Hoid Slayer

*squeeze* So I personally am an atheist But I still want to give my advice First: I’m sorry you had to bottle that up for so long. I’m sorry your parents won’t treat your problems seriously, and I’m sorry you’re feeling so much stress about it. Some of your problems are related to religion, but they are not justified by it. No one’s parents should dismiss their problems like that, and regardless of what you believe, claiming mental health is a choice is simply wrong. Life is exhausting, and it’s normal for it to seem like you’re slowing down, becoming less efficient. I feel it too. But it doesn’t have to be a bad thing. The world isn’t ending. Sure, terrible stuff may be happening, but life will go on. Always remember that. Life goes on. And finally, it’s okay to doubt your faith. It is not a bad thing by any means. And I know this seems counterintuitive to what I said earlier, but I’m sure a lot will change if you stop seeing it as a problem to overcome. Not every question demands an immediate answer. It’s okay to doubt, and feel tired, and see impending doom around every corner. It’s NOT okay to dismiss problems with religion, or to have to feel unsafe with your parents. Honestly, I struggle with advice sometimes. It feels wrong to tell someone they need to be doing something to get out of their situation. But if also feels wrong to just tell a person what their situation is. Yet it seems sometimes just understanding is the best you can do.

Okay! Thats what I thought, but I wanted to be sure

Your nickname I’m not quite sure what to call you…

Wow That’s honestly amazing, … Kansas?

