Silva

Mudkip then realized that he really didn't want to evolve. He wanted to stay a mudkip because mudkips are really cute.

"They'll be okay," she said, hoping it was true. "The guilds will do their best to save everyone." Their best wouldn't be enough though. The frying pan creatures could probably kill faster than they could evacuate. Eve took a seat next to the kid. "Do you want me to try and find you something else to eat?"

Eve picked one up cautiously. The page was filled with text with every blank space used. She knew a little about the Phoenix from dipping into the history of Alleycity on occassion, but this was more than anything she could ever have imagined existing. Outside of the DA's labratories that is. The door creaked open. She looked up to find Lena holding a child. The woman's face was desperate. Eve turned away, moving her eyes to the papers once more. She listened to Alask and Lena talk quickly. The kid sat down at the table and began to eat. Lena brought him a glass of water before giving Alask some instructions. The boy looked at her curiously and she gave him a reassuring smile back. Eve put down the papers. They could wait. She walked over to the kid. "You okay?" she asked him gently. He looked fine, physically, but emotionally? She knew firsthand what seeing destruction and horrific things could do to a child. @Sorana

He quickly looked away from her and called Deteca. Eiran really hoped she'd answer. Otherwise he'd be stuck there with the DA denizens waiting for her to call back for however long it took. Eiran shifted his weight uncomfortably as he waited. The way the woman kept changing her composure unnerved him more than the smile from before. @AonEne

No one higher up had given her any strange looks for being there so far either. Freedom stayed by the others. “How will the other people get up? Will they all have to climb?” asked the one who'd been injured. Given there was no obvious way up besides the shaft, the answer was likely "yes". Not a great idea strategically. Choke-points could be cut off pretty easily. Not your place to question, she told herself, though she did look around for a flight of stairs. @Sorana @Ark's Boyfriend @I think I am here.

But they didn't speak the same language as Butt and were forced to pantomime what they wanted him to do.

The change in feeling was apparent on his face and reached down to the way he held himself. Whatever he'd pulled out was important, that was a given. Eve replaced the throwing star to an external pocket of her boot and stood up from the armrest she'd been perched on. She moved over to the desk, letting her eyes focus on the title of the first page. Phoenix. "You have got to be kidding me..." she said softly. Eve didn't move any of the papers. A combination of fear and awe had rooted her in her place. "How do you have these in your possession?"

The breadmunk and the breadmonk stopped fighting once they noticed Butt eating their precious "cheese". They decided to work together to steal it.

Unfortunately, Butt had forgotten to stock up on real cheese. He only had cheese scented perfume. I honestly don't know.

The breadmunk followed, waving his sword high above his head. He's upset about the split because he believes it won't help TLT in the long run.

He jumped out of the way and started running as fast as he could towards Butt's sandwich shop.

Stick... TLT will miss you.

The breadmonk was confused. He didn't recall killing anyone's father. "I think that was my evil identical twin, Brod Meank."

A breadmonk made its way out a hiding. It noticed the sandwich shop and scurried towards it before being stopped by a breadmunk.

Report the top post and under description of the issue write that it was posted in the wrong section. And ask for it to be moved.

TLT was a place of entrance for new members. Having a plot has changed that. How many members have you seen participating lately besides yourselves? Rather, how many new members who weren't around before the plot began? When Xino or any other "main" narrators go missing, the plot halts. The thread stops growing. Is that really healthy for TLT? I understand the sentiment of emotional attachment to characters. But, before this all started up, TLT had Butt, it had the ghanderflaffles, it had the breadmunks, it had characters and it worked. Characters can't be a reason to necessitate plot. What is plot but a story? The original goal for TLT was to become the longest thread. Here's the first post of it, a testament to that goal. My opinion on this matter is based on that goal. To be the longest thread. I'm nowhere near as invested in TLT as I used to be, but I still care for it. So...please, remember the reasoning behind it's existence in the first place and make the decision that will be best for TLT.

The Nightwatcher send you to a place called Antarctica. She doesn't give you a way to get home though or any clothing for the cold. I wish to recieve no wish.

