Wyrmhero

Alelin Penrod hefted himself into the office, each footfall accompanied by the clack of wooden cane on stone flooring. He grimaced as he eased himself into the chair in front of the desk, pain shooting through his feet as his old bones protested. If only he could burn pewter, he could stave off this feeling of uselessness and anguish. But he was not able to ignore the passage of time, and could only suffer as his body aged. The Obligator across the desk looked up at him, putting the document he was reading back into his desk drawer, so it couldn't be read by the Lord. He was older than Lord Penrod, but seemed to have aged more gracefully. The stress of maintaining a noble House, coupled with the opposition from the Steel Ministry, took its toll. He raised an eyebrow as he looked the Lord up and down, a slight smile across his face. “You look terrible, brother.” “Doing better than you,” Alelin scowled at Aradel. “You've been working here for forty years now. Couldn't you have at least risen further than this?” he gestured around them, at the meagre, low-level office. “This is embarrassing, a dishonour to our House.” “What House?” Aradel asked, with a shrug. “As an Obligator, I have no House. And after such a long period of time, do you really think I maintain any sort of loyalty to you and yours?” “Don't give me that,” Alelin clenched his hand over the cane's handle. “Like Hell any of the other Obligators ignore their family ties. Didn't you have any ambition at all? If not for House Penrod's sake, then for your own? It's a disgrace in so many ways.” Aradel sighed. “I've always been a disgrace, Lord Penrod. I was first-born to our House, but born without Allomancy. I was given away so you could inherit instead without it looking strange. I was a conveniently placed bribe, but even the Steel Ministry has no real use for me. Without Allomancy, and with our family's history behind me...” he shook his head. “I gave up a long time ago on any sort of meaningful advance in this organisation.” “Fine,” Alelin said, taking a handkerchief out of his pocket to cough into. Stowing it away again, he looked back up at the man who was once considered his brother. “Fine. You can at least help us now.” “I said that I am not willing to help my old House in this way. I feel little loyalty to you, and even ignoring that, I could get into some trouble for it.” “Heaven forfend you take a little risk,” Alelin muttered. “Look, I'm not asking for any favours. I'm only asking what the Canton needs doing. Simple and no favouritism involved. Even you can't object to that.” “Well, I'm sure I can find something then, in that case.” Aradel opened the draw and leant back as he flicked through a load of papers. “I will have some drawn up and sent to your Keep.” “Good,” Alelin nodded, standing up shakily, with his cane for support. “My daughter will put procedures into place.” He groaned as he stood, hunched over a little.”Please inform your people of this fact.” “Indeed, they will be made aware,” Aradel nodded. “I look forward to many years of cooperation between the Canton of Finance and House Penrod.” "Agreed. I foresee great things coming from this partnership." Alelin started to shuffle out of the room, coughing again but unable to retrieve his handkerchief this time. Blood flecked onto the floor. “Of course...” he muttered, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, uncaring of how he looked, “That's if I live to see them...” Generation 8: The Price of Progress Turn 1 Generation 8 Turn 1 has begun! It will end on Friday the 20th of May at 6PM GMT, as I am busy next weekend. Generation 8 Player List

I'll set up a Doc for it in the near future, I think that's the best way to do it.

I have no idea how 5th Edition spells work, but certainly there are effects in previous editions which could be considered multicoloured or hybrid spells (just remember what each means! - Multicoloured means the spell can't be monocolour alone, hybrid means it can be either colour). I think it's as much as how the players flavour the spell as what the effect does. Fox' Cunning from 3rd edition, for example, increases your Intelligence score. This is a very Blue effect, even though stat boosts are mechanically Green. One could argue for it being UG multicoloured, but in this case, I think it's probably just closer to Divination than a Blue Giant Growth. Now, for a less obvious result, what about Vampiric Touch? Obviously it's a Black spell in flavour, the concept is draining life from your opponent and adding it to yourself, as the spell has a form of Lifelink. However, Lifelink is primary in White and Black, so you could say it's W/B hybrid. But there are very few White Vampires (off-topic, I definitely think such a thing can work), and the flavour is rather sinister for White. The best option for this might be to reflavour it rather than break flavour or restrict it to one colour - Call it Vampiric Touch for Black spell-casters, and an appropriate White name for White spell-casters. Same spell, same mechanics, different name and flavour. The other thing I think you need to be careful of is that you don't alienate your non-spellcasters. There's no point doing this if it only affects the flavour of two of five players, and the rest never touch on it. You could have a party of spell-casters, but that just leads to disaster (again, in earlier editions). This shouldn't be too hard though; All Planeswalkers in MtG are magical in power-source, even those who don't outwardly appear to use spells (Gideon/Kythereon, for example, who is supernaturally tough but doesn't cast traditional spells). Let all the characters experience and feel mana, and use it as flavour for the source their feats, I would say. Of course, this is assuming your characters are all Planeswalkers. If not, you can be closer to normal D&D, mechanically speaking. Fun fact which is slightly amusing and possibly even useful in this context - Only Planeswalkers and a few others know of the 'colours' of mana. Most spellcasters in MtG who are not Planeswalkers think spellcasting follows different systems - Possibly in this case, they could believe it follows the D&D version. For example, the mages of Bant knew of wind magic, but not of fire magic because Bant had no Red mana, but they could twist Blue and/or White mana into wind-style spells. Part of the difficulty with this is that you're no longer a Wizard; you're a Sorcerer. Not only that, but being able to trade low-level spells for higher ones is extremely powerful. You'd also have to come up with a mana cost system for spell based on their perceived power or their level. But then do you also consider coloured mana with that too? I guess that'd stop people mucking around with five colour characters... there's merit to it, but I think at this point it's no longer D&D's magic system but an entirely new spellcasting system. Probably better to pick another RPG system than to homebrew to that extent.

