Aonar

Breakfast this morning was dry cereal and a few bottles of water; all they’d been able to scavenge from the nearby buildings. While it made for an impressive base, it was pretty clear that the column had never been intended as any sort of long-term stronghold by the previous tenants. “So,” Eclipse said, over the dejected crunch of cereal, “anyone want to place bets on how long before we’ve got Epics attacking, now ‘Rael’s gone?” “There’s no point,” Nightshade grumbled. “With Azrael’s newfound ‘purpose’ he’s going to be drawing angry Epics like moths to a flame. If we’re not all dead within the day, I’ll be amazed. Calamity, put me down for twenty bucks on Az himself doing us all in.” “He’s not that bad. Sure, he’s been a little strange of late, but--” A blindingly bright flash of light shone through the partially open door, forcing everyone to cover their eyes. Darkquake spoke, breaking the sudden silence. “Put me down for a hundred on right-sparking-now, hon. Looks like we’ve got trouble.” He stood, setting down his breakfast. “Alright then. Regular plan, I’d imagine?” A few nods. “Midnight’s with me, and everybody else out. Nightshade, contact ‘Rael.” We’ve got a problem, Azrael. Azrael pulled up short, hovering high in the sky over Astoria. Already? I haven’t been gone a half hour. Yes, already. We’ve got at least one infiltrator, probably more, and they’ve either got a light manipulator, or they’re prepared enough to have brought high-intensity mag flares. Plan A is go, but if there’s a light manipulator... I’m on my way. Folding his wings, Azrael dropped like a stone towards the city below.

Thank you, Brightdeath, for alerting the League to your presence. I'm home sick today, so a short Azrael post should be up soon...

Frostfire? Just as effective as anybody else, seeing how he has no powers related to healing, or biological/chemical manipulation. It would be very hard to get him to inhale enough of it to put him out, but this is primarily because it would A: be very difficult to surprise him, (lifesense) so as to put something soaked in chloroform near his mouth/nose, and B: even if you succeeded in doing so, the effects do not kick in immediately (television and movies seem to present a highly inaccurate picture of it's effectiveness, based off the little research I've done; it can take upwards of five minutes of concentrated exposure for unconsciousness to set in), so there would be more than enough time for Frostfire to retaliate in a decidedly lethal manner, and remove the chloroform soaked item from his immediate vicinity. So, yeah, it could theoretically work, but I wouldn't call it a particularly bright idea, by any means. Why do you ask? ...Wait. Is there an Epic named Chloroform that I'm not aware of? (The capital has me confused, now... )

Lord Izenry listened carefully to Vinid's denials, before addressing Prelan Benedict, "May I have a moment to confer with my client?" After a brief nod from the High Prelan, who looked somewhat bemused at all which had so far taken place, Cifan stiffly made his way down to the stand. Leaning close to Zerrung, he whispered, "Lord Votir, I appreciate your impassioned self-defence. For the most part, it was quite good, and will probably help our case. However, treason does apply, as Farrsolin planned to lay siege to Fadrex, which is one of our Lord Ruler's cities, and threaten his chosen representative there. Also, I can't cross-examine you, as you're my client. That would be Vinid's job." Taking a few steps back, he raised his voice, to make sure everyone could hear. "Now, based on my witness's statements, I would like to call the prosecution properly to the stand, so I may ask of them a few questions." With a certain amount of reluctance, Lord Vinid stood. "Thank you, Lord Vinid. So, I have three questions. One; to your knowledge, did Votir Zerrung contribute in any provable, material way to Farrsolin's conspiracy?” “Second, did you at any point claim that Zerrung was being brought to this court with the express intent of testifying against Farrsolin, as opposed to your actual actions, in addition to implicitly threatening him with extreme force, should he not comply?” After a pause, Lord Izenry continued, “And third, did you or Lord Erikell at any time support the conspiracy in truth, and not in pursuit of justice?”