*applauds Luna's discovery* *wins temporarily while she's there*

YKYASFW the other day you see a truck that says "Leeds" on it and days later you still remember it.

She was looking at him. And smiling. It was terrifying. After this was over, he'd never complain about paperwork again. At least, not for a little bit. He swallowed heavily, trying to calm his nerves. "Fine," Eiran said. His voice was trembling. "I'll give her a call. If she says it's okay to bring you over, I will. Otherwise, I cannot." One hand slipped into his pocket to take out his phone. --- People liked to try and kill her, Freedom realized. First Crow, then the Waiter, and now this guy. His attention was off her for the moment, but she'd been the first he'd gone after. She put on the earpiece a Ghostblood had thrown her. Apparently the gamble had paid off, however temporarily. “What’s his weakness? What’s his weakness?!” one of the group yelled. He was trying to attack a lackey. Well...the lackey had tried to bring the creature more stormlight. The acid droplet guy had hijacked it instead. Meaning... "He needs stormlight to keep going indefinitely!" she called back to him, pulling him away from the lackey as a bomb around the lackey's neck exploded. "Don't let him get more and then maybe he'll get weakened!" She let the blast of it hit her at an older age. Burns were pretty healable, she'd been taught, so long as they weren't exposed to rough elements for too long. Once the worst of it dispersed, Freedom let herself return to the appearance of before. All signs of injury from being near an explosion were gone. It still amazed her at how that worked. @Darth Woodrack @I think I am here.

"Uh..." Eiran said. He frantically tried to check the future for danger coming his way. There was none. That meant that he could say pretty much anything and not get skewered. An unpleasant vision then appeared. Well, not anything. He cleared his throat. "Whatever you want to say to them, you can say to me and I'll pass on the message." The fact they didn't know where Deteca was was a welcome surprise. For years they'd always assumed the DA knew everything about them. It was nice to know that wasn't the case. His heart rate sped up even more. @Voidus @ZincAboutIt

Okey. Thank you, Ark, for creating this thread. There has been a feeling of maybe one too many OP beings without a good weaknesses (e.g. the Haunt, the Tattered One, Lord Ajax probably in the future). All of them are interesting and fun to interact with, but after a while it's a little difficult to advance a plot when at every corner there's a thing that can kill your character easily unless they're OP as well. Unlike Clyde, I don't think there's a lack of death. Death isn't something that requires a certain quantity. If it happens, it happens. It shouldn't be a necessary determinant of a good plot. Maxwell's death was pathetic. No real offense meant to either party involved, but really? The Tattered One stabs him without much, actually, no difficulty. That's not a worthwhile death. A lot of us care about our characters and deaths like that feel belittling. I understand that Clyde was fine with it in this case, but it wouldn't work for many others. As well, it's really easy to fall behind. That's not something that can be fixed, nor is it solely the fault of this plot. It just stems from us all living in different timezones and also living lives - despite our attempts to deny that on many occassion I'm not a BoV member. I'm literally the polar opposite. Pro-citizen rights and anti-Hemalurgy. This plot has been, well, painful in some ways. Citizens turning on one another because of the bloodlust. Frying pan people appearing everywhere and killing them too. It hasn't been fun, to say the least. Especially as, as was previously stated, non-OP characters have real problems in a world like that. Finally, I don't really have anyother remarks at the moment. Likely that will change as things progress in Taste of Death, but for now at leave it at this. This plot is helping with character development to create more broken hating characters. Something we really don't need. Heh, yeah...

