Elandera

Great game everyone! A huge shout out to @Devotary of Spontaneity. She deserves all the praise for keeping this game running and for all of her fantastic write-ups. Thanks to all of the players who put in so much time and effort into creating yet another fantastic anniversary game. We hope you enjoyed it. Now on to more official things. As we considered some of the major things that happened in this game, the mods agreed there was one thing in particular that needed to be addressed. Going inactive on purpose for the intention of proving your alignment and/or inability to submit an action is not okay. Activity and participation should always be encouraged. Making anyone feel like they must not engage with the game in order to prove something takes away the enjoyment of the game for many. While this does not explicitly go against any of the rules listed in the SE rules, we would like to officially frown upon this kind of plan. In the same vein of thought, there was also a large discussion over the use of screenshots of people's activity. This is a more gray area, as activity tracking has a long history within SE. It is, however, incredibly flawed, as proven by Toucan's ability to submit an action and still appear to have not logged in. As this knowledge is already public, we don't feel it necessary to restrict this behavior. Instead, we urge caution to use it wisely and with consideration to the flaws within the system.

Thanks to everyone for making a great game. I will get to some thoughts later, but first, a re-announcement. As a reminder, we are looking for more players to join our team of mods! If you are interested in helping keep SE running smoothly, please message one of the current mods to let us know of your interest.

Attention players Please during rollovers, refrain from discussing the game with other players, even if you think they may be dead. Remember that this is a blackout and unknown shenanigans are at play behind the scenes.

No more voting! We'll be posting the aftermath shortly. Please complete your Anon Account log PM if you wish, then log out to begin using your main accounts!

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If you're Known now, we can't keep calling you TUN. What about TKN? Tekken.

Hello potential players! I would also like to chime in really quickly about this game. While it is guaranteed to be entertaining, the blackout, flipless nature has the potential to be very frustrating. Please consider if you will have time and energy to handle it before signing up.

This turn is over! Standby as the sun sets!

