Wyrmhero
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Night 8: A Poisonous Friend “This is rather unfortunate,” Exisa said, smiling a little weakly at the Mistrunners surrounding him. He took a step back, edging slowly towards the door, and bumped into something solid. He looked up and saw Lopen's grinning face staring back down at him. That was a sight that would remain in his nightmares. If he was ever lucky enough to have a nightmare again. “I guess you could say that, “Lopen said, his smile growing a little wider as Exisa flinched away from him. “I mean, pretty clear which side these guys are on, right? Your tricks and attempts to get them to kill me didn't work, did they? Think we all know what the score is here. And that cowardly attempt to dodge the blame just proves it, in my opinion.” “Oh, come on,” Exisa replied, rolling eyes eyes a little. “Anyone else woulda done the same, right?” “Perhaps,” Clanky agreed. “But not all of us would be best friends with a Megacorp, would we? Sure, we might all do a few jobs now and then when we're strapped for cash, but this? This mission's about more than wealth. This is about survival!” “Survival?” Exisa asked, incredulously. “What do you call this?!” He gestured around. “There's six of us here, in the middle of some Harmony-forsaken war by that shifty guy hiding behind the screen. He's involved us in his personal fight, and for what? Death and the opportunity for a few Boxings. Utterly stupid.” He shook his head. “Deaths you caused,” Lopen said with a growl. “We'd all still be here if it weren't for you. All resounding successes.” “You know that's not true,” Exisa said. “We're not lucky enough for that. People were always going to die. This was always going to end badly. I just... Accelerated things. And got out,” he added. “Well, I guess that's not true, is it? I tried to. Soon as I got in, I knew it was a mistake, but I could hardly leave, right? You guys would have killed me for that. So I tried the next best thing.” “We're going to kill you now though,” Avis pointed out. “All you've done is get a load of our friends killed.” “Perhaps,” Exisa smiled. “Well, let's get this over with, shall we?” “Oh no you don't,” Lopen muttered, placing a hand on his shoulder and clamping down. “After all you've done, there's no way in hell you're getting a quick death. You're going to tell us everything we want to know.” “I don't think I will, Lopen.” He opened his mouth, revealing a small, blueish capsule, and chomped down on it.” “Dammit!” Lopen shouted as Exisa hit the floor. “Someone make him vomit! Spike the bastard with Feruchemical gold!” But all in vain. They picked him up and tried to force him to regurgitate the poison, but the damage was done, and Exisa slipped away. Lopen kicked him as he hit the ground. “Dammit!” he repeated. A raspy cough drew their attention back to the screen behind them. “Now that your theatre is done,” Feis said, seemingly unconcerned by the image before him, “perhaps we can get on with some work, hm?” Exisa was Well-Connected! Exisa (4): Lopen, Avis, Dragonsight, Clanky Lopen (1): Exisa Player List Night 8 has begun! PMs may be sent. The Night will end on Wednesday at 8PM. Dragonsight has been chosen to select people for the mission! I will need to hear back from him with 4 people by 8PM on Tuesday.
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Generation 6: Turn 4 The Terris dominance was a quiet one by both design and desire, and by all parties involved. The Terrismen wanted nothing more than to be left alone, able to live out their lives as easily as possible with as little trouble as possible. This suited them well, as Terrismen practised a meek, humble existence, even amongst their own kind and in their own homes. There was a sense of community about them, thanks to the breeding programs. Those eunuched males allowed outside the compounds became a father to them all, and the older women a grandmother. The Canton of Hegemony which ruled over them wanted them docile, and for them to obey orders. Though they did not know the reason why they were different to skaa in this respect, The Lord Ruler had created the cruel and terrifyingly effective breeding programs to produce these traits in them. They were his instruments in this regard, unquestioningly enforcing his will upon them. But with time, complacency had crept into the bureaucratic nightmare that was The Canton of Hegemony. His instruments had become blunted with repeated use, and decadence had manifested itself within the organisation. But these things could be understood and tolerated, and to a certain extent were what The Final Empire was about. But worst of all, it had become lazy. It is for this reason, therefore, that they did not notice the build-up of armed forces in the territory, nor notice the drip-feed of skaa making their way to the more mountainous areas. Up there, in the remote hinterlands, ore was mined, forges lit, and weapons forged. In the caves, men and women alike practised combat, and in a few rare cases, even practised Allomancy. It was not a common trait amongst them, but they had enough that they could incorporate it into their plans. But today, this area was not as isolated and sleepy as it might have seemed a few days previously. Men marched beneath the banners of some of the Great Houses of Luthadel – Wilson, Izenry, Tekiel and Zerrung. Their scouts had already dispatched with the lookouts, and now that they were this close, they were happy enough to be noticed. The caverns gave the skaa army strong defences, but it also cut off their retreat. Battle lines were drawn up outside the path towards the mountain. They could not traverse the mountain path into the caves easily, but they had no need to. With an order from General Wilson, the army made camp at the base. Sentries were posted, and watches taken. Weapons and armour were distributed to those at the front, and the army waited. The first attack came fairly quickly, a disorganised rabble and a few heretical skaa Mistings assaulting their front lines, attempting to break through and into the rest of the Dominance beyond. They were well-trained and fought with the desperation of a cornered animal. Ultimately, they were driven off, the Izenry armour that the troops wore able to turn aside their spears and improvised weaponry. “Send them back to the mountain,” General Wilson said, eliciting some surprise from the second in command. “They will carry a