"I would not necessarily drop all charges, Lord Vinid," Cifan said, surprised to receive such a direct response, "I would however, consider dropping those that are illogical and impossible to press, namely mutiny and conspiracy to destroy a Noble House, as the first is redundant, and the second, by your own account, does not appear to fit the intent of his actions. I would also like to note that where you use the term blackmail, I assume you mean extortion, as he planned to obtain the wealth through the threat of physical violence, rather than defamation. "If that is truly what he sent to you, then yes, entrapment would no longer apply, as he clearly demonstrated mens rea, and as such his actions likely did not come about as a direct result of your interference. I would note however, an aspect of your account has changed; you no longer claim to have had Erikell mediating your communication with Farrsolin, and this does not help your credibility." On the last item, Cifan thought for a moment. Farrsolin is likely a lost cause, but from what I have heard, the others may not be so. And hey, I wanted to make things interesting right? "I have no personal stake in this trial; although I have some trade relations with Zerrung and Artorius, I would not consider either of them close allies. However, if there are none else willing to step forward, then I will gladly act as the defence, insomuch as my clients can be proven innocent. I am not so good a man to attempt to defend the indefensible."

Lord Vinid spent several minutes shuffling papers around, then finally made his piece. It was, in Cifan's opinion, a tad long-winded, without ever really saying much. Oh joy. If this is the best they can do, then it might be faster just to get the case thrown out than to let it take it's course. More fun that way, anyways. "Before we start actually attempting to determine guilt, Lord Vinid, you may wish to reread some portions of the Lord Ruler's law," he said, rolling his eyes. "Mutiny in this instance is equivalent to treason, and as such, cannot stand as it's own charge and must be dismissed. "Furthermore, all it seems that you have proven here is that Lord Farrsolin sent you soldiers, under pretense that you would use them to attack Lord Tekiel, and that Lord Farrsolin may or may not have incited a riot among Tekiel's Skaa. And this is is assuming all of what you've stated is objective fact." Lord Izenry sat back on his chair, crossing his arms. His tone was distinctly bored as he continued, although it remained loud enough to be heard clearly throughout the court. "All I see here is a largely circumstantial case for conspiracy to commit treason, conspiracy to extort a House Lord, and the incitement of a riot. Well, that, and of course a very strong case for entrapment, as it appears that you, through Lord Erikell provided Farrsolin with means, motive and opportunity to commit treason, in hopes that he would, and you would be able to prosecute him. Which, I daresay, is most definitely not commendable behaviour from our Lord's own General. On that note, I would also like to question your own degree of involvement in affairs; you state that you dealt with Farrsolin through Erikell’s mediation; yet somehow you ended up with all the referenced forces, suggesting, perhaps, that you were more closely involved than you are willing to admit. "Unless you provide better evidence and a more compelling argument, then I know that my vote certainly will not fall in your favour. In fact, I will quite possibly vote in favour of your own prosecution; I do not think I, or any Head of House should be comfortable with the fact that you are willing to entrap one of your fellow Nobles for your own ends. If this is your strongest case, I might recommend just moving to drop all other charges."

Lord and Lady Izenry sat in the stands, decidedly uninterested in the proceedings. House Farrsolin already had a reputation for bad business, and while the accusations against Zerrung and Orielle were surprising, they were of little personal interest to House Izenry. Silence ruled after the High Prelan's announcement; everyone waiting for someone else to speak. Moments became seconds, and seconds became minutes. Ah, rust it all. If I'm going to have to be here all day, I'm going to have to make things interesting somehow. Cifan stood slowly, joints creaking slightly with age. "Lord Vinid," he began, speaking slowly, "you are the one who has summoned us here; I believe it is your duty to open the trial. Present us with all the facts you have gathered against these supposed traitors, and make your argument. And please, do not take more time than is necessary. I am already missing my daughter's wedding for this; between your own insipid remarks, and whatever duplicitous tales my fellow Lords and Ladies are bound to concoct in their manoeuverings, I will most likely miss most of the reception as well, assuming you do not get to the point quickly." OBJECTION! ...Sorry. Not sure what came over me. *Cough.* Anyways, it's your move, Vinid. Explain to us why exactly all these people should be charged of treason.

