Gamma Fiend

A million upvotes for you sir! Basically exactly what I was thinking of! Encouraged by the dangerously danceable tune, Fien lost his inhibition and started dancing maniacally by himself, with his arms and legs flailing about wildly, spilling the rest of the contents of his wine glass all over himself in the process. Lord Ruler! He exclaimed to himself in the frenzy of fun. I didn't know we were even allowed to have music this happy! ---------------------------------------- Gamad watched on in horror as Lord Fien, that oh so prestigious head of his household, started flailing about and making an even bigger fool of himself. With a grimace, Gamad started storing some of his eyesight in one of his many Tinminds, trying to completely blur the shame away from his vision. Now if only he could remove all of the other unsightly, embarrassing other memories from his Copperminds.

Bah! Hopefully I have some time for some RP, but I want to get this in now. Earlier, Tonul claimed to have tried to Riot Jain to switch the vote, who's he's been suspicious of (or at least just saying, "I don't trust him" without any real elaboration). And now just above, we have Ashette claiming that Tonul only tried to Riot the vote to save him, his teammate. Now, it could have obviously been both reasons in one, and there was reason for Tonul to hold that excuse back earlier to not reveal potential teammates, but it still stuck out at me as a slight inconsistency. But the whole mess with Raccine seems like a headache. Unfortunately, there is one way to get to the bottom of the truth or not. The inconsistencies of the Information given and the number of Informants just doesn't add up. I'm going to keep my vote with Raccine for now (I still have it coloured from my earlier vote, so I won't colour it here and confuse poor Wyrm.). If this ends up being wrong, then of course I will feel pretty horrible, but this is the best way just to get down to the truth of it, as far as I can tell. --------------------------------------------------- Fien watched the Lady Cadri make her grand entrance. If petty intimidation tactics could be considered 'grand', that was. She certainly knew how to make a spectacle of herself, although she didn't need armed guards to pull that off. Her inane presence was usually all that was required. The evening's Ball had continued on at a steady pace, with the intermingling and festivities all put on hold while the Nobles insulted and accused each other back and forth, spilling precious family secrets. Fien himself had a specific suspect in mind, and had been horrified to find himself is slight agreement with Mesist, of all people!. Before he had started drinking for the evening, he wrote down on a piece of paper to remind himself to keep an eye on the Raccine Morinthe, who had been rumoured to have accused Fien of being a Skaa the night before. So that's why Fien wrote himself the note, so he wouldn't forget again when he was drinking later in the evening. Lady Morinthe had actually found herself the center of attention, it had seemed, with everybody blabbering the information they had learned about her, and even openly claimed she had been found out to be a skaa! Fien didn't know exactly what to make of it, but he figured it would be best just to let the Inquisitors do their job. Nobody could hold back the truth from those ruthless, effective monsters. And besides, he thought rather coldly, she is only a Tineye, allegedly. What big of a loss would that be, losing a known Allomancer? He shook his head and looked for the wine glass, burying any dark thoughts of being wrong and condemning an innocent to torture. He noticed a small commotion as a Noble was seen trying to leave the Ball, claiming they had business down south to urgently attend to. Wait, is that Lord Hyrun? Fien thought, trying to remember the man's obscure last name. Wonder what's so urgent that he could let us know he's leaving, but not let us know what he had potentially learned last night? He probably caught a whiff of Mesist, Fien thought with a smile, turning back to the party at hand. He walked up to the band that Lady Reisall had hired and slapped down a handful of boxings on the stage at their feet. "Play the most ridiculously upbeat and sassiest songs you can think of," He said with a wink. We're only contemplating murdering each other. We might as well make it a cheery affair. Huh, well I was able to come up with some good RP reasons as to why Fien wouldn't care about a Raccine Mislynch. But that's not the real reason. As Meta pointed out, there's just a little bit too much different information floating around on Raccine right now. If there was a mass-influx of Lies spread about her from the Skaa (leaving the rest of them open to have been sought out for information), then that could possibly explain it, but it really looks like the Skaa would have had to completely commit to setting her up. Either way, getting information from this lynch will really help figure it all out, one way or another. Edit: Added a Vote-tally (could be inaccurate, of course. Counting errors always happen) Raccine - Fien, Hadrian (2) Hadrian - Tonul (1) Cat - Aonar, Mailu (2) Aonar - Ashette (1) Edit 2: Fixed list. .....and really, people?! 3/4 of a Turn with all of these accusations and information flying around, and there's only four votes up there??? *bigger facepalm than Gamad gave in response to Fien dancing to Yakety Sax music below*

