Lunamor

As Eza watched her glittering, beautiful knife soar through the air, her forced calm all but shattered. Her new friend had no chance against Asylum. The room was filled with abominations they controlled and they could completely drain the life from a body. Their luck would take care of anything those powers couldn't. Eighth knew that he had no chance, too; a single one of the fanged monsters had nearly killed them both, and they'd only survived by trapping it rather than destroying it. What Eighth was doing was nothing short of suicide. Even as she saw the dart pierce that starved-looking demon's forehead and the vampire crash through a wall, she knew that it was all useless. They'd already seen that there was no killing these things. Her friend was probably going to die. The adrenaline coursing through her system was the only thing that allowed her to ignore the overwhelming dread overtaking her. Eza hopped off of the table and was joined shortly after by Seiju. Grateful that she had had enough sense to down another vial of metal before she passed out, she burned the iron in her stomach. She took note of all lines leading to anything that seemed like it could be a metallic weapon. There might be some small sliver of a chance that she could stop this left. She winced when she heard the squelch of her dagger piercing Asylum's hand. It was rather concerning that they didn't seem to react to the pain that had caused in the slightest. Could they even feel pain? She wanted them to. Eza followed their eye line to the motionless form of the monster Eighth had encased in that liquidy metal. It wasn't moving. Maybe he'd actually managed to kill it. Asylum hadn't killed Eighth yet, though. Why? He was a threat, wasn't he? Perhaps he wasn't dangerous enough to be worth eliminating urgently. Still, this was oddly... merciful. They then proceeded to destroy any illusions of mercy by doing something incredibly cruel; they tried to kill Seiju. Eza immediately flared her iron and yanked the dagger as it flew forwards so that it was on a trajectory that wouldn't collide with Seiju. Unfortunately, due to her close proximity to the bird and a sudden, suspiciously strong draft, the knife was now flying directly towards Eza instead. She frantically extinguished her iron and threw herself to the side, ducking. This meant that, rather than stabbing her through the middle of her chest, the blade instead made a small slice on the side of her face. The right one, directly across from her old scar on the left. The new cut was almost precisely in the same spot, exactly between her chin and temple. A random thought invaded her mind which contrasted so sharply against her dire situation that she almost laughed. Matchy matchy. After leaving a painful reminder of its presence on Eza, the dagger continued to shoot forwards until it embedded itself in the wall. She quickly straightened and awkwardly snatched up Seiju, holding the bird behind her back and facing Asylum so that she was blocking it from them. She then spoke to Asylum, her words tumbling forwards at a rapid pace. She felt weirdly silly, the discordantly lighthearted thought still lingering in her mind. "Lum, I'm going to be very upset if this bird dies. Please don't kill it. Also please don't kill Eighth." Eza switched to addressing Eighth, still keeping Seiju out of Asylum's sight. "Eighth, I'm going to be very upset if you die. Please don't kill yourself." That brief moment of whimsy somehow caused by getting sliced by a knife fully faded and she realized that it had made her appeal to Eighth in the entirely wrong way. Her tone morphed from politely asking to desperately pleading. "You can't kill Asylum, you need to stand down before you inevitably lose this fight. Please don't abandon me." Maybe her plea was useless, maybe Asylum had been planning on murdering Eighth after he finished off the bird. She still had to try, though. She couldn't run away again. She wouldn't run away again. A man with spikes through his eyes burst into the room. Eza took a step backwards in terror, then realized that she recognized this monster. Perses. This was strangely comforting. People like the Strangers were her greatest fear, but while he was definitely an incredibly evil person, he seemed to be angry about what Asylum had done. Maybe he could put a stop to this- he was also an incredibly powerful person, considering that Asylum had been working for him. He hadn't killed her when they'd met before even though he probably could've, and she had no plans of coming to Asylum's defense. Her and Eighth's odds of being spared by the newly arrived monster were higher than those of being spared by the already settled in monster. She took another step backwards anyways. It was common sense to stay away from angry people who could spray coins like bullets in all directions. She snatched a thick wooden chopping board from the counter in case Perses chose to do that, holding it in front of her chest. @Speeding Steelrunner