Day Seven: Theft and Death Another night, another chance to follow the person Sidor deemed most likely to be attacked by the rogue Coinshot. One of them anyway, for she’d heard reports that Oleinda knew a second, as yet less murderous Coinshot. Tonight, Linaan’s target was Scop. Name: Scop, Age: 4 or 6 or 5 or 8 or maybe 7, as it was his birthday today. Parents killed by Spiked, lives alone. Spiked threat level: High, which was why Linaan was out in the middle of the night watching him celebrate his birthday by drinking from his 8x8x7 triangular stacks of beer tall enough to obscure him from vision and singing along to Happy Birthday with his mom. She knew this last part because Ruin sang the final line in her head as well. Just as that last ‘you’ was echoing in Linaan and Scop’s heads, the Coinshot arrived, right on schedule. Her keen feline ears heard the soft ‘plink’, ‘plink’ of clips on stone and craned her head up to the mist-covered sky just in time to see the first wave of coins smash into the shorter seven stack of beer behind Scop, which suddenly accelerated, far more than they should have from just the impact of the coins. All 100 bottles were similarly pulled to Scop’s tiny body, forming an unassailable mass of metal. “Such a talented boy,” Ruin said, the closest to sorrowful Linaan had ever heard him. “Almost a shame to lose him.” Then to Scop, “Go on, son. One last time. Make mommy proud.” Scop began cackling, interspersed with hiccups as he drained one iron-infused bottle after another. Time to play, Swanny *hic* swan! I’ll closhe my eyes and count to one one hundwed bottles and sthen I’ll find you. You too, kitty kat! He drank the last few bottles, heedless of the coins futilely smashing into the barrier jiggling around him as he struggled to stand. “Nineshty nine *hic* bottles of-“ he was cut off as Linaan, finally in range of someone she knew was Spiked, wiggled from side to side and lunged into the barrier, claws fully extended. She effortlessly shredded the thin metal sides of the bottles, but was pulled off-balance by their wobbling orbit and her claws were denied the sweet taste of flesh. “Bad girl! I know how much you want to slowly rip him to pieces and watch the steady drip, drip, drip of blood as his life pours out onto the ground, but this is his turn to play.” Scop began screaming at the top of his lungs before Ruin finished speaking, running towards the center of town as fast as his tiny legs could carry him. He stumbled twice, tripped, and fell, but that didn’t impede his progress. He rolled onto his back, all one hundred bottles piling up as he pulled them into himself, the force propelling him forward. “I’ll show you!!!” he shrieked to an audience of Ruin, Linaan, the Coinshot, and a growing number of villagers. “I’ll show all of you!!! I’m the greatshest *hic* Lursher there ever was!!!” The Coinshot hovering overhead quickly descended to the ground and blended in with the gathering crowd as Scop began arranging the empty bottles into a makeshift pyre. “I’m nine yearsh old today *hic* the terror of Tyrian and mommy’s speshiallest little boy and I *hic* am *hic* never *hic* gonna *hic* die *hic* !!!” A lit torch was ripped out of Onidsen’s hands and rocketed towards the pyre. When the flames hit the copious amounts of alcohol that had spilled out from Scop’s mouth all over his clothes and the bottles and the ground, there was a massive explosion that lit up the night. With a desperate yowl, Linaan threw herself in front of the crowd just in time to protect them from the hail of shrapnel that would have shredded them. The only recognizable part of Scop in the aftermath of the detonation was a single, badly mangled spike. ~~~ “Are you sure?” Oleinda asked, sitting up straight. Her house was warm, the fire in the hearth helping chase away the chill seeping in from the doorway where Afandor stood. Afandor’s boots thumped hollowly on her wooden floor as he stepped inside. The door clicked closed behind him. “As sure as I can be.” A surge of hope filled her chest. They were so close. Three Spiked had been found. Surely there couldn’t be many more. Surely their plans and schemes were breaking down. Oleinda stood, her chair scraping across the wooden floor, nearly falling over in her haste. “What did you find?” “Guy was the key. He got away with a lot because no one thought he was worth watching. But a few people all had the same stories.” Afandor walked to her, pulling her into her chair once again. “We need to take our time on this one. If we fail..." He didn’t need to say what they were both thinking. Someone might die if they took too long, but certainly more would die if they acted rashly. “What were the stories?” “He’s always had a pattern. Did the same things every day for years. Until just after the attacks last year. Those who noticed the change attributed it to trauma. Or stupidity.” He cursed his frustrations. “Anyway. A few months ago, people started seeing him at the bookshop. The one with their own press.” “What for?” “No one was sure. They thought he was lost, or maybe just liked the smells?” “Bookstores do smell wonderful,” Oleinda admitted. “I had a different theory. A lot of the metal they use in presses will make pewter. With the metal shortages, I thought Guy was trying to find a way to steal some of their lettering.” The chair creaked, signaling that Afandor had leaned closer. He was excited. That was clear enough in his voice. “I talked to the owner. He said they have had more letters go missing than normal, but he thought it was the apprentice losing them.” “How does this help, though? Guy was the Lurcher, so they won’t need