So, bleh. Sorry haven't been able to get on all day yet, storms and tornado warnings, and an unreliable internet connection do not add up well together. >.< Glad to see there's been a lot of discussion, though! Though I would still like to hear from Jaelre, Cadri, Newan, Fain, Kaldin, and Hyrun. Their insight into this could really help, the more people we have analyzing things the better, because we can also then potentially catch people in lies. The vote discussion has been interesting though. I am still not really sure what to make of everything. the fact that there's been so much information, particularly about one person (Raccine) has been surprising. It's making it look more and more like this was a set-up from the Skaa (Soothing her vote so all people then look into her, while the skaa flood information about her). With the contradictions of information being thrown around, it really is hard to imagine 4-5 skaa being able to flood that many lies in one night (Save of course they have a House Lord with the Terrisman power). And I really hope that this vote doesn't get worked into another tie that can be messed with from vote-manipulation. (Especially if we can't count on non-Skaa Emotional Allomancers not messing with the results....) I'm of course not saying that we should all bandwagon on a vote, just make sure that before the cycle ends, we all at least have a comfortable lead with the votes so it can't be messed with. We need the information from the lynch As for who I actually think we should lynch, I still am really not sure, I'll admit. That's why I'm going to keep my vote where it is right now until I can actually get some actual assessment going. I just wanted to mostly try and use this post to call out the people who haven't taken the time to post in the thread and participate with the vote/discussion so far.

Fien slowly walked up the stairs leading into the Reisaal Mansion, feeling the night before still weighing heavily on him. He had a small hangover, and after emptying his stomach first thing in the morning, had felt marginally better throughout the long and boring afternoon. As night fell once more, and the Mists descended over the land once more, Fien found himself once again associating with a room full of people he could care less for. "How lovely to have a host who doesn't even show her own face." Fien remarked, as he reached the top of the stairs, and tossed his coat towards a skaa waiting right inside of the doorway. "No really, I mean it. It'd be lovely if she doesn't show her face the entire evening." As he entered the room, Fien had noticed the entire right side of the ballroom, set aside for dancing and mingling, was completely void of people, and instead, everybody had gathered on the left side of the room, staying near the tables nor breaking away from their groups much. There was only a small handful of people who had broken away from the pack, and it was on the Dias they stood, staring at each other and batting accusations back and forth. As Fien got closer, he caught a snippet of conversation as young Kassel pointed towards him and cried out, "Tell them Fien! Let them know you're uninjured!" Fien stopped in his tracks, mildly confused, "Well," he began, "my stomach felt a little upset this morning, and the rug in my bedroom isn't in the best of conditions, but I'm feeling rather fine." He remarked, and then grabbed a glass of wine from a passing by skaa servant. "In fact, I'm feeling almost well enough to start drinking again." "And no!" He declared, rounding on an Obligator that he had noticed sneaking up on him from behind. "For the last time, I do not have a Kandra!" (Heh, had to sneak in some RP about the kandra bit earlier, as well.) But as I had Fien say, I was not attacked last night, and am uninjured. Hope that helps going forward in getting some of these lies/truths sorted out.