Honestly, I think the best way to do it is to just treat it as flavour. If people understand it's a Magic-themed game, I'm, pretty sure they'd be willing to follow the colour pie themselves with little policing. Get people to choose colours and weave that into the game as a form of setting rather than any hard ruling. Particularly since most characters won't be spellcasters anyway. To be honest, I think the only rules change you really need to turn D&D into Magic is to give everyone Planeshift 1/Day, assuming your characters are Planeswalkers. Otherwise, pile on the flavour and let that carry the MtG aspect rather than forcing the rules into awkward shapes because D&D wasn't built in that way. Speaking of forcing the rules to fit the game, has anyone here played Heroes of Might and Magic IV? Just been replaying it recently, and I always find it hilarious how they attempted to follow MtG's spell system and then ignored it. HOMMIV has five schools of magic: Nature, Life, Order, Death and Chaos. Sound familiar? They should, that's the colour wheel at its most basic. Unfortunately, due to balancing issues, you end up with stuff like Blue getting direct damage spells... Ah well .

Generation 7: Turn 4 "And what, precisely, is this meant to be?" Lady Jormungand tapped on the glass vial with her fingernail, dislodging it slightly from its rack and producing a slight clanging sound as it hit the others. She took hold of the corked top and picked it up, oscillating it from side to side as she peered at the liquid. "My Lady!" Her researcher reached over to hold the glass, though he didn't try and pull it from her grasp. "Please. These are valuable extracts. They must not be shaken around like that, and you should never pick them up by the lid. If they are not secured properly, it could result in an entire week's worth of work being wasted when it hits the floor!" Only now did he take it and replace it back among its brethren. "Hopefully the sample has not been compromised by being shaken in that manner." Lady Jormungand looked at him, as if considering whether she should inflict some kind of punishment on him for his behaviour. But she decided not to, after some thought. Botanical researchers weren't exactly common in The Final Empire, with most preferring to study metallurgy to gain some kind of Allomantic edge for their House. And besides, he probably had no idea that what he had done was out of order. His type were fairly absent-minded and socially-stunted, even at the best of times. "What have you found?" she asked, cutting straight to the reason she was here. "I have invested a large amount of money into this research, and so I hope you have some results to show me." "Our tests are far from inconclusive, if that's what you're asking." He gestured over to one of the large desks, which was covered in paper and workbooks. "We are noticing an increase in the survivability of our test subjects against the control group, though obviously it's far too early to see if this will persist all the way to adulthood." "But what about their health, as opposed to their chances of living? There's no point in any of this if they are not in a sufficient condition to be a potential heir to my House." "So far," the researcher picked up a sheet of paper and glanced over it, "So far, the positives have outweighed the negatives. More are born in an unsatisfactory condition, but at the same time, more are surviving perfectly healthily at the same time." He shrugged. "A net gain for the House, I would say." "Hmm..." Lady Jormungand tapped the desk as she thought. Then she nodded. "Very well. Continue your research, and see if you can improve on your results. We shall put your current findings into place immediately." Generation 7 Turn 4 has begun! It will end on Friday the 6th of May at 6PM GMT. Please note, the success modifier for having an heir has now increased to 65%. Generation 7 Player List

Considering that I have only received orders for half the players this turn (and only one publicly announced) despite the longer period offered by the break, I am going to extend the Turn by another week to allow people time to send in more orders. Turn 3 will end on Friday 29th. Turn 4 will begin on Sunday 1st. I will not extend it again in this way.

Turn 3 will be beginning this Sunday, so Turn 4 will begin on the 1st, and the next Generation the following week, on the 8th.

My internet has been installed and is working successfully, so the game will resume on Sunday 24th!

I have to admit, I am unsure that I can commit time-wise to something like this. I could probably make it work, but... I'm afraid I may have to bow out (and leave Hael the victor, for now ). How long do I have to decide?

How am I second? I haven't even been on the forum for a fortnight, let alone the Elimination subforum!

We are currently halfway through a Generation. The next chance to sign up will be in (probably) three weeks? I'll PM you closer to the time.

