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Wyrmhero

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Everything posted by Wyrmhero

  1. Wyrmhero
    Cycle's over, peoples! If only you guys decided this quickly every other Day
  2. Wyrmhero
    The Turn is over! ...And the Skaa Rebellion takes its effect. Rather than PMing everyone individually (because that will be a real pain), I'm going to PM the people who don't have anything to worry about. There will be one attack on a Property per player. Everyone aside from those I contact needs to tell me how they're going to respond to this attack. The Skaa Rebellion's forces are Weak compared to the average MP, this Turn. Any guards sent in this way won't be available next Turn! If you do not respond, I will assume you attempt to send enough guards to protect it, but not enough to mount a counter-attack or have overwhelming forces.
  3. Wyrmhero
    So apparently I inspire such fear and rage as to bring people out of inactivity just to put a kill on me, and then disappear again. ...I am very confused by this behaviour.
  4. Wyrmhero
    Day Shift 3: Time Enough For Paperwork Sonder Kessligh sits at his desk in the Engineering department. He has a large stack of forms to sign, in triplicate, and then to send out to the different departments. He seems strangely content by this, however; His is the soul of a man who believes in doing what he is told, and today, he has been told to ensure no ambiguity in the repairs that the Hemalurgists and Surgebinders will be sent to carry out tonight, while the rest of the ship is asleep. He is not one of their vaulted number, of course. The ship has not Invested heavily in Sonder, not enough to light the spark of any power. But even so, he has a role here, this he knows. Just because he cannot fuse broken wires back together with a Lashing, or dive into the core of a computer to discover its faults, it doesn't mean that he can't be helpful. He is a dab hand with his tools, slotted neatly into the belt around his waist, and he is very much a perfectionist, something highly desirable on a ship where a single mistake could kill all the people aboard. But, he will admit, it is lonely. Watch as he finishes signing his name on the last of the goldenrod forms (moving on to the saffron forms) and, after the little flourish at the end of his name, he sighs. This is his task for a reason, and it is because he does not complain. He does not feel the ennui that most feel for filling out sheet after sheet. Indeed, he does it gladly, knowing that a proper audit trail is neccessary for the ship to function. He would much rather be using his hands for mechanical work, fixing and repairing. But he does not complain. The door opens with its customary 'thank you', and someone steps in. Sonder does not even look up from his work, just holds up a completed form to his collegue. The man takes it, scans it over, nods, and heads off again. An efficient process of delegation and repair, all supervised by him, the latest in a long line of unlucky sods with nothing better to do. There is a strange banging from behind him, which is odd. 'There is nothing behind me', he thinks to himself, for his chair is in a little alcove by the door, back to the wall. The ship creaks and groans at the best of the times, but this is not the same. There is a bang, heavy metal on metal, which makes him jump. Despite himself, he turns around, swivelling in his chair to look at the wall. Suddenly he jumps back, some sense of danger commanding him to action, and not a moment too soon. There is a sound, a strange sound, simultaneously like a fire and an arc of lightning, and a hissing noise. A tip of metal-unlike-metal thrusts through the steel wall, and then effortlessly cleaves a path down and across. Then, two more cuts, and the wall falls apart into rubble. 'I'm going to have to find the forms that need to be signed in order to be able to get someone to clean that up', Sonder thinks, before realising that it's a little too early in the shift to start hallucinating and acting deliriously. He hasn't even had his third cup of advanced coffee substitute, for a start. Then he realises that perhaps his delirium isn't misplaced, considering someone is trying to kill him. A Shardblade is not a surprise on the ship, but he cannot place the material. He can't even tell if it's a Spren-Blade or a more mundane Atium- or Awakened-Blade (if such things could even be called mundane). He does not recognise his attacker either, cloaked and hooded as they are. Fight or flight kicks in, and he knows he cannot flee. The doors take too long to open, and his assailant can get to him anywhere on the ship. Instead, he decides to try and fight, and maybe make his escape through the hole the Shardblade-wielder cut in the ship. He lowers himself, ready to make a run. His attacker takes a step forward slowly, biding his (her?) time. Sonder puts a hand on his desk and sweeps it across in a wide, high arc. Paper flutters everywhere, obscuring his attacker's vision. He jumps forward with the only weapon he has, hand immediately at his toolbelt