This thread:

Eza stared forwards blankly. She didn't look at the crying Eighth or sneering Asylum. Not at the walking corpses or abominations standing in the center of the room. Not at the man whose life she'd stolen. Not at anything, really. She wasn't supposed to be alive. The man next to her was a criminal, which meant he was like her. She could've easily been one of the prisoners trapped in this Harmony-forsaken building with the monster she'd once called her friend. There wasn't much separating her from that withered husk. Eza was rather surprised that Eighth and Asylum were apparently related, but that feeling failed to escape her subconscious. There wasn't much room for anything but terror. Not only had she been responsible for the death of a man, but now she'd angered someone who could murder her and Eighth on a whim. "I didn't know that Eighth was a Smedry, I'd just blackmailed him to come help me break you out because he looked strong." Her words were quiet, emotionless. She couldn't afford to further show her real emotions right now. Asylum was unstable. Irritating them was dangerous, and her horror and fear seemed to be doing that. She was falling back on her old ways. Staying meek and still was her best chance at staying safe when she couldn't flee. It reminded her of a little black cat she'd once tried to pet. It had stood motionless and silent at the end of an alleyway, as if it were trying to blend into a shadow. It'd scratched her pretty good when she got within swiping range, though. The tiny animal had been quivering in place, tail puffed up and hair standing on end. It was pitiful. It'd made her feel bad for it, although she'd been too young at the time to understand that it was she who was scaring it. Eza decided to add a slight quiver to her own voice. It wasn't hard; she just quit holding the one that was already there back. She finally looked up and met Asylum's eyes. "Thank you for saving me." Her thanks was genuine. That scared her. Had she been given a choice in whether to go through with her revival, she knew which one she would've picked. It wasn't the one good people were supposed to pick. She hadn't actually picked it though, so she couldn't know for sure what she would've done. Eza repeated that to herself internally. She didn't believe that there was a chance she would've done the right thing, but she could pretend to, for now. She turned to her only friend. He was in so much pain. A flash of sorrow crossed her face, but she smothered it. This was not the time for that. This was not the time for Eighth to lose control, either. He needed to calm down before he sent Asylum over the edge. "Eighth, it's alright. If Asylum wanted us to come, there wasn't anything you could've done to stop it." Eza absentmindedly began unwinding the cloth tightly wound around her arm which looked oddly unfamiliar. Asylum was right in their accusations, in a way. She was vain and selfish. She made things that weren't supposed to be hers her own. She didn't take things if it made someone more sad than it made her happy, though. Mother had said that meant it was okay, and she didn't lie to her. Had she been wrong? No, she hadn't been. Asylum of all people didn't know better than she did. But did she really always think through what impact she was having? She stole whenever she saw something she liked. You couldn't ask a stranger passing by on the street what their shiny piece of jewelry meant to them. Maybe it was a wedding ring, or something gifted to them from a friend who had passed away. But in the moment, when her eyes lit up at the sight of something beautiful... well, she didn't really care about that. She also couldn't rely on anyone else to care for her. Eza drew danger; she was a danger herself. She was flanked by evidence of that, one man broken down in tears and another man drained of life. Everyone was better off if she was alone. But she didn't want to be alone. That was what really made her so selfish. Maybe making her into a monster hadn't changed her all that much. @Longshot97

Not sure if I qualify for this, but the majority of my rep was probably gotten in 1-2ish years (I came back recently after a several year absence). I used to post in the Forum Games a crazy amount, so I think that prolificness probably was the main contributor. My actual post count is probably a fair bit higher than what it shows, they quit counting posts in the Forum Games a few months after I joined. Right now, I think status updates are what a lot of people get their rep from.

