Rushu42

Honestly with the Alleyverse it's more likely that we defy the cardinal directions entirely and end up going up and slightly to the left.

I think I had her just with the doctor's coat, but her own face (which is tactically a mistake, but Aln's not really used to disguises). I'd personally welcome Byron bursting in; Aln's not going to initiate a confrontation on her own if she can help it, so if we want action we'd need an inciting incident. (Note that when I say "action" I don't necessarily mean combat, just a clash between the sides in some form). As someone who definitely didn't have to look up the word roux, agreed . The tension building is just making me more nervous (excited?) for when everything goes south.

Aln watched in bemusement as the doctor - Laurelai - turned to the man and started discussing - his clothes? Aln couldn't fathom why. Unless... it could be code. More signaling, like the pen. Now you're just being paranoid, she told herself. Of course, can you really be too paranoid when breaking into a hospital to uncover the secrets of a shadowy organization that's somehow rewritten the memories of the entire world? It somewhat puts things in perspective. She kept an eye on the pair as she stepped over to one of the shelves, hoping that their conversation would keep them from looking too closely at what files she took. She scanned the shelf and took a few at random - but made sure to grab one of the ones that Laurelai had returned. Still standing, she flipped open the first one and began to scan through it. It was an interesting case - a man whose Spiritweb had been damaged to the point where only disparate parts of his body were included in his Identity - but it wasn't relevant to what she was looking for, so she forced herself to move on. The next file was similarly interesting, which she supposed made sense. Mundane injuries would just be treated with Progression or unkeyed F-gold; only truly unusual cases would warrant detailed records. As fascinating as the case was, parasitic worms that exhibited the effects of A-chromium still wasn't what she was looking for, so she flipped on. The next document was one that Laurelai had reshelved, and Aln's heart leapt as she read the condition summary: 'False memories, manifestations of phantom investiture, sudden amnesia'. Fingers tightening on the edges of the document, she read on. The file seemed to describe an older woman who'd reported vivid memories of events that had, by all record, never occurred. While strange, in its specificity, this could easily have been written off as a symptom of dementia - if not for the allomancy. The woman had no innate Investiture, but she had memories of access to A-pewter, and at odd moments she would exhibit bursts of inexplicable strength. The hospital had placed her under observation while they tried to puzzle out the mystery (to no avail). About a week after she had been admitted, however, all displays of allomancy vanished, as did her false memories. In fact, all of her memories of the past month were gone. The only irregularity reported was a broken window latch. Eventually, with no clear medical symptoms to treat, she was discharged. Did they take any notes on the "false memories"? Aln flipped another page, excitement rising. All I know is what I can remember. Maybe there's some clue, some tidbit about the DA buried somewhere in this woman's recollections. Even regardless, it was confirmation, real confirmation, that Aln wasn't just crazy. As scary as the alternative was, she couldn't stop the rush of relief. @Voidus @MacThorstenson

Aln wanted to object as the doctor began to put away the files, but she couldn't find the right words in time. Instead, all she could do was note their location on the shelf and hope that she could find a way to retrieve them without arousing the suspicion of the suited man. But where was she going in such a sudden hurry? Had Aln been wrong about what she'd been looking for? Maybe she wasn't already in the know; maybe she was doing the same thing Aln was, breaking in for information, and was worried about being caught. Wouldn't that be an unlikely coincidence, Aln thought wryly. Lost in thought, it took her a moment to realize that the doctor was asking for her name. "Oh! I'm Sh- Shanaran. Doctor Shanaran. And you?" @Voidus

I think changing that about Aln would feel like a betrayal of the character, at this point. A scientist with morals does provide a contrast to the DA. But I might end up making a more chaotic character someday, to explore the other side of the RP Out of curiosity, is there a current plan for the general plot of this Era at the moment, or are we just sort of seeing what happens?

