Hoid Slayer

24 Hours Ago "Tell me, dear Markus. Have you ever heard, perchance, the tale of Sir Werrin the Weak?" Lord Markus turned to Hoid's voice, exasperated. "If you have something to say, quicktongue, then say it. My patience is waning." He had the dim sensation of the other man grinning in the darkness. "I have something to say. Whether you have something to hear is entirely up to you." For a second, Markus considered lunging at the man. But as soon as his body clenched to move, a soreness spread throughout it, and he collapsed back into his sorrow pool on the floor. He sighed. "Very well. Tell your story, fool." A chuckle. "Very well. Sir Werrin was a knight, tasked with holding the city of Wardrex. As the tale goes, Wardrex was besieged by a horde of winions..." "A horde of what?" "Winions. Beings from another land. Fierce, brutal beings." In his head, Markus conjured an image of the koloss that stood beyond the gates of Luthadel. "Go on." Silence. Then, all of a sudden, a light flared in the room. Hoid had lit a candle. It flickered in the night, illuminating the shadows of his sharp features and pale white hair. Markus watched warily as Hoid set the candle down on the miniature model of Luthadel Markus had on his desk - directly atop a minuscule Kredik Shaw - and pulled out a wooden flute, seemingly from nowhere. Markus pushed himself up to get a better view. Hoid raised the flute to his lips, and began to blow. It was a thin, haunting tone, and as it played, the candlelight seemed to dance over the streets of the Elend's city, flickering this way and that, never forming a stable pattern. Finally, Hoid put the flute back down again, and resumed the story. "The winions had surrounded the city entirely. Within two weeks of his arrival, Sir Werrin received a message from his king that the city was all but lost. The news got out, and the streets ran with riots. At first, Werrin was devoid of hope; but then, one night, an attendant came to him." The candle continued to flicker, and for a second, Markus thought he could make out a silhuette striding up to Kredik Shaw. Then it was gone, and he was sure he had imagined it. "The man went up to Ser Werrin, and informed him of a secret. You see, there were a set of caverns, underneath Wardrex, a maze that surfaced far past the edges of the city. Yet the opportunity was not entirely perfect; the attendant warned of the possibility that the Winions had already made it into the caves, and were waiting in the darkness. The first night, Ser Werrin did not act, too frightened of the possibility to risk his chances. The second night, his desperation caught up to him; he sent a host into the caverns, to explore possible exits. They were killed by the Winions. The third day, the Winions marched on the West side of the city, taking it and burning Wardrex's food stores." Markus listened, carefully following the story, watching it play out on the shadows before him. "The Winions attacked back in retaliation. If Ser Werrin hadn't sent the host, those deaths could've been avoided." "Ahh, but did they? Was the Winion movement a counterstrike, or was it preplanned?" Markus stayed silent. Hoid continued. "The fourth day, Ser Werrin fretted. He blamed himself, yet at the begging of his attendants, he once again sent a host to explore the chambers. The fifth day, the Winions took the South of the city." Markus huffed in exasperation. Hoid smiled. "The fifth night, Ser Werrin did not act. He reached the same conclusion you did, and sought not to put more lives in danger. Some attendants protested, and so he silenced them. The city never knew of the possibility of the caverns. The sixth day, the Winions made no move." The firelight flitted. "That night, the defenders of Wardrex rejoiced. Happy in their escape, they made no thoughts of sending any men back into the caverns that night, resting with full bellies and empty bottles. The seventh day, Wardrex fell." The candle went dark. Silence. "Was... that it?" Markus' voice seemed tiny in the vastness of the void, and he felt himself missing the small light. "That was it." "But... no host was sent. Why did the Winions attack?" When Hoid's response came, his voice beckoned from the doorway. "Doom nears, Lord Markus, whether you tempt it or not." Then he was gone, and Markus was left alone with the sound of silence and the hopes of dead men.

Hmm Have you signed up for a slot? (If you haven’t I suggest you do cause those things take forever to roll around) How would you weight the exes? I don’t love the idea of the post edit just cause I feel like not that many people look through old posts anyway and anything big enough to help the elims cause would def be noticed So it’d just be a weird confusion device

Wait wait wait Has Ookla season begun?

Ooh So I’ll preface this by saying that I haven’t read Reckoners nor do I know anything about it, so there’s that It’s certainly a very different game structure than we mostly see now (and more complicated, I’d say) but it looks cool Mass kills are gonna be cool I agree that it definitely requires a higher player count, like 16 would work perfectly Uhh there’s not much to change Faction actions go into effect at the start of the following cycle? Also, entirely unrelated question: When is the Anniversary Game?

Can I take a look at your game?