*squeeze*

Wait I want to hear this story

Kéamen was writing when Keldorn found him. After his talk with Var, he had run off to the cliffs beyond the village. Now, he scrawled on metal, hoping his words would outlast him. His flared tin alerted him as soon as the other man landed behind him. Kéamen wrote out the last letter in his message, then stood, not turning to face the man he had called his friend. His hand trembled. A tear dripped down his face. But his voice was full of resolve. "Do you know what Var told me, Keldorn? Do you know what he said as he awaited his death, knowing his innocence? Do you care? Did you care about any of them?" His voice cracked. "He told me that if I was one of the Spiked, he congratulated me. Said you played us all like fiddles." Finally, Kéamen turned to meet Keldorn. His face was red, and his lip quivered. "But I don't congratulate you, Keldorn. I condemn you. I wonder if you truly understand what you are doing. I wonder if there is an inkling of the man I thought you were, somewhere deep in there. I thought I knew who you were. I trusted you." His voice broke, and a heat spread through his body. Then it faded, replaced by pure contempt. "But I guess that was just another lie. "Just another secret." ... A Week Later Hoid walked through the ruins of what had once been Blackkeep. Finally, he stopped before a pile of collapsed rubble. A quick brush, and the writing was uncovered. As you read this, I am dead. Even now, it pains me to write these words. My hand trembles. My heart thumps. And deep down, my soul collapses with the knowledge that I was not enough. Hoid shut his eyes. In moments like these, he doubted. Seeing the destruction wreaked by the powers he had rejected. He forced himself to refocus. He would finish reading this. He owed it to the man whose life was inscribed in this stone. I was no Mistborn. Just a mortal man, doomed to die. As all men are. Slowly, Hoid forced his eyes back open. And went back to that night. Even God has proven himself not beyond the truth of mortality. Eventual ruin is the eternal damnation of all life. We mortals play our lives like fiddles, unwilling to recognize their worth. And their fragility. A Week Ago "Hello, Hoid." Hoid turned, and looked directly into the eyes of Kéamen. In that time, all he knew of the occurrences in Blackkeep were from Kéamen's account. And Kéamen... had failed. For a long time, I believed there was a better world out there. Always at my fingertips, waiting to be grasped. A reality where all my dreams came true. Where I could reach my potential. Hoid prepared to respond, then looked at the other man. His eyes were bloodshot from a lack of sleep; his hands stained from writing. And in his eyes, Hoid saw fear. He hesitated. How could this boy be so broken? It seems that was a lie. Kéamen was the first to look away. He rushed through his words. "I know I messed up. I interfered when I shouldn't have, and the entire town knows who I am. I know I ruined your operations here. I'm sorry." Hoid heard the man's voice crack. He was fighting back emotion. For a second, Hoid felt a stab of sympathy. Then he brushed it away. Yes, this business was hard. So? It wasn't Hoid's fault if the boy couldn't handle it. It is the lie we all follow, the cloth we all hold before our eyes, blinded by hope. Hope is not a bad thing, by any means. It is a reminder of what can be. "Well? Are you going to say something? Just go ahead, tell me I'm a failure." Hoid saw the Kéamen reel back as the words left the boy's mouth mouth. Like he regretted it. But instinct kicked in, and Hoid struck back. "Oh, I wonder why I would say that? I gave you a mission, and you couldn't handle it. I thought better of you, Kéamen. You were my student." But I'm tired of walking in search of that hope. Why can we not build it where we are? "Yes, because that's all I will ever be, right? Your student?" Kéamen's tone was rising. He turned back to Hoid, and there was a fire in his eyes. "Kéamen..." "I have spent years trying to be enough for you. I snuck into every tower, recovered every piece of information. And I never looked back. But now I see. No one can ever be good enough for you, can they? No one can ever even get close to you!" As we have squabbled and fought, powers have plot our destruction. They have pulled threads, manipulating us, laying the path for our downfall. I wonder if they realize the truth of what they are doing. Hoid lashed out, voice sharp. "I don't NEED people to get close to me. You speak of matters you know nothing about." "I speak of matters I know EVERYTHING about. Someday, everyone is going to realize what you are. You're alone, Hoid." Or if they are too far gone to care. Perhaps he should have paused. Given himself time to think. But it had been a long time since Hoid had been faced with such questions. And old wounds were slow to heal. "Yes, I'm alone. And I'm fine with that. You knew what you signed up for. Why couldn't you pull through?" "I've completed every mission-" "Then why not this one?" I used to think I wanted secrets. But now, I just want them to be over. Because of secrets, I have seen good men tear each other down, or leave others behind, seeing only their form of truth. For a while, silence reigned. Hoid could see the heat simmering behind Kéamens face. Finally, it was the boy's voice that cut the silence. "The people of Blackkeep need help, Hoid." Hoid's response was instant. "We aren't here to give out help. We're here for the greater good." They are all, each and every one, wrong. "The greater good of who? Because what I see are people suffering, right here, and we're not raising a finger to help." Kéamen was waving frantically now. His voice was raised, his earlier inhibitions gone. Hoid was tired of their discussion. But he couldn't resist the urge to make one final remark. "Maybe that IS the greater good." "Then it's not a greater good I want to be a part of." Tonight, we drown in secrets. Hoid stood, shocked. Had Kéamen just... rejected him? "Boy..." They stifle us, tear us down, leave us behind. For a second, they both stood there. Eye to eye. Heaving. Simmering. Then finally, face wet, Kéamen turned away, and stepped towards the door. "Goodbye, Hoid." They push us ever closer to that brink of eternal damnation. They are the weapon of our enemy. Hoid watched, powerless, as Kéamen pulled open the door and stepped outside. Neither said a word until the door was almost shut, and Kéamen turned around one final time. The fire in his eyes was gone. All that was left was a cool emptiness. "Oh, and Hoid? Someday, you're going to find yourself in a situation where you need help. And there will be nobody there." I condemn the force that makes us go through this. Current Day Hoid stayed standing in the ruins for a while. For the first time in centuries, he felt a tear slowly begin to drip down his face. Then he brushed it away, and turned away from the rock, beginning his return. "Goodbye, Kéamen Wither." Yet I worry the truth of it lies in our own hearts.