and drawing a screwdriver out. He lunges forward, stabbing his attacker through the paper and attempting to spin them round, to flee rather than do damage. But it is already too late. The Shardblade cuts towards him, shearing through the paper, cutting into his arm. His screwdriver lies buried in his attacker's arm, blood welling out of the wound, standing upright as a testament to how deep it has pierced. But the Shardblade does not stop at Sonder's arm, continuing through until it bites into and through his spine, continuing outwards as a physical cut rather than a more esoteric one, spraying blood and matter across the field of paperwork. Sonder collapses, unable to even comprehend what has happened, his soul severed before his body even felt the blow. His attacker gives a small snarl as they pull the screwdriver out of their arm. Then they toss it onto his body, and walk away. Haede Heatherlocke Incident Report, 31/01/513 AK, Day Shift Crew Manifest Sonder Kessligh (Kasimir) was a Loyal Crewmember! Neil Weakarm (polkinghornbd) was a Forger! Day 3 has begun! It will end on Saturday at 8PM GMT. Once again, players may not send PMs during Day Turns. Shift Clock
  5. Wyrmhero
    Night Shift 2: Waiting for the God Beyond John's Notes for the Trial of Inor Haze, Recorded by Cognitive Dictaphone Crew Manifest Inor Haze (Creccio) was a BioChromancer! Inor Haze (7): John, Pork, Davenar Leiken, Steph, Sonder Kessligh, Bort Wynde Wilson (2): Inor Haze, Volke Pork (1): HELLSCYTHE Ripple Gylf (0): Wynde Wilson Night Shift 2 has begun! It will end at 8PM GMT on Thursday. PMs may now be resumed. Night Shift Timer
  6. Wyrmhero
    Tomorrow's supper, Orlok. That's it guys, the die has been cast etc. Write-up and Night beginning in 24 hours. Do not rely to any PMs yet.
  7. Wyrmhero
    My stance on editing has always been that you should never remove information from a post you have made, and the only edits you can make are for grammatical reasons or to add information. You should make it clear that you have edited too, and what has changed. PMs, however, do not give you that luxury. As such, you are not allowed to edit PMs, and any changes you wish to make should be in a new post. If anything of a similar nature occurs, please let me know. A change of this nature, actually changing the content of the message, is definitely right out.
  8. Wyrmhero
    This chapter was written by Kasimir rather kindly, to boost his NaNaWriMo word count >>. for completely benign purposes. Lady Vin Orielle stood on the edge of the observer’s platform, both hands braced against the smooth railing and smiled; a serene figure, watching the scrum taking place on the excavated arena below. The arena had been ruinously expensive to create, but she felt confident that the expense had been well worth it. Skaa labourers had struggled to create an ideal place for war games to take place: a flat, sandy field, dotted with worked slabs of obsidian as ‘boulders’, and even a small stream ran through it. “Really,” said young Wyren Heron. “One might think the live weapons unnecessary.” Below, a soldier in the the livery of House Wilson slipped on a patch of wet sand and lost his footing. He went down immediately; before his squadmates could pull him back into the protection of their raised shields, a soldier in Vinid colours broke free of the pack and cast a spear, ramming it straight through the fallen man’s mid-section. He bent down and ripped the spear free, to the acclaim of his squadmates and the watching crowd of nobles. “Are you a skaa lover, then?” Lady Bronwyn Izenry asked, her eyes flicking to the young man—a second cousin’s son, they’d said—whom Lord Kyrus Heron had chosen to send in his stead. All assembled nobles noted that he’d not bothered to send his heir; nor had he even sent any soldiers to participate in the games. Wyren Heron laughed; a harsh, careless sound. “Hardly, my lady,” he said. His disinterested gaze flicked back to the frenetic struggle taking place below. Stricken skaa soldiers were screaming; some held their guts in with blood-soaked hands. Others were maimed and would have been crippled for life if they were in any way going to survive the war games. “House Heron prefers a policy of judicious management, if you will.” He turned around to regard Lady Orielle. “Lady Orielle, thank you for the invitation. However, business calls, and of course, it must take precedence over pleasure…” Deftly—for all it had been clear that he did not quite take relish in the bloody proceedings—Wyren Heron extricated himself gracefully and left. “Unfortunately,” Lady Vinda Vinid said, turning back to the games that raged beneath them, “Your soldiers, my dear Lady Wilson, simply do not appear to have the stomach for fighting…” Lady Tamsa Wilson watched the slaughter of her men where they stood. Sheltering beneath their shields wasn’t enough; while her soldiers tried to tighten up their formation to make up for the missing man, they were too much on the defensive, and with a practised, efficient ferocity, the Vinid spearmen tore through their formation, forcing it open at the hinges under a withering