Okay, fair enough. You've at least come forth and made a defense. So I'll switch my vote to Raccine now, then. Because we've heard that she's both a Tineye and a Skaa from the Informants. So one of them (or both) could be a lie, but more likely is that they are actual GM facts. If she can get on and let us know what she got back Information-wise (assuming she visited the Informant, and told the truth), then that could help us figure this out more.

Well I'm glad the clarification about the Kandra really helped got things going. I want to say that Jain's Brother, you aren't making too many good defenses right now. It would help if you could tell us what Information you (or your Brother) received from last night, it's as easy as checking a PM. (Although if Jain sent in a lie, then wouldn't of course have received any information back, but then looks rather suspicious) I want to place a vote for Jain right now, but I'm really just not sure if it's just pure erratic behaviour or not. So I'm still going to wait for a little bit and see what more comes from the discussion. Edit: Actually, I want to get a vote placed on Tonul to get them talking as to why it appears they tried to Riot Jain. Also, not trying to derail the conversation, there was also the Information Renegade posted earlier about hearing back that Raccine is a Skaa. While this could of course very easily be a Lie, I would like to also hear a possible defense, and maybe any Information they have to report. Edit 2: Retracted vote. Also, that White Text isn't helping you much right now, buddy.

There is no Kandra in House Urbain. As I'm pretty sure the Great Houses are already infiltrated, it doesn't really matter me revealing that, since the Skaa would already know or not. Also, my fascination with the Colour Orange is because it was my first Doc color back in LG2, so I decided to try and stick with the theme as much as possible. That, and I decided for Orange to be House's Primary Color. (Still working on Sigil and Words). Edit: Still holding my vote for now, trying to see where these accusations and plans go. I am looking forward as to finding out how my house having a Kandra or not makes a difference.

Well that seems to be a wrap! I would once again like to say how much fun I had GM'ing, and I am really glad to see that it looks like most people enjoyed it! Of course with these games there will always be things that could be better, and that's why it's great to be able to see how these games run so I can use that going forward and make even better games going forward! If you'd like to try your own hand at running a game, whether it be a Quick Fix, Mid-Range, or a Long Game, feel free to contact Myself, Meta, or Wilson. We'll get you added to the list, and we'll also be perfectly willing to help out in any way we can. You can also ask questions and get some hints and feedback from everyone over here in our Art of Game Creation thread. The next game is already in progress: Long Game 7: The Annealing of Luthadel and another QF or MR will be being run towards the middle-end of that game!

Fien Urbain sat in the back of his carriage, returning home from the anti-climactic ball, his skull pounding from all the wine he had drank, and with each bump his head would jolt and his ferocious headache to pulse even stronger. He pulled back the thick, orange velvet curtains from the windows, letting in small streams of mist that would twist and curl around before slowly dissipating in the warmth of the enclosed carriage. Luthadel at night-time. As a Noble, he had always known better than to fear the mists and believe in the silly skaa superstitions, but he couldn't deny there being something disquieting about the veiled city, with the thick shroud of mists blanketing everything from sight and muffling even sound. Drunkenly, he tried to recollect the events of the evening, trying to figure what had all happened. Didn't somebody accuse me of being skaa? He tried to remember with a frown. Surely I would not have forgotten such an insult. He continued to stare out over the obscured cityscape of the mist-veiled capital of the Lord Ruler's Empire when the carriage suddenly rounded a corner and his entire vision turned with a disorienting blur, and Fien unceremoniously leaned out of the window and threw-up, spraying vomit all over the outside of the carriage, as dark red rivulets the color of the wine he had been drinking leaked down the sides and misted into the wind. With a grunt, Fien wiped his mouth his his sleeve and slumped down into the cushioned seat. Maybe he would spend more time at next ball insulting it's Host instead of drinking their wine. Yeah, and maybe that Cadri Resaal will actually end up being pleasant for an evening. He thought with a laugh. Ha! And the Lord Ruler will give us all puppies, too!