I was going to write some RP, but I'm going to be out of town most of tomorrow, and can't stay up to finish anything tonight. So, in recompense, here's a few more actions than usual.

As the owner of one of said banners, I figure I'm probably qualified to answer this. She's a very good player, especially when she's evil. She also very much dislikes all the attention this has garnered and feels that it is undeserved, and somewhat unfair, as she rarely survives a game anymore. (This is true to a degree; we like overstating how good she is because we know it annoys her, and on occasion this has probably lead to her dying more often than she should. ) While she is a very strong player, the society is largely a joke, calculated to gain some amusement from her reactions to it. (And so far, it has worked wonderfully.) Anyways, if you've got a Spec doc going Joe, would you mind PMing it to me?

Yep, that's pretty much exactly how it would work. There's potential for a lot of variance between worlds, as you could have moons, stars, asteroids, even suns that exist on some planes and not others, as well as being of vastly different shapes and sizes from plane to plane; some of your worlds might be uninhabitable, some might be water rich, some might be deserts, some might harbor non-human life; your imagination is really the limit for where you want to go with the idea. And that's not even getting in to how mages could apply their powers to espionage, or infrastructure, or combat. There's a lot there for you to work with, even though the basic idea is pretty simple. I personally wouldn't worry too much about doing lots of really in-depth research; while it's good to know what you're getting in to, and see what the implications of your world are, you don't want to become too bogged down with forcing it to comply with actual physical rules.

On the first count, there is one like that in the Dalles, but I'm not sure if Tulir's even still participating in this, and your Epic would be going into Salem anyways, so you're probably fine there. In terms of elemental powers there are a fair few of scattered throughout the various threads, but none off the top of my head in Salem. Savannah might be considered a very minor water manipulator (although I might be misremembering; he can desiccate things, right Voidus?), and as mentioned, there are a couple metal manipulators, but I can't think of any others. Then again, I'm not currently participating in the Salem thread (aside from some vague future plans for a weak reality warper/illusionist/emotional manipulator) so I'm just going off of what I can remember being discussed in the Question, and might not be the best one to ask.

(Disclaimer: I don't really know what I'm talking about either, I have done some research on this sort of thing as it's a personal interest of mine, but feel free to correct me if I'm wrong.) Lindel: You're not necessarily thinking about this wrong, but let me posit a question: Why are you assuming a three dimensional planet in a four dimensional universe? If you drop that assumption, then you don't need to do anything fancy like syncing up with planets on other planes. Allowing the planet itself to be four dimensional would simplify things immensely. To explain: Any four dimensional object will present a certain number of three dimensional "surfaces," one for each hyperplane it exists on. If you have a planet that is a four dimensional object, then by nature you're going to have a certain number of 3D surfaces that mages in this world would be able to move between. To any observer limited to three dimensions, the planet wouldn't appear any different from one of our own; but to someone capable of moving in a fourth spatial dimension, there would be numerous other worlds overlaid on top of it. (This number could be as large or as small as you like; basically you're just defining how large of a four dimensional object you're talking about.) You could even get into other really interesting worldbuilding things and have multiple or all nearby celestial objects be four dimensional, but have them be centered on different planes; you could end up with dozens, even hundreds of distinctly different worlds, with different climates, peoples, ecosystems, and cultures all inhabiting the same three dimensional space, and all accessible to mages in this story.

