Ashbringer

Yay for rollovers in the middle of the day! ... I messed that up. Had a personal thing that I'd forgotten about the hour before rollover and it went longer than I thought it would. I'll try to be around more. A tie D1 is interesting. No vote manip is also interesting, but depending on Elk's alignment not necessarily surprising. Vote manip on a tie can do more harm then good sometimes.

Er... I second this. Or third or something.

*cough* If I get four upvotes for saying *cough* again...

Wires. There were plenty of jobs on the ship. The captain, although that was evidently not the best role to fill right now. The pilots, capable of guiding a massive object at incredible speeds and not accidentally vaporizing a small moon. The Hemalurgists, regulating the Intelligence and organizing the ship's movements with their minds. The Mistings, lounging in the upper decks, doing nothing but keeping the ship running FTL. But no, Faleast thought. I had to say I was good with wires of all things. He'd lived for quite a long time on Scadrial, long enough for homes to start having copper wiring around them, sending electrical sparks to hit lightbulbs and... mostly just lightbulbs. But Scadrial had been a long time ago, both for his journeys through space and time and in this world. Energy had changed too. He'd advertised himself for the journey as a Nicroburst-Bloodmaker Twinborn, as he'd been hesitant to apply as a Hemalurgist and connect his twisted Identity to that of an all-knowing, semi-deranged force. Not to mention other Hemalurgists would likely be able to guess at the vast number of spikes within him - and possibly guess their purposes. That would be a disaster. But the boarding official seemed ecstatic to find someone with his potential, and told him he had a ticket for the maintenance division. He'd taken it. Which is how Faleast found himself with his arm stuck halfway in an access panel. A door had decided to lock itself in a minor hall, and Faleast had been volunteered to go fix it, being one of the more durable of the "Nicroburst Brigade", as they called themselves. He was supposed to try and find a node within the walls and Nicroburst it to reset the system. Of course, they all knew what a "node" was. Nobody'd bothered explaining it to him. He'd felt multiple things within the panel that could have been a node, but he'd tried burning Nicrosil with one and he'd nearly fused his arm within the panel. So now he was feeling around with a singed hand, feeling for something that wasn't a live Investiture line. Maybe you should look while I try the Nicroburst, AraRaash said. He was unusually chipper as of late. Probably a side effect of his ego inflating to a chasmfiend after successfully orchestrating the fall of Kae. Which apparently didn't even happen in this timeline, as he'd seen a few Elantrians in the medical bay. "I'd rather not try that now. I don't know what the HI looks like in the Cognitive, and I'm not sure I want to," he replied. Hmm. Do you think that thing can see you? You you? "I have no idea," Faleast said curtly, finally grasping a sphere deep within the panel. He burned nicrosil, and the door... did nothing. It's automatic. It won't open until someone tries to walk into it. "Great," he said, giving a yank on his arm to try and get it out of the panel. It didn't move. Great. Faleast tried to rotate his shoulder. His forearm moved around, but his elbow was stuck. "Come on..." he said, trying to... His arm glowed red. He managed to squeak out a "That's not-" before a pulse of Investiture threw him across the hallway.

(Just an FYI that I probably won't be able to make any more posts today. Got too much work to do. I should be back to activity tomorrow and onwards though.)

Hmm...

Can confirm, Rep is very hard to come by in the RP sections. Which is odd, because that’s how TwiLyght, Kobold, and Voidus all grew to power...

Gyroto smirked. "I'll inform him. I suspect he'll want a meeting, but the semantics may need some discussion. Having a large group of Epics in close proximity can have... unexpected results," he said, looking in the distance toward the ruined stadium. There was also the minor detail that Blockade would never invite a corruption Epic into his field; he was too used to his grappling fighting style, and until they learned whether his force fields could be corrupted or not, it would be too much of a risk. Speaking of which... the... thing didn't appear to be spreading corruption. Good to know. "I'll go give my report," Gyroto said, springing his rotor to life and starting takeoff, keeping it slow in case the messenger had anything else on their mind.