So, oops. Don't know what the heck I was thinking last night, but I got mixed up and thought I was the one who was soothed. >.< When instead it was Raccine. That means that she can't be a Smoker, not me. My bad. Edit: ....So my new Rep should really help in getting people to start trusting me. XD

Well thanks for whoever Soothed me, I guess! For the record, I did not order anybody from my House to do so, at all. It could have been one of them still trying to protect me, or it's somebody trying to draw attention onto myself. Or heck, I remember with my Rioting shenanigans in LG2, I could have been Rioted, with the person placing the vote on themselves! There's definitely many possibilities, but all we can really determine only one thing for certain: I'm not a Smoker. The reason I didn't remove my vote for Ashette, even after she replied, was I still wasn't completely convinced of her being a Skaa or not. I was leaning more towards not, but even still, getting a lynch off would have guaranteed at least some information as to whether it was really erratic behaviour or not. It's still of course too early to have any solid suspects of any sort, so it was better than not voting and leaving it up to possibly being changed by Vote Manipulation.

Alright, no time for RP, but I want to try and get at least some discussion going! I've been trying to breakdown the game into the possible numbers of Roles that might be in play, so we can at least have some sort of rough guess as to what we may be up against, Skaa-wise. The first thing to keep in mind is, as cruel as the GMs may be, the ultimate objective of designing a game is to make it as fair as possible for all of the Teams participating! So as long as we keep that general assumption in mind, we should be able to come up with fairly accurate guesses. *Of course, unpredictable game imbalances, and any incorrect assumptions on our part can always lead us completely astray in trying to figure this out. 2 Great Houses with 4 players each. 2 Semi Houses with 3 players. And then the rest of the Lesser Houses with 2 ea, and a random Kandra thrown in the mix somewhere. This seems to be the general assumption so far. If we go with the estimate of 4-5 Skaa, which sounds just about fair, then that could leave a possible placement of at least 1 Skaa in each of the Greater and Semi Houses. Because having a Lesser House with somebody being paired up with just a DF does seem rather cruel *but is still a possibility* Thinking of what the Skaa might actually have, role-wise, if we assume that the Roles were assigned to the Team before the Random rolling of seeing who gets what, then we can try and guess what would be the most-likely team set-up they have. *These are of course my complete speculative guesses, and I could in fact be way off. 1)Smokers Nevermind about Smokers. Forgot Bronze doesn't actually find out Alignment this game. So the Skaa might actually have a Seeker, then, as they could use them to hunt down who their biggest targets should be. 2)Vote-Manipulation Role -- toss up between which one, but that definitely seems like messing with votes would be very useful to them 3) I'm not sure between Tineye or Pewter. Both seem equally likely, depending on their numbers. 4)Mistborn, a JoaT would be very key for them 5) Could be anything else, really. If they have 5 players, they're already pretty well stacked, then, and anything else at this point would just be gravy, for them.

Ah, yes, good point. But then that does beg the question, that in those timelines where the Light has failed in some way, even if it hasn't been the Last Battle yet, eventually in those worlds the Last Battle will still happen, and in those particular worlds, the Shadow will be unhindered and the Dark One completely released. Unless we count the Last Battle that happens in Rand's timeline as being the 'pinnacle' or most important of the worlds, or as long as the Light just wins one of those Last Battles, then the Dark One still gets imprisoned throughout the entire Pattern, and then will then thus lock him away in all other, alternate worlds. Hmmm.... Also, with the thing about Ishmael boasting early on in the series that the Dragon had indeed failed in the past and turned to the Shadow, we could assume he was just lying to try and mess with Rand and them, since we know the Forsaken will basically use every trick they can to turn Rand.