Part one of two of a collaboration between Maill and I. The walk back to town had lifted the mood nicely. Ethan's anger had faded and Emma's sadness had balanced out. She was much happier now. The Springfield was the place to mingle in the Dalles. It was even children-friendly. Except when Deathwish came. Then it was no one-friendly. After Remington killed Koschei, the bartender renamed the pub after him. It was definitely an improvement. Emma sat down at the counter, asking, "One root beer, please, Mr. Robbins." Emma wasn't legal to drink alcohol and had never been drawn to it. The bartender smiled and nodded. "And your friend here?" He asked. The mood was far lighter for the walk back to the Dalles. There was still enough tension to deter all but a few awkward attempts at conversation, but given what had happened, Ethan was just grateful things weren't worse. The Springfield was a quiet establishment near the edge of town. Although few patrons were around when they arrived, it seemed like it was accustomed to many more. Given the rather ridged nature of the town, that was no wonder. It was probably one of the only, if not the only, place for people to gather and be social. Emma took a seat at the bar, asking for root beer. After a moment spent scanning the interior of the pub, he joined her. There really wasn't much interesting to note. A few of the ever-present Dalles Guards, and a bare handful of civilians. Ethan was surprised there were even this many, given the events of the day. The better part of a dozen new Epics, an invasion that seemed to have been taken from the imagination of a particularly disturbed ten year old, and general chaos made it a bad day to go out. Or maybe a good one, depending on your taste in drink. “And your friend here?” The bartender -presumably Mr. Robbins- asked. “Ginger beer, sans alcohol, if you happen to have some on hand. If not, I’d be more than happy with root beer, as well.” He could drink legally, and even if he couldn’t it wasn’t as if anyone could have stopped him, but he’d never had the desire. Too many bad memories. And right now Ethan seemed to have enough trouble controlling himself, never mind the addition of alcohol. Ethan strayed away from liquor as well. "Ginger beer, sans alcohol, if you happen to have some on hand. If not, I’d be more than happy with root beer, as well.” Most men in town didn't. Ty certainly hadn't let his age stop him from consuming alcohol. This was a good sign, but Emma didn't know if it was an honest desire not to drink or if he just followed her example to get on her good side. "The bar is definitely less crowded than normal," she mentioned. "But, what do you expect after a day of panda attacks and new Epics everywhere?" She grinned softly, trying to lighten the mood. Ethan woke to the sun streaming in through his window. Despite the smell of smoke still heavy in the air, birds managed to sing cheerfully. Ugh. That seemed wrong, on various levels. The sun wasn't supposed to shine after days like that last one. Birds should have known better than to sing. Rubbing his eyes, he slowly sat up and rolled out of bed. Squinting out the window, he tried to judge the time of day. Hmm. I think I've slept in a bit. He'd been extremely tired last night, tired enough that when the Guardsman had shown him his room, an abandoned apartment near the centre of the city, he'd fallen in bed without question, and fallen asleep still fully clothed, coat and all. That bed is probably going to have to be burned now, he thought sheepishly, looking at himself; he was still liberally coated in sweat, ash, and the odd bit of viscera. However, being that tired had a few upsides. Well, one really. He hadn't dreamt at all, last night. Stripping out of his disgusting clothes, he took a shower, staying under the water until it became too cold for him to stand. Feeling cleaner and in a much better mood, Ethan started rummaging through the apartment for some new clothes, a t-shirt at the very least, but he came up unfortunately empty. Struck by an idea, he gathered up his clothes and brought them into the bathroom, soaking them in soapy water. Filling the sink, he lightly touched the water's surface, freezing it. Careful to only start with a very small amount of heat, he slowly dialed in the temperature until the clothes steamed dry. Pros to being an Epic: Plus one for the twenty-four-seven instant steam cleaning and ironing services. Cons: Minus one thousand for the ever increasing drive to be a mass murderer. Unfortunately, the apartment seemed rather inadequately equipped in the food department, as well. I suppose I'll have to go on a bit of a walkabout, then. Opening the door, he was met by a pair of rifles, pointed towards his head. Two Dalles Guards stood on the other end of them, looking at him warily. "Oh, hello there. You been here all night?" He'd known they were there, of course, but it wasn't always a good thing to make known just everything you could do. One of them nodded, a little confused. "Ah. One heck of a boring job, that. Especially seeing how if I was someone with the frame of mind that would require me to be guarded, your presence wouldn't really amount for much." The guards looked a little nonplussed at that, but Ethan spoke again quickly, deciding it was probably best not to let them dwell on that one for too long. "Now, does anybody know where you can get a decent breakfast around here? My accommodations, while relatively pleasant, seem to be a little lacking in terms of food." Now the guards seemed to finally find their voices. "I'm afraid that'll have to wait. We've orders to escort you to Reader for a proper screening." Sparks. That slontze again. Sighing mentally and forcing down the vague desire to just knock the two of them out and find some breakfast himself, he said, "Alright, fine. Lead on. It'd be nice if you could point out somewhere with decent bacon along the way, though."