Generation 7: Turn 3 “What I would like,” Tatheil Izenry began, “is something... one-of-a-kind. A piece that cannot be reproduced elsewhere.” “That is what we do, sir,” the artisan nodded. “Bespoke artworks for gentlemen such as yourself. Our works are as unique and varied as those who ask for them.” “No, you misunderstand,” Lord Izenry said. “I don't want you to just design something. I want you to ensure that nothing similar is ever made again.” The artisan's eyes narrowed. “My Lord,” he said, “I hope you do not intend to purchase the lives of my workers for such a project. Skaa they may be, this is true, but it has taken years and years for them to become craftsmen of their skill and finesse. It would destroy my business if I had to train new ones from the start.” “You would be well compensated for such a thing,” Lord Izenry pointed out. “A valuable commodity is still a commodity one may purchase. The price merely has to be right.” “I am an artist, My Lord. I would not put a price on their creativity. Even if I were to train replacements, I could not recover what I had lost, particularly if the new artists were aware of the fate of their predecessors,” he replied. “Besides, I did not speak lightly when I stated that my business would be destroyed,” he added. “Even with the financial reward you are offering, I would not be able to support years and years of training to return to this stage. Certainly those who owned the business would frown upon years of loss.” “Ah, I suppose it was an idle thought, really.” Tatheil shrugged. “I will just have to settle for the disposal of all example work produced in the making of it and your word as a craftsman. It will have to do.” “It will,” the artisan nodded. “So please, instruct me in the scene you would like depicted, the dimensions of the piece and all other particulars.” “I wish to cover the windows of my great hall with this single piece,” The Lord said, gesturing around the room they were meeting in. “The artwork should describe The Lord Ruler's overcoming of the darkness in the world before; his defeat of the Deepness, and the glory of his ascendancy into godhood.” “Hmm...” The artist nodded. “A darker shade of glass giving way to brighter,” he scribbled down these instructions in his notebook, along with some stray thoughts of his own. “The Lord Ruler rising from the filth of the world around him, raised up to the heavens, a crowd of people watching...” He frowned. “No, no other people.” He went to cross it out neatly, but the room shook with an accompanying loud explosion, marring his attempt with a scribble. His frown deepened. “What was that?” Lord Izenry scowled as he looked in the direction of the sound. “A new employee of mine acting overzealous before his facilities have been constructed. Pay it no mind, I will have him dealt with.” He turned back to the artist. “Do you have everything you need?” “For now,” he said, closing his notebook with a snap. “My artists will get to work. By your leave, Lord Izenry.” The Lord nodded. “You are dismissed. I expect to see example proofs within the week.” “You cannot rush artistic genius,” the artisan said with a smile. “But I am certain we will have something invigorating for you by then. Until then, Lord Izenry,” the man bowed and excited the room. There was another loud bang as he left, and Tatheil Izenry sighed. He would need to deal with that man soon. With a shake of his head, he headed off to talk to his bored and dangerous employee. Generation 7 Turn 3 has begun! It will end on Friday the 1st at 6PM GMT. Generation 7 Player List I am going to have to pause the game for a bit after this Turn - I am moving next week, and will be without a solid internet connection for my computer for a short while. I will let you know when the game resumes.

Generation 7: Turn 2 In a metal-plated room in a Steel Ministry building, the sounds of combat reverberating off the walls to a deafening level. Leather boots smacked against them as Mistborn ricocheted and bounded back into the fray again. Tassels whipped around at blinding speeds, almost as much of a threat as the weapons in use. And they were using real weapons, not ones designed for training. Mistborn and physical Mistings were killers, and their art was in deception, trickery and dealing death. There was no point in practising in a non-lethal environment, after all. And while Mistborn were far too important to risk death in battle, they were also a lot harder to kill in combat. The only real risk was incompetence – something which the instructors were quick to root out. The founder may have been one of the Great Houses of Luthadel, but it was strongly linked to the Steel Ministry. There was no way that The Lord Ruler would allow a branch of his religion that was not overseen by his closest minions. But even then, the masters of the art were given relative free reign. They could develop their own methods of instruction, but the indoctrination was left to the official representatives of The Sliver. “Again,” the imperious voice above the room said. The two combatants nodded and separated again. Turning to each other, the two Mistborn bowed to each other and leapt at one another once again. The master turned to his assistants. “Increase the intensity of the training to the next level,” he said. The assistant nodded and raised a hand. From up above in the rafting, a dozen arrows were pulled from quivers and bows drawn back. The assistant lowered his arm. The arrows were loosed, and the Mistborn dodged around them and batted them aside with their steel Allomancy. The hand was raised again, and another set of arrows readied. The Mistborn below continued their fight, a flurry of steel and a deadly dance taking place amongst a hail of iron arrows. Iron flared as one of the combatants tried to disarm his opponent, only to be countered by another Ironpull. They both cut off at the same time, before pushing each others' swords away. One called his sword back to him, grabbing it as it flew towards him. The other wasted less time, and scooped an arrow up from the ground instead. The sword swung towards him, but the arrow had already headed towards its mark. “Halt!” The master said, and the two fighters halted as quickly as they could, sword almost cutting into a torso and arrow merely scratching the neck. The overseer climbed over the balcony and dropped down, pushing against the metal plates below to slow his fall. “Your skills are improving,” he said. “You are both getting stronger . Soon you will be able to outfight most of the rest of the Empire. However,” he added. “You are Mistborn, not some back-alley thug or even a Coinshot assassin. You are Mistborn. You are the definition of grace and skill. You will do better next time.” The two bowed to him and then headed off. The master shook his head as they left. They were terrible in truth. Mistborn had let themselves get lazy in these past years, relying solely on their powers in a dwindling Allomantic world. This art would invigorate them, he hoped. It would teach them to be strong, to use their abilities as a part of combat, rather than as an alternative. And if a few Mistings, or even some Mistborn, had to die for this, then so be it. They would be a sacrifice for The Final Empire, the foundation on which its strength would be built. The weak would die, and the strong would be raised up higher. Such evolution was the very essence of The Final Empire. The order had been tasked to impart religious and combat knowledge. And under the watchful eye of the Steel Ministry, he would not let The Lord Ruler down. They simply would not let him. Generation 7 Turn 2 has begun! It will end on Friday the 25th at 6PM GMT. Generation 7 Player List