I actually believe that Shadow has won before. If we subscribe that the Wheel infinitely turns on and on, there will of course be countless Worlds where the Dark One has won just as much as the Light. Besides the cyclical themes of the story, with the passing of Ages time and time again, it was also about the duality of nature. Think of the random ta'veren events throughout the series. At first everybody freaked out because of all the random deaths and destruction caused by it, but then they also realized that were just as many positive spontaneous instances. It's all about balance. So if the Light wins One battle, the Shadow will win One. We have evidence of this from back in Book 2, when Rand uses the Portal Stones, and visits the alternate, semi-parallel world. In that one particular weaving of the pattern, the Shadow had indeed won. Of course, it might now have been the ultimate negation of existence that the Dark One and Moridin were looking for, but the Light had obviously failed. And as for the question as to how Rand had lit the pipe at the end, I basically believe it is because, as people say, he can weave the Pattern like Channelers can the One Power. But I of course take the theory one step further, and then propose that Rand is then that world's current Avatar of the Creator. We hear all throughout the series the classic, Ages old saying: "The Dark One and all the Forsaken are bound in Shayol Ghul, bound by the Creator at the moment of Creation, bound until the end of time," We know that the quote isn't exactly true, with none of them being Sealed until the end of time. But besides the Creator, who could fit that possible criteria? The Dragon, when Lews Therin first failed to create the patch on the Seal, but also incompletely sealing the Forsaken. And then when Rand, as the Dragon Reborn, made it whole again. So that moment, throughout the Ages and passing of myth becomes the 'Moment of Creation', and then the Dragon becomes the The Creator. The Creator can weave the Pattern at will. And seemingly so does Rand. I of course have a whole additional part of that theory, with Saidar spending a few turnings of the Wheel being Tainted by the Dark One, and having a Female Dragon, or equivalent hero for that time period, as that fits in with the whole duality-balance themes of the series, and would also help explain Nakomi and bit more (and conveniently tie her in with being the equivalent of whatever Rand is now). *takes of Tinfoil hat and does best Forest Gump impersonation* "And that's all I have to say about that."

Fien Urbain sat off by himself, getting less and less sober throughout the night as he lost count of the number of glasses of wine he had consumed. Despite his earlier outburst, prompting people to speak up, he had faded off into a dark corner, trying to hide his outlandishly coloured shirt, and stay out of the fire of public criticism for his stewards poor choice in fashion. Also, if he was going to have to worry about receiving a knife in the back, he was going to make sure he was well and plastered before it happened. The accusations and insults had started to fly too fast for him to keep up with, and he soon found himself lost at where things currently stood. He of course blamed Luthadel's constantly shifting political landscape as the reason, instead of the dozen or so of Lord Heron's finest vintages he had guzzled down throughout the night. "Shorry, Chette," he slurred, "I'm not really a philossifer or anything, but those are pretty shoddy reasons for your atnics earlier. I actually doubt you're skaa filth, but you're obvishly not trying to help us at the moment!" He gestured aggresively towards Ashette, splashing wine out of his cup, but miraculously missing his sleeves as it spilled. He sat back down and did a quick look around the room, noticing that Rascal girl eyeing him down. He really did pity people like her and Mesist. To be so unimportant and unreknowned in Luthadel politics, to be so jealous of somebody like him, being head of his household at such an early age. It really was sad. He raised a glass, toasting both of them as they stood on the opposite sides of the room glaring at him separately. He took another sip and let his gaze wander around the room, trying to find his steward Gamad, wondering where the insufferable man had wandered off to. Maybe he's off losing more money, he thought distractedly, not even remarking how odd it was to hear of a gambling Terrisman. -------------- Gamad sat in the shadows of the ballroom, watching the fool of a fop get recklessly drunk while blatantly insulting all of the other respectable representatives of their households. The child really had no tact, nor scope of the far-reaching implications of what had transpired so far this evening. He knew his former Master, the old Lord of House Urbain had instructed him to mentor and protect the young Fien, but really, the juvenile was unbearable! He would abide by the man he had served and respected's wishes, but he knew deep down that the young Lord Urbain was a lost cause. That was why he would passively torment the lad, despite the fact that he just would either embrace or disregard any subtle slight. In the counsel of his peers, Fien would still look the fool. And if the child wouldn't take the hint and get his act together, then he was obviously too weak to actually lead his household, and he would get picked apart by the larger, more cunning predators that resided within the Courts of Luthadel.