I might edit some RP in later, I might not. Sorry. Public Action:

^Which is why just repeatedly adding/removing heat to make them shatter through thermal shock would be a much safer option. Less chance of severe hypothermia, less chance of extreme burns; all around better.

(Celsius is fine; I'm also Canadian. Although in this case it doesn't really matter seeing how -40 is equivalent in both systems.) Having tungsten as the material for the restraints does change things. Not in the way you'd think, however. Yes, it's melting point is stupidly high, (3422 degrees Celsius) and under regular circumstances, it's very difficult to get it there. However, this has nothing to do with the energy required to heat it, and everything to do with the laws of thermodynamics, and the fact that almost nothing (well, nothing we can get our hands on easily, anyways) burns at a hotter temperature than it takes to melt Tungsten. (Hydrogen and acetylene both barely get up there, in optimal conditions.) Energy manipulation Epics happen to break multiple laws of thermodynamics. This means that melting point doesn't really matter. Something called specific heat capacity does. Specific heat capacity is the amount of energy (measured in kilojoules/kilogram) required to raise the temperature of a substance one degree at a constant pressure. Steel has a heat capacity of 0.49 kj/kg. Water has an amazingly high specific heat capacity of 4.19 kj/kg. Tungsten has a heat capacity of 0.13 kj/kg. (Really useful list of the specific heat capacities of common metals, if anyone's interested.) Seeing how we've already estimated the amount of energy required to change the temperature of the human body by one degree to be about 300 kj/kg,* and we know the specific heat of tungsten, as well as it's melting point, this becomes a simple equation. 0.13 kj/kg * 3422K / 300 kj/kg = 1.48K (**) So for every kilogram of tungsten she had to melt, Converter would only have to expend a degree and a half of her own body heat, which is actually less than what she would require to melt steel restraints. If you're looking for a material that would be very hard for her to melt, you best bet would be pure beryllium, as that has a very high melting point and heat capacity, when compared to other metals (however, it's also toxic, brittle, and above all, extremely rare). A more realistic option would be wrought iron; not weak enough to break easily, and it takes about 750 kj/kg to melt. Of course, if you could get your hands on restraints made of solid diamond, that would be better still, as diamond would take almost 2000 kj/kg to sublimate. (Diamond doesn't really do melting.) Of course, that option isn't really much more realistic than beryllium, unless Luncentia drops by. Given Converter's situation of course, lowering her body temperature even slightly would be extremely risky, to the point where melting her restraints would basically be suicide. I just really enjoy figuring out this sort of thing, and always welcome the opportunity to do more research and share my findings. (*Specific heat capacity of water is 4.19 kj/kg, the average human body is 65% water, the average adult human female weighs about 80 kilos, therefore: 80*0.65=52, 52*4.19 = 250 [approx; actual number would be about 220, but Epics, especially powerful ones, have a tendency to have a larger than average height and frame, and as I was unable to find a physical description of Converter, I might be placing my estimates a little high]. Round up to 300 (+/- 30) to account for the 35% of body weight that is not water.) (**In all my calculations, I'm assuming 0 degrees Celsius is the starting point, which it wouldn't be in this case, but the extra 40 degrees won't make a huge difference, given the numbers we're talking about.)

