Ookla-son-son-Ventyl

what is even happening? Striker

Shimamura Hougetsu had still not become used to Adachi—No, Sakura’s absence. It’d been three years since she’d departed for the American Isles to undergo Rithmatic training at one of their prestigious academies. Three years Hougetsu had spent by her lonesome, with the only traces of her spirited lover being the trinkets they’d gathered from years spent together and the young girl they had adopted two years before she’d left. The large home they’d worked so hard to come by felt empty. Hougetsu’s footsteps and humming echoed off its walls and corners. She kept the small garden out front ornately manicured, hiding the ugly interior—herself. She felt empty. She’d grown so used to Sakura always being by her side, that with her no longer here, her life had grown bland and colorless. Against her best wishes, Hougetsu often found herself jumping in excitement at any knock on the front door. Her heart would begin to beat faster, praying that against all odds, her wife would return home. Her heart was often disappointed. Nevertheless, as she cleaned every corner of the solemn house, she still hoped. —o— Shimamura Yuu drew a Line of Vigor, aimed directly at the weak spot in her opponent's defense. How sloppy. She thought, laughing at her opponents sad attempt at an Eskridge Defense. Compared to her own Shoaff, it was like a hound at her heels. Yuu hoped that when she was finally able to follow her mother to America, she’d find better opponents. Surely she would, the Isles were known for their amazing Rithmatic schools, boasting eight large schools. Her home country, Japan, had two. Nevertheless, her opponent's Line of Warding was breached. This would be her fourth consecutive victory at the tournament held in Kyoto every year. Yuu was considered a prodigy, just like her mother was. She had a natural talent for Rithmatics, but that could only take her so far. Her professor often told her, “In America, things will be different. You won’t be the only prodigy.” Yuu hoped that was true, because fighting the same half-wit Rithmatist every year was getting repetitive. And so was her other mom’s constant complaints. Shimamura Hougetsu did not approve of Yuu’senthusiasm for Rithmatics. Her actions spoke louder than her words, however, as she still paid for the train fee from Tokyo to Kyoto every year. “Where’s your mother, Yuu?” Professor Takagachi asked, adjusting his glasses and grey bangs as he watched the girl walk away from her crying opponent. “Not here,” She replied matter-of-factly. Despite paying to bring Yuu here, her mother had stopped coming to her matches years ago. When it’d become apparent that regardless of whom she dueled, Yuu would win. “You know how she is, professor. Always saying, ‘You don’t need to follow after your mother!’” He grumbled in something that could almost be called agreement and began to walk alongside her. Here we go again, she grimaced. Time for another one of his critic sessions. “Your nine-point was off,” He started, glancing at her. “The space between ellipses six and seven was too wide. If your opponent had been able to see it, you’d have been in his position in a matter of minutes.” “It’s hard to take the criticism seriously,” She sighed, turning away and giving an off handed wave. “When none of my enemies ever take advantage of the things you point out. Are you sure you can’t convince my mother to let me go to America?” The sounds of onlookers and paper-writers, hoping to get a peek at the sixteen-year old Rithmatic prodigy, covered up the annoyed grunt the professor gave in response. The man had long tried to persuade Shimamura to let her daughter attend one of the American universities, and each time he was given the same answer: ‘no.’ When the teacher and student broke out of the excited mass and into the fresh spring air, they hurried down the steps of the arena. It was always best to get away quickly from these events, or else Yuu would be bogged down with the reporters questions. And it wasn’t until she piled herself into the back seat of the professor’s car that he answered her with more than a grumble and a wave. “You know I’ve tried, kid,” He said, starting the car—brought over from the American Isles. “But she has her reasons for not letting you go, you know. You’re mother doesn’t want you to leave, especially not when Sakura has yet to return.” It’d been seven years since her second mother left for America. Seven years since Yuu had become fascinated with the one thing the woman she’d barely known left her. Rithmatics. Yuu had since spent five of those years dedicating her life to the Rithmatic arts, in a false hope that if she became good enough, she’d be able to travel east and prove her worth. And here she was, the best Rithmatist in Japan and no closer to leaving for America. An hour or so later, the professor dropped her off at the station. It didn’t take Yuu long to find her mother. The women stood out everywhere she went, her hair a light brown against a sea of black. When she’d asked why her mother kept it dyed, the only response she received was; ‘She liked it this way.’ Yuu found it silly. Then again who was she to talk? “How did it go?” The woman asked, bending down to grab her suitcase—similar to the one Yuu herself rolled behind her. “Another win!” The girl replied, raising her fist anti-climatically. Her fake enthusiasm brought a slight grin to her mother’s face. She might not have approved of her endeavor in Rithmatics, but she did approve in comedy. “Though, is that really a surprise?” “No… I suppose it’s not.” She mumbled. —o— When they finally got back to Tokyo, Yuu caught sight of a man hurriedly walking away from the front door of her home. She sprinted the last leg to her house, but by the time she got there, the man was too far gone. Shaking her head at the oddity, she walked past the small garden, the red, blue, and white flowers overshadowed by the now blooming sakura tree. She climbed up the last step and saw a letter resting on the doormat. It was addressed to her mother, the one in Japan at least. Yuu picked it up and slid open the door. Setting the letter down on the table in the awning, she hurried up to her room and began to settle back in. It wouldn’t be long before she’d have to start preparing for the next tournament, she wasn’t going to miss out on a chance to relax. Even for a moment. —o— Hougetsu sent down the letter with her name written on it in elaborately drawn kanji. She knew the handwriting as if it was her own, regardless that the last time she’d seen it was almost four years ago. When she’d last received a letter from her wife. That letter had detailed that Sakura had finally been able to head to Nebrask. That she’d won a tournament they called The Melee in America. It’d also said that she didn’t know when she was going to return, that she most likely wouldn’t be able to write letters every month anymore. It had turned out she hadn’t been able to write any at all. Yet, here this letter was. Hougetsu broke the wax seal, the same one they’d used to officiate their marriage, and opened the envelope. As she read, tears began to flow, staining the dark ink. —o— Dear my beloved Hougetsu, If you’re reading this, I am dead. Accused of a crime I did not commit, the soldiers I’ve fought alongside with for the past three years have executed me. Whether by lawful means or not, I do not know. They, however, are not to blame. No, my death is the work of the Forgotten. A group that infiltrated this camp in Nebrask. In our search to root them out, I committed grave sins. I sealed the fate of death to an innocent man, I failed to keep another from the same fate, and I stood by while a third was convicted wrongly. These missteps are what led to my orderly demise. At least these men have hopefully given me the mercy to deliver this letter. For that, I am grateful. I ask you one thing, dear: do not come for my body. You will not find it. It will most likely be buried deep in the forests of this cursed island, most likely overrun by the wild chalking which roam here. If, however, you do come. I ask that you do not hate these men. They are guilty of the same sins as I, and if you were to hate them, it’d be the same as hating me. I would regret that. Just as I regret that I will leave you alone. That I will not see our daughter grow up. That I will not die in your arms, but to the threads of a noose. That I will not be able to hold you and tell you “I love you” when you look like you need to be told so. I regret that I will plague your memories when you should be looking towards the future with hope. Though I regret these things, I do not regret leaving Japan for the American Isles, to fight in this war with hope to alleviate the suffering of this nation. I do not regret learning to be a Rithmatist, to create life with white dust scratched onto the earth. I do not regret meeting you, to fall in love with a girl who kept everyone at arm's length. And so, I ask you not to regret them either. With love, Your wife, Adachi Shimamura Sakura

