TwinStorm

"His mercy is why you still stand today. And it really doesn't matter how he died. He's dead. And you're about to follow him. So what's your plan? I'm going to save myself."

oh yeah lol yeah I keep meaning to do things with Stone and keep getting distracted by Cricket Stone felt the Thread shake. He heard his brother's last words, and felt the thunder that killed him. And now, he despaired. He had committed crimes in his past, and his Author was tying up loose threads. He sat on a stone in a distant desert, and whispered a prayer to any Author who would hear. "Help."

A LOT MORE THAN 4 LMAO lmao lol lemme tell you that

ooh Fog she Narrator?

yes lol Atreides is an a-hole this has been well established

Atreides appeared before him, too. "You showed your weakness in the duel. You only won because Cricket was too weak to finish you. If he had been a true man, you'd be rotting in a ditch right now.

Atreides appeared before Malevolence. "Hail, true Antagonist." he said, kneeling. @NameIess

Chaos. The fistfights had broken between Singers, and now two were dead. Narash had been surrounded, and beaten to death. O, one of the Singers, had broken out of the crowd, and taken off, sprinting. Two hours later, his body had been found in an alleyway. Eyes burned out, and a spren swirling around him. Deltri inspected the corpses, both placed in the center of the square. Narash had been thought to be a Warform, but upon glancing at his body, was covered in spikes. A Direform. A form of the enemy. Deltri glanced at the Singers packed into the small square. He smiled. "They're dead. We did it." As much as Deltri hated death, he felt a twinkling of hope, as that same Rhythm flitted in his words. "But . . . there's more. I'm sure of it. And . . . O, he was killed by a Shardbearer." The crowd stirred, many gasping. The Listeners among them remembered the Shattered Plains, when those accursed Blades has claimed so many of their kin. "This is not over." Songs, he hated how pathetic his voice sounded. He was not meant to be a leader. --- Bitel felt the storm in his blood, the wind flowing around his carapace, relishing in the chaos of the dusk breeze. It was his favorite time of day; oh, how he had missed this. Somehow, all the years of suffering made the bliss even sweeter. It was the time of day when decisions were made. And tonight’s decision was a particularly important one. Down in the streets of Revolar - streets that looked like ant trails from Bitel’s elevated position - his Regals infiltrated the ranks of the resistors, slowly hacking away at them. The plan was set, and he had trust in those he had chosen. And so Bitel took the chance to float in the heavens, and feel the wind flowing. His musings were cut short by screams. He looked down. The Singers were gathering. Tonight, they would kill one of their own. Yes, he decided, beginning to descend. He trusted those he had chosen - but this he would like to watch. … Narash had always wanted to be able to fly. Of course, he thought as the crowd backed him to the roof’s edge, this was never how he had expected to do it. Yet as the panic set in, his thoughts were still on the past. How had this happened? It was all going so well. The plan had been crafted to perfection, and even as the day waned, it flowed. Khenari had been supposed to die, not him. But now the crowd came close, and his feet tasted the bitter emptiness. He tried to plead with them. “Odium has radiants too,” he said. “Just look at…” the name almost left his mouth, but he held himself back. He would not betray his own. “We’re all on the same side here.” But they didn’t care. How could they? Sweat raced down his face. Carefully, he balled his fists. He was Direform. This was what he was built for. And yet, as Narash went down, he felt nothing but spite for the Fused who had promised him a new world. He was beaten to death on the roof, and never did taste the sky. … O’s defining feature was his fear of a letter, but that was replaced by a far greater one when he saw his teammate dead before him. Everything was falling apart so soon, so quickly. Bitel had promised a life of glory; it seemed they would suffer death in shame. Narash would, at least. O could still get away. And it was as he tried to get away, head still spinning with visions of a fallen friend, that he bumped into another Singer. Instinctively, he turned to apologize - he may have accepted the new world order, but he wasn’t a monster. Merely an opportunist. But the face that greeted him showed no such kindness - only a grim smile. It took a second for o to recognize the figure, and another for him to open his mouth to scream - yet both were too late as the gleaming blade tore through his soul, and the Regal radiant fell. … Yakat’s crime ring was doing well. At least he would like to think so. It was hard pretending to be a Singer, and it seemed the things he had learned from Herdaz weren’t as common here. Thankfully, no one seemed to be paying him any attention. No, all of that went to Narash. Yakat felt an ick as Narash was killed, but nothing too bad. Nothing mattered other than keeping o alive - and speaking of the budding radiant, where was he? Yakat began to sift through the crowd, concern growing until finally seeing o - and then seeing his radiant’s eyes scorched out. Yakat released a scream - and fell into damnation. … When Bitel landed, the crowd had dispersed. Three were dead, but only two bodies were found. Two bodies, and the stench of failure. He had handpicked them, and yet they had fallen so quickly. Pathetic. And yet… Bitel thought, looking back where the crowd had gone. Failure may reign, but not all hope was gone. --- Mistfallen Soldier has been executed! They were a Direform Regal. Archer has fallen! They were a Discerning Regal. Drake has disappeared! He was a Spren to Archer. Vote Count: Mistfallen Soldier: (7) TJ, Jo, Stick, Honors Ghost, Doc, Akimoi Wahr: (1) Archer: (2) Mippo, TOW Akimo: (6) TUM, Quian, Mistfallen, Iced, Archer Things to Note: PMs are open! This cycle will end on Monday the 2nd of February, at 8 PM CST Maintain your sanity! Or don't! Go crazy! I don't really care! This is SE! Have fun! PMs are still coming, please be patient! Players

