nope, I have zero hunger,” Ian said. “And I don’t have any items,” he said. Well, he had the shovel, but he didn’t know whether he could use for it for any actions, since the GM had said he didn’t have any items. Regardless, it meant the shovel with the zombie head impaled on it was purely for intimidation and character flavour. Figurative flavour, of course, not literal flavour, though Ian guessed that if a zombie bit into him, they’d find his flavour quite sweet...

Somewhere far far away, an old, peaceful mime gets a heart attack. Ahhhh! He signs to his fellow mimes, as he perishes. The terrible necro!

“Our scouts haven’t sent back anything regarding machinery,” Lusk said, noticing the edges of the room begin to grow dark. Probably the influx of powerful beings here. Lusk grimaced, he wouldn’t mind if this entire building got destroyed, including him, but he sure as storms wanted to finish his speech before it happened. “But they did come into contact with one of the scientists, and on his person were found letters of importance about what PlasmaCore was doing. He pressed some more buttons on the device and the hologram switched from a picture of the Vortex to a rendering of the two letters that had been photographed by Zokora. He turned to the man who’d let him in. “Yes, we’ve tracked the name to Lord Ajax, supposedly the leader of this whole Vortex scenario.” He narrowed his eyes at the man. “But now the Ghostbloods have revealed their information, what about TUBA?” And then the DA, he implied, but getting then to reveal what they knew would be a challenge he’d save for later. Hopefully they would understand why knowledge needed to be shared, but then again, it was the DA. He would be surprised if they even considered the Vortex a worthy issue to tackle.

Ian stepped forward, his hands right around his shovel, zombie head still impaled on its tip. He slammed the shaft of the shovel on the ground. It pushed into the ground soundlessly, but it did look dramatic. “Now doesn’t seem like the right time to lynch someone,” Ian said. “While it’s a time old debate whether to kill someone on the first day or not, I just think it might be more useful for us to focus our efforts on scavenging, and looking for food or water near the stream.” Speaking of the stream, there didn’t seem to be much noise of the wildlife, especially for being near to a source of water. Maybe the zombies had passed through the area recently.

“Sorry,” Alask said, shaking his head and trying to dismiss what animosity he felt towards the guilds. “It’s just that the guilds didn’t do a whole lot good around here,” and with Tels being apart of them, it meant he supported them, didn’t it? Supported the violence? Or was that a generalisation? One thing was for sure, Alask didn’t like the guilds, but as long as Tels himself didn’t do anything stupid, the hate didn’t have to extend to him. “What’s your plan?” Lena asked and Alask noticed the others looking at him as well. Just like when he’d been a thief, majority of a mission was planning, planning and organisation. And if they wanted to make a difference, it was time to start. “Well, Eve said there was nothing we could do,” Alask said, turning to look at everyone who was there. “Or nothing of impact anyway. But there is one thing we can do, and it’s that,” he nodded to the papers. It seemed that beyond providing information on how the DA had made an abomination, it had also given more information on the Phoenix than a normal person would get. Which meant he had found out things which seemed to make a pattern. And ten things about patterns, is that you could repeat them with the right tools. “Can anyone tell me the two major times the Phoenix has been seen in public?”

“I’m sure you do,” Lusk said, entering. Quickly he moved over to where it seemed people were congregated. He brought out his Ghostblood messaging device, and quickly entered a long and winding passcode. “Due to the recent incursion into PlasmaCore territory, the Ghostbloods have been able to recover information about PlasmaCore,” he said. The fact that he, a Ghostblood Council Member was willing to give up secrets spoke about the gravity of the situation. “If we really want to take PlasmaCore down, we need to be transparent, and starts with this images.” Laying the device flat on a table, it began to emit a sort of hologram, for the guild members to see. It was a holographic projection of the photograph Zokora had took of the Vortex. It lay, purple and pulsing, a field of energy that seemed to dwarf even the Space Marine in the picture near to it.