Yes, sorry, that's more what I meant. I should have done it closer to 1-Eliminator-per-Mission, rather than same number of Eliminators as there are on missions.

Continuing on from FNM stuff, you could always go along and ask to watch, I'm sure they wouldn't mind. Also helps you scout out what sort of things are on offer at the moment, though be aware it will be a tournament rather than casual play. Local Games Stores (LGSes) also have a mini-deck of 30 cards that you can get from them for the purposes of learning. They won't have much in them, but it's a decent way to get a few free cards and get options for your actual decks.

So, post-mortem. There were two objectives with this game: One, to depower the Roles a bit and to bring the focus onto analysis and guesswork rather than sureity and powers, and two, to trial the new mechanic added with this game. So, in order: 1) Depowered Roles. Roles were a lot less useful than normal, but I feel I underpowered them too much. I also added complicated riders onto the abilities too, which just complicated things for no real bonus. There's a place for less powerful Roles in games, but only if they remove complication rather than add them. In particular, I feel I haven't found a level I'm happy with for the vote-manipulator. The restriction I put on was too much, but no restriction is too powerful. 2) The Mission. This was kind of a bit of a dud. I presume the problem was just that four people is not enough place to hide in to make it viable for the Eliminators. This might have been perfectly fine if there were 30 players or so, but I'm not sure. Allowing the Eliminators to be portioned off into groups within the players is never great. However, it looks like I got the end-game conditions about right, as I buffed the Eliminators' win condition a bit in exchange for weaker Eliminators. I also feel that this clearly showed 24 hours was not enough time for the Planning Phase, as three people died to it, two of whom were active at some point during it. I think these are the only two points that stood out to me this game. I would say these rules need to be rethought in the situations they're likely to be in for this forum. Overall, we had a close game, which is good, but I feel a lot could be done to simplify this game and make it work better. It was good fun to play around with your characters in the setting, and I enjoyed continuing the theme of my previous game and playing around with the nature of the writeups. I just wish I had a bit more time to devote to them than I had, but overall it worked out fairly well. So, to summarise: Weaker Roles =/= Complicated Restrictions, and Portioned Eliminators = Obvious Eliminators. Thank you all for playing, and I hope to see you all again whenever my time comes around once more.

The cheapest way to build decks is always to order the individual cards you want from it, rather than buy booster packs. Having said that, it's not the easiest way or the best way for new players . For casual play, I would recommend one of the Dual Deck series. They're about £15 here, and contain two theme decks which are meant to be played against each other - How balanced they are is another matter. Another, slightly more expensive possibility, is the Clash Pack series. These also contain two decks, but are designed to be merged together at some point to make a better deck. Both of these are good starting places (the former for casual play, the latter for playing in events), but they will need to be developed to make them better. Another possibility is the Magic Duels app/game, which allows you to play with a decent chunk of cards against the AI/other people and improve your deck with booster-style improvements. They're designed for new players, so should be perfect for you. Best of all, it's free, and not too bad time-wise to get new cards. If you only played other players, and ignoring quest bonuses and stuff, you'd get a new pack of cards every eight games.