I won a day... once... somehow... I think it was the Windbreaker thing,

So they've already learned his name. That's either good or very, very bad. But then again, he doesn't know who I am... He raised his goggles to his forehead with his free arm. "No. I go by Gy-ro-to," he replied, careful to stress the first syllable. His Epic name... took a little getting used to. "Blockade's main scout." Technically, he was a lot more then a scout. Second in command when it came to strategy, organization, anything that didn't directly fall to any of his subservients. But that wasn't information he wanted passed around just yet. He disabled his rotors, letting them collapse to his back and limbs but ready for flight again at a moment's notice. Depravity, eh? Must be the purple Epic. He'd seen what he could do to territory, but that he could make... that... he'd never - no, he had seen something like it. And it shook him all the same. He wouldn't let this diplomat see that, though. "I take it you are not Depravity, then. If you have a message you need brought, I can deliver it according to it's urgency, but we are not currently accepting diplomats at this time." He leaned forward, slightly conspiratorially. "That being said... you're the first Epic to make it to our border with a message. Make of that what you will." He was fairly certain this man wasn't an Epic - he was far too scared of the thing beside him - but it wouldn't be the first time he'd been surprised.

Gyroto perched at the top of the field, looking over the city as he took his lunch break. The view was spectacular. It was also really sparking cold up here. His jacket was nice, but it had a rather large set of holes to accomodate his main rotor, and his wrist gauntlets drew in cold like a... he scratched his chin. Like a flame drew moths. Or a city drew Epics, he added grimly. He finished the last scrap of his sandwich, and started jogging down the side of the field, watching the curve. He'd have his coffee in-flight. After a few minutes of jogging his boots started to slip on the field's surface. Go time. He crouched, letting his momentum take him into a slide, watching for anything in his way. It wasn't often that he got to practice a moving liftoff. Now. Gyroto jumped, and applied a strong spin to the apparatus on his back. The four blades spun into motion almost instantly, first sticking together before splitting into a square formation, the complex raising itself a bit higher so he wouldn't decapitate himself. Forge's design - this model might be a keeper. He'd gotten pretty good at takeoffs: he used to shoot up into the air, but now he was better at judging how much wind he'd need to stay aloft. Then he tapped the buttons on his knuckles, opening the rotors on his arms and linking the two on his ankles, forming a tail rotor and two guides. And he soared. It was second nature to him now: scanning the ground below, adjusting the speed of each set of blades, even keeping his own body still enough to have a stable path. Gyroto dove to a few hundred feet, marking Blockade's smaller fields covering the main one. About halfway done sealing the breaches. Not bad for a day's work. There would invariably be those that escaped the confines, but that could work to their advantage - rumors would spread, and the more confusion about Blockade's strength, the better. They were... shorthanded these days. On the west side, something caught his eye. Someone was right alongside the field - they didn't seem to be doing anything to it, and Gyroto doubted that even an Epic would have trouble making a dent in a force field this size. The ones that could would hopefully know better. Better see what it's about anyway. He dove to about fifty feet, getting a better view of the human and what the CALAMITY IS THAT THING. Next to the man desperately - knocking? - on the field was a purple... monstrosity. It looked alive, even if unnaturally still. The same color as the western zone. Gyroto decided this would need more of a show. He slowed to a hover, dropping about twenty feet behind the... pair. He drew one of his submachine guns from his hip, but left it pointing toward the ground. "What, exactly," he said in a faintly British accent, "are you doing here with that?" @AmazingGoob