Bah, like most other people, don't have time for a big RP right now. just getting my vote retracted for Fain. And tossing up Ashette Cett. Voting for yourself really is quite odd behaviour, and even if you're not skaa, I'm not sure how that will help us right now.

Whew, just want to say thanks for all work on keeping us updated, Wyrmhero! GM'ing is definitely a lot more work than it seems! Also, I went through and updated the rules for Iron in the OP for the Game, for you. (Saw you say you couldn't edit it). Hope you don't mind!

Fien watched on in stunned silence as the blood-covered, newly appointed, Lord Heron waded through the ballroom carrying the corpse of his sister, and openly declared that there was an infestation of Skaa plaguing the Nobles. At least people won't be talking about my hideous orange shirt, anymore, Fien sighed with a little bit of relief, but feeling a whole new level of pressure. As Head of his House, he had always been one to draw more enemies than most others. He wasn't sure if it was jealousy of his good looks, envy of his family's wealth and influence, or maybe it was just the result of everybody's obvious intimidation at having to deal with him. Either way, Fien Urbain was not known for having many friends, which was a dangerous position to be in for somebody so young and powerful. Of course, it took little to no time at all before he had heard his name being tossed out as a possible suspect. And who else would it be, besides that good-for-nothing, upjump of a Southern "noble". Barely better than skaa, Fien had always considered them. "I do find it curious as to why you would immediately accost me, Mesist," Fien leveled at the horse-breeder. "But I'm willing to give you the benefit of the doubt of letting past animosities between us cloud your judgement. In fact, I'd almost retaliate by accusing you of being a skaa-in-hiding, yourself, but let's face it. You're not clever enough to pull that one off. I would like to know why Fain decided to suddenly accuse Alden. I'm not saying they're skaa, I'm just wondering as to their reasoning." With his sudden, and quite uncharacteristic outburst, Fien sat back down and reached for his wine glass. He may have hated politics, but the thought of his family falling out of power was even more unbearable. Or even worse, being ran by a Skaa! No, he would do the best he could while he was here. He definitely wasn't going to let people list Mesist or Cadri strut around, sucking up to Lord Heron and the Obligators like that. Not while House Urbain had something to say about it! I definitely agree that we should really have as much open discussion in the thread as possible. This really does look like it might play out similarly to MR1, with the 17S taking advantage of people's caution and lack of communication. We rely too heavily on verification roles and other, secret plannings to accomplish rooting out the 'Mafia' Teams in these games. While this one is obviously different, with the House Factions, and Docs, we can still use the thread to voice any suspicions or get people to speak up and defend themselves, while we can then go to our respective Docs and look for inconsistencies. (I'll assume that's why you threw your vote against me so early, Meta, with the handy excuse of it being RP) I obviously have no clue as to who may or may not be Skaa yet, so any votes right now aren't based off of actual suspicion, just as a way to promote discussion. There's nothing wrong with voting for people, Fain, just as long as we're giving valid and solid reasons behind the votes. We will of course need to eventually dedicate ourselves to a lynching, to gain some sort of information, but I really hope it doesn't go until the last minute where a horse can just come in and randomly tip it one way or another. XD Edit: colored my vote. Edit 2: Retracted my vote