Eve swallowed. Two more gone. So just...her, Warden, and Alask. She’d seen Alask share a look at Lena. There was something more to her story. A reason that justified her actions. But Galvris? She saw how he was torn. Imagine that. A ridiculously powerful Invested man...feeling TORN. Maybe they weren’t all the same. Either way, he was going too. To help the city he claimed. Eve turned the throwing star over in her left hand. “After this, they’re going to need help again,” she said, speaking of the people, ignoring Alask’s question. “The guilds will try, but they won’t listen this time. Even opening the tunnels isn’t enough of an act of trust.” Eve looked down. The next bit was going to be hard for her to say. A final admission of defeat. “We need to be alive for that. For after. We can’t fight this. We lack the brute force. The guilds got into this mess, now it’s their responsibility to clean it up. Without them…” she choked on her words. “We’ve got no way out. That I can think of.” The emotional strain was written all over her face. “It’s not right or fair. But nothing is.” She sighed, hair falling into her face, covering eyes that were near tears. “I hate it. Down to my core. I feel like there has to be an alternative path. Yet...there isn’t. There is no way to be equal. No way to say the un-Invested are worth just as much.” Eve’s hand stilled, throwing star left between her index and middle fingers. She looked up from the throwing star in her hand, still avoiding Alask's question. “I was there,” she said, continuing to speak. “I went to PlasmaCore’s attempt to collect money from the guilds. To see if they might be a threat. “It was showy. Too showy. Before any guild even had a chance to give funding,” she looked to Alask. “They can’t be alone. Someone is supporting them from behind the scenes. No one we know of. But the guilds won’t think about that. They’ll relish a victory if it comes and keep fighting with brute force if it doesn’t. And once it comes, they’re going to have problems again. Even this gesture of opening tunnels won’t satisfy the people of Alleycity. “But no one else is thinking ahead to that day. They’re too busy with the present. A present situation with which we have no way to assist. The after effects, though, that we can help with." Her eyes moved back to the throwing star. “If I had somewhere to be, do you think I’d be here?” she asked, finally responding to his question. “Do you think I’d show up on your doorstep, overexerted and dehydrated, and pass out?”

The Ghanderwafflle was superior in many ways.

On screens displaying the ground above she saw the shield flicker. She hadn't promised Pry anything. But she'd promised herself. The next time there was a chance to help she'd take it. Freedom glanced one last time at Pry before sprinting off. As she ran, she let herself store away into the atium. Lusk was right. People let adults who look an age do stuff of that age. Except in this case it wasn't getting a drink at a bar she was trying to do, but get inside a flickering forcefield. But the idea was the similar enough. No one glanced twice at her as she made her way to the nearest tunnel exit. Someone tossed her an aluminum lined headband to prevent the bloodlust from affecting her thoughs, but that was it. Age really was all there was to getting stuff done. She made her way through the assembled people by the front of the PlasmaCore building. Again, no one stopped her. The brand on her forehead didn't tip anyone off that she was really the fourth eldest Acute and not grown up. The shield flickered for a moment, giving her just enough time to enter. It was only when she was on the other side did she begin to doubt herself. If there was blood... Freedom shook away those thoughts. She could stop it. She'd done it. At the bar. It was possible and she would do it. Hopefully. The building was coated in Aons on every entrance, windows included. While she wasn't all that knowledgeable in Investiture beyond Allomancy and Feruchemy, she did know that meant there was no entering from there. She made her way over to the group huddled by the front door. But as she approached cautiously, a thing walked over to them shouting, "INTERLOPERS! PREPARE TO FEEL THE POWER OF MY MISTRESS, DEATH!" Rusts. She looked around. There wasn't anywhere really nearby to hide. Fine. Letting her age shift to just a few years older than normal, she darted over to the group. She'd overheard talk of a GB infiltration team and had a feeling this was them. The poor lighting from the rising sun obscured by fog would most likely disguise the brand on her forehead and make the shadows of it appear darker. At the moment they were her best hope for survival. And worst case there was the idea that had gotten into her head after talking with Lusk. It hopefully wouldn't need to be used, but it helped to have a back up plan. Worst case. "Don't freak out," she said softly. "Especially not while one of you is holding dynamite, but you might want to pause from the door for a moment and focus on the thing coming to kill you. Don't mind my sudden appearance." She paused. That wouldn't make them not worry about her. "I'm a friend of Lusk Uwik," she said quickly. It wasn't quite true. She'd met him in a bar once, argued with him, then passed out at the sight of blood. Friend was a little bit of a stretch. Acquaintance might have been a better word. The worst case they checked with Lusk and @Clyde Froggins @Sorana @whoever else is in that group