message for me, to inform them that we will accept a surrender from a part or all of their army.” “Yes, General.” Despite this confusion, there was no questioning from him. He had his orders, and he would follow them. The prisoners of the skirmish were let loose, and then hurried back up the path. One tried to flee, running away from the army as quickly as he could. An arrow placed itself between his shoulderblades and he went down. Slowly they filtered out, not all of them by any means but a small number. They had surrendered themselves, their weapons and their armour to The Lord Ruler's army, and were sat in the middle of the encampment so they could not escape or cause trouble. When the last of the skaa with any sense had finally given up fully and was sat with the rest, General Wilson gave the order, and they were all executed. Two days later, another attack was led from the mountain. Skaa Allomancer and warrior alike poured down the steps and swung in at House Tekiel's flank, attempting to flee through the side. They were forced back and against House Zerrung's forces, caught in between the two. Unlike the first group that had tried to press through, these attackers were less easy to kill, fighting on par with the noble army. They held themselves with a strength and purpose that did not befit proper skaa; they walked upright and proud. But even the core of strength that fighting for their freedom gave them was not enough to outmatch trained fighters of the Empire. This state continued for a week, as the skaa trapped in the cave tested the defences of the army. They fought not to win, but to escape, and to get messages through the blockade of soldiers. Three times they advanced, and three times they were pushed back with some difficulty. Then the valley became silent again. The nobles waited for the skaa to make another move. They were not raucous; the soldiers of The Lord Ruler's army were skilled and professional, even in the face of this threat, which they saw as beneath them. They sat and hunted and waited and watched the mouth of the caverns. The fact that the skaa had tried to leave through the army told them all they needed to know – There were no other exits, and all they had to do was wait. At the three week mark, a final attack was attempted, a last desperate push. There was a small amount of hunger in their eyes now, and weariness. They had run out of food, and could not wait any longer to escape. But even the onset of starvation was enough for the combined might of the four Houses and The Final Empire to slay them all with practised ease. Blood trickled down the rocky crevice and down into the valley below. The rivers that the Terrismen drank from were stained a sanguine colour, and that was all that was needed for the news to spread out from the Dominance. The Final Empire had slain the skaa army hiding in the Terris Dominance. From the Terrismen, it was carried beyond to the furthest reaches of the Empire. The Rebellion was not defeated, but had been dealt a crippling blow. The armies remained long enough to bury their dead, and then they left, leaving the skaa bodies to rot. The skaa army has been routed! While the skaa rebellion will continue to exist, it will no longer be as effective as it once was. The constant decrease of Skaa Reputation has now stopped, and only low Skaa Rep will cause attacks on players again.
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Day 8: A Knife in the Dark Feis tapped the arm of his uncomfortable chair as he thought. So few left. Not outside of the expected parameters, admittedly, but closer to the worst-case scenario than he would have liked. Today's mission was crucial, and yet it had to be postponed. They simply could not decide on its participants. It was better to delay instead of go ahead with an uncertain team, but it was still frustrating all the same. He was a patient man, however. A day mattered very little when he had been planning this for years. If he had to try again in a few years, then so be it. The world would not change much in that time; Mistrunners would still be willing to try something as dangerous as this. And he would have experience on his side the next time, knowledge of what their enemies would do to try and stop him. He might lose the battle, but he would win the war. He switched off the camera with almost a mere thought, pulling the switch into the off position with his Allomancy. He would probably have to abandon this safehouse in the near future, and pull his assistant out of danger. Well, as much as she was in danger. But even if she could take care of herself, he did not want to leave loose ends lying around. If his connection to the bar became compromised, he did not want the trail to lead back to his location. Not for his sake as such, but for the sake of his plan, for the sake of Scadrial. It would not be good to require outside assistance for something such as this. It would just replace one set of tyrants with others. Sighing, he rose out of the chair, bones creaking somewhat. It was not from age; he was old but not worn. It was just the stiffness of the chair. But appearances were everything in this world, and they had to be maintained whenever possible. Even when in front of those who were mostly allies, he had to appear aloof, uncaring and imperious. It was as much for their sake as his own. It was an entirely too sober Ripple that left the bar that night. There were times that he wished he was a drinker, because these days the world probably made more sense if looked through the bottom of a glass. There was too much that made no sense now. Or perhaps it never made sense, and he only recently became aware of that. Or maybe the world still made sense, but he didn't understand it anymore. Who could say? Certainly he had no idea. Wandering the streets certainly gave one time to think. There was not so much a lack of interaction as an aversion to it. People went out of their way to avoid each other. They didn't want to interact. It was something that would probably be described in a paper as 'a sad indictment of the world we live in', if it weren't for the fact that it was almost certainly encouraged by the Megacorps. Head down, keep to yourself, and do your work. Work, eat, sleep ad nauseum. Ripple didn't undestand that mentality, and particularly why the Megacorps pursued it so ruthlessly. What was the point of wealth if all you ever did with it was amass more of it? But