Generation 7: The Disbanding of The Canton of Hegemony Turn 1 In the centre of the plaza sat a black carriage of painted wood. It was usually driven by three horses of a similar jet-black colour, but at the moment they sat there as immobile as the carriage, waiting. Adorning the wooden frame were golden foil highlights and brass clips to hold it all together. Unlike most other carriages of its type, there was no sigil on the side, no emblem of the House it belonged to. Black was the colour that the Sliver preferred, and it was his alone; it was all the coat of arms he required. But he was not alone in the carriage today. He looked out through the tinted windows with his impossibly perfect eyesight, and what he saw bored him. Before him, a crowd stretched out, careful not to block his view yet desperately jockeying for a better position to watch the proceedings. Hawkers sold their wares; food for those who arrived early to get a good seat, and little mementoes for the kids. It was a family affair, and there was a vibrancy to it, a livelihood that contrasted perfectly with the centre stage. “Don't I get a last word?” Lady Vinid asked as she was pushed forward and a hand pressed her down to the block. “Traitors don't get to speak,” the executioner said, before raising the axe and bringing it down. There was a horrified gasp from the crowd, and the axe swung again. This time there was more of a groan, and the axe was raised again. “They don't make executioners like they used to, My Lord,” his companion said with a little chuckle. “One might think that they were doing it to deliberately prolong the pain, but in truth it just makes them look incompetent.” “Hm,” The Lord Ruler's divine shrug of indifference replied. His eyes never left the sight, but it was not horror or fascination or even a perverse pleasure that made him watch. It was simply that it was the most interesting thing happening. Destruction to preserve his perfect world. It was almost ironic, if not for the hideous implications it hid behind it. “I said they look incompetent, My Lord,” the Inquisitor replied, raising his voice a little. “I heard what you said,” The Lord Ruler replied, his eyes finally leaving the stage to turn on him. It was not an angry look he gave, but more one of resignation, of having to deal with a problem he wished would vanish before his eyes. “Whatever topic it was that you were going to get onto, get it over with. I cannot stand being patronised in such a manner.” “At once My Lord,” the Inquisitor said, raising a cloth to wipe the sweat off his brow. He one of the most human of his kind left at present, only a few Spikes had been placed in his body. He was the one that The Lord Ruler considered least tainted and most trustworthy, though even then he had his limits. “My Lord, the simple truth of this matter is that your appointed guardians of the Empire failed,” he said, wasting no time prevaricating about the point. “The Canton of Hegemony has failed. They have appointed traitors to govern cities and knowingly or unknowingly they have fostered the skaa uprisings. The latter makes them useless. The former makes them a threat to everything we stand for.” “So is your suggestion simply to hand all of their tasks to the Inquisition and disband the now-defunct Canton? You know I dislike raising any above the rest.” “Of course, My Lord,” the Inquisitor nodded. “My suggestion was not to be such a thing. There are aspects of what they do which I believe are better split up amongst us. The Canton of Orthodoxy can take over much of what they do. I believe they are best equipped to handle the governors and the day-to-day running of affairs.” “All the Inquisition asks is that we be given leave to run the operations in the Terris Dominance. We are already aware of how it is run, and I believe it is safer and more secretive if a single Canton oversees its administration. It also makes little sense to have any other Canton deal with them when we are the only ones who make use of the fruits of the programs.” The Sliver nodded. “Yes, I agree.” The his eyes narrowed. The Inquisitor found his head hurled back, nails digging further into his skull and threatening to exit the other side, pinning him to the carriage. “But remember,” he said, practically emanating his divinity in a solid, tangible form, “if the Inquisition goes the same way as the Canton of Hegemony, I won't just disband you. I created your kind, and I can unmake you just as easily.” The force disappeared, and the Inquisitor's head lolled forwards, blood leaking out and mingling with his tattoos. “Are we clear?” “As though it were written on metal, My Lord, your words are immutable truth,” The Inquisitor said, dabbing at his eye sockets with his damp handkerchief. “I shall give the order to dismantle the Canton of Hegemony at once.” The Lord Ruler nodded and sat back in his chair. He waved his hand and the door opened. “Go at once then. Bring my message to those people who have failed me.” “My Lord,” The Inquisitor exited the carriage, turned to bow to him, and then disappeared off into the night. The door closed again, and The Lord Ruler sighed. Inquisitors. He hate the damned things, hated everything they stood for and were made from. But, like all of Ruin's creatures, they had their purpose. Like all his people, they had a purpose. He would make sure that they did not stray from his pursuit of a perfect, unchanging world. Just three-hundred and twenty-four years more to go, he told himself. Then he could complete the stasis he had set into motion all those years ago. Generation 7 Turn 1 has begun! It will end on Friday the 18th at 6PM GMT. Generation 7 Player List