Blockade finally reached the last breach on the north side. His arms were sore, but there was a satisfying line of blue bubbles behind him, each covering a section of the main field that was interrupted. While his fields didn't technically have an origin, if one ran into something like a building it would stop and continue around, spreading its reinforcement instead of the field itself. That meant any building that overlapped the field could act as a way in or out, and Blockade needed to control this sector before he opened it up any more than necessary. The home was a smaller one, but still had an easily accessible door on this side. Blockade summoned his armor - a series of concave shields covering his forearms, shoulders, and chest, along with intensifying the cyan glow of his personal field. It didn't really help protect him much - the layer of near-microscopic energy shields did that phenomenally - but he found it fantastic at intimidating those who might otherwise question his Epic-ness. So he walked to the door and quickly twisted the handle, breaking the mechanism and forcing the door open. Walking inside, he admired the entryway - a nice light green on the walls, and sufficiently spacious enough to accommodate a checkpoint. This could make a good gateway, although it was rather close to that spidery zone. A cascade of footsteps came around the left hallway, and a bearded man rounded the corner holding a shotgun. When he saw the glowing figure just inside his threshold, he stopped, still gripping the weapon but leaving it firmly pointed to the ground. Blockade smiled. "I hope you don't intend to use that." The man didn't laugh. Good. "What do you want?" he growled, refusing to back down. Blockade shrugged. "You've seen the current state of the outside world, yes? My bubble's edge over your property? Well," he continued, not seeing any confusion on the man's face, "that puts you in a unique position. You're technically outside my territory, so I'm giving you a choice." His eyes narrowed. "Your home presents a breach in my defenses. I am going to seal that breach in five minutes. It's up to you which side of the field you want to be on. But stay, and you'll be trapped. So I suggest you make your decision quickly." The man seemed to consider a response he'd likely regret, then stopped. "I'm alone here. I have nowhere else to go. This place is all I have." "If you can work, I can supply you with food and shelter. The center of the field has an assignment building - I'm hoping I can make this zone self-sufficient. But I can't speak for what will happen to you-" he gestured in the general direction of Depravity's territory "-out there." Then he turned around and left, checking around the sides of the building to ensure there wasn't a doghouse or something that would interfere with the force field's effective sizing. And when five minutes had passed, he concentrated and made the field, sealing the breach the house represented. He didn't bother to check if the man had left. He hoped he had - he hadn't ruined his good mood. Unlike the fourth house he'd visited. @AmazingGoob

Faleast stared at the sunrise. Today would be a good day. He'd finally get off this rusting planet. He wasn't entirely sure what about Sel drove him to such... extremes. It had driven him and AraRaash apart, leaving him in control during the day and the kandra ruling in the night. He had guessed it had something to do with the combating spirits of Devotion and Dominion, but it was strange how divided they were. Normally the Dor was intermixed. Then again, he thought, this had not been a normal week. Devotion's bastion had fallen, and Dominion had just taken the penultimate nation this side of Sel. He looked down from his mountain perch on the city of Kae, bending his broadened frame. Red flags dotted nearly every major building now, even draped across the city of Elantris. It was burning now - the books, the Elantrians, everything within the rotting walls. Faleast had gathered what texts he could save, but he was no Keeper. The secrets would be lost with the Investiture. Wyrn had hardly even needed to use his Dahkor, but he'd been wrong assuming a single Monk could take a city. It had been the first major mistake of Fortune that they'd seen. That's because he neglected a variable in his predictions. Me, thought AraRaash. "Your insanity, more like," Faleast whispered. Insanity is hiring assassins to take out the most powerful being in Kae. Productivity is getting it done. "I seem to remember that it was my organization that got Lenkai. Not your attempt at killing his guards. You didn't even draw blood." I didn't know about the guards. And without me, you wouldn't have the metal you needed. Faleast nodded to that. These Dahkor... they could take a knife to the back. Even the spears he'd distributed with his market influence could barely get through the gaps in their bone armor. But once they did... the duralumin within did its work, siphoning the Connection to Fjordell that Lenkai needed to fuel his abilities. The gallows took care of the rest. That had been a strange experience. Even as AraRaash was stalking and planning for the Monk's demise, Faleast had... liked Lenkai, even to the point of using his own abilities to dispel the fear of the Dahkor's. They both knew it couldn't possibly last, but he had hoped the facade could remain for a while. It wasn't like Faleast was in any danger - even if Wyrn arrived with fire and brimstone, seeking the supporters who'd failed him so, he could have just slunk away. And abandoned everything. Faleast grabbed his temples. The force of Devotion was one of the better Shards, but it meshed poorly with his own amalgamated personality. So he grabbed his haversack and turned to continue up the path - Devotion's perpendicularity was ahead. Then he stopped, a familiar prickling feeling on his neck. "I know you're there, Philco. I take it you're ready to get off this rock as well?" @Matrim's Dice @Ventyl (if you want to say Lafay pulled an Elsecall off)

We don't talk about the coconut...