cycle closed see you in a minute

oh mb gimme a sec ur right

you forgot to add yourself lol Aki is in the lead

Vote count Mistfallen Soldier: (5) TOW, TJ, Jo, Stick, Honors Ghost Wahr: (1) Doc TOW: (1) Akimoi Archer: (1) Mippo Akimo: (4) TUM, Quian, Mistfallen, Iced, Mippo (1) Archer correct me pls

Rollover in roughly an hour, might be a bit late, remember to submit actions and cast your votes!

Roughly 5 hours left in the cycle! Remember to get your votes and actions in!

I am, but the GMs win too @|TJ| sure we can change the elim winton

I think Atreides has them actually im sure you could get them from him tho

QF78 - Cycle 1: Servants of a New Storm Deltri felt the storm in his blood. It disturbed him. Life had never been peaceful, but since the storm had awakened his fellow Singers, since his journey from the Shattered Plains, it had become a nightmare. The Rhythm of Mourning pierced his mind, as he watched a distant Fused fly over the city. The Fused. They were soulless creatures of the ancient past. A nightmare, waking and breathing. They were far above the simple Singers, thankfully. All they had to deal with were their accursed lackeys, the Regals. He swore, just thinking about the Regals. They were . . . had been Singers, who had sheltered one of His spren, allowing their Rhythms to be consumed by him. He turned, glancing at the haybales piled around him. Back to work. Shovel hay, eat, sleep, watch his friends get consumed by evil, shovel hay. This life . . . He leaned on his pitchfork. This was all a farce. He was sure of it. The world was too cruel to be anything else. --- Welcome, welcome, welcome to QF78: Hearts of Riches, Rhythms of Hatred! All GMPMs should be out by now, if not please PM me and @Hoid Slayer Have fun and go wild! This is SE, after all! Please note the following: You may place a vote by putting a player's name in bolded red. The player with the most votes will die at the end of the turn. Ties are decided randomly. Remember to submit actions before tomorrow! PMs are open! Go wild! This turn will end on Sunday the 1st of Febuary at 8:00 PM CST. Have fun! Players

it was in the rules . . .

shots fired and the game hasn't even begun yet . . . this is gonna be fun

Savior Complex was shattered in a fight with Atreides, Moment is unclaimed at the moment, but thats a question for @Aeoryi

your thinking as a TLTer should lol its motives were set in stone by TwinStorm when he designed the Plotblade specifically for Cricket, so the sword will follow his sense of morals and judge people at first as Cricket would, instinctively hating Rebus, liking Tam or Bat etc the sword does not distinguish between Author's characters tho, so any of Glass's characters it will trust at first, and any of Heir's characters it will dislike on first sight ye this is so random and so nerdy lol

Redemption's voice echoed through his head. "You are unworthy to hold me, unless you truly desire peace."

o7 im honored

thanks so much lol yeah I think hes gone hes in Elysium and I don't think its that afterlife thread lol