... Probably a typo? But yes, you are absolutely correct, I did not notice that

Hmm… sounds like government secrecy to me Unofficial? He made it into the spec doc That’s good enough

Well, snappity snappers Thanks, of course, to my most noblest of lieges @TwinStorm and @The Unknown Misting. @IcedOutPenguin, @Akimikoisthecutest, @Booknewt, you guys were dealt a horrendous set of cards *cough Sart’s absurd luck* and still managed to somehow pull it off - although I blame the village loss on dp’s inactivity and my failure to capitalize on my Accusation C3. That was a certain elim exe if only I’d coordinated with Sart or even KSauce, and as for dp we basically ended up reaching parity earlier than expected which obviously comes down to luck. On the topic of @KaladinsSenseOfHumorSpren: we really tried, man. We did. I am honored to call you my partner - even though we lost in the end. Don’t blame yourselves I think the lack of activity boils down to already knowing everything there was to know; all there was left to do was vote and wait, which isn’t the most exciting set of events LEAK THE ELIM PM RELEASE THE FILES

Well, this is a somewhat depressing day I feel like I should rant for a while, but I'm struggling to think of something to rant about Lord Markus slept the entire next day. He didn't do it on purpose; but after that chaotic, frantic night, the weariness and alcohol from the last week all caught up to him, and he passed out. In his dreams, he saw them. R2D2 was first. They were in that chamber room, voices raised, lords arguing. Sart spoke up, and Renalis backed him as R2D2 screamed in fury. And then, suddenly, all the voices froze. Placards stilled in the air, and silence fell over the council. To Markus' left, a fly's wings stopped midair, and he took a second to observe it. Then, as if by an unseen string, his eyes were wrenched back to face R2D2. The other Lord was staring directly into him - his gaze cutting into his soul. Markus felt the layers within him fall apart, felt his heart beat faster and faster until he was sure it would burst, but he couldn't look away, couldn't blink. R2D2's face fell into shadow, and then he raised a finger and pointed directly into Markus' heart. And screamed. It was not a human scream, but a shrill sound, dark and unnatural, and Markus would do anything to silence it but it wouldn't stop, and he couldn't look away, couldn't blink, and the sound got louder, and his eyes pierced, breaking and screaming and breaking- Next it was Your Mistakes. R2D2's scream still rung in his head as he heard the familiar voices from around the light corridor, and he walked the corner carefully. On the other side, the lords and attendants parted smoothly to reveal the pale body. Your Mistakes lay on the ground with eyes open yet unseeing, skin already paling, blood pooling on the floor around him from the wound on his chest. It was the most horrendous sight Markus had ever seen, but he found he could not stop the pace of his feet. They took him closer and closer, past the scribes and the servants until he stood right before the corpse, and crouched down to meet his gaze. Then suddenly the corpse twitched, and his cold fingers wrapped tight around Markus' ankle, drawing warm blood. The next he knew, he was sitting in a puffy chair, a warm fire heating his body. But he couldn't shake the chill. He looked to the side, and Lord Sart sat there alongside him. The faint music of violins leaked in from the courtyard outside. Sart looked at Markus, and spoke. "Are you alright?" The voice jolted Markus back to reality. He shook his head, finally coming to clarity. Everything was okay. He was awake. Sart was alive. Yet his voice trembled as he responded. "Yes, yes, I'm... alright." Sart smiled warmly, and Markus began to smile too, until the Lord's eyes turned an inky black and blood began to soak through his clothing. When he spoke again, it was a bestial voice, and Markus felt a chill run down his spine. "good." He blinked, and he found himself strung up on one of Kredik Shaw's spires. He gasped, and felt nails pin his flesh to the hard stone structure. The chill of a coming storm battered the skin revealed by his tattered clothing. He looked down, and immediately looked away and shut his gaze. Nausea overwhelmed him. When he next regained himself, ash was falling, and Renalis stood next to him. She smiled, her eyes black. In her hand she held a spike, and as she lifted it to drive it into his chest, he opened his mouth to scream but no sound came out- Markus woke up, and jumped out of bed. He was covered in sweat, a splitting headache threatening to crack his skull open. His room still stank of wine, but now he found the stench unbearable. He forced himself over to the window of his chambers and pulled the drapes open. Outside, the night was peaceful. The mists cloaked the streets. Ash fell. And he began to weep. Uhh yk you can't vote for two people right? I'm taking this means you guys added a vote to me

I mean... There's also not really much you can reveal. We know Aki's your teammate You may as well openwolf now

So uhh @KaladinsSenseOfHumorSpren we’re voting Booknewt right? Sorry for the late response everyone, I had a very busy yesterday