Eza had never swam before. There wasn't much opportunity for that when you lived in the middle of landlocked cities. She'd overheard someone talk about it before, though. They'd been an older kid, probably a few years older than she was at the time. Claimed to have lived in Elendel and had the fancy clothes to prove it- Eza still had his cuff links. He'd been trying to impress a girl with his tales of heroism, bragging about the adventures he'd had while sailing in the bay. Delivering goods and tying various types of knots turned out to be a rather boring topic, and it had soon become obvious that he was losing the girl's attention. He quickly switched to a more entertaining tale. It didn't necessarily highlight his competence, but it was thrilling none the less. Both Eza and the subject of his affections were drawn in by his story, for he told of something dangerous. Suspenseful. Terrifying. He'd described drowning. One day, the weather was worse than expected. It had gotten windy, really windy. The sea was churned up into violent waves that battered against his ship, pummeling its sides with all of the fury it could muster. The boat held strong, as it was of the finest quality his father could buy. Just as the storm was about to abate, however, a final, massive wave seemed to swallow up the sky. Not even his expensive ship could stand against it, and it was tipped over. Everything on the deck was swallowed up by the sea, including its valiant "captain". It was hard to stay afloat when the waves tried to pull you under the freezing cold water. When shattered wooden planks were thrown at your head, when monsters of the depths snapped at your feet. The boy grew tired, and eventually began to sink. The waters enveloped him completely, and he could hold his breath no longer. Water rushed into his lungs, and he began to suffocate. Despite the wetness filling his chest, it burned. His body desperately knew that it needed air but it was nowhere to be found. He tried to flail his arms around, but was already so cold that moving was hard. Everything started to get dark as he nearly slipped into unconsciousness. He knew it was over. Nothing could save him. Well, apart from a dolphin. Apparently, the animal had noticed his "obvious worthiness" and propelled him to shore before he died. She couldn't breath. Her lungs burned. She wanted to move, flail about, do something, but she couldn't. It was too cold, too dark. Eza must be drowning, but there was no dolphin coming to save her. She must not be very worthy. *** Eza was hurled from the dark of unconsciousness to the dark of eyelids blocking out the light. She could move again. Instinctively, she began gasping, greedily gulping up the air. It didn't take long for her to realize that this was pointless; the burning sensation had left her chest. She felt fine. Why did she feel fine? Was she dead? "Welcome back my little raven." The familiar voice dragged her fully back into awareness, and her eyes snapped open. Her hand went to the handle of one of her twin knives; the other was missing. The weapon stayed in its sheath for now. The voice's owner could kill her in a heartbeat. She looked... different. Older, somehow. Her limbs were less like twigs. She now resembled a younger teenager- albeit a very short one- rather than a child. Her skin was flusher, no longer sickly pale. She felt stronger, like she'd eaten a large meal earlier that day. It was disorienting. Lum- no, Asylum, loomed over her, cupping her wrist. She immediately snatched it away, sitting up and taking in her surroundings. Eight was the first thing she searched for. He had to be alright. She needed him to be alright. A small part of the panic overwhelming her from waking up in the monster's lair was dispersed when she saw that he was standing next to her and seemed to fortunately be alive. He was certainly injured, but at least didn't look worse that he had before. For some reason, Asylum had apparently decided to spare him. Three horrific beasts were in the middle of the room, and the sickening feeling she got from a passing glance made her avert her eyes. She was already feeling terrified, and who knew what darkness they could spread. There were some corpses sweeping the floor and another one of those things that had nearly killed her standing nearby. The blood dripping from its mouth was probably from the next thing she noticed, a pale, dry body with a bloodied throat. Why was it next to her on the table? Surely there was a better place to store the remains of the monster's meal. It looked really weird, too. The other victims of Asylum had looked less shriveled than that. Maybe it was all dried up from losing its blood. And how had she been revived? She'd been dying. She didn't remember much, but she could still feel the sensation of her life slipping away. You couldn't bind a wound caused by nearly ripping your core in half- there wasn't anything that could be reached externally. That must mean Asylum had used some sort of magic to save her. But what... Her eyes fell on the withered, lifeless man next to her. No. No. "What did you do to me?" Her voice was quiet as she desperately tried to hide the fear it held from Asylum. Her wide eyes stared into their blackened ones. Something in her hoped for some sort of explanation, some reason why everything was actually okay. But she already knew the answer to her question. Asylum had done what monsters did. And now they'd made her a monster, too. @Longshot97 @Koloss17

Granted. One of your hands gets cut off, as is tradition. I wish for a dragon scale.