Aln jumped as a man in a suit suddenly walked past her, heading towards the rows of files and muttering something about a patient. She'd left her back to the door; that was foolish. Who wears a 3-piece suit and a bowler hat to work in a hospital? she wondered. But the doctor whose name she still didn't know was talking, so she wrenched her attention away from him and refocued on her words. The other woman was twirling a pen absently in her hands as she spoke; that was strange. She hadn't seemed very fidgety before. And she still hadn't made any move to accuse Aln, or even to question her further. That either meant that Aln was far better at lying than she'd estimated, or the doctor was stalling for time. Aln's eyes flicked back to the man in the suit. He'd appeared just after the woman had taken out her pen. Could it have acted as a signal? All it would take was a simple Conjoiner fabrial; the Scholar's Guild even had a similar system. Was the man in the suit reinforcements, then, here to finish what the monsters who'd destroyed her Guild had begun? But no, she was still moving the pen. A signal to someone else? But whom? Conjecture and guesswork, she thought with frustration. I'm not made for these games of lying and espionage. She was here for answers, regardless, and they felt tantalizingly close. So she sat down on the stool beside the table and shifted a pile of papers closer to her. "Is this just indexing and resorting, or are you looking for something? It's odd to keep a doctor and Forger occupied with busywork." She spared another uneasy glance for the man in the corner. "Pel", she sent, "could you go find Folorian? I'm taking risks here. If things go poorly, I want him to know what's going on." The spren sent a silent affirmative and whisked himself away, invisible. Aln suddenly felt very alone. @Voidus @MacThorstenson @mathiau

Sometimes I wonder if it was a mistake to play a Lawful Good character in this RP. When I created Aln I was pretty new to role-playing, so I wanted a character that would be in my comfort zone - but a pacifist nerd with anxiety doesn't quite fit in this world of gods and monsters. Also if Lovecraft was scared of math does that mean that all math counts as Eldritch Math?

Aln watched the doctor's eyes widen, and her stomach flipped. Did she know? Pel, does that expression mean that she knows? "Don't panic," returned the ever-calm spren. "Just think logically. Analyze your options." Yes. Logic. That she could handle. Aln shoved her thoughts into order and began rapidly assembling a mental list. Option 1: I'm reading too much into her expression. The change was slight, after all. She might still suspect nothing. It's too risky to gamble on that, though. Better to assume the worst. Option 2: She spotted some inconsistency in my disguise that tipped her off that I'm an imposter, independent of the listed symptoms. Dangerous, and it would leave me without leads. Option 3: She recognized the symptoms. A terrifying possibility, but an exciting one. That would suggest that there is a general trend in this city. It would mean that I'm not crazy. Of course, it might also mean that I'm standing in front of a DA agent, which would be... less than ideal. Aln looked down at the table, covered in the woman's paperwork. What was she looking for? ...amnesia. These papers are sorted by mentions of amnesia. Option 3, then. Aln's heart was thundering hard enough that she was half-afraid that the other woman could hear it, but she forced her expression to remain casual. "A Forgery consultation? That's a good idea, I hadn't thought of that. I shouldn't interrupt your work here, though. Are you looking for anything important? I could help speed it up, if you like." Let's do this.

Aln forced herself to step further into the room, allowing her eyes to flick to the indicated box, then to the papers on the table. "No, no, neither of them - he's a new patient, just admitted today." Was the other woman suspicious? It was hard to tell. Come to think of it, what was she doing in the records room that would take a few hours? Was it standard procedure to spend so long reviewing old files? Aln breathed in, then continued, "He reported odd recurring dreams, apparently linked with selective retrograde amnesia. It doesn't seem associated with substance abuse or trauma I, um, just wondered if that particular combination had come up before." "Are you sure that's a good idea, Aln?" asked her spren. We knew there'd be risks, she returned. If I try to invent more lies I'll just dig myself deeper. Besides, if she does happen to know something about this, those symptoms could bait her into tipping her hand.

"Well, it's-it's not an urgent matter. The patient - name of, um, Smith - doesn't seem to be in danger. It's partially just for my own curiosity that I'm here. I wouldn't want to interrupt your work with this." Should she risk asking about any symptoms directly? It could speed up the investigation, true, but if there was a DA presence in the hospital it would surely get their attention. Part of Aln just wanted to blurt everything out and hope that the doctor would be sympathetic. "Caution," hummed Pel within her mind. So she bit her tongue and waited, still standing, hoping that the woman would just get on with her own work and leave Aln to her investigation.