pewter anymore.” “Unless they have another, but that’s not what I found. The shop owner has been keeping secrets. There were signs on the floor of a shelf being moved to the side frequently. I think the spiked are after whatever is behind that shelf.” Oleinda hummed as she considered the situation. It would certainly make sense for someone as understated as Guy to have been used to inspect the bookshop, to find cracks in their security. But if he never found one, how would they? “What if they already got what they wanted?” “There might be some clue, and I can’t just ask. People are suspicious enough with me going around asking questions.” “You have a plan, I take it?” “Of course.” ~~~ Oleinda listened from the rooftop of the bookshop. Afandor had set them down quietly on the wooden shingles, even using a cloth-wrapped coin to dull the sound of its impact. She heard nothing but the normal sounds of Tyrian Falls at night. Nothing came from the building below or the nearby streets. “It’s safe,” she whispered. Afandor seized her waist again and Pushed them from the rooftop to land on the cobbles below. Something clicked on the door. Afandor took her hand and pulled her inside the building. The scent of books welcomed her like a warm hug. She had little use for books, but the smell always reminded her of her mother. She would spend nights reading stories to her from her favorite collections, often borrowed from the noble homes where she worked. “This way,” Afandor said, voice still hushed, as he pulled her farther into the building. Then he stopped. “Here. Are you smoking us?” “Yes.” “Good.” After a moment’s pause, he grunted. “I think the shop owner is hiding more than just a room. There’s a coinshot mechanism behind the shelf.” Something in the wall clicked, then wood scraped against wood. It was quiet, though. Dulled slightly by some kind of cloth. Afandor released a low whistle. “He’s definitely hiding a lot more than just a room.” “What is it?” “Someone here is a—” Something exploded behind them, spraying splintered wood and metal across the room. Oleinda cried out as several pieces bit into her skin. Afandor pushed her to the side and she stumbled, falling onto the hard floor. Wood pierced her palms just as shouts rang through the small shop. “Stop!” Afandor shouted. Footsteps thundered across the floor, even more on the cobbled ground outside. Then all went still. Oleinda was alone. ~~~ Afandor Pushed off the scattered metal from the bookstore’s door, chasing after the hooded figure. He hadn’t gotten a good look at the person’s face, but he had recognized the surprise. Whoever has broken through that door had not expected to find someone inside. He had been right, after all. Guy had been killed, so their careful plans to surreptitiously steal the shop owner’s stache of metals had failed. Brute force was next. Guilt twisted at him yet again. He’d left Oleinda behind, but she could make her way home. If not, she understood that stopping the Spiked was more important. The person ahead turned a corner, disappearing into the mist for the briefest moment. Afandor dropped a coin as he ran and pushed, reaching the rooftops just in time to see his quarry pull themselves onto the adjacent building. Pushing himself again, he lept forward. But the shadowed person was fast. Faster than would have been possible for anyone not using allomancy. Soon, Afandor fell behind. His anchors failed and he fell beneath two buildings. Cursing, he dropped a coin and launched himself back up. The spiked was nowhere to be found. Concealed by the night and the mists. Cursing himself again, he pushed forward. Oleinda would have been able to still follow. Her hearing rivaled a tineye’s. Leaping from building to building, he watched those thin blue lines sprouting for his chest, trying to spot any sign of movement. Any sign of the spiked. He held little hope. There hadn’t been any lines leading to the shadowed figure earlier. Just as he was about to give up and turn back for Oleinda, a shout echoed through the streets. ~~~ Aylia sat on the roof once again, writing out her message. Her warning. She couldn’t be too obvious. They’d find her if they knew. But she couldn’t stop. Not when she could give some warning. After all, a tineye saw and heard much in the world that no one else could. The faint stars above helped give her enough light to write, along with the tin burning inside. She’d finally found the perfect nib. The perfect pen to share her warnings with Tyrian Falls. Something thumped onto the roof behind, startling her enough to make her cry out. Ink splattered across the parchment and she dropped her pen. The sound was almost deafening as it rolled down the slanted roof and hit the stones below. But she was not concerned for her pen, no matter how perfect it was. It wasn't often that someone could sneak up so effectively while she burned tin. In fact, this was the first. That meant danger. There was a figure cloaked in shadow looming behind her. Even her tin could not pierce the darkness which surrounded it. Aylia launched to her feet, the wood grain rough against her skin as she scrambled away. The shadow pursued. She nearly made it to the edge where she could jump to her balcony when something pierced her side. Turning, she found a knife sticking out of her back, dark blood staining her clothes. Amethyst Scorpion was killed by a Coinshot! They were a Spiked Lurcher Charcoal Hyena was killed by the Spiked! They were a Village Tineye Day Seven has begun! This turn will end Monday, January 16 at6:00 PM PST / Saturday January 14 at 2 a.m. GMT / 1 p.m. AEDT PMs are CLOSED Player List: Tineye Messages:

That's the end of this turn!

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Day Five: The Survivor's Hat Trick Linaan had announced her presence to the entire village by bringing Agolac forward for judgment, but the man had been spared by the sudden rush onto Obli-gator. She would need to keep an eye on him again tonight while also checking in with Sidor’s agents. She couldn’t afford to lose sight of either, which meant it was time to split herself up. Separating herself into two bodies was always a difficult process. First, she had to make serious compromises on mass. Her preferred forms possessed her upper limit of mass, so siphoning enough weight off to form a second functional body was uncomfortable and left little room for preferred features such as a tail. This could be alleviated with small forms such as regular cats, but tonight she would need one body capable of intervening should Agolac have another encounter with the Coinshot and a second body capable of quickly conveying information to someone without Sidor’s familiarity with nonverbal communication. The body heading for Flamingo sorely missed the thirty kilos devoted to the latter task. The second problem was that her Blessing of Awareness that let her fully utilize her animal senses was designed to function as a pair, and possessed greatly diminished effects with the spikes divided between her two bodies. The world felt deadened and dull, as if her bodies had been wrapped in a layer of insulation. Third, unlike Sidor and Sidor’, she only had one mind to process all the data her two bodies were receiving as they ran to their respective appointments. Centuries of practice made the task of understanding two distinct sensory inputs manageable, but still disorienting, especially at night. Impressive trick, daughter. Are you sure you don’t wish to join me? Communicating with Sidor’s agent turned out to be easy. Her status as a Kandra had been revealed, so the agent was willing to accept that she was Linaan in her current appearance as a bone-thin frail old woman. The actual communication was disappointing in comparison. Little progress had been made in tracking down the remaining Spiked. “They’re far too well-prepared for you to find without my help.” Obli-gator couldn’t have been working alone, but his surviving companions wouldn’t be found by the same method. Receiving one final urging to track down Agolac, Linaan fled the conversation to reunite with her other body, letting the agent know she wanted to meet Sidor in person tomorrow. ~~~ Linaan found Agolac once more wandering the mists, a confused expression on his face. “Why did I come out here again,” she heard him say. “I must have forgotten to head home.” By splitting herself up, Linaan had managed to beat the Coinshot here, but within minutes they appeared out of the mists, soaring towards Agolac whose face suddenly brightened. “Of course! I remember. I was heading to pick up my stash of boxings and leave this village!” He made a sharp reversal just as a shower of coins slammed into the ground where he’d been standing. This wouldn’t do. Sidor’s report given to her other body conveyed the urgency of confirming Agolac’s allegiances one way or another. Ignoring visions of different mist-filled paths being moved through rapidly, Linaan went to intercept him. “Perhaps you require a demonstration of the costs of refusal.” The Coinshot’s trajectory, which had been heading directly for Agolac, suddenly turned towards her, as did the coins that had been heading for his back. Surprised, she wasn’t quick enough to avoid them entirely and her body was quickly riddled with holes. Hardly fatal, but the shock and feedback wave of pain between her two bodies distracted her long enough that neither of her noticed where Agolac disappeared to. The Coinshot, needing to quickly recalibrate their flight path, seemed similarly confused, and Linaan made her escape before they decided that she was an enemy. ~~~ There was no time to rest. Sure, a Spiked had been found and confirmed, but it was only the beginning of Oleinda’s work. As soon as the obligator had been executed, she and Afandor had retreated to her home to start puzzling together the connections. He’d soon left to acquire some of the obligator’s