Epilogue: The Final Mission If one wanted to travel between cities on Scadrial, the easiest method by far was by using the extensive network of trains that criss-crossed the world. Even after almost four-hundred years since the cataclysm which shook the world, most of it was still unpopulated. People clustered in Elendel, and then in the Megacities. Outside of these cities, life was hard and at times subject to the whims of fate. A simpler life, but a more difficult one as well. But with such isolation grew a great need for transportation between those areas which were densely populated. Travelling by car or by boat was time-consuming and expensive over such long distances, and the vast majority of air travel was done to move goods rather than people. Therefore, when most people wished to move between cities, they took the trains. It was generally inexpensive and it was not too slow. The five of them sat in one compartment of the train, alone and isolated from the rest of the train. They had been informed so by text message on their phones, Yolen apparently taking no chances with this one. They did not know how long they would be on here for, they did not know where they were headed, and the number was blocked so they couldn't ask. It was the first time that their employer had not clued them in fully on the plan, and that made them all nervous. But someone was more nervous than the others were, and it was starting to show. Avis' eyes flickered from side to side, and whenever there was a particularly bumpy part of the track, he would flinch a little. He looked at his phone every few minutes, waiting for their instructions to come through. But nothing came through, no indication of where they were going or what they would have to do. “Hey,” Citona said, slightly hesitantly, “does it look like we're slowing down?” “You might be right,” Lopen nodded, looking out the window, “doesn't look like we're approaching a station or anything though.” The train came to a stop, and they stood up. Either they were at their destination, or there was a problem. Either way, they had to be ready. From the carriages next door, a murmuring began, which quickly rose to shouting as the other passengers demanded to know what was going on. Five buzzes rang through their own carriage as they all received a text at once. 'Get off the train', it said. “I guess this is our stop...” Clanky nodded. They exited the train, keeping close to it so they would pass under the windows and not be seen by the other passengers. When they had all alighted, the wheels started to spin again, and their mode of transport abandoned them in the middle of nowhere. “Now what?” As if on cue, there was another series of beeps. 'Travel north for two miles'. Lopen scowled at it. “Couldn't have bloody dropped us off closer.” “What if we run out of signal?” Avis asked. “It's amazing we've got anything in this wasteland.” “We've got a signal now,” Clanky replied. “So I guess something's around to make it work. Maybe that's what we're here for?” “Can't be,” Dragonsight shook his head. “Why would a signal mast be our target? Use your head.” “That's it,” Avis said. “I'm asking before we lose signal and get killed because we don't know what we're doing.” He started keying in a message, but Lopen knocked the phone from his hand. “The Hell?” Avis asked, crouching down to pick it back up. Lopen stomped on the phone, shattering it to pieces. “And just how would you be asking him?” Lopen asked, his voice attempting for sickeningly sweet but actually managing to be sharp and closer to leering. “We got no number for him.” “I needed that phone to-” “Send messages to your real boss,” Lopen finished for him with a triumphant grin. “I knew you were a tricksy bastard,” he nodded. “You have to keep them updated, since we have no idea what we're doing.” By this time, he had already drawn a knife and placed it to Avis' throat. Then he hesitated. “Dragonsight,” he nodded at Avis. “Take his weapons.” “You're not going to kill him?” Dragonsight raised an eyebrow in surprise, though he moved forward and did as requested, frisking their traitorous partner and rendering him helpless. “Why bother?” Lopen asked with a shrug. “We just get him to sit here, nice and quiet. Maybe he'll get picked up on the way back so we can spend some time finding out what he knows. Or maybe he'll just flee before it gets to that stage. Either way, no need to do anything with him right now. He can't do anything to stop us.” “And if he follows us, we can just kill him I suppose,” Citona nodded. “Okay, fine.” She waved at Avis. “See you when we get back. Or not, I guess.” Two miles north, one mile east, and then continuing on from there, they followed Yolen's brief instructions. On the horizon, they eventually found a dirty, sand-covered metallic structure, apparently Allomantically inert. “This whole thing's an aluminium alloy?” Dragonsight asked in disbelief, shaking his head. “I suppose they have the money for it, don't they?” “I would imagine it's to keep our Harmony, and to hide it from Allomancers,” Clanky suggested. “Though it's almost impossible to find unless you know where it is anyway.” There were no guards at the structure, which was both surprising and unsurprising. The door seemed battered and bent out of shape. It was the only part of the structure not made of Aluminium. There was no door or lock visible, and it was clear how it was meant to be opened. Dragonsight reached into his toolkit, built up from several years of experience, and pulled out a syringe and a vial with two slightly different metallic shades within. He filled the syringe and injected himself with the aluminium and the steel. Then he took out another vial, and swallowed the mixture of iron and duralumin. With a grimace, he burned them both, and pulled on the door. The heavy portal barely budged at first, but slowly a creaking sound filled the air as the metal