then, they had a rivalry between them, a competition. They probably didn't even consider the common people in their quest for power. If it weren't for the fact that machinery had not advanced that far, he suspected that they'd replace their workers with robots in a heartbeat, no matter what effect it had on the people displaced by it. The streets were not empty out here, even at this late hour. The slums had a thriving night-life, both benign and seedy, and many of the Megacorp's finest could be found here, particularly on weekends. They would be hard to spot at first, but little things would give them away. Perhaps they would be slightly too arrogant, or flash slightly more cash than most would. Either way, when they did finally reveal themselves, that was when the inhabitants of the shady areas would descend. Ripple kept his head down and a hand on his coat pocket where his wallet was. He wasn't too concerned though – He was openly carrying a weapon, and even the least experienced pickpocket in this part of the world knew not to bother a Mistrunner. He was what they aspired to be, what they pretended themselves to be, as much as Mistrunners pretended to be a part of The Survivor's crew. The gulf between them was as wide as it was between Mistrunners and the Megacorp elite, or between the nobility and skaa in the old world. Experts in their field dove between the crowds, lifting boxings and more besides, their hands deft and almost unnoticable. But Ripple saw them, each and every one. From his perspective, they were obvious, but the normal crowd didn't have that perspective. They wouldn't notice their missing items for several minutes at least. His hand darted out to catch a hand, and he looked into the eyes of the would-be thief. It was just a small body, barely even through puberty. An understanding passed between them as the thief's eyes widened at the realisation he had just tried to rob a Mistrunner. Ripple dropped his arm, and continued on without a second glance. He continued his walk home through a dark alley, once more unafraid. There were worse than thieves in this place, but they would not dare attack someone like him. He might not be much to look at, and he might not pose much of a physical threat (or, if truth be told, metallic threat), but his power was not personal. It was almost the same as the Megacorps had, a political power. If they attacked him, his crew would wreak bloody vengeance against them, and they would not stop until his attackers, their friends, and perhaps even their family had been made an example of. He reached his home without incident, as he had expected. He closed the door behind himself and switched on the lights in the hallway. Or at least, he tried to. Strange, he didn't remember the bulb having blown... Immediately he drew his gun and fired at a slightly thicker area of darkness in a corner. He was rewarded by a scream of pain and the clattering of a body hitting a small table and then the ground. There was a beep from the answering machine. “Lopen here,” it said, the man's speech slightly slurred for drinking. “I wonder if I'm dead or not. Oh well.” Then another beep. If he wasn't in such a dire situation, Ripple might have wondered what possessed the man to leave that message. If it was him, of course. New he might be to the Mistrunner business, but he wasn't going to be jumped so easily in his own home. There was a reason he was his crew's representative, even if his skills paled in comparison to the others in his mission's group. Edging through the hallway so very slowly, he peeked into the kitchen. His potential assassin in there was already moving, and they almost collided with one-another. He aimed and fired another shot, and was rewarded with a second body hitting the floor. Then there was something cold at his throat, and an arm across his chest keeping them close. His head turned around, cutting him slightly as he looked at his attacker. In the darkness, he could make out a general form and, with their closeness, even a few features. “You!” he accused, unable to think of a more eloquent response as he tried to bring his weapon round. “Me,” his attacker smiled, drawing his knife vertically across Ripple's throat and dropping him to the floor. Ripple was a Hacker! Player List Day 8 has begun. PMs may no longer be sent. The Day will end on Monday at 8PM GMT.
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The Night has ended! Writeup coming soon.
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It's more the latter, though not 'new'. There are four main tournament styles that Magic tends to do: Standard - The last three blocks. A change has been made which makes it a little more complicated currently, so at the moment, that is Khans of Tarkir, Dragons of Tarkir, Magic: Origins, and Battle for Zendikar. It's kind of the last 'year and a half' of cards that have been released, but not so simple. Modern - Eighth Edition and blocks after that. Basically from about 2004 onwards, I believe. This is an 'eternal' format, in that cards do not get removed from the format unless they are banned. Legacy - All cards printed, regardless of whether they were in blocks or supplemental products such as Conspiracy (another set, but not in standard or modern) or Commander (released as decks). Vintage - Like Legacy, but with a smaller banlist (if any, I'm not 100% on that). Aside from that, there are also two formats which are often played which change how the game works quite a bit. Not mentioning all the rules though, as there are a number. In Commander, players choose a Legendary creature as their Commander, who is placed outside of the deck and can be played as though they were in your hand. After choosing the Commander, players build 99-card decks with only one copy of non-basic cards in it. Those cards must only contain the mana symbols that your Commander has. Two-Headed Giant is the last of the normal formats you see. Players pair up and play games 2v2. The reason Modern is being discussed quite a bit is because recently a particular deck, featuring the Eldrazi cards from Battle for Zendikar and powerful lands called Eye of Ugin and Eldrazi Temple from the original Zendikar block, has been taking the format by storm and is widely considered to be overpowered and in need of being brought in line. I think the worry is that Modern has been 'solved' by this deck, as no other compares with its win-rates or the amount its being played.