Why is this the most interesting part for me? Even though I’m not quite getting all of these references...

Yay! Congrats to all on a good game! Too bad I didn’t get to live to see it’s end Anyways, prepare yourselves for a tear jerking 1000+ RP soon. I’ll post it as soon as I finish it, so get ready!

I mean, it’s a classic game run by Kas. What did you expect?

I watched the ashes fall. It was beautiful in it’s own unique way. The way the black snowflakes stepped down from the skies was a mesmerizing sight; one I always found myself fascinated with. The other boys in Fallion’s Tears had always called me weird, but I hadn’t cared. Hours, days, maybe even weeks of my life had been spent towards admiring the thin flakes of dust, spewed from the belly of the nearest ash mount. Studying the ash had been an escape from the criticisms of my schoolmates. While they dreamt of flying through the skies like coinshots, I dreamt of falling to the ground with the ash. When they investigators had burned old man Bartholomew’s corpse, I’d gone to look at his ashes. Sneaking into the dead man’s home hadn’t been that hard, his widow left the door unlocked in her grief, I assumed. Nevertheless, I tip-toed as stealthy as I could mange through the couples small home—one that just barely managed to claim it wasn’t a skaa hut. The floor creaked regardless of my dexterity, it seemed so loud compared to the sound of falling ash I’d grown accustomed to; everything did. ”Lord Ruler!” An older women shouted, her voicing cracking in fear. “Who’s there?” It seemed the floorboards had betrayed me, giving away my presence to their haggard mistress. I no longer found any point in trying to hide myself. Leaving the shadows of the dark hallway that lead to the stairs, I said quietly, “It’s me, miss.” ”Oh, Niru,” She said, letting out a sigh filled with tension like the canals filled with ash. “I thought for a moment that they’d co— ah, never mind. What is it you want?” “I was wondering if I could see them,” I said honestly. It’d be best to get out with it quickly. “His ashes, I mean.” A few different emotions crossed the kind hag’s face. Surprise, given away by the widening of her brown eyes and the raising of the sagging skin in the area that could be where her eyebrows were. Anger, shown through how her the tightening spreading from her brow all the way to the corners of her eyes and chapped lips. Grief, letting itself be known by her eyes looking straight to the ground, almost as if she wanted to get a peek into hell to look for her dead husband. “Ah, that’s right,” She started, respectful contempt blatantly marring her expression. “You like to study ash, don’t you Niru.” I nodded my head silently, hoping that if I acted diminutively she wouldn’t say no to my stranger request. It worked and the old women led me further into the house. The creaking of the floorboards no longer seemed so loud as I walked mutedly behind her. Sometime along the way she’d grabbed a candle and lit it—illuminating the worn down house with flickering light—allowing me to see relics of a dead man. Eventually, we reached the main room and the widow plucked a small black vase off of the centerpiece. It seemed ironic that the remains of old man Bartholomew, who’d towered over many of the villages men, fit it such a small container. The soft clang the vase let out as it was set on the table made my anticipation begin to run wild. I waited for only a moment after the women left— not paying attention to whatever she’d said on her way out—and greedily torn the lid off the dark container. What I found lurking in that treasure trove was something I couldn’t fathom. Stark against the familiar color of black, were the ashes of a murdered man. And they were grey. —————————————————————— I’ll sign up as Niru. A young man fascinated with the ash. I’ll call my cosmetic role, “Ash Watcher”

?

Who ever took the Lantern should use it. Only the minimum number of people should draw Lines of Warding, because we can determine whether Flyingbooks is elim or village with the Shadowblaze.