“Thank you for coming to this meeting,” Lusk said, as he emerged from a dark shadow created by the bright “DIDGERIDOO” sign above them. His frown deepened when he saw some of the most powerful beings in the universe hanging outside the restaurant. Quickly he messaged Zokora: You really outdid yourself, and he stepped into view. “The Ghostbloods have a a lot of information regarding PlasmaCore, the vortex, and what the hell they’ve been doing up there. We’d like to share it with the rest of the Allied Guilds - which, I presume, includes the DA?” @AonEne @Voidus @others at the location

“Okay,” Rob said, hopping out of the car and going towards the store. When he entered, a cashier greeted him but he remained walking, face neutral, to where e thought the condiments were being kept. He ended up looking at the confectionary section. Making sure to look at the signs for what each isle held this time, Rob looked again for the condiments. Condiments were easy, right? They weren’t too hard to find, right? He turned a corner and he was back at confectionary. What? Finally, despite his Stoneward ideals, he had to cave in and ask a person who worked there. “Condiments,” he simply said, and the employee pointed him to where he wanted to go. Finally, at last, he reached the condiments. Now, which ones to pick? Ketchup? Mayonnaise? Mustard?

Attayl left and Brillin was left wallowing in his own misery and drunkenness. He heard some sort of scuffle upstairs but he didn’t dare investigate further. Cowardly. But Attayl had tried to make it sound nice, that he knew when to pick his fights, when not to, that the “brave” just messed things up. Sinking further in his chair he remembered an experience back in the early days of his travels... <^> “Impossible!” Brillin exclaimed and the old man simply chortled. “How do you do it?” The old man smiled, moving the simple wooden pieces of the board game back to their starting positions. He’d won again, for the fourth time in a row. He was apparently the unbeaten champion of the board game in the little suburban community, knowing all the tricks and strategies. “I’m telling you,” the old man said, chuckling. “You’ve got to use the coinshot. Move it forward quick.” “But then you’ll just use your soother to exploit the gap!” The old man chuckled and shrugged. “Maybe I will. Maybe I won’t just to see your reaction. Rematch?” “You’re on.” The next game, Brillin lost again. But he got to know the old man’s tactics, how he advanced his Allomancers. The next game, Brillin lost again, but he managed to figure out how the old man used the Cadmium Allomancer for defence. Brillin had never considered the tactic before, using the Rioter and Pulser in tandem to make the Zinc last longer. Brillin nodded to himself, and on the next game he smiled and put up a challenge. To the old man’s surprise, Brillin hadn’t perished in the first 20 moves. He knew the counters, how using a Slider would make him vulnerable to to the Tineye, how the combination of a Coppercloud and Nicroburst disrupted his offence. The old man raised an eyebrow, and suddenly, the game became much more interesting. People began to crowd around Brillin and the old man, making bets on who would win. Lots of the support rested with the old man, however, as Brillin began using his knowledge of the old man’s techniques against him, the tides almost began to turn. Partly the game was fun competition, but Brillin knew that if he win, he’d get the people’s respect. Maybe another Koloss-blooded traveller after him wouldn’t be faced with the stereotypes he would. But those were just pipe dreams. At the last move of the game the man moved a single wooden piece to take Brillin’s last one, smiling. It had been a very close match. “Good game,” the old man said as the crowd clapped. “Care for a drink? On me. And don’t give me that “recovering alcoholic” excuse like you did last time, you deserve this for putting up such a fight!” People laughed and Brillin began packing the pieces up. It was approaching noon, and — “Yeah, of course he bloody lost, look at ‘im.” The crowd silenced somewhat as a young man with a red bandana pushed past them, approaching the front row and staring at Brillin. Brillin kept his head low, packing up the pieces. The old man looked to the youth. “Exc—” “Shut it, old man. Not exactly a rusting fair contest you have here, do ya?” He gestured to Brillin. “Going ‘gainst a rusting keg, no wonder.” Brillin sighed as more people looked to him, to see if he would do anything, but he