Markus turned to him, glad to have someone to accompany him in this moment. It was somewhat ironic, that the one he knew least was the one he could trust the most. So the man was indeed not from this world. Markus had expected something as such, but the truth was still chilling. The reality that everything was so much bigger than they had possibly imagined. But for some reason, the existence of parallel universes didn't really seem like the most pressing concern right now. "I... I don't know. There are still so many problems here, but... they need someone to solve them. Someone to fight for a better future, because no one else will. I truly hope to see you on the other side of this, Zinwik. But if I do..." he looked around, wistful. Observing in sudden clarity what he had so long ignored. "There is still work to be done here. And if I can, I will spend every last breath I have to see it done." The truth reverberated in his head, and at last, he understood it. It wasn't about winning. It was about trying. Why had he never seen that? Now it was too late. Farewell, KaladinsSenseOfHumorSpren I'll see you on the other side o7

Wine and gold. Ever since Lyra's absence, it was all Markus had ever wanted. Now he drowned in both, as the world around him starved of honesty. As he lay there, soaked, in a pool of his own despair, he considered giving up. Right then. Right there. It was over, wasn't it? Despite all his charms, Lord Markus had only managed to secure a single batch of guards. And he had no way to know who the assassins would target. Him, or Lord Ksauce, bless his quirky soul? Damn the conspirers, Renalis and Cricket. Their sins were laid to bear, and yet somehow, they had still played them all in the end. Damn the King, and his foolish ideals that would now prove his doom. Damn his rusting Mistborn, who had left their fate to chance and executed an honest man. Damn Lord dp, who had fled the court days ago and yet whose presence they still awaited. And damn Lord Markus, the greatest fool of them all. A light cracked into his quarters, and he rose an arm to block it out. "Not now, Turion.” "I'm not Turion.” The man who slipped into the room was little more than a shadow, yet Markus caught a wisp of white hair and a familiar intonation before the door shut and darkness fell again. He gasped, a sharp intake of breath, and felt a chill run down his spine. "Hoid?" He straightened his back, lifting himself to try to reclaim a semblance of dignity. The attempt died almost immediately, and Lord Markus felt a pang of shame. How familiar that feeling know seemed. "Shhhhh," the man whispered softly. "I was never here." Markus waited as he heard the man's footsteps stroll around, the room, crossing to the wall where paintings of the old myths hung, and his voice returned. "Tell, me oh Lord. What has you so put down?" "We..." his voice cracked, and he sank a little deeper. "We've all but failed. The killers rule our court. They whisper lies into our King's ear, and he listens. We were fools to believe this could ever work. Such fools... but know. We should have known how fleeting our hope was. Yet we were so caught up in relishing it, we did not mind to protect it." "No," Hoid responded, in a serious tone that surprised Markus. "I am an expert in fools, and you are not one. Not for hope, at least. Yes, you have failed. Do you not think I can smell? But tell me, dear Markus.” Silence reigned. And then broke. “Have you ever heard, perchance, the tale of Sir Werrin the Weak?" ... Two hours later, Markus stood in a dark hallway. Hoid's words still rung in his head, a head still dizzy from booze. But still he stood. He had called forth all the remaining Lords to meet here. Here, to settle their fate. Once and for all. By the time dawn rose, either these halls would run with red, or they would all live to see another. Lord Ruler bless their souls. I'm bored Anyone wanna RP? Yk, before our inevitable loss?

Lamentably, this is true

Hoid snored.

Oh shnap Sorry Sart I forgot about the Accusations - exeing an elim was so easy, and yet we still fumbled But yes, we know who they are ALTHOUGH we’ve already lost if dp doesn’t come online @TwinStorm@The Unknown Misting, pinchitter please? Wait no me we’ve already lost Unless… KSauce, what political power did you get? I’m assuming Book got second Yeah this is low-key like over for village They have the knife at our throats, and the worst part is we saw it coming and didn’t stop it

Dang I’m actually sorry Well played

Hoid enters the bar, looks around, and falls asleep.

Ahh okay I doubt anything will happen, though As the eternity eternity-ied, Markus fidgeted with his blade in the empty council room. The final session of the day was near-approaching - it had been delayed tonight, and the darkness had already fallen, yet it would happen. For the past hour, Markus had waited. For a while - as the sun first began to set - he had been prepared to sneak into another's quarters, and slit their throat. But his sanity had returned, and he was now willing to take a more passive option. But still. He had no intention of allowing any more conspirers to go free. Outside, in the dark of night, his attendants continued to search for him. In this chamber, it was peaceful. Serene. It did not yet bear stains of blood or toil. In that, there was something pure here. Yet nothing so pure ever lasted. Better a stained cloth than a burned one. Markus could not say he had a special connection to any of the other Lords. After Lyra's death, he had distanced himself, played every side. A centrist, most considered him. He wasn't a centrist. He just never fought. But in this past week, he had abandoned that. He was ready to fight. Ready to kill. Ready to stand. Ready to win.

The fall of night felt like an eternity captured in an instant. One could almost believe the sun set and rose again, as all of Luthadel held it’s breath. Or at the very least, the few Lords who cared.