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That's a good question. I don't believe any cards are restricted in modern, so it'd kind of be a first, and it would be interesting to see the effect this would have on the format. On the other hand though, it depends what the problem with it is. You'd still be able to have the ridiculous openings, they'd just be much less common. It depends on how much WotC cares about variance in their format. I think it might kill the playerbase for the deck though, as suddenly it's much slower, and much less reliable. I'm of the opinion that restriction is inelegant and they should just ban it outright if they plan to do that.
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Unfortunately, I did not get a list of players for the mission, so I have no choice but to kill him due to inactivity. Alexandrius Venturia was a Temporal Displacer!
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Night 7: Rotten Luck In a dark street that most would have thought twice before traversing, a handful of people met. They did not intend to meet there, in the pouring rain and the dim light, amongst the vagrants and unfortunates that lived in these slums, but they had no choice; their regular meeting place was closed. They had long-since given up on hammering on the door, peering in through the windows and attempting to break the locks. It was somewhat reassuring to know that the building was practically impregnable, but at the same time, it was a real pain when you were standing in a heavy shower such as this. They had gathered in the portals of buildings nearby, almost appearing to be the down-and-outs that they passed every day in the slums. Glances were shared between them, not quite trusting but at least not outright hostile yet. The previous night had, by all accounts, been successful. Not a single person missing, which was nice to see. But they were not complacent; they would not have survived this long if they were. There was a tension in the air, thick and heavy, with only the sound of the rain to keep them company. It drowned out the other sounds, and only a Tin-Metalborn would have managed to see through the cloud and haze it produced. But that may not have been a bad thing. The feeling of isolation it produced was welcoming in these circumstances. “Soddit,” Lopen muttered, looking at the locked door. “Anyone able to jack in and open the damned place? I'm freezing my nethers off here. And I'm sober. I don't know which is worse.” Ripple sighed. “She'll be here soon, Lopen. And I doubt Feis would appreciate you B-and-E-ing his place.” “Bah, the git probably has hundreds of these places. Hell, maybe he's even got nine other gullible bunches to try his luck with the other corps too. Bastard's probably richer than anyone except the ten anyway, judging from what he's paying us.” “What if he is one of the ten?” Avis asked. There was no response, but there was a small measure of understanding from most of them. It was a fairly common concern, at this sort of point in a mission, that the Mr Ventures might not be on the level. Indeed, the most common employers of Mistrunners were the Megacorps themselves. But the idea that it might actually be one of the ten themselves? That was an entirely different concern. That didn't mean they were simply working for a Megacorp – They were known by them, at an almost intimate level, if someone so lofty was handling this personally. “...Can't be,” a man standing rather further away from the rest said. It wasn't his choice, more of a defensive mechanism by the others attending the meeting. “I mean, why would one of them do that? It'd be like...” he cast around for a comparison. “I don't know, it'd be like if The Lord Ruler personally fought against The Skaa Rebellion.” “He did personally kill The Survivor though,” Avis pointed out. “Well, yes,” the pungent man allowed, nodding briefly, “But that's different. I mean, none of us are exactly leaders amongst Mistrunners, are we? We didn't start this on their most wanted list. Makes no sense that one of them would do it personally.” “Assuming they're logical,” Citona said. “I mean, maybe this is how they relax in an evening, by plotting a few murders and stuff. We know they're petty, right?” Lopen snorted. “Almost makes them seem human.” “They can't be petty,” the skunk-human crossbreed argued. “Otherwise they'd never be ruling this place. Stands to reason they're actually at least fairly clever. Can't all be Allomancy and Feruchemy, right? Though I guess compounding their smarts helps a lot there...” “You do seem fairly well acquainted with how they're thinking,” Exisa said, looking at the filthy man with narrowing eyes. “Something you would care to mention?” “You think they'd let me even near them?” he responded. “You're pretty crazy if you think that. I mean, even you can't stand to be that close to me.” “Yeah...” Lopen nodded slowly. “Or it might be the perfect disguise! Someone so obviously a dirty, degenerate street-dweller can't be what they look like! That's too obvious! You're really a clean, dapper gentleman, aren't you?!” “What?” He blinked. “What?” He repeated. “What about these guys?” he said, gesturing at the homeless people sleeping rough nearby. "Are they all secret lords and ladies?" “They're not Mistrunners,” Clanky said, nodding sagely. “So obviously they aren't the ones infiltrating our group, and they aren't in disguise.” “I've heard enough,” Lopen said, pulling out his knuckledusters. “Let's see what this guy knows, eh?” When Lord Yolen's assistant arrived half an hour later (and about two hours late), she was greeted by the sight of a bloody corpse in the middle of the road, slowly being cleaned by the rainfall. Everyone nearby tried very hard to look innocent, forgetting that the first thing to do in order to seem innocent was to get rid of the evidence. She sighed and pointed round the side of the building. “Corpse over there. I'll deal with it later.” She watched them haul the body away, grimacing as they did. Why they had to work with these psychopaths, she would never understand. “Now that that's done...” She opened the door and let them into the bar. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the alleyway to the side. Well, she should probably deal with it now, really, even if the Lone Shard rarely entered the shadier parts of town this late. Besides, anything to put off having to pretend to be the barmaid for a while. IrulelikeSTINK was a Mistrunner! IrulelikeSTINK (4): Avis, Dragonsight, Exisa, Clanky Avis (3): IrulelikeSTINK, Alexandrius Venturia, Lopen Player List Night 7 has begun. PMs may now be sent again. The Night will end on Saturday at 8PM GMT. Alexandrius Venturia has been chosen to select people for the mission! I will need to hear back from him by Friday at 8PM GMT.