Fien was approached by somebody else, and used his very well honed skill of selective hearing to ignore the young Raisaal as she blathered on about something. He didn't really care. He weighed the words of the newcomer, though, a little surprised at her request. Most people didn't really bother to put up with him for too long. "You're, uh,.....um.... what's her face," he said, snapping his fingers and trying to place her name and house. He was really terrible with remembering people's faces. He was curious about her subtle attempt at possibly forming an alliance, however. It was just then that he saw Gamad standing at the edge of the crowd, waving to get his attention. He held up one figure, telling the terrisman to hold one for a moment. "Here's what we'll do," he said, standing up really quickly, and turning towards the nameless girl wearing a dress with one long sleeve. "I have to go change my shirt, so you can go ahead and keep my seat warm for me until I get back. Excuse me, and thanks" He offered a quick, quarter of a bow, and turned off, waving towards his servant to the other side of the room to intercept him. "Oh, and it was really nice seeing you," he turned around, walking backwards, and called back to Cadri. "I saw Mesist somewhere over that way, maybe the both of you can go and enjoy a stroll into the mists together and be eaten by mistwraiths. Have a lovely evening!" He offered a wave and disappeared into the throng of the crowd. I wonder if that girl will actually stay seated there and wait until I get back? He thought, only to have his musings cut off short as he saw the garish thing Gamad had chosen for him to wear. A glaring, obnoxious Orange shirt. I didn't even realize the Lord Ruler permitted colors that bright! Edit: And yes, oh dear! Maybe Fien should think twice about insulting the TORTURER OF HERALDS! I was going to upvote you, but I don't want to ruin the 666! I'll wait until somebody else breaks the curse rep level!

Fien groaned and rolled his eyes. Of course she would be here, as well! "Why, if it isn't the most lovely and audacious Miss Cadri Raisall!" He declared with exaggerated warmth, spreading his arms wide and giving hiis phoniest smile he could muster. "Why, if I had known you were coming, I'd have and just gone and asked an Inquisitor to bury their obsidian axe into my skull, and save us all the trouble" He raised his glass in mock toast towards her and finished the contents of the cup with three loud gulps. "I must say you look dashing," he rambled on, wiping the excess wine from his mouth with the back of his hand, "So reminiscent of the constant ash and that dreary, red sun. So macabre. So....you!" He emphasized his point with a flourish of his hands, gesturing to Cadri's dress. He pointedly ignored her and suddenly turned around, not even feigning to listen if she had started to make a retort or not. Rust! Just what is Lord Heron planning, exactly, bringing all of these people together? Fien wondered, wishing he had paid a little bit more attention to the the political landscape in Luthadel. And Lord Ruler, what is taking Gamad so long!