Granted. You get attacked by the Joker instead. I wish for a fish on a dish.

I’m good with whatever Stormlightsong and Longshot would prefer. I legit have no idea what Asylum’s gonna do. Eza’s probably going to do basically nothing right now unless someone actively tries to wake her up or heals her, although I can maybe fudge things a bit to give her a very limited ability to communicate. If that happens, I’d like some time for her to react ‘n stuff, although if she isn’t healed there isn’t much I’ll be able to have her do anyways. Having an incapacitated character isn’t the most fun, but I don’t think other outcomes would’ve been realistic (it’s on me for making characters that are weak in combat, though ). By the way, @Stormlightsong and @Longshot97, as a heads up I’m probably not going to post for now unless y’all directly interact with Eza in a way that might wake her up, so don’t wait on me for anything.

S-H comma to the top (that’s god’s comma) Dynasty will always be my favorite

"I guess that means we're going through the Labyrinth, then." Jenny slid down after Aaron, smiling a little despite herself. Slides were fun. Less fun when they led to almost certain doom, but still kinda fun.

The signups are always open

Everything was black. Dark. Dark and quiet. No, not quiet. Something was loud. Yelling, or maybe screaming. Was it angry? Upset? Scared? She didn't know if it was her or something else. She'd been doing something important. She couldn't remember what. That probably wasn't a good sign. Why couldn't she move? You could still move with your eyes closed, right? She must be asleep, dreaming. You weren't supposed to hurt in a dream, though. There was a lot of pain, and it felt real. She was moving. But she couldn't move. Someone must be carrying her. Helping her. Keeping her safe. Mother? *** Eza slid in and out of consciousness, the few thoughts she could muster delirious and disjointed. She was limp, like a puppet whose strings had been cut. A soft groan escaped her lips as the small, instinctive part of her that remained aware reacted to the pain concentrated in her torso. Her breathing was shallow, as if her body struggled to move her chest up and down to make room for the air in her lungs. *** Something was very, very wrong.

Eza released her two pulls and fell to the floor. She stood up with quite a bit of difficulty and limped over to the door as quickly as she could. Burning iron, she focused on the lock. She could do this. She'd practiced it before, albeit in a far less high-stakes situation. She closed her eyes and looked at the single line making up the lock. All of her thoughts became centered around that line. What is was, where it led, the slightest differences in metallic makeup just barely noticeable in different sections. After a tense moment, she saw the line split. It became several smaller lines, each pointing to a different component of the lock. She was familiar with locks. You had to get good at picking them if you wanted to get to the really valuable stuff, sometimes. She seized a thicker line pointing to where she knew the latch would be located, stumbled to the side to get a better angle, then pulled. With a barely audible thunk, the cell door was locked. Eza finally extinguished her iron, breathing heavily from the exertion. She looked over at Eighth. She would've smiled with relief at trapping the monster had his injuries not given her so much concern. That thing had scratched his back really badly. He wasn't out of danger yet. She felt awful that he'd been in this situation in the first place because of her. She needed to find him medical attention as fast as possible. "Are you alright?" She tried to stay standing, but something felt wrong. She swayed to the side enough that she was in danger of falling, so she opted to relent to her exhaustion and sit. She'd used a lot of iron. Her body hadn't been built for that. Her mind hadn't been built for that. With a shaking hand, she uncorked one of her vials of iron and downed it. That stunt had nearly wiped out her reserves completely. Blackness began to overtake the edges of her vision as her adrenaline wore off. While it wasn't particularly visible, the impacts of her repeated strong ironpulls had nearly torn her apart. Every fiber of her body was screaming for the release of unconsciousness. Thinking was hard. Why was it getting dark? Someone must be turning the lights off. They'd turned the heating off, too. That wasn't very considerate. The little black cat started to persistently headbutt Eza, as if it was trying to keep her awake. The continuous, wailing screeches from the enraged vampire barely reached her ears. She... she needed to keep moving. They needed to leave. Eighth needed her help. But Harmony, she was so tired...