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The Day is over! Writeup coming soon.
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How convenient, guess what I rewatched recently? . Bonus evolutions included! Veemon - Flamedramon (Courage), Raidramon (Friendship), Magnamon (Golden), Ex-Veemon, Paildramon (with Stingmon), Imperialdramon (Dragon Mode), Imperialdramon (Fighting Mode), Imperialdramon (Paladin Mode) Armadillomon - Digmon (Power Knowledge), Submarimon (Reliability), Ankylomon, Shankuamon (with Angemon) Hawkmon - Halsemon (Love), Shurimon (Sincerity), Aquilamon, Silphymon (with Gatomon) Wormmon - Stingmon, Paildramon (with Ex-Veemon), Imperialdramon (Dragon Mode), Imperialdramon (Fighting Mode), Imperialdramon (Paladin Mode) Patamon - Pegasusmon (Hope), Angemon, Shankuamon (with Ankylomon), MagnaAangemon (Ultimate), Seraphimon (Mega, film) Salamon - Gatamon, Nefertimon (Light, can Armour Digivolve from Gatamon instead of rookie), Silphymon (with Aquilamon), Angewomon (Ultimate), Magnadramon (Mega, film) I suspect the hardest for people to remember are Imperialdramon's Paladin mode, and Magnamon. There is also an Armour Digivolution for Wormmon using the Crest of Kindness, but it was never used in the show. In the card game (had to look this up as I haven't seen the cards in decades) and other media, it digiviolves him to Puchiemon. So, my question, back on a bit of a Magic thing if that's okay. Name 7 cards which allow you to instantly win a duel of Magic, either when played or due to a condition being met, and what that condition is. Note that the duel stipulation means that I will also accept cards which cause an opponent to lose the game.
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I would be amazed if Temple was banned but not Eye. Temple is strong, yes, but its Eye that enables the really ridiculous plays and gives the deck staying power in the lategame, with its lack of draw. The only real reason Temple might be but not Eye is the Legendary status, and cynically because its an Expedition. Kynedath, just ask away!
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Day 7: A Silence of Fractals The Heron Industries Mining Concern complex lay in silence, and it could be argued that it was a silence of three parts. The first was a mist of quiet that stretched through the empty streets of the city. While the slums may have been more raucous, less lawful, within the city itself, people went about their lives quietly. The people who worked during the day were at home now, recovering and resting for the next day. The night shift were at their desks, and all that could be heard there was the clicking of keys and the soft hum of electricity. It was a working silence, a contented silence that did not neccessarily speak of happiness but at least did not hint towards sadness. Those who moved through it and contributed it did not notice it; it permeated their lives, they lived and breathed this silence. There was fear behind it too, a silent terror at the thought of the tormentors of their soft, quiet lives; the Mistrunners. The second silence was a planned silence, one that was not noticed as such but evoked. The music hall of the city stood in silence, a full orchestra very carefully playing not a single note. It was an awkward quietness, filled with coughing and the shuffling of clothes as people. It was a tribute to those who had passed away in the service of the police, just over four and a half minutes of silence to remember the names of the fallen. It was a reflective silence, one that demanded introspection. Missing the irony doing so at such a solemn occasion, among those attending were the height of society, there not out of respect but to be seen. They shuffled around awkwardly for the most part, unused to the concept of music without sound. Only the Heron family stood in complete silence, living statues emanating discipline. Of all the people in the room, they alone appeared comfortable. The third silence was the least observed, as only a few people knew it even existed. A handful of malcontents stood around the door to a vault, each with their own task to cover. One fiddled with the circuitry, redirecting the alarms and keeping them from being discovered. The second felt the lock with his Allomancy, feeling the mechanical tumblers and learning their positions. The third stood to the side, wires connecting him to a computer, which in turn connected him to the vault door. His job was to sever the electronic locks, the second layer of defence. The fourth kept a lookout, for even if the alarms did not go off, a security officer making his rounds would be just as dangerous. It was an urgent silence, one filled with concern and panic. They were in deep in the Heron complex, in a place that was spoken of in a hush voice. The vaults contained treasures that could not even be imagined, but material wealth was not what the infiltrators were here for. They opened the vault with continued haste, the door creaking and interrupting the silence, cutting through it harshly. They looked at it with horror, but no-one came to investigate. These halls were rarely traversed, so deep in the building, and they had fed a loop into the camera system to prevent those further away discovering them. Within the vault, they picked up a disk-like object, as well as a few items of worth, and left as quickly as they could. Three separate silences: The workers, the patrons and the thieves. And yet, if one took a step back, one could consider them far less disparate. Each of the smaller, less noticeable silences was only a fraction of a larger silence, an oppressive force that fell upon the city. And again, if one took another step back, it would become apparent that even that was a small part of a yet greater silence. Silences within silences, each obscuring and mystifying the other. Each city felt these silences, in one way or another, and each city contributed to this greater silence. It covered the world in its muffling blanket, stifling it and wilting it in its shadows. A world of silence, silence that replicated infinitely as it was examined closer. Silence that split as into impossibly small, more personal silences. Each person an island, and yet impossible to divide from their fellows. The whole silence was made greater than the sum of its parts, each contributing to the whole. The world was silent, gently trundling along its path with little deviation. Though each Scadrialian may have had their own, personal silence, none could lay a claim to it being theirs. It was a silence enforced upon them by their surroundings, not one chosen by them. The encompassing silence belonged to the world, and it alone claimed ownership of the silence. It was the silence of a world that was waiting to die. The mission was successful. No-one died! Player List Day 7 has begun. Please stop PMs. The Day will end on Thursday at 8PM.