Aftermath Long and deep into the Night the handful of villagers fought valiantly, constantly harrying the shadowspawns ranks before melting back into the obscuring mists, followed by the spectral charge of the ghost army that had risen up to fight for the survivors. The ethereal, vaporous forms slamming into the lines of trolocs time and time again, shredding their defenses and instilling panic as they slew Dragkhar and Fades, leaving the frenzied trollocs leaderless and without any semblance of order. Mysterious forms and monstrous apparitions condensed from the thick, strange fogs and struck out at the shadowspawn, as rolling waves of silvery, sentient mist would sweep over whole bands of trollocs and swallow them whole, leaving nothing but piles of bone and blood behind. Lightning and fireballs rained down from the sky, only to be swept aside or countered as it met some invisible barrier, as the leashed Sooki frantically fought off vicious attacks from the Forsaken, Dellan, as he would randomly appear and lash out at the villagers and the town with devastating weaves. Carried by the raging, pulsing rhythm of the battle, the surviving villagers Newan, Witless, Douza, and Rishi fought on and on, and before they knew it, the mists began to dissipate and fade, burning away in the morning sun, as dawn had finally come, relinquishing them once and for all from the grasp of darkness. All around them lay the countless corpses of trollocs and other shadowspawn, as the four of them stood together, covered head to toe in blood, none of it their own save for minor scrapes and cuts, and all of them apparently uninjured. It was a miracle of the Light! A quick sweep of the bloodied and body littered streets of Drell's Crossing had revealed even more damages to the town, as the only structures that survived were the Town Hall, still standing on it's ancient stone foundations, and the Cellar that had been dug underneath the Waffle House, formerly the Spruce Thicket. The inn itself had been completely destroyed, swept away by some unknown force in the tide of battle. The strange, drunk man known as Gambles, and the collared darkfriend, Khamsi, were nowhere to be found in the wreckage. Too beaten down, battered, and tired to pursue where the pair of them had escaped too, the survivors of Drell's Cross set to the task of rebuilding hometown. The afternoon sun was beating overhead, as the four of them struggled to even find a starting point, when a small, distant roar could be heard in the distance. Unsure of what they would possibly have to endure next, the four of them hobbled to the edge of the town, dreading to see what possible horrors were in store for them. A group of people crested a hill, and with a joyous shout, they realized it was the rest of the villagers of Drell's Crossing! The women, the children, the elderly, the weak, and those who had left with those who had fled to keep them safe. The ones that the people who had first signed up to protect Drell's Crossing had vowed to save by staying back and defending the village from the onslaught of Trollocs. The sky was blue, and the birds began to sing once more, filling the air with joy and music, as the wind gently sighed through the treetops, setting the leaves rustling and carrying with the wonderful, sweet song of life. The Wheel of Time turns, and Ages come and pass, leaving memories that become legend. Legend fades to myth, and even myth is long forgotten when the Age that gave it birth comes again. In one Age, called the Third Age by some, an Age yet to come, an Age long past, a peaceful, gentle breeze passed over a small village known as Drell's Crossing. The wind was not the beginning. There are neither beginnings nor endings to the turning of the Wheel of Time. But it was an ending. Shadar Logath - Fain Doc Shayol Ghul - Darkfriend Doc Tel'aran'rhiod - Dead Doc The Watchers Waiting - Spec Doc WoT Master Spreadsheet

Fien glared at the back of Mesist's head as the intolerable man walked away from him with his exaggerated, confident gait. Big talk from an upjump horse farmer, Fien sneered, trying to rub out unsuccessfully rub out the stain from his shirt. He sighed and raised his left hand, giving two quick spans of the fingers. Less than a moment, a tiny, bald-headed Terris Steward approached the table, dressed in the traditional robes of servants with its downward, overlapping triangular patterns and wearing many earrings and bracelets. "Yes, Master Urbain?" "Gamad, go and fetch me a new shirt," Fien explained, showing the Terrisman the wine stain on the collar of his cufflink. "Yes Sir," Gamad said with a bow, "Which shirt would you like?" "The one with the wooden buttons." "All of them have wooden buttons, sir." Gamad replied drly. "Then it doesn't which one you grab me, now does it?" Fien snapped back, and as the steward was turning away, "Also, when go to the servant's dinner later, make sure to spread some rumours about him," he added, jabbing a thumb at the arrogant Mesist who had somehow already gathered a crowd around him. Gamad rolled his eyes. "What kind of rumours, sir? Need I remind you that last time, you tried to have me spread stories of how he bedded a maiden koloss." "Yeah, so?" "Obviously, nobody believed it. In fact, almost everybody realized it to be quite a blatant and petty move. And besides, nobody has ever seen a female koloss," Gamad said tersely. Fien sighed, wondering again why he allowed his parents to stick him with such a tedious, blunt person. Weren't terrisman supposed to be timid and subservient? "Well come up with something, then!" Fien said, waving his servant away. He didn't really care what Gamad would tell the other servants, anyway. By now, he knew nobody would honestly listen to him, not after all of the ridiculous lies Fien had tried to have him spread about the Mesist, but he knew the stories would still spread and be talked about, even if they were spoken and shared incredulously, that was still something. He couldn't even remember when the whole feud had starter, nor who had actually initiated it, but after all these years, he knew that he could just not stand that person. Fien looked around and let out a breath of joy as he found what he was looking for, grabbing his drink and taking a sip, trying to distract himself from