Sakura looked at man who was so kind to her when she first arrived in the Isles. He had welcomed her wholeheartedly. He had done his best to make her feel comfortable in a nation so starkly contrasting to her home. And now, he was dead. She felt guilty. She’d stolen from him in the night on false suspicions, when he’d been so kind to her in the past. Sakura had repaid his past kindness with a chalk dust to the eyes. She’d let the fear of Forgotten drive her to distrust even a man whom she should’ve trusted, but then again, Frederick had fallen victim to the enemies mind games too. However, that did not make her feel any less guilty. So, yet again, Sakura dug a third grave. It would probably not be the last. She had refrained herself from the grueling work of burying bodies for the past two nights. Her body had needed rest. Now though, she had work to do. Sakura needed to cover her hands in something other than blood, and the dirt would do just fine. Sakura beat the shovel against the earth. The grain of its handle pressed deep into her palms every time she stabbed it into the ground, bringing a sense of surreal clarity. She realized in her days of rest, she’d let herself grow lax. The hunt for these Forgotten put on the afterburner behind recovering from nights spent digging graves. Sakura had not payed enough attention to what was happening in the camp and her carelessness had cost the life of a man she considered a brother. She did not forgive her sloth even after digging Frederick’s grave—deeper than the previous two. The rain that began to drain from the heavens as she returned to the camp did not wash away her sins. When Sakura slipped on the now slick ground just outside of her tent, falling to the ground faster than the raindrops, she did not cry. For she’d already ran out of tears in that grave, so the droplets of water rolling down her face would have to do. Sakura feel asleep that night covered in grime and with a wish for tears.

So why did you vote on her. I don’t want to scroll through the thread

I trust them.

Did you vote on Connie? I can’t remember...

No, but I don’t see any reasoning in your post... Yes, at first I was going to use it. Then when it was said that camp defense was covered, I changed my action to pass it Gears. You’re completely ignoring the fact that I listened when I was told I didn’t need to use the clock. It feels like you’re pushing for a mis-exe that’s essentially already been cleared up. Sart has resolved the issue, @Devotary of Spontaneity, scan Gears and you’ll see that he has the Clock now. Anyways, I’ll put my vote on Reading.

Why are you voting for Araris?

He did capitalize Thief in the PM so...

I submitted the action to give it to Gears, but after rollover, my PM said I’d given it to the thief. So I guess Stink stole it from me... I didn’t think that would come higher than passing in the OOA.

I would like to say, I passed the clock to Gears. Then, in my PM @Sart said I passed it to the thief. But that obviously isn’t right since STINK just won as thief.

Bold Mine. I’m giving the Clock away. If you block me, then I keep it...? Also, why are you planning on voting me first if Books is your most suspicious and I’m not even listed? Getting mad elim vibes from this. Reads a lot like an elim looking for an easy mis-CM in my opinion.

Why would I pass to an elim? I don’t even know who the elims are... unless Gears counts because he claimed elim. Anyways, want me to pass it to Kas?

I took the clock from you because you’re suspicious. I plan on using it tonight.

OH my... this is uhh, very suspicious. Okay, seeing this, I’d rather CM The Unknown Order in favor of Striker. Though, @StrikerEZ please give me a detailed explanation about the whole thief thing, cause you know I’m not good at figuring stuff like that out. EDIT; 400th post! yay

I told Striker I thought Connie was the Thief due to some things they said in PMs. Striker said they weren’t. Also, why would elim!me point out that I’m suspicious because of my vote on Illwei? edit: Furthermore, why would my fellow elims do something that would implicate me in such a way?

How does Illwei’s removal make me look good? Anyways, in a PM with Striker, he did try to defend Connie against my allegations of being a thief. Saying he knew they weren’t one. This seems rather suspicious in hindsight... I’m hesitant about killing him, but I think he’s a better option than Gears, who seems TWTBW in my opinion.

[1] I quoted you only because you were the last person to mention it when I made the post. [2] I have said my reasoning before. And just like I don’t believe some of reasonings for the contradictions you made, you can not like my reason too.

I not think Gears is an elim, because unless I’ve missed something, they haven’t really done anything to be considered suspicious. All they’ve done is claim elim, which at this point is normal for them. I’m still wary of Illwei, and would not be against killing them today. I really don’t see any better targets. Whether that’s because I haven’t been paying too much attention to this game lately or not, I don’t know.