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You're a soul-crushing monster . Though more seriously, graveyard-based decks are rather fun, I absolutely love playing them. I considered playing one myself in pauper, but another player has that deck already so I chose something else. I'd bet on Jace, Liliana, Tibalt, followed by Nahiri and Tamiyo. Sorin doesn't tend to really do anything. Only thing is that that spread gives you no Green Walkers. Maybe we'll see Garruk again? Basically, this new 'all the Walkers everywhere' thing is a pain. Perhaps not Jace? In which case I'd put Garruk in the first set, maybe come for revenge against Liliana, and conviniently getting to mess Jace up again as well. Hm, that'd be a good plot point. Garruk comes to kill Jace, and Liliana is confronted with the consequences of her actions. I mean, this is Wizards of the Coast we're talking about so it'll never happen, but it's a nice idea.
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The mission has begun! I will need to hear back from IrulelikeSTINK, Hellscythe, phattemer and TheMightyLopen before the end of the Night.
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Night 6: Blood in the Rain If Eda was entirely honest with herself, she knew that joining the criminal underground was not a good idea on any level. It was said that a Mistrunner never died in his (or her) sleep, and she was beginning to understand why. It was not a romanticised job as such, but there was a level of notoriety associated with it. There were celebrities amongst them too, names that kept cropping up on the darknet – Clockwork, The Laughing Man, and other giants within the hidden world. Eda was not one of them, and if she was honest with herself she never really expected herself to become one. She had planned to join in a few lucrative and – hopefully – less dangerous runs, and get out while she could. There was already a small nest-egg built up, and this was probably to be her last mission, one way or another. It was reckless, but the money was far too good for her to turn down. She had plans for the Boxings she had saved up, and the more she had to spend the better. It was getting difficult to quit the mists, though. It was an addiction, one that was understood by most of her fellow Mistrunners, but rarely spoken of. There was a sense of release behind it, driving them. A desire to live free or die trying. If the world that the Megacorps tried to build was a cage, then they had escaped it, and had grasped freedom with both hands, refusing to let go. They refused to be returned to their confinement, now that they had a taste of the world outside. There were a lot of people like Eda in the shadow-world; people who had lived within their gilded cage for most of their life, before suddenly finding themselves outside of it. And now she could see it from the outside, from another perspective, it was obvious to her just how cramped it was. How ill-fitting it was for her. She had seen the unpleasant, totalitarian truth of the world for the first time, and it was impossible to forget them and return to her easy, thoughtless life. She wondered how many of the others in the room had that moment of clarity, that startling realisation of powerlessness at some point in their life. What was it that drove them to such a suicidal lifestyle? Desire for material wealth they could not have otherwise obtained? Antipathy towards the Megacorps? Or perhaps they simply knew no other life, and never had a choice in where they ended up. She had no idea. People in this business generally disliked talking about their past. How did they see themselves in their struggle against unfettered capitalism? Well, most of them she knew would consider themselves heroes. It is rare to find someone who believes they are in the wrong and yet continues on their path. But at the same time, the job enforced a streak of cynicism upon people, innocence sacrificed so that their lives could continue. In their heart-of-hearts, she also knew, they would know themselves to be thieves. No more, no less. And what would they say if she thought them to be the same as the Megacorps themselves? Selfish, greedy and conniving, looking out only for themselves and trampling over everyone else to get their way. Mistrunners rarely thought for their victims, whether it was a simple theft or an assassination they were hired to carry out. Megacorp employees, particularly security, were only doing their jobs, living the only life they knew. That did not make it right for them to indiscriminately kill them just because they were on different sides. They were all just victims of the world, forced to take the path they were on because they had no choice, because the world was fundamentally broken. And when the world was fractured