warped and a kink appeared in it, a corner bent out of shape. Dragonsight's shouldered sagged and he panted, looking at the thing. “Seriously?” he asked between breaths. “It barely bloody moved!” “We should be able to squeeze through,” Citona said. “Doesn't sound like there's anything on the other side,” she added, edging up to the door. Pressing a hand on the metal and ducking, she entered the building. Lopen shrugged and followed her, though it was a bit harder for him to go through the gap. When the four of them were inside, they were greeting by a sterile, silvery hallway. It was empty of any decoration or utility, and there was only one way to go. On the floor, various different bootprints had dragged sand in, but they quickly faded as the sand fell off the shoes. They travelled through in silence, the only noise the sound of their breathing and of their steps on metal. Eventually they arrived at another door, though this one was easily opened manually. Beyond it, another cold, abandoned room. It did, however, have one feature. In the centre, through a crack on the floor, a great rock-face stabbed upwards. It was covered in veiny fault lines, interspersed with nodes along them. On many these nodes, a metallic bead was attached. “This is their atium supply?” Clanky asked, his voice reverberating badly off the walls. “But... There's none missing.” “Atium was meant to be a living metal, wasn't it?” Citona asked. “It grew, the legends say.” “It'd be worth an absolute fortune,” Lopen muttered, reaching out to pluck one of the beads. He withdrew his hand quickly, bead in the centre and a red cut along it. “Bloody rock's sharp.” “It might be worth a lot,” Dragonsight agreed, “But do you really want to try selling it to the Megacorps? As far as we know they're the only ones who can use it.” “Ah, good point...” Lopen nodded. “But I guess we shouldn't leave it here either. So we hide it?” he asked. He reached out for another but pulled his hand back quickly, another red gash his reward. “Do we have any actual instruction on what to do? Clanky said, checking his phone. “No signal,” he added. “So I suppose we either have to find out for ourselves, or we go outside and wait.” “I'll be damned if I have to wait outside this place, we might as well do something useful,” Lopen replied. And there's no point in hurting ourselves as we harvest,” he added, pinching his thumb to stop the bleeding. “Just grab them all with iron.” Dragonsight nodded and pulled on one of the beads. It landed in his palm, and there was a shattering sound. One of the nodes, the geodes which produced the aitum, had shattered into dust, which flickered out of existence as it fell. “Oh, I see...” “Allomancy damages them?” Citona asked. “Seems weird, but I suppose at least we don't need to ask what to do now.” Dragonsight flared the iron, and pulled on all the lines nearby. There was a great cracking noise as every geode in the room shattered at once, atium they held shooting out and peppering Dragonsight with debris. He was close enough at least that they didn't have enough time to build up and speed and hurt. Lopen crouched down and scooped a pile up in both hands, leaving a red streak on the floor. “Mission accomplished,” he grinned. Avis stopped running when he reached the next village along, grateful at least that due to the presence of the railway, he wouldn't get lost. He was grateful for the fact that they at least hadn't removed his stored metals, even if it was just pewter. He would have died from exhaustion by now if not. In the middle of the town, he quickly stole a few boxings. He might have been working for the Megacorps, but he was still a Mistrunner, an accomplished criminal. Next, he found a public phone-box, inserting the boxings into the slot. He punched in the number he was given, the secret line to his employer. “Avis?” The voice on the other side asked, no preamble despite the voice clearly being used to social situations. “Where are you? Where are they? Why have you not reported in? Answer me!” Avis tried to speak, but couldn't. His throat hurt, and he could feel his chest getting wet and sticky. An arm reached across him, plucked the phone from his grasp, and placed it back on the hook. His eyes widened as he saw who it was. Exisa withdrew the dagger from his neck with a disinterested look. “Y...” Avis struggled to make the words, clasping a hand to his throat. Pewter was the only thing keeping him alive at this point. “Dead...” he spluttered out, blood flying over his hand, the phone-box, and over Exisa's somewhat baggy suit. “Yes, he is,” Exisa nodded. “And now, so are you.” This time the dagger pierced his eye, and Avis fell to the ground. Leaning over his corpse, Exisa inserted a few boxings into the phone himself. “Yes?” A gruff voice asked. “Are we done?” “They let Avis live,” he responded, “but I have taken care of that. Assuming there are no other complications, then yes, we are done.” “Good,” Yolen said. There was a pause. “Extract yourself as soon as you can and disappear. Your part is over; I will make the arrangements for their payment using another source. After that is done, I will also disappear for some time. Goodbye.” The line went dead before he could respond, but the actual dismissal was appreciated. Yolen's assistant stepped out of the booth, mindful of the fact that his shirt was covered in blood, and that there were people staring. That was not even considering that things would get much worse when they saw the body. He looked around, as if getting his bearings, and headed off towards the edge of town, towards the cemetery. First part of disappearing - he needed a new skin. The Loyal Mistrunners won! Good game guys, and it was very close right at the end. As usual, expect a small post-mortem from me in a few days time. Master Spreadsheet Spectator Doc (which got merged with the Dead Doc, also as usual for me >>) Traitor Doc Dead Doc