hail of covering fire from men with heavy crossbows; bolts puncturing through shields like they were made of wet paper, and then ripping it to shreds. It was, Lady Orielle thought, most amusing: to see Lady Wilson’s knuckles whiten as she gripped the railing, to watch her struggle to retain a semblance of glacial calm. “Well,” Lady Wilson said, at long last; the light-heartedness in her voice forced. “I must concede, Lady Vinid. It seems I shall be needing new soldiers before long. And presumably, new trainers as well.” The screams and cries and moans of the dying skaa drifted up to the observer’s platform reserved for the Lords and Ladies of the participating Great Houses. It was, all in all, a most diverting experience. Olim opened his eyes at dusk. It had all gone quiet now; eeriely so. No, he thought, in a few moments, as he heard the eerie cries of the feasting carrion crows in the night mists. He shifted, and strained, and managed to roll the deadweight of his squadmate’s body off him. He clambered painfully to his feet. The wound in his side ached. He didn’t know how deep it was. “Hello?” he called out. “Is there anyone here?” Silence. It was an eerie, deep silence; a sharp contrast to the clamour and stench of battle. He was numb to it, now. It was as though he’d died, in the time he’d lain among the dead, concealed by them. There was no doubt in his mind that his squad had been slaughtered to a man: that the only reason why he’d survived was because Alun had fallen over him in death and thus, he’d been missed in the chaos. He shivered. His uniform was mostly-whole, but it was a chilly night, in this place of the dead. There were all sorts of rumours about the mists, of course. Especially among the plantation skaa. They talked about how the mists drove a man mad, how they could devour his soul. He shivered again. Mistwraiths, he thought. The last thing he needed was a whole bunch of mistwraiths coming here. Would they eat him too? He bent down, cast about until his grasping fingers closed around the leather-wrapped hilt of a sword. He picked it up, and hefted it. The weight was good, even if the pommel was heavier than he’d have liked. He clumsily sheathed it. He was tempted to laugh. A single man, alive when he should not be, with nothing more than a sword to defend himself. He was going to be dead by sunrise, one way or another. A sound; a proper human voice, cursing. “Cursed mists,” said the voice. “Can barely make out your own hand in them.” Olim blinked. “Hello!” he called out again. “Is there anyone out there? I’m alive and I need help!” “Mists,” the voice said. “Melit! There’s a survivor here!” He staggered towards the voice, stumbling over bodies and their gear. Once, he almost cut himself on a protruding sword-blade but threw himself away from it in time. He all but ran into the source of the voice; a heavyset skaa man with a forked scar above his left eyebrow and burn scars all over his well-muscled arms. The other had the bearing of one of the illegal betting ring boxers; there was a certain lithe grace to his movements. “Well, there,” said Melit. “It’s a miracle you survived.” He shook his head. “We were just picking over the field for anything we could salvage. Didn’t expect to see any survivors.” Olim felt his hand clenching about the hilt of his sword. He couldn’t seem to make his fingers let go. “Are you…are you with them?” “The Houses?” Melit laughed. “Nah. Tell him, Bose.” “We’re free skaa,” Bose said, simply. “We don’t bow to anyone; we don’t kill on their command, we don’t die for them. What they did to you, friend, was simply horrible. And we’re gonna make sure they don’t get to do these things no more, these nobles in their high Keeps.” He grinned. “We’re gonna shake things up. Change the world. How about that, huh?” Olim tried to process it. Struggled. “You’re rebels…?” “Rebels with a cause,” Melit said. “It’s all right, friend. You’re safe now. Everything’s going to be all right.” He held out a cotton handkerchief. Olim’s knees buckled beneath him. He knelt on the ground and wept; hysterical, convulsive sobs, wracking him. He’d watched them die; squadmates, friends. He’d been left for dead; he’d fought, and done his best, and all of a sudden, now, it was flooding him, threatening to overwhelm him, at the sight of a mundane, clean, handkerchief. “It’s all right, friend,” Melit repeated, kneeling beside him. “If you can stand, we know someone who can make sure you’re taken care of, that that wound isn’t going to be any worse. And us? We’re going to shake their world, down to its very foundations.” The skaa would later whisper to themselves about this day, long after the purges; long after they were forbidden to breathe any word of it, to remember it. The rebellion, Olim would say, really began on a forsaken field, where the skaa soldiers of many Great Houses had been left to die. He would look at his rapt listeners, challenging any of them to disagree. No one did. That was the turning point, he would say. Their soldiers started to think, to question. Now, at first, we were all right with it. Being a soldier was risky, yeah. But it was