and fragmented, was it any surprise that its people were too? Humans, it was said according to the Pathist faith, were made from Harmony – Equal parts continuity and destruction. In a way, the Megacorps were the manifestation of Harmony. Only by using both aspects could they rebuild the world as they wished. And they had rebuilt it in such a way that people would not fight it. They people lived in constant fear, as slaves in all but name. Was there even a point to fighting it, at this stage? Even if they achieved their objected, even if they made their overlords into mortal beings once again, the damage was done already. Their descendants would be Mistborn too, and probably Feruchemists as well. Weaker, to be sure, but still the most versatile and powerful beings on the planet. And that was not even considering their sheer material wealth. Why would they need such things as the Metallic Arts, or even immortality, when they were practically unshakable without a dismantling of the entire system. Unfortunately, Eda had made the mistake of voicing this opinion in a room full of the Megacorp's enemies. Ones who hated them with something not just with a passion but with a vengeance. Rightly or wrongly, they considered these people the epitome of evil in this world, and anyone who disagreed with them was either blind, stupid or evil as well. They were dogmatic in their hatred, and perhaps for good reason. But they allowed no argument, no dissent. The argument started peacefully enough, as arguments went. Someone asked her to repeat what she had said, and she refused. Someone else did it for her, mangling and twisting her words until they were almost unrecognisable, though she would be the first to admit that from a certain point of view, they could be considered similar. An argument erupted, even without her being a part of it. She stood up, declaring that she was leaving. They could carry out this Harmony-forsaken crusade without her. She knew that one last mission would be too many, she should have stopped when things started to get too deep. But it was addictive, the thrill of the mists. That was when it started to get worse. Someone, in not too kind words, suggested she was going to join their enemy. That evolved into joining the Lone Shard, helping them root the rest of the people in the bar out and kill them all. Then someone pointed out that even if she wasn't, they weren't going to trust her to keep her mouth shut or resist interrogation. For all their sakes, for the safety of the group, it was decided that they had to kill her. And so it was that Eda found herself propped up in an alleyway some distance from the bar, a long cut in her shirt and her gut, slowly bleeding in the rain. The wound was not immediately life-threatening, but it was excruciatingly painful, and without treatment it would fester over the next few hours and become lethal. It was a punishment for cowards and traitors, spiteful and with a lot of time to think about what she had (or hadn't) done. They hadn't taken the small amount of money she had on her – charity for the truly needy, those living on the streets who would come scavenging when the sun had disappeared and her corpse was cold – but they had taken her knife and metal vial. They hadn't taken her gun. It lay just a short, impossible distance away, with a single bullet in. A final cruelty from the shadow-world; an opportunity to end the pain, to finish it all in a second, forever out of her reach. Eda was a Data Gatherer! Eda (4): IrulelikeSTINK, Ripple, Lopen, Clanky IrulelikeSTINK (1): Eda Player List Night 6 has begun. PMs may now be sent. The Night will end on Tuesday at 8PM. Exisa has been chosen to select people for the mission.
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Sorry to do this to you guys, but I will be delaying the next Turn by a week due to time constraints this Sunday. There are also a few players who haven't given any Actions in this Turn, so this will give them a chance to get back in. Also, cliffhanger for a few players Next Turn will begin on the 6th of March instead.
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Nabbed, cheers Claincy
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Day 6: Heron News Today's Writeup will cost you 2 Clips. Count Banuir Reynaud was Assassinated! He was a Hacker. Sam Flynn was an Assassin! Player List Day 6 has begun (a little late!). Please stop all PMs. The Day will end on Sunday at 8PM.
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I have not been given a list of players by TheSilverDragon, and so despite his posting in the thread, he has been killed for indecisiveness. Star Thief was a Mistrunner!
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Why would you think that? To make it clear: You guys can still send PMs.