You're right, I was not online. I was playing Magic >>. Hellscythe was indeed the last Eliminator. I was going to make you all prepare for one final mission, but he had to go and admit it . Writeup will be posted tomorrow, as it's almost half 11.

Day 9: Missing, Presumed Dead There was no talking in the bar tonight where the Mistrunners frequented. The four of them sat around a circular table, nursing some beverage of their choice, and carefully and pointedly not looking at one-another. There was a tension in the air, one only broken occasionally by the sipping of drinks and the clinking of the glass back on the wooden table. Occasionally, one would look towards the door, hoping that their missing member would burst in, perhaps complaining about the rain and the wind. But so far, no luck. And in truth, none of them expected to have any luck at all anymore. There was a sense of mortality about them now, one that was never there before. Or perhaps it was always there, and they were too brave or foolhardy to notice it. Those of them with families, or loved ones, or friends, knew that tonight might be the last night they saw them. Eventually, just to have something to say, one of them spoke. “What if she's dead?” Clanky asked, looking at the door almost rattling off its hinges in the storm. “It's a four-man plan. We need her.” “We have four men,” Lopen responded, folding his arms. His eyes were glued to the entrance as well, though he had given up on hoping them. “We can make it still.” “If she doesn't turn up,” Avis said, nodding in the direction of the door, “then it means she's probably dead. And that one of us is working for the Megacorps. We can't make it if one of us turns around and stabs the rest of us in the back.” “Then we'll just have to pray that she is a Survivor,” Dragonsight muttered, closing his eyes and sitting back. “That's it?” Clanky asked, turning on him. “Didn't you hear what I said? She's meant to be with us tonight. We need her for tonight's mission. For the final mission.” “And I'm on bloody support,” Lopen muttered. “Well, we might as well have some fun, right? If she is dead, then we might as well make a head-start on figuring out which of us is the treacherous git. We might not be able to finish the job, but we'll walk away alive, which is more than I can say for the rest of the poor sods.” “Where would you begin?” Dragonsight asked, still reclining. “There's no point until we know her status.” “Well for a start,” Lopen gestured across the table, “I think this Avis character is mighty shady.” Avis scowled. “We're Mistrunners, you idiot. We're all shady. It's our job to be shady. ” Lopen grinned. “Yeah, but you're, like, less shady than the rest of us, right? You're mighty shady, the rest of us are storming shady. The least shady of us has to be working for them. Only thing that makes sense.” “Well, you're certainly the most thuggish,” Clanky nodded. “Though I'd like to think I'm not that much worse than him. I may not be a Megacorp employee, honestly guys, but I think I bring a certain refinement to our kind.” Lopen snorted. “Next you'll be saying I'm the traitor, just because I'm the most shady, so it's obviously me.” “Well, perhaps...” Clanky nodded. “Only someone so obviously a thuggish, violent, thoughtless brute could secretly be an upper-class, careful, thoughtful infiltrator.” “Well, yeah,” Lopen nodded. “Except I am what you would call a 'gen-tle-man thief',” he said, accentuating every syllable. “I practically ooze class. So 'fraid that doesn't work on me.” “Harmony, what he said almost made sense!” Avis said, grinning a little. “Doesn't that make a change?” “Lopen's complete lack of – and perhaps even hatred of - logic aside,” Dragonsight said, before hesitating, looking at Lopen. “Where did you hear 'storming' from, anyway?” “Huh?” Lopen was caught a little off-guard. “I heard Yolen's assistant using it. Thought it sounded good as a curse. Storming. Storming job. Storming Yolen. See?” “Right...” Clanky sighed. “Perhaps we should return to the problem of Citona?” he asked, tapping his fingers on the table. “We should at least search for her, just in case. That will be today's mission.” “I suppose you're right,” Dragonsight nodded, finally sitting up again. “As much as I dislike it, we lack the manpower between us to do anything more than split up and look for clues as to her whereabouts and whether she's alive or dead.” “Zoinks,” Lopen said. “Sounds dangerous, but what the hell? I'll do it.” He pushed up from the table, drained his glass, and disappeared with a cheery wave. “See you back here soon, kids.” The four of them reconvened outside the bar three hours later, with nothing between them to show for it. Aside from Lopen, that was, who looked rather worse for ware. “What?” He asked. “Went looking for her in other dives,” he said by way of an explanation. “Certainly wasn't getting drunk, no sir!” “I guess she's dead then,” Avis said. “And we've wasted the night looking for her.” “It's a pain, yes,” Clanky nodded. “But at least we know where we stand.” “Where we stand for now,” Avis pointed out. “Tomorrow's a new day. Who knows what'll happen between now and then?” “Nothing good, I suspect,” Dragonsight replied grimly as he opened the door. “Hey guys,” Citona said, looking up from them at a table with a few empty glasses splayed around it as well as a dirty plate. “You're late. What happened to the mission?” Lopen put a hand to his face in exasperation. “I'm going to kill her,” he muttered. “Later,” Clanky responded, equally quiet as he flashed her a smile in an attempt to be reassuring. “We might as well get back to planning for what's now tomorrow night.” Lopen sighed and lowered his hand again, sitting down hard and a little petulantly on the stool. “Fine. Well, we're all here now, so I guess we have one last shot to find the traitor.” He leaned over a little and stole a packet of peanuts from the counter. Ripping the bag open, he looked at them all. “So, where do we start?” Nobody died! Player List Day 9 has begun! It will end on Friday at 8PM GMT.

Have to admit, the flavour so far for Innistrad has been absolutely incredible. I doubt the story will match up, but on the cards at least it's looking the best in a long while.

Indeed - I'd like to point out that you shouldn't even know Shallan was here. I suppose it may not matter as such in the late stages of the game such as this, but still.

To each, their own, as you say. I personally dislike the tournament scene because I don't like being restricted in my card choices. I just build weird, janky, inefficient decks and rely on casual/multiplayer to keep me afloat so I can do fun things. And it worked well enough .

The Planning Phase is over! The players selected for the mission are: Dragonsight, Clanky, Avis and Citona Vinid. I will need to hear back from these players by 8PM GMT on Wednesday.