a good job. Paid well. But none of us had thought—until that point—that they would order us out there: in the absence of any kind of danger, to just slaughter each other for their amusement. And that they would stand and laugh and watch and just give each other prizes for how well we killed each other. The rebellion, if it deserved that name, for it was far-reaching, and at the same time, very much dispersed, began in two very different parts of the Final Empire. In the properties of Lady Izenry, skaa miners gathered and whispered, for days, and then for weeks. Eventually, the story of the slaughter on the fields of sand spread the length and breadth of the Final Empire, racing like hidden fires beneath bales of straw. And finally, the spark was struck; galvanised, the skaa acted. With pickaxes and shovels, they assaulted the obligator sent to inspect them, and the member of House Izenry—a Lord Rian Izenry, distantly-related to Lady Bronwyn—as their guards stood by and abruptly turned their backs or lent their blades to the rebelling skaa. Soon after, the mines—carts and all—went up in flames. It was only truly crushed when the main contingent of Izenry forces from the City of Urteau, so much better treated and fed than lowly mine workers, arrived and dispatched retribution with brutal efficiency. Tekiel Allomancers followed up, quelling the rage with forceful applications of brass. In the holdings of Lord Den Wair, malnourished, famished skaa burned watchtowers and seized wheat fields, pilfering from storehouses. Some of their guards tried to stop them; their colleagues called them collaborators and ran them through. They were struck with farming implements: with sickles and rakes and hoes. “Wair feasts while our young starve!” was the rallying cry on the soft farmlands; in the mines, miners turned on their overseers, ganging up on them and shoving the bodies down abandoned shafts or thrusting them into the machinery, mangling them beyong recognition or crushing them to death beneath loose boulders. The pockets of rebellion were few, at first, but somehow, despite the intervening distance of canals and roads, word spread. More skaa joined them, struggling to throw off the shackles and cruelties and indignities of their imposed overlords. The rebellion was wildfire, and soon, most of the Final Empire was ablaze. Generation 5: The Skaa Rebellion Turn 1 Generation 5, Turn 1 has begun! The Turn will end on Saturday the 14th at 6PM GMT. This Generation, it is more likely that skaa will revolt or turn to crime. As the flames of rebellion spread, the whispers and rumours that accompany them are likely to make skaa dissatisfied with noble rule. Players may commit troops to the defence of The Final Empire and stamping out this rebellion. The more soldiers used in this way, the lesser the general chance of rebellion. But, at the same time, if you have less troops guarding them, who is to say your own skaa won't make a bid for freedom...? A couple of players have had to drop out due to real-life commitments Generation 5 Player List
  9. Wyrmhero
    Two things that I feel I need to remind you all of: Firstly, this is a game, and we play to have fun. Remember that, even if you are of the opinion that someone is your enemy, they are still a person at the end of the day and may take things differently to how you intend. People should never be bringing personal attacks or condescension into their posts. There is a big difference between aggressive play and offensive play. Always consider your posts from other peoples' perspectives. There is no excuse for being rude in a game like this. Secondly, you are not meant to be sending PMs right now. I have only had one player do so, but I want to nip this in the bud globally before anyone else forgets. I do not want to have to take action against anyone because they forgot this twice.
  10. Wyrmhero
    It's a traitor kill. If it was a Mistborn who made the kill, metal will be mentioned in some way.
  11. Wyrmhero
    Day Shift 2: A Sound of Thunder Captain's Journal, 30/01/513 AK, Day Shift CCTV Feed Please Stand by for an Announcement from the Captain Writing on the Bathroom Wall Crew Manifest Miral (Mailliw73) was a Hemalurgist! Day Shift 2 has begun! It will end at 8PM GMT on Monday. I will be starting the next Turn on Tuesday at 8PM. PMs may not be sent until the Night Shift begins, regardless of whether or not the Day Shift is ended. Shift Timer
  12. Wyrmhero
    I hate it when people reveal secret Roles so easily >>. The Night Shift is over! Abandon thread! Close all PMs! Shut down the Bar! (warning, strong language in that video. Also, you don't have to close PMs, just don't reply to them).
  13. Wyrmhero
    The Turn is over! As is the Generation. Write-up posted this time tomorrow. By the way, the latest in the computer saga: Motherboard replaced and re-sent... And they sent it for delivery on Monday. I am at work then, and specifically requested Saturday while on the phone. Kelsier, they're bad at this...
  14. Wyrmhero
    In all seriousness, I mostly popped on to say that there are just under 11 hours left in this Turn.