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Night 5: A Lack of Conviction They found Lucy's corpse hanging from the ceiling when they arrived later that day. Of course, accusations were made at the first person to arrive on the scene, for surely they must have killed him – Except that no-one was willing to accuse Feis Yolen's assistant of such a thing to her face. There must be at least a little more to her, if someone who gave the impression of being a mere businesswoman was willing to get mixed up in these. The room was muted in its own way, a quiet and private chatter that managed to provide enough ambient noise to blank out other conversations from further away. There were people drinking quietly, and others drinking more raucously, but even those most inebriated amongst them was not reckless with their merriment. “We're dying here,” Dragonsight muttered. “Even if we're getting closer to our goals, we're all dying.” “But if we're getting close, then the danger'll soon pass,” Ripple pointed out. “At that point, we can get paid, move on, and live again.” Dragonsight shook his head. “No, it's different. Can't you see it? This place should be loud. There're a dozen Mistrunners here. Used to be that whenever we met up like this, whenever we're not fighting each other because of a stupid contract, we should be making it a night to remember. But now...” he shrugged. “We're barely able to speak to each other without suspicion.” “But that's true usually anyway,” Ripple replied. “Even when Mistrunners aren't knowingly working against each other, we often happen to be anyway. Just being around each other's cause for concern, isn't it?” “No,” the veteran Mistrunner said. “There used to be honour amongst thieves. A warning would be given. We wouldn't attack each other out of nowhere. And we'd always be respectful about it, hold no grudges, nothing of that sort. But now...” he shook his head. “We're getting motional. We're arguing. And we're paranoid.” Ripple didn't respond to that. Just a small nod, unable to contradict the older and more experienced man's remarks. “Maybe it's not like that elsewhere,” Dragonsight continued, “But here, in this room, certainly looks that way to me. Maybe it'll fix itself when this is all over. If it's ever all over. I guess we can only hope to wait and see.” “...You've got a very pessimistic view on life.” “Comes with being in this job far long than anyone should have to be.” He sighed and looked over at the crowd. “Wonder who's gonna die today. Will there be a reason for it, or will it just be something spontaneous, done without thinking? I'd place a bet on it, if I thought anyone would pay up. Hm, maybe I could start a side business. Betting on who's next to meet The Survivor in the world beyond.” “I think they might just assume you're going to cheat,” Ripple commented. “I wouldn't really advise it.” “Perhaps you're right,” Dragonsight sighed. “Well, anything's more exciting than us sitting around doing nothing like this.” “I'll drink to that,” Ripple agreed, having a drink. Non-alcoholic, of course, but that didn't mean he couldn't get into the spirit of things. “Maybe the night will bring something more interesting...” No-one was lynched! Sam Flynn (2): Count Banuir Reynaud, Clanky Count Banuir Reynaud (2): Dragonsight, Lopen Dragonsight (1): Sam Flnn Lopen (1): IrulelikeSTINK Player List Night 5 has begun! PMs may now be sent. The Night will end on Friday at 8PM GMT. Star Thief has been chosen to select people for the mission.
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Indeed, rollover is over!
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Day 5: Early to Work “Extr-ah! Extr-ah! Read-ah all-ah about it!” Lucy rolled her eyes at the hawker trying to offload his stack of broadsheets onto the unsuspecting crowd. They were of course Heron News broadsheets, and therefore contained very little of worth if you wanted to find out what was actually happening in the world. But they were still informative; to a more discerning eye, they told you what they wanted you to think. So despite her distaste at the man standing on the corner of the road, she paid a few clips to their oppressors and took a paper off him. Perhaps she could have stolen it, but she had places to be. She didn't fancy having to chase off Lone Shard officers if she was spotted, and couldn't be more cautious about it. All it would do was waste time to save money. Even the message it sent would ultimately not be worth it. Her eyes scanned the headlines as she walked, careful to keep her head down. It was said that in Luthadel, many years past now, the people tried to hide themselves away from the world as much as possible. They didn't want to be seen by the nobility. Now, however, it was not a question of fear but of selfishness. Perhaps that was too strong a word. But regardless, people kept themselves to themselves. In a densely populated area such as this, privacy became even more important. “'Once there was a Loyal Communications Expert named...'” she read, before frowning at the next part. “'Check back tomorrow for chapter 2! Unless I die. Or get lynched. Or forget.'” She shook her head. “What the hell is that meant to mean? Why do they even pay these writers?” The rest of it was more informative, though the bar was not set very high in the first place. Something about a Mistrunner's body being found... Oh, Lane. She recognised that name. She shook her head and discarded the paper in a recycling bin. She arrived at the hideout and knocked in their pre-arranged manner on the door. Not that it was a needed precaution – She had no doubt that Feis Yolen had more secret methods of detection hidden away. The door opened, and it was not who she expected who had answered her. Instead of their employer's acerbic assistant, it was another of the Mistrunners. “Oh, hi,” he said, smiling a little uncertainly. “You're early, Lucy.” “I am?” Lucy asked. Then she shrugged. “Well, I'm not the only one, am I?” “I guess not,” he nodded, a self-deprecating smile on his face. “I don't really have much more to do in the mornings, so I came here and opened shop.” “You have a key?” Lucy asked, raising an eyebrow. She didn't have a key. She hadn't thought Yolen would play favourites like that, especially since he barely knew any of them. “Yeah,” he smiled. “I cloned it when she left the shop early and left the key behind. Seemed like the sensible thing to do.” “I suppose so...” she nodded. Strange, but not that weird. A Mistrunner was always prepared, and she could hardly blame him for copying a key to this place. Always best to have a backup plan. Except... She frowned, hand going to her side for her knife. It was less obvious than her gun. “That means you were here when Elbe died.” “...Ah. Er. Whoops?” He chuckled nervously and took a step back. His hand went to his side and he drew his own gun. “I guess I've got no choice.” He raised it up at Lucy, who paused as she raised it to defend herself. “You guys really need to go for your guns first.” He pulled the trigger, and Lucy was never early for anything again. Lucy was a Communications Expert! Player List Day 5 has begun! PMs may no longer be sent. The Day will end on Wednesday at 8PM GMT.
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The Night is over! No more PMs please.
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I have not recieved a list of players from Elkanah, and so he has been killed for inactivity. Elkanah was a Mistrunner! No players have been selected for the mission.