"He is apple cider," Lunamor explained. "Made from apples. I'm... not sure what those are. I think someone from Scadrial brought them over at some point." They were a somewhat strange fruit, but they tasted delicious. They also made an equally delicious drink. Lunamor nodded and shuffled off to the kitchen to prepare some chouta.

Eza looked up at the monster towering over her. Its eyes were wild, angry, hungry, excited. The beast bared its teeth in a twisted smile. It was moving slower now, stalking her like an injured fawn. She swore she could hear it laughing. It was savoring this. She couldn't even get on her feet, put up some semblance of a resistance. Both of them knew that there was only one outcome. She wanted to be brave, to face her death with dignity. But she wasn't. Her eyes were wide, breath fast, heart pounding. She was terrified. She felt so small. Then Eighth yelled at her to pull. He'd thrown up a bracelet attached to some sort of glowing line that he held. Eza didn't have time to process why he wanted her to do that, but she trusted him. She knew that she shouldn't have, that her foolish trust was the reason they were in this mess, but somehow she still did. She immediately flared her iron and pulled on two things simultaneously- the bracelet, and a doorknob behind her. While the bracelet was light, the man holding its line most certainly wasn't. The beast leapt forwards, snarling. Its mouth was open wide, fangs seeking her throat. Just before it reached its target, it suddenly lost all momentum. Its jaws closed around nothing. Then, it began to slowly be dragged away, back towards the cell. It swiped a clawed hand at her in fury, letting out another blood-curdling screech, but was out of arms reach. Eza, meanwhile, was desperately trying to not tear herself in half. The vampire was roughly about as heavy as Eighth was, but this time she didn't have a wall to support her. While she hadn't managed to stand up, she was lifted a few feet into the air by her efforts anyways. The doorknob remained stubbornly in place, but she worried that it would be torn off of the door if she continued to pull on it like this. Slowly, the bracelet moved towards her, quivering in midair.

Lunamor briefly looked out of the window. It seemed pretty cold out. ”Yes, he is in season.” He grabbed a bottle from a shelf and filled a cup for the new customer, greatly appreciative of the fact that he’d ordered something nonalcoholic.

I’m surprised it took this long for us blondies to get a club

Eza's throat constricted as she saw Eighth's darts ineffectively bounce off of the monster's eye. That was her fault; she'd told him to use nonlethal attacks on the guards. She didn't regret that, but somehow felt guilty anyways. Then the creature lunged at Eighth. It was going to kill him. Almost as if by instinct, Eza held her blade close to her chest pointing outwards, flared her iron, then pulled hard on the metal bars of a cell not meant for allomancers ahead of her. She shot forwards and crashed into the vampire before it reached her friend. The small girl grunted at the impact but managed to send them both flying through the air and slam the beast against the cell door. Its head hit a bar with a resounding crack, dazing it. She quickly stepped back before it could get its bearings again. She left her dagger embedded deep within its heart, the force of her pull having given her the strength to pierce through its chest. It was sunken completely up to the handle, nearly sticking out of the back as well. Eza hesitantly waited, expecting the monster to collapse at any moment. She'd given it a lethal blow- you couldn't heal from being dead. Its eyes dropped down to the blade for a moment, then back up at her. They had so much rage for something so lifeless. Not breaking eye contact, it yanked the blade out with a squelching noise. She cringed as it let her weapon slip out of its fingers to the floor, the metallic clinking against the concrete seeming to be louder than gunshots. She began to panic even more than she already had been. Was this thing just immortal? How was she supposed to kill it if stabbing it through the heart didn't work? It could potentially regenerate from anything. How did you fight that? Absentmindedly she pulled on the metal embedded within her fallen dagger's handle, sending it rocketing back into her hand. Eza looked past the monster. A cell. There was a cell. As the beast began to sprint at her again, she pulled on its door. It swung open, the guards not having bothered to lock an empty cell. The beast, however, ran at her even faster than it had before. It was angry, now. Perhaps that was why she survived the next blow. Rather than go for her throat, it kicked her in the stomach hard enough that she lost her balance and crumpled to the ground. @Speeding Steelrunner @Scars of Hathsin