*squeeze* Hey There are some things in life that you just can’t control You are totally justified for hating this When life throws a bunch of crem at you, it’s easy to break I don’t know how not to break But none of it is your fault Of course, I assume you know that already But still *squeeze*

Kéamen watched from the shadows. He felt an odd sense of unnerve as the day waned. He wasn’t doubting the exe on Var; the man was the most suspicious, and nothing odd seemed to be happening. Rather, there was an odd sense that, indeed, nothing was happening. Kéamen supposed it made sense. After yesterday’s draw and the chaos of last night, they were basically repeating the previous day. But it was still odd. The day lacked much of the fanfare, the sense of suspense, of trembling fate as the previous one. Perhaps because the town felt as if they had gone through all this already. Yet Kéamen trembled. The Spiked had likely seen there was nothing they could do to flip the votes. One way or another, Var would go quietly tonight. His secrets would die with him. Would anyone tell his story? Slowly, Kéamen stepped out of the shadows, and began to walk. Kéamen had abandoned the life of secrets in a room not far from here, only a few days ago. He still didn't know whether that change was for better or for worse. He didn’t even know if he would live past tonight. But Kéamen Wither was done with secrets. It was time to find the truth. So he walked up to Var, joining the man in the center of the market square. And took out a scrap of paper and a pen.

*hugs absolutely everyone who needs hugs* Yes, that includes you *squeezes*

That sounds horrible I’m not religious, so I don’t know if I can help you But I don’t think things should be justified because “it’s for a reason” or “it has a purpose” *squeeze*

“No more mistakes.” Kéamen gripped his notes tightly as he strolled into the market square for what was almost surely one of his last times. He had been almost surely he would die last night. But he had survived. He had been given a second chance. He could not afford to waste it. It seemed the entire village had converged on Var, with little opposition. That didn’t particularly concern Kéamen. If Var were Spiked, then his peers likely recognized that he was a lost cause. A sacrifice, so that others may continue to draw breath. Kéamen shut his eyes. Why was it always about survival? Why could it not be about good? What worried him more was that nearly half the people in power were his enemies. Four villagers; three Spiked. The votes, as they stood, fell on: Var (5): Keldorn, Kéamen, Madiane, Josha, Jox Two people had yet to vote. @KaladinsSenseOfHumorSpren@StrikerEZ If the Spiked were able to organize themselves well tonight, then they would be able to force a misexecution or at least a tie unless every villager voted for the same execution. That execution, of course, being Var. A sacrifice so others may continue to draw breath.

I just found this thread and it is raw perfection

Kéamen nodded. Even though he distrusted Var, he still wanted to hear what the man had to say.

As the sun rose, Kéamen finally walked back into the market square. Even from the distance, he could already hear the clamoring of the others. The accusations, uniting against him. Telling him his plot had failed. As he stepped into the square, he reached into his coat pockets and let fall the allomantic vials he had held there. One by one, they clattered against the tiled floor, drawing the attention of the others. One by one, their eyes trained on him. For a second, he just stood there, drained. Then he spoke. ”Last night, I reached out to nearly all of you with a similar message. I claimed I was a Mistborn, and needed a Seeker or Lurcher. The first part was a lie. I am no Mistborn, merely a Tineye. The idea was to bait the kill of the Spiked. If the Spiked thought I was a hostile Mistborn, they should have tried to kill me. If I was able to before that, make contact with a Lurcher and convince them to save me, then the Spiked kill would have been nullified this round, putting us back in a decent position. Clearly, that didn’t work out.” Kéamen’s heart raced and he forced his tone to remain cool. All he told was the truth, yet he knew how odd it must sound to the others. “As I am clearly not dead,” he gestured up and down at himself, “I see two options for what happened. First, it is possible that the Spiked Mistborn, if there is one, got their hands on some Brass and tried to Soothe me to incapacitate me for now. In retrospect, I should have tried to leave a message last night, just to test for that possibility. Sadly, I took no action yesterday. So no, I most definitely did not kill Antari.” Kéamen nodded to Jox. “The second possibility for why I am not dead is that the Spiked saw through my plan to bait their kill, or someone told them. The only people I revealed the truth of my plan to were Keldorn and Jox; the first out of trust, the second out of desperation.” He nodded to the two men. “If news of my plan did indeed get to the Spiked, then one of them is almost surely a member of our enemy. “Of the two, I find Jox more suspicious. First, his recent hard turn against Var (whose own alignment I will address later) can be seen as a way to distance himself from the other man in preparation for his eventual fall. Additionally, his telling me specifically not to kill Antari could mean two things; either he is a Seeker, or it is an attempt to frame me. Finally, I just generally distrust Jox more. Although,” he noted, turning to Keldorn, “it is a view I am beginning to revise.” ”As for Var, I continue to feel confident he is Spiked - and Madiane with him. Allow me to explain. First, let us analyze the votes from yesterday. We ended in a deadlock of three on three, Var against Madiane. I see no fault in Var’s logic of voting Madiane in self-preservation. But it should have been easy for the Spiked to push a misexecution on either of these trains. Take, for example, the train on Var. It consisted of me and two others. So, at the maximum, two Spiked were on that train, meaning a third could have joined to tip it. If they wanted to save Var and kill someone else, on the other hand, they should have easily been able to take out Madiane instead. Maybe the Spiked are just victims of bad communication, but it looks to me like the Spiked were trying to save both Var and Madiane. Additionally, I know Madiane received - and never responded to - my message at roughly the same time Var publicly warned for people fishing for Lurcher or Seekers - despite him being the only one I sent no message to - possibly indicating it got to him anyway. Var also told me he trusted Madiane the most, although, if the Spiked are [Var, Madiane, Jox], then it’s oddly incongruent with Var’s approach to Jox. Finally, Josha was heavily insistent in our private messages that I kill Madiane. @TwinStorm, if you’re a Seeker, this would be a great time to reveal it.” Kéamen let out a deep breath. That was a lot. Standing before the crowd ogling him, he knew he was going to get mixed responses from his statement. And he couldn’t blame them; what he had attempted was insane, even foolhardy. But he could only hope it had been worth it. He had new trails to follow. ”In conclusion, for now, my suspicions lie on a Spiked team of [Var, Madiane], with the final member potentially being in [Jox, Keldorn].” The square was silent in the echo of Kéamen’s speech. He took a slight step back and spread his arms, chest heaving. His secrets, held closely for so long, were now out in the world, theirs to prick and prod. He was tired of bearing them. Nothing could stand in their way anymore from finding the Spiked. And so Kéamen opened himself to any questions, hoping he had been clear with his thoughts. The quest to save Blackkeep had consumed his life in the past week. All he wanted now was to win.