  15. Wyrmhero
    Only by changing the numbers. The names there should be the same as the public votes.
  16. Wyrmhero
    For reference, guys, group PMs are cool by me.
  17. Wyrmhero
    One of these things is an error (your name was Winnie the Pooh on my spreadsheet). The other, however, is not
  18. Wyrmhero
    Night Shift 1: The Shape of Things That Have Been Captain's Journal, 29/01/513 AK, Night Shift Letter to the Chief Engineer Crew Manifest Citoan Vinid (Shallan) was a Kandra! Citoan Vinid (6): Wynde Wilson, Tigger, Obsidius Caesis Dormiam, Bort, HELLSCYTHE James T Slade (3): John, Miral, Arandar, Davenar Leiken First of Dawn (2): Rae Nova, James T Slade Night Shift 1 has begun! It will end at 8PM GMT on Saturday. PMs may now be sent, and for the record, I would prefer to be included within them. ...Also, please do wait for the go-ahead to be given before making them in the future.
  19. Wyrmhero
    The Turn is over! Stand by for the start of the Night.
  20. Wyrmhero
    When I said that the traitors having perfect communication was too strong, I was referring to the ability to organise a lynch-vote on the Captain. We have had another game in which this was the win condition, and that was far more balanced due to the fact that the Eliminators could only PM one of the other Eliminators once per Cycle, thus it was very hard to organise a precision strike. In answer to your actual question though, they do. Half an hour 'till end of Turn.
  21. Wyrmhero
    In the write-up, it will show their original Role. Not the Forged Role.
  22. Wyrmhero
    Whoops, apologies. I would really like it if you did green previous votes, as it makes things easier for me, but I am going to be going through the thread taking all red votes in chronological order, overwriting any previous ones with each subsequent vote. So you don't have to, but it'd be good if you did.
  23. Wyrmhero
    So, two points that need clarifying: Forging The list of Forgeable Roles will be released to the Forgers at the end of the day. It will not be shown in the write-up or anything, only Forgers will know what Roles can be Forged. If a player dies, their original Role is added to this list. You will not not know whether a player was Forged when they die. A Role once Forged is removed from the game. The HI It is impossible to accurately judge whether a player is following their objectives in a game like this, particularly if they are not discussing it with other people. Is Deathclutch checking X's Role out because he thinks X is an Eliminator, or for fuel for when they become an Eliminator? Deathclutch is lynching someone who has claimed to be/he has found out is a Hemalurgist. Is that because he wants to become a Traitor quicker, or because he thinks they're a Traitor Hemalurgist? Hard to say unless I go and ask each time he votes. As such, I cannot 'police' the HI without dictating 'this is what you do next'. This is not what I want to end up doing for obvious reasons. The HI has two possible objectives: Win as a Villager, or win as an Eliminator. Assuming the HI started as a Villager, then their objective is to kill all the Traitors. If/When they are an Eliminator, their objective is to help the Traitors outnumber the crew. I am of the opinion that the HI (or indeed any convertible Role) should aim for their current objective. Consider them to be running off of a modified version of Asimov's Zeroth Law: The HI must protect the crew as much as they can. They should not be aiming to be converted. After all, the entire game could go by without them being converted. However, and this is where it gets a little grey, I have few problems with them making plans for if they are converted. The HI is always meant to keep the crew guessing which side they're on, after all. They are not meant to be a traditional 'Confirmed' Villager. The HI is a very sensitive Role, I am aware of this. But we have a good community here, and I would hope that people do not consider 'winning' or 'being an Eliminator' to be an optimal objective. The objective should always be to have fun playing, and to help other people have fun playing as well. The HI is a role which I am trusting to be played fairly and in a not-unpleasant manner. This goes double for the fact that it is unkillable, and thus the fact that the player cannot be removed from the game by normal means. People have very different ideas of what is 'fair' and what is 'not-unpleasant'. I understand this. As always, people are free to come to me or one of the impartial mods (whichever of Gamma/Meta it is, though admittedly they're both rather busy) about any concerns they may have over how a player is playing the game.
  24. Wyrmhero
    It saves time if you lynch me now instead of after the game >>.
  25. Wyrmhero
    Day Shift 1: Hemomancer Captain's Journal, 29/01/513 AK, Day Shift Hellscythe's Note Crew Manifest Hellscythe (Deathclutch19) was an Uninvested Crewmember! Day Shift 1 has begun! It will end at 8PM GMT on Thursday. Remember that PMs cannot be used during the Day.
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