"I... I'm not sure. He seemed... panicked, but I don't think he was hurt. It seemed more like he was following something than running from it," Poller replied. He looked over the boarding house - it was a nice looking place, but it didn't seem quite his... style. He'd seen what places in the slums could rent for, and even Cassie's small upper rooms took a huge chunk out of his wages. Not that he blamed Cassie for that - her trade was rather expensive. "I'll keep it in mind. It looks like a good building. Good foundation. Strong walls." He blinked. What did he know about engineering? He made candy. He shook his head a little - must be the wave wearing off. He stopped tapping his bronze, letting the exhaustion from a jog fall onto him - a noticeable amount, but not a worrying one. "Er... I should probably go... I can pay if I damaged your towels, or something," he said, reaching into his pocket for a few chips. @Sorana

Yup. Once all the Hemalurgists are gone the HI can die to a kill.

Brenton stumbled out of his front door, watching the bulge form in the distance. Bright, blue, and very, very big. He gave a weak sigh, a forlorn look on his face. Another Epic in Edmonton. Another chance for a fight to start, another chance for everything to go wrong. He'd moved three times in the past few months. The first time when he'd thought Epoch's field had stalled instead of broken entirely, and had taken the chance to enter Epoch's territory. He needed to move again when Pariah started hunting down anyone left with a spark of defiance. And then he'd gone east for a drink and found the monster that was Depravity blocks away. He'd needed a few more drinks after that night. So here he was, in the middle of no-man's-land, free as a bird with a gilded cage. And that cage had just shrunken severely. So Brenton walked calmly back inside, told the ones eating what food they had bought yesterday the news, then picked up a rucksack containing what remained of his possessions and left. ~~~ An hour later, Brenton opened the door to a decrepit building. It used to be a church; technically, it still was. All the religious symbols had been removed, burned off by the look of it. He still wasn't sure if that was the work of some divinely-deluded Epic or the new congregation. He'd seen some wackos here before, but they all mellowed out in time. He had. The main door was shut, but the telltale red graffiti over the handle showed it was still in use. Brenton coughed and the door opened, revealing the Church of Collection. A simple hallway guarded by a red-robed clerk, leading to a row of five confessionals. He and the other newcomers still weren't allowed in the inner sanctum, but he'd found even the confessionals... promising. He nodded to the clerk, removed a glove, and shook hands with her, trying to maintain eye contact. She simply nodded and gestured towards the rightmost confessional box. "The Conduit can see you now, Brenton. Go ahead." Brenton smiled - he still wasn't sure if he was supposed to talk here - and walked within, sitting on the bench. Facing him was a simple velvet curtain - the wall had been removed. Then the curtain shifted, revealing the Conduit - this Church's priest. Like the clerk, he wore red robes, although he had much more of a smile on his stubbled face. For a leader of a church, he was quite young and quite... handsome, actually. "Ah. Brenton. Is it that time already? I thought I saw you three days ago," he said, taking a seat on the opposite bench. Brenton scratched his head. "Yeah, I just had an... eventful week. Met a lot of new people. Most of them ones I didn't want to meet. I think I've Collected enough stories for the week." "You did? Hmm. Tell me about them." And so Brenton talked. About the grocer who'd found a supply of seedling potatoes, only to come back a day later to a burning building. About the field over the city - the Conduit's eyebrow raised at that one - and leaving his home. About the gang who'd nearly beaten him to death before his backhand broke the leader's nose. And the Conduit continued to nod, smiling, feeling with him. Eventually the priest spoke up. "The Collector will be proud of your experiences," he said, stepping forward and laying an arm on Brenton's shoulder. "Now, how do you feel?" And then it happened. Brenton felt a jolt, as if he'd been made anew right there on the spot. He felt... like there wasn't any problem he couldn't handle. He felt... he barely knew how to describe it anymore... alive. Like a weight had been lifted off his shoulder, even as the Conduit's hand seemed to carry the weight of worlds. "Great," he replied. The Conduit nodded. "Then go and Collect." Then the preist's solemn demeanor dropped a bit. "You've done well. Unless something else major comes up, feel free to come back at our normal time next week," he said, lifting his arm and turning slightly towards the curtain. "I hope I'll see you then." Brenton nodded, breathing heavily from exhilaration. He opened the confessional door, gave a nod to the clerk, and walked into the city, feeling like a new man. Part of him knew this wasn't normal, that he was falling for what his parents would rightly call a cult. But that part of him was quiet these days. He was feeling too much joy to give it up. He would serve the Collector, for as long as he would have him. ~~~ The Conduit closed the curtain, then took a few calm steps before blurring into motion, dashing towards the abandoned inner sanctum and the shattered stained glass windows within. The blue bulge was clearly visible against the sky. Suddenly a figure stood behind him - evidently moving too quickly for the eye to see. So he'd seen it already. Of course. The Acolyte was quite pale, wearing a crimson T-shirt and jeans instead of his usual robe. He'd also lost his spectacles - not that he would need them, the Conduit thought. "He's arrived. And he brought what I seek," the Acolyte said. "You are to continue your work here, but I'll need to Collect early, Marn." The Conduit - flinching at his old name - nodded. "Of course," he said, kneeling and extending out a hand. The Acolyte merely tapped it, and the Conduit felt all the attribute's he'd gained flow out of him. He was still several times over the strength and mind of what he'd been before, but it was nothing compared to the power the Acolyte held. "Do not worry. This city is still ripe for harvest; we will not throw out the unused chaff yet," the Acolyte said. He motioned Marn to rise and extended a hand. "As Ferocity wills." "As Ferocity wills," returned the Conduit. And they stared through the glass at the blue horizon, waiting to reflect the shattered view they saw it through.