Kéamen sighed. He was going to explain everything, later. Now, he needed to sleep after staying up all night.

That... logic didn't make sense to Kéamen. The Spiked already didn't know who was to be protected. This made no sense.

"I have a question for you, Var," Kéamen commented. "Why would you save Madiane? Why kill Josha?"

Ooookay Well, Kéamen wasn't going to be honest about that. "Why should we give the Spiked that information? This seems to be shallow baiting for any last scraps now that the world has turned on you, Var."

*squeeze* That IS a lot Honestly, the best advice I can give is just… be there for him Always Open up to him, and hopefully he’ll open up back Relationships are hard. Yours seems even harder. You can’t do everything. But you can definitely be there

Kéamen sighed. He had failed. He had told the others, and they hadn’t listened. It was over. NO. No, he couldn’t afford to think like that. Yes, things weren’t great, but the Spiked had practically revealed themselves. And they likely still had a Lurcher. This could still be won. First, Kéamen was practically sure that Var and Jox were Spiked, regardless of what Jox said here. If Jox wasn’t Spiked, then he had seriously messed up. He felt good about Madiane and Antari. Antari was still weird, but Madiane sort of made a little sense - plus she voted Var. Regardless, he wanted to hear more from both of them. That left for the final Spiked Josha, Mil… and Keldorn. Kéamen had never once doubted Keldorn. But now, something nagged him. Why hadn’t the other man voted for Var? For all his opposition to Jox, why hadn’t he acted. Perhaps Keldorn had just made a mistake. But it seemed to Kéamen a grave and unnecessary one. If the Spiked trio were Var, Jox, and Keldorn… well, that would be a frightening world indeed. Kéamen shook the idea out of his head. He had to focus on the present. And right how, he was still entirely sure Var headed the enemy.

Kéamen didn’t agree with what Jox said here. Hammering Var here was the village’s best solution. His battery was dying, though, so he would have to trust someone else to explain it best.

Welcome! Apologies for the late greeting, I’ve been busy. We serve free hugs, comfort, advice, and occasional drops of true wisdom mixed in with everything else. We are very weird. But I would say we’re pretty awesome, too.