"I - yes, I am new. I mean, um, hello. Just- just looking for some records for a patient." Aln desperately shoved her hands into her pockets to disguise their shaking. It was just lying. The woman didn't have any reason to be suspicious yet. She could do this. She had to do this. She took a step forward, clearing her throat unnecessarily. "Specifically, I have a patient who's exhibiting some odd symptoms, and I was hoping to check old records to see if there has been anything like them reported before. To see if there's precedent for treatment methods, you see."

Aln hurried through the hallways of the hospital. With her Lightwoven doctor's coat and badge, no one gave her a second glance, but she still jumped every time someone rounded a corner. Storms, lying felt unnatural. She felt a surge of relief when the signs on the walls finally proclaimed "Cognitive Ward". If all had gone according to plan, Folorian would be in here somewhere, being treated as a patient. Her job was to look through the backend - hospitals preserved records of nearly every treatment administered. If anomalous memory recovery was occurring across the city, as she suspected, then there would have to be evidence in the paperwork. Scanning the intersection, Aln spotted a plain door set into the corner. "Records Room". Perfect. She walked over and grabbed the doorknob. Miraculously, it was unlocked. She marveled at her luck - she thought for sure someone would have stopped her by now - then froze. On the other side of the door was a blond haired woman currently combing through paperwork. For a split second Aln considered just closing the door and leaving, but it was too late. She'd clearly been noticed. @Voidus

It starts in January, as they already said, but you're also welcome to join the server earlier than then if you want to do any practice puzzles or just get to know the other people on the team!

I would definitely recommend anyone who enjoys this site to try out puzzlehunting. I was recruited from here for the Mystery Hunt two years ago (gosh, two years? Feels like way shorter) and it's slowly been consuming my life ever since. I can't see innocent lists of words anymore without instinctively trying to extract... don't worry I'm not addicted I can quit whenever I want. But don't feel daunted if it seems like it'll be way over your head. Puzzlehunts can be a lot, especially Mystery Hunt, and it might b easy to look up examples of puzzles and decide that it's way too hard for you. Rest assured though, everyone's bad at it when they start. Even if you sold your last two braincells to Hoid for some ramen, everyone has something they can contribute to a puzzle! Plus, we have an M-Bot. What more do you need?

Teresa fidgeted nervously with her drink. How much should she say? Channing would likely be annoyed if she gave away too much of the plan. "Um, information should be fine for now. I'm ... just curious." As soon as the words left her mouth she winced internally. Just curious about Splitting? She had no idea why Channing expected her to be able to pull this off.

Teresa swallowed. "I... well, I didn't want to just ask right off the bat, but I need access to a bit more than the usual procedures. I need to find a Tailor who knows something about the process of Splitting. Discreetly, of course."

"Right, yes. Well," she took a deep breath. There was no turning back now. "I need to know about Tailoring. Specifically, where I can find a reliable clinic for... less than legal procedures. Someplace with especially skilled Tailors, if possible. Um, thank you."

Teresa jumped and dropped her phone. "Ah, yes, I - they remind me of a movie I saw last week." Passphrase complete, she turned around and did her best to smile. "It's nice to meet you. I'm Teresa."

Teresa gave an internal sigh of relief as the attention of the women shifted away from her and towards each other. Channing would probably have wanted her to listen to their conversation, but they were discussing some sort of contract that didn't seem very relevant to her. Plus, she didn't want to get caught eavesdropping. Instead, Teresa let her gaze wander around the room. A surprising number of the people here were Tailored; she'd known that Underground Tailoring was a thing, of course, but she'd expected that it would be rare. Where were they getting all the Thread? Some of the Tailoring jobs were distressingly shoddy, too. She winced as a man walked past with huge, muscular arms held at awkward angles from his body. Had they grafted on stronger arms without any modifications to the shoulder? She wouldn't be surprised if he already had osteoarthritis. She pulled a cracked cell phone from her pocket and started idly jotting down notes.