documents. Oleinda trusted Sidor and her crew about as far as they could be thrown. After all, anyone could be spiked. There was an answer somewhere in what Afandor had found. There had to be. Someone had to be connected. Oleinda sorted through those times she’d encountered the obligator, replaying what he’d said and who had been with him. The room filled with the subtle chorus of clinking metal plates and the soft scratch of an engraving pen as Afandor searched the obligator’s files. Not everything filed away had been written on paper. What had been, though, couldn’t be trusted. Not unless they could somehow out-think the god directing the Spiked. “I found something,” Afandor said as he slid a sheet of metal across the wood table, pulling it closer to himself. “This account doesn’t make sense.” “Whose?” “It’s not clear. But it doesn’t add up. Someone was getting way more metal than they were paying for. No one would have accepted those prices. It’s clearly fabricated.” Oleinda listened as Afandor relayed the details, while trying to connect it to anything she’d overheard in town. “And there’s this note,” he continued, “written in the margins. Something about maneuvering the pieces by providing incentive.” Then it clicked. “We need to go,” she said, pushing away from the table. “Take me to town board. Everything goes back to that.” “What did you remember?” “The owner of that account is definitely spiked. And I know how to find them.” ~~~ When Oleinda’s feet hit solid ground again, the night was strong and the mists were thick enough to dampen the sounds of the sleeping town. And any sounds of those lurking in the night. Afandor remained tense as Oleina listened. Much of the activity at night centered around this board. “Tell me what the messages say.” “Something about taking the next step. A poem. A few things that look like gibberish. And an advertisement for work. There’s one buried here. Looks new, though. Evening scribe work in a factory, it looks like. Says to inquire with the shift supervisor.” “That’s the one. Does it give an address?” “Yes.” “Let’s go ask, then. I’ve always wanted to try scribing.” Afandor laughed as he stepped close and launched them into the air. ~~~ The wind played tricks with her hearing, trying to drown out the other sounds in the night. But she still listened. Listened for anything off. “There’s someone else out here,” Afandor whispered. Then he changed their direction mid-air, cursing Oleinda’s stomach to lurch. Within seconds, he had set her down on a rough wooden roof pulled her into a crouch. Oleinda listened. It was there. The rhythmic puff of someone’s anxious breathing. The thump of boots on stone, pacing in front of the factory door. There didn’t seem to be any work actually going on inside, considering the lack of machine noise coming from inside. Another, more confident set of footsteps joined the chorus from down the street, growing louder. “Who’s there?” the person at the factory door called. She knew the voice. It was Onidsen. “I’m here about the scribing job.” “Good,” replied the other, still striding towards Onidsen. Something was wrong. Their voice was distorted. Obscured. She had no way of telling who it was. She was right. That was a Spiked. “Save him,” she whispered, hoping the spiked wasn’t burning tin. She kept her own copper burning strong. Afandor disappeared just as she heard the flick of a knife being removed from a leather sheath. It whistled through the air. She braced herself for the sound of it sinking into flesh, but it clattered against stone. Shouts filled the night, but she stayed crouched on the roof. She listened to the fight, metal clashing, grunts and yells. And then it fell silent. Oleinda held her breath, hoping Afandor was okay. Then something thunked onto the wood beside her, followed by Afandor’s relieved sigh. “He’s alive, but the Spiked got away.” “That’s something, at least,” she said, rising to her feet. “Let’s hope no one else lost their life tonight.” Onyx Flamingo was attacked by a Coinshot, but survived! Coral Swan was attacked by the Spiked, but survived! Day Five has begun! This turn will end Tuesday, January 10, at 6:00 PM PST / Sunday January 8 at 2 a.m. GMT / 1 p.m. AEDT PMs are Open Player List: Tineye messages:

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Everyone please welcome Charcoal Hyena 2.0!

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That's the turn!

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I feel like Devotary will have something to say about this. I mean. I have something to say about this. Devo has done way more work.

No. ... Fine. I'll add that in now.

Night Three: Too Dumb to Die “None of you were attacked on the way back?” Sidor questioned three of her assembled agents. “No, ma’am! I saw no Spiked while I was traveling with Linaan or after our paths diverged. The other two met nobody either, and reports show that no Spiked were prepared to ambush them on their verbally indicated path.” “Evidence that Ruin cannot hear us even in the vicinity of a Spiked, but not sufficient proof,” Sidor mused. “Did my Lin have a message for me?” The agent frowned. “She mentioned a dog... tar? Doctor? She said that you would know what that meant. Uh, she said that she misses you and can’t wait to meet you by the river when it’s safe.” Sidor scoffed. “Ridiculous. Let her know that I’m not afraid of her nor do I fear any number of Spiked who would dare assail us during the day.” The agent bowed and all three left. “Dogtaur?” Sidor mused as she headed into her study, leaving her new wagon behind as she walked towards the hidden trap door. “I suppose she has been in her cat form long enough to want a change, but why can’t she get these bones for herself? ‘Drop them off by the reservoir and I’ll pick them up later,’ no, I’ll wait there and she will give me an explanation for why she’s been avoiding me.” [She knows I can protect myself.] The subterranean room underneath her study was sparse, with four earthen walls, a bare stone floor and closets built into each wall. She opened the largest one. Since dogtaur was one of Linaan’s favorite alternative forms, the skeleton was already assembled. It was a pony base, most of those bones coming from a two month old foal supplemented with a few adult bones to increase running ability. This was necessary since Linaan’s mass was too low for an adult pony. The upper half of the skeleton had a roughly human torso to allow for the use of arms, Linaan’s favorite human feature for their ability to manipulate objects. The head was canine, modified slightly to fit with the neck and shoulders. With this array, Linaan could track down anyone she wanted, outrun any Spiked, and use weapons or carve messages. After placing all the bones in the wagon, it was time for the hair and fur. Linaan couldn’t place all her own hairs for this form without assistance, and even with her help it still took far longer than any other step of the process, but the dog and horse sections were deeply unsightly without covering so bringing hair was worthwhile. After Sidor brought the necessary hair from a second closet into the wagon and covered it, she paused and went back down and opened a third closet. This one contained the bones of individual humans for Linaan to impersonate specific individuals. They were labeled by name, that couldn’t be trusted since the words weren’t etched in metal, a serious oversight that would need to be corrected. She looked at the skeleton labeled ‘Ferac’. Was that him? It looked fresher than some of the other skeletons and it was about the right height. She couldn’t be sure though since she hadn’t cared to see his bones before. [I still don’t care.] In a way, she was glad she couldn’t tell. She could think of no better fate for Ferac than for him to be forgotten. He cared only to inflict his will upon the world while she had built one that could function without her. She could trust the villagers to find the Spiked, her agents to investigate Guy for taking allomantically viable metals from the village’s stockpile despite not being a known allomancer, and she would trust Linaan or force her to prove she couldn’t be. ~~~ Guy stood in front of an angry crowd. “Wot mean steal?” “Give it up, Guy! We all know you’ve been taking metal from the stockpile. What have you been using it for?” “Metal no for. Metal go yum.” Saying so, he pulled out three vials of pewter and shoved them into his mouth. Crunch. Crunch. Crunch. “Shell no so good.” Even those calling loudest for Guy’s death were taken aback. “Too stupid to be a Spiked,” one whispered. “He could be faking it,” another replied. “If he’s a Thug, that won’t harm him.” “We’ll monitor his health before passing judgment,” a third declared, and so Guy was given a stay of execution. Opal Lion was executed, but survived! Vote Count: Opal Lion (8): Fuchsia Ostrich, Plum Rhinoceros, Salmon Meerkat, Mauve Crocodile, Pearl Chameleon, Charcoal Hyena, Indigo Weasel, Azure Mouse Pearl Chameleon (3): Sapphire Elephant, Amethyst Scorpion, Onyx Flamingo, Sunburst Toucan Onyx Flamingo (2): Coral Swan, Emerald Falcon Night Three has begun! This turn will end Thursday, January 5 at 6:00 PM PST / Thursday January 5 at 2 a.m. GMT / 1 p.m. AEDT. PMs are Open Player List:

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Everyone welcome Magenta Albatross 2.0!

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