Cricket's eyes widened, as the blade wrenched through the heart. He felt no pain, however, only peace. It was done. He looked into Rebus's eyes and smiled. "You bastard." he whispered. But there was no venom in his words, no hatred. It was the statement of a fact. "You know . . . I expected nothing else." He sighed. In the end, he hadn't needed to be the hero. He'd never needed to be. He just needed to set the stage, and hopefully, someday, his actions would bring the downfall of the Antagonist. He coughed, hacking as blood spilled out of his mouth. The end was soon. The pain was beginning to take hold. No amount of healing would save him now. He struggled, and tried to stand, slowly, hesitantly. He would not face death on his knees. He'd always defied. He fell, catching himself inches away from the soil, the rain lashing his skin. He glanced up at Rebus, at the Antagonist. He'd always found a way, to beat Malan, to beat the hunters, to beat Malevolence. Now, there were no more tricks. Just acceptance. He glanced at Redemption. The Blade was glowing, shining as bright as the sun. The storm continued to rage, but the light brought peace. Even the winds seemed to fade in the face of Redemption. "I hope . . . I hope you can find peace." he smiled, and extended his hand slowly, gripping Bat's talisman. "Here . . . take this. If you ever decide . . . to surrender Antagonist . . . this will help." He stood up, slowly, swaying with the loss of blood, but he stood, supporting himself. He smiled. His shirt was drenched in blood, and he felt faint. And yet he smiled. And in his last moments, he began to glow, dark energy enshrouding him. There are some of you who will doubt me. he spoke softly, broadcasting his thoughts to the entire Thread. Some who say I should've taken the blow. And to be honest, perhaps I should've. But to tell you the truth, I am not the Protagonist. I did not deserve to kill Rebus, and perhaps never knew. I knew one man good enough to hold that Blade, and he's gone. He breathed softly. We, characters, have a purpose. A reason. Why we exist, why our Authors willed us into being. For a long time, I thought my purpose was to avenge. To find Rebus, and kill him. And perhaps it was. It doesn't matter anymore. Rebus lives, and the Protagonist must come. Come and finish what I've started If I'm not meant to bring vengeance, then who am I? A misfit? The last in a dying generation, fit to be killed? Perhaps. Or . . . perhaps I was meant to feel pity. Perhaps I was meant to spare him. What I'm trying to say is . . . the past is gone. Only the future matters now, and what we do with it. And at the end of our days . . . our lives are nothing more than the sum of our choices, for better or worse. I think I made the right choice. He paused. He had nothing more to say. No more dramatic words of inspiration. The silence said the rest. He lifted one hand, and sent hope. Hope to the Authors, to the characters. To Bat and Tam, he sent peace. To Rose, wherever she was, he sent love. A doomed love, but a love nonetheless. And to the rest, he sent strength. Strength to continue. The shadows surrounding him faded. The darkness vanished. Cricket stood amidst the storm once more, and slowly, with effort, raised his head, to meet Rebus's eyes. He would die on his feet, a man. He saluted one last time, smiling, despite the pain. A golden lightning bolt split the sky, severing the wind in half, and slamming into Cricket, killing him instantly. A last gift from his Author. --- --- --- Cricket opened his eyes slowly. Was he . . . dead? "Unfortunately, yes." came a voice from behind. Cricket turned, finding himself in a white room, bare except for a wooden door. Behind him stood a man who looked very similar to him, with the same blazing hair. His Author. TwinStorm. "Then . . . it's over?" Cricket blinked, the weight of it settling on him. "Yes. Indeed. It's over. Finally." Cricket nodded. "What's beyond that door?" he asked, pointing. Storm turned. "That? Beyond there? Elysium. The final resting place of heroes. Where you must go." Cricket nodded again. Silence spoke well enough for him. They stood there, for a few moments, treasuring that golden silence. Storm spoke again. "I hope . . . I hope you know, for what it's worth, that you're are not alone. Me and you . . . we're the same. The Creator and the Created. And you've done so much for me, more than you've ever known." Cricket remained silent, stepping towards the door. Storm sighed. "Look, before you go . . ." he paused, then blurted out suddenly. "Do you forgive me?" Cricket reached the door, twisting the handle and opening it. He turned, looking Storm in the eye. "You know, I used to think this Thread was torture. Now . . . I'm not so sure." He smiled, and shut the door behind him.