I had wanted to take a break from SE... but... the Investiture, the possibilities... grrr. Signing up as Faleast. Hopefully that will stick around.

I mean, my original plan was even more devious... I didn't know you were limited to one item used per turn, so I was planning to stack them and quintuple my vote instead of doubling it...

I had figured... one of the more stressful things was figuring out how to kill you not knowing how much Deo you had. I was slapping my forehead repeatedly for not buying a roleblock, and we almost had Kings use a Murder contract on you the 2nd day. Eventually we just went for the hammer, but that was stressful in and of itself because I had no idea where the adjudicator was... and a fizzled hammer would have been... awkward. I was actually a little suspicious of you being the adjudicator, but I thought Xino would have given it back to Lotus and let Lotus decide whether to guard you or not. I also had suspected that Xino swapped the Secretary to Lotus and was passing that role around as an extra alignment scan... which seems like it almost did happen and would have severely ruined my beautiful plans. I was trying to spin that Elims targeting you and not me because they had to hope that you were the Monk and not me, because if it was me then they'd have to spend an extra two-three rounds killing me after finding it wasn't you, which was time they didn't have. But I couldn't figure out how to do that without ruining the impression that I was maybe the Monk. Oh, they're everything he's ever dreamed of... I'll have some retroactive RP about it soon. Possibly guest starring Philco the Sleepless and Lafay the... quasi-immortal Willshaper.

Good game everyone!

Well, I am village, and no, we LOSE if we lose even one villager.

... last minute votes are generally not considered a good-leaning thing. Although we've got 5 minutes, so it is a significant fraction. But I'd rather vote Windrunner, who essentially just said they want one of us three dead with no discernment as to which.

AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH Okay that's done. I mean... all I can really say is I was busy between the LG's endgame and my own midterms. When I've taken a stand on a suspicion I feel like I've been clear about why. And voting for CadCom for a four-way tie would be throwing the game to a hammer... so... I don't know. Windrunner, why do you suspect Gears? @The Windrunner Supreme.