wouldn’t. He wouldn’t risk affiliating with any gang-types, even it meant they could mock him. But diplomacy, maybe diplomacy would work. He finished packing up the pieces to the game and looked up to the youth. The teenager had skinny arms, maybe not used to fighting, but he had a long dagger strapped to his hip. “I was just playing a game,” Brillin said. “With this lovely old man, wouldn’t —” “Preservation’s wings, he even rusting sounds like us too!” The youth said in mock amazement. “Or tries to. Sorry mate, you still sound like rusting savage to me.” Brillin stood up and some people backed away, young man included. Brillin sighed. Of course they moved back. “I just want to sort this out normally, like how normal people do,” he said. The youth frowned, but nodded. Brillin continued. “We can talk about this. Hell, it’s not like every Koloss-blood is a monster.” “Yeah, but,” the youth stammered. “But you’re Koloss! You lot rusting ate people! Still do!” “Not all,” Brillin said and the youth seemed genuinely confused. Brillin scratched his forehead. Of course, no one was flat out against Koloss-bloods, it was just education. Of course, education, or maybe the lack of education, and caused people to believe crazy, unwarranted stories about Brillin, about where he came from. Brillin smiled. “Lots of us just eat... normal things.” “Huh,” The youth said, he’d eased down a bit. “But, you, you, you’re not a savage?” “Do I look like one?” The suit and trousers agreed with Brillin, and the crowd had calmed as well. Diplomacy. Brillin might not have won the board game, but he’d won another battle. He smiled. Maybe, when more people started learning the truths and unlearning the myths —” A fist slammed into the youth’s face, sending him flying to the ground in a splash of blood and a scream of agony. The crowd yelled, quickly dispersing, keeping there distance, but what was happening was in clear view. Brillin stepped back, eyes wide in shock. The old man quickly kept his distance as well. The youth cried in pain on the ground, and a hand grabbed him by the collar, picking him up effortlessly. The hand was a greyish blue colour. “Rusting savages, eh?” The large Koloss-blooded man said. His skin was almost exactly like Brillin’s, though it had more grey in it. The youth whispered something but his bloody teeth disagreed to share it. The Koloss-blooded man continued. “Well, how’s this for savage!” He yelled, spitting in the youth’s face and slamming him into the ground. Brillin could hear something crack and the youth whimpered. “Sir!” Brillin called out to the Koloss-blooded man but the man turned his head and looked Brillin straight in the eyes. “Don’t you tell me anything,” he said. “You’re just too rusting cowardly to actually do anything! These rusting hooligans think they can scare us?! Then let’s show them!” He kicked the youth in the ribs and the youth screamed. Brillin covered his mouth with his hands as another Koloss-blooded man came out of the alleys and began beating on the youth too. Together, the two men raged on the kid, tearing him apart, reducing him to a red stain on the side walk and walls, the screams bloodcurdling until they come to a sudden stop. Brillin looked to the old man but the old man looked back at him with terror. No! Brillin had tried to use diplomacy! Brillin had tried to do the right thing! But it didn’t matter. As Brillin fled that town, he was given all sorts of dirty looks. Because it didn’t matter what Brillin did, he was grouped together, everyone saw him as just another Koloss-blood savage. And no matter how hard he tried, no matter how hard he pushed the boulder up the hill, someone, always, rolled it back down. Just one violent action, that was all it took for people to reaffirm their beliefs, that Koloss-blooded were evil, that Brillin was evil! And as Brillin booked the ticket for the next train to take him out of that rusted town, he found himself ordering a large alcoholic drink on the side.

“Well, the letters say it grows bigger, right?” Wes looked at the Vortex. “How big was it originally?”

“Well, first we’d have to find him,” Alask said. He saw Lena peek at the notes, and he laid them flat on the table in case she wanted to get a further look. “And that means going back outside, which might not be the best idea considering all that’s been going on.” He looked to Tels. “You,” he said, pointing. “Are you part of the guilds?”

The man screamed and Wes covered his ears. “Uh, do you mind telling us what that was?” Wes asked.