Teresa looked between her conversation partners, stammering slightly. Channing had warner her not to put on any kind of front. "They'll see through any attempts at lying in a heartbeat," the gang leader had said with a smirk. "So don't try any tricks. But you may be able to use your inexperience to your advantage, in a way. There will be those that see your naivete and assume that you must be faking; after all, no gang leader would employ someone who was actually that incompetent at spycraft. And when they cannot pierce your disguise or figure out what it is that you're hiding, they will be wary of trifling with you, for fear that they'd be interfering with something that they do not understand." Teresa found a number of flaws in this reasoning. Wouldn't they just see her as an easy target or something? But it's not like she had a better plan. So she just smiled and said, "It's true, the bars of my hometown were a bit quieter. I'll have to try that drink," and hoped that the approach of someone else would distract people from pressing for details. @Sorana @Channelknight Fadran @The Unknown Order

Teresa tripped along the damp streets of the undercity, wishing she had brought an umbrella. She hadn't expected to need one - the whole street was underground, right? As it turned out, the rain had just mixed with the dirt on the upper streets before leaking down below, meaning that the liquid now staining her sweater wasn't water so much as mud. Or worse. She tried not to think about it. The people she passed didn't seem to mind - but then, they also didn't seem to mind the stench, or the fact that the only light down here spilled from the occasional uncovered window. She tried not to make eye contact with anyone, in case they could read nervousness in her expression. Was she walking too fast? Too slowly? Was anyone following her? Wait, shoot - that alley she just passed was where she was supposed to turn. Turning around for no reason would be suspicious for sure. Maybe she should just circle the block and try again. She ducked into the alley a few minutes later, slightly out of breath. A human-shaped figure stepped out from behind a dumpster, features obscured in the darkness. "Can I help you?" "Um, yes," she said. At least here she actually knew what to do; she'd made flashcards for all the little codes and passwords Channing had told her. If there was one thing that Teresa had learned in med school, it was how to study for a test. "I'd like your latest vintage, please." She smiled at the figure, then instantly regretted it. One wasn't supposed to smile while sneaking to the criminal underground for a clandestine meeting. "And would you like that in a bottle or a glass?" returned the the bouncer easily. "I'll just have to see which one breaks first," she finished, and the figure nodded. She pressed a handful of money into their outstretched hand, and slipped through the open door. The wave of sound hit her like a physical force as she started down the stairs. Tuneless music thrummed against her eardrums as neon lights flickered overhead, as if she'd stepped into a textbook entry for reflex epilepsy triggers. A shout went up from one corner, and she looked over in time to see a large man - clearly Tailored - twisting his opponent's arm back with a brutal snap. She looked away, feeling queasy. A few people were holding drinks, she noticed, so there had to be a bar somewhere in all the commotion. Maybe she'd be able to sit down somewhere out of the way and wait for her contact to find her. There was an open barstool near the corner, and she gingerly clambered onto it, hoping it wouldn't collapse on her. The barkeep slid a drink towards her without waiting for an order, so she dropped what she hoped was a reasonable number of bills on the table and picked it up. A quick sniff made her eyes water, and she set it back down on the table. She had no intention of getting drunk tonight, and certainly not off of that. It smelled more like rubbing alcohol than any of the drinks she'd tried before. Instead she took a deep breath and tried to adopt a cheerful expression. At least no one had tried to kill her yet; she'd count that as a success.

Oftentimes "men" is used in dramatic language to just mean people in general. It's particularly common in old texts like the Bible, which is likely where Brandon got the inspiration for the way his prophecies are worded. So the chasm scene is pretty compelling. That being said, I do think that it's very possible that all the epigraphs could have multiple meanings, so theorizing about something like this isn't necessarily unproductive.

New vape flavor: dead gods! [Stormlight] I get knocked down, but I get up again - ain't nothing gonna keep me down [Gold feruchemy] "It's not flying, it's falling with style!" [Lashings] Hacked the source code, hope no one notices [Forgery] Basically a mood ring [Royal Locks]

Fair point, I had forgotten about her dynamic with Shallan in WoR. Still, I think it's fair to say that she's not really seen as a character in her own right until RoW.