There isn't one for Frostfire. I don't know about Converter, but the bio in the Epics of Oregon thread makes reference to using energy from her own body. That's definitely true, especially in Converter's situation, seeing how she's an a cold environment with no way to easily gather energy. They do have a bit of an advantage over your average person, as they can recoup a sizable chunk of the energy they put out, but using their own body heat would probably end up a last-ditch option regardless. This is more hypothetical than anything; I just figured I'd share it because it kind of freaked me out when I realized exactly how much power they could wield even before you count their energy absorption abilities.

Kind of a random thing, but after reading Silver's posts in the last Question about how Converter could break out of her restraints, I got kind of curious, and started doing some research into heat capacity. Turns out, there's a literal crap-ton of energy in the human body. (To raise or cool the human body by one degree Celsius, you have to add/remove around 300 kilojoules of energy.) And, it just so happens, steel can't hold much energy before changing states (there's only about 600kj/kg between 0* and it's melting point, in fact). So if Converter removed two degrees of her own body heat she could just melt her restraints. Assuming she recovered the heat quickly, there would be a very minimal overall loss, so she probably wouldn't even experience hypothermia. And of course, if you wanted to just break the restraints instead of melting them, that would be even easier, as it would require a lot less energy to shatter the metal through thermal shock than it would to melt it. [/random science discussion] (I think I'm starting to realize just how overpowered Converter and Frostfire are. )

Standing atop the tower, Azrael watched the sun slowly rise. He had stood almost motionless for most of the night, maintaining the fine net of darkness he’d woven over the area on the off chance some illusionist decided to try their luck investigating the column. Somewhere in the back of his mind he recognized the desire to sleep, but his thoughts remained sharp; real tiredness never afflicted him. As the sun rose higher, he dispersed his protections around the tower. In proper daylight, it was a magnificent structure; it was wholly coated in diamond more than a metre thick. At the top, much of the original architecture had been removed to make way for a larger observatory like structure, where Overwatch had based his operations. Wake up, Nightshade. You have a job to do. Something like a muffled groan came over the mental link. It’s far too early in the morning, Lord Azrael. While you have no need of sleep, or other constituents of regular mortal existence, I do. Shameful fact as that may be, I would appreciate if you tried to keep it in mind. Sparking passive-aggressive little slontze. The world darkened, and then faded back as the interior of the tower. Nightshade, Midnight and Vires were camped out on the floor, wrapped in blankets they’d managed to scavenge from the room’s excessive collection of drapes and rugs. Darkquake, Eclipse and Twilight seemed to have made arrangements elsewhere. Darkness pooled in Azrael’s hand, forming into a long knife. Tossing it lightly into the air, it streaked back down beside Nightshade’s head, scoring a line of blood into his skin. It cut through the thick carpet, throwing up razor sharp shards of diamond as it connected with the tower’s structure. Another dagger was already in hand as Nightshade hurriedly tried to stand. “Now, Nightshade, correct me if I am wrong, but I believe another one of the ‘constituents of regular mortal existence’ as an attached head. Assuming I am correct, you have a choice. You can sacrifice a little of your sleep to help fulfill our purpose, or you can sacrifice your head to help relieve some of my stress.” The Epic bowed stiffly, a few drops of blood rolling down his face. “I understand, m’lord. I’ll get right to it.” Anger was obvious in his voice, but he kept himself in check. Pathetic. This is supposed to be one of our Lord Calamity’s own chosen, and yet he needs to be threatened with death before he sparking does a job he already agreed to. Midnight and Vires stirred groggily as Nightshade exited. “You’re up? Good. Wake the others, and set about your tasks, Make sure the defences encompass both towers and as many of the outbuildings as possible. I need to get a closer look at our new domain.”

No time for RP right now; I've had some minor computer issues, but thankfully Wyrm's letting me publicize my action a little late. Who: Lord Cifan Izenry, Steward of Urteau. What: Starting a fund within the city, donating money that will be put towards research, development and infrastructure, primarily into various industries. When: This is my third action. Where: Urteau, obviously. Why: To develop industry within Urteau, and invest in the future of the city, with the hopes of eventual monetary benefits.

Aftermath: Shelter From the Storm Jain paced his cage restlessly. Diagramists still remained, and he had more than enough stormlight to kill a few of the cremlings, but he couldn’t quite bring himself to leave his cage. The last time he had… He had no qualms about killing. Learning that Kazaaak had been innocent… Well, that changed things. What if he was wrong again? His powers weren’t something to be treated lightly. They were a gift from the Almighty himself, and killing innocents seemed to be something that was pretty generally frowned upon, to say the least. A quiet voice interrupted his musings as someone approached the cage, muttering to themselves. “...Take the chance to get rid of that storming bear… Been nothing but a burden this whole cursed trip.” “You have no idea how right you are.” Seixa stumbled back in shock, flaring with stormlight. “You can talk?” “Of course.” “...Bears don’t generally do that.” “I’ve noticed. It’s rather disappointing.” Seixa shook his head, trying to reassert reality. Nothing changed. “...How?” The panda shrugged. “The Nightwatcher has an… interesting sense of humour.” Jain sat back in the cage. “Now, if you will, please get back to the killing me part.” Seixa blinked rapidly. “But… You can talk!” “I believe we already established this, yes. And I fail to see how that has any bearing on your actions.” “The Law… Putting down a beast that is more trouble than it’s worth is one thing. Killing a thinking being that has committed no crime… That would be murder.” Jain sighed. “I am not guiltless. I killed an innocent. Kazaaak. I committed blasphemy of the highest order, abusing powers granted by the one of the Almighty’s own servants to do so. Fulfill the law.” “You regret what you’ve done. You seem like you’re willing to try to atone for it. You deserve a second chance.” Jain smiled sadly, or at least came as close as a bear could.“There is no room for second chances in the law. To show mercy would go against your values.” “This is wrong.” “That is not your concern. Fulfill the law, Seixa.” The man raised his hands slowly. “I am sorry.” “Don’t be.” Light flashed, blindingly bright, and all that remained in the cage was a few tufts of hair. Justin was tired. As he did his rounds patrolling the plateau, keeping up his farce, he tried his best to avoid thinking. There was nothing to be done, yet he couldn't help but feel he could have changed something. It was demoralizing, being forced to watch as your fellows were slowly killed off. On that much, he thought, anyone could agree. Cloth snapped and rustled in the wind, somewhere nearby. Justin stopped and cocked his head. "Hello good Knight," he said, still looking out across the plateaus. "Have you come to kill me?" "What gave me away?" "There's no wind, tonight." Torren, floating in the air behind Justin, considered this statement for a moment. Apparently deciding to take it at face value, he dropped to the ground, and raised his hands, gathering stormlight. "How observant of you. Do you have any defence to offer for your actions?" "A defence?" Justin chuckled quietly, without any trace of humour. "Inevitability? Self-preservation? Altruism? Patriotism? Overzealous loyalty to a mad king? Hoping that the destination will make the journey worthwhile? Peer pressure? I don't think it really matters to you, whatever I say." "Not exactly, no. Giving you the opportunity, however, does. Even in... extenuating circumstances, the Law must be obeyed, or at least as close to it as one can manage." "Such a terribly restricted mindset," Justin said, shaking his head. "You must be great fun at parties, dragging those fetters around everywhere." They stood in silence for a moment. Justin rolled his eyes. "Well? Get on with it." "You aren't going to run? I planned to take great pleasure in running you down." "Well, when you put it like that... No. I've been caught. The only thing behind me is a chasm, and it's not like you, or anyone, for that matter, is going to help me across." "So this is it, then? I kill you, and this is over? The storm is over? You're all that's left, and you're not going to try to fight back? You sure know how to take the fun out of things, slave." Justin smiled faintly. "Funny choice of words, that. The real storm has yet to begin, my friend. Our work will be completed, even if none of us are around to see it. We've delayed you long enough." Torren's eyes narrowed. "I've had enough lies. Make your peace with the Almighty, if you can." "I don't think I would need to, even if I could." The glow from Torren's hands intensified. A searingly bright bolt of stormlight tore through Justin's body, with a clap of thunder, leaving nothing behind, but a silvery shardblade, warped and twisted. Morning came. The remaining refugees gathered together on the plateau, taking stock. There had been a brief stir when the first of them had awoken, as a shardblade had been found, sticking clear from the rock in the centre of camp. The blade curved and twisted in a way that was unsettling in a way none of the refugees could put their finger on. A few recognised it, however. Ableah had carried the very same Blade at the beginning of the expedition; the very same Blade that had been stolen with his death, and used to kill so many of the other refugees. Something between awe and terror had filled the scattered remnants of the original group; and maybe something like hope too, as they looked upon that silvery sword. It might be a sign, some thought. A sign that their troubles were finally over, and they might be able to move on, to safety in Urithiru. A few, however, guessed at the truth. Time was running out. Night fell without any more deaths. While the refugees slept with a degree of peace for the first time in almost a week, some took it upon themselves to prod things forwards. Madon encased the Shardblade in a quartz pillar, simultaneously creating a monument to their endeavour, and keeping the Blade out of the hands of any of the less trustworthy refugees. Torren and Seixa carved a bridge from the stone of the plateau; dozens of times heavier than the original wood, but if the carriers were enhanced by stormlight, still useable. Morning came again, and encouraged by the lack of attacks, the refugees set off again, taking the stone bridge as a hint. They travelled for two days, driven onwards by a strange urgency they didn’t quite understand. The air seemed charged with tension, and what little wildlife that could be found on the plains was on edge. Night was falling again, but as they began to set up camp, Sani pulled a few of the other refugees aside. The scribe seem nervous, fidgeting and constantly stealing glances over her shoulder. “I don’t think we should stop. As the sun was setting, I think I saw something. A storm, in the west, getting closer. My almanac says that the Stormwardens predicted a Highstorm tonight, too.” “A second storm?” Kip scoffed. “From the west? That’s ludicrous.” “It might explain some of the damage we’ve seen on the plains. And if that’s what’s coming, I for one don’t want to get caught in it.” Torren spoke up, thinking back to Justin’s taunts. “I agree with her. Theoretically, we’re not far now, and it’s better to be safe than sorry.” Kipper looked about to argue, when a bolt of red lightning flickered across the western horizon, bright enough to draw everyone’s attention. “...Yup. Never mind. Let’s go.” Leaving tents where they were, the remaining refugees moved across the plains again, as fast as they could manage. The dull roar of a highstorm, oddly echoed, soon became apparent, as lightning flickered constantly. Another light, steady and separate from the storms, appeared in the distance. The stormwalls grew closer. The light resolved into a doorway, seemingly leading down into the plateau. Chunks of rock and ice began to crash down among the refugees. A figure resolved itself, silhouetted against the light. A woman with flaming red hair, holding a shardblade and offering shelter from the storm. Jain has died! He was a Refugee Dustbringer! Justin has died! He was a Diagramist Windrunner Squire (Adhesion)! Good game, everyone! The Refugees have won! Many thanks again to everyone who helped out with the game, Meta, Hero, Ren, Macen, Shallan, and the whole crew in the dead doc. Thanks for playing everybody, hopefully you all had as much fun playing as we did running it. Master Sheet Eliminator Doc Dead Doc Spec Doc

The Night's been over for a while now. Sorry about that. Write-up though should be up in an hour or so.

He said it would last a week, starting Sunday, so he should be back Monday at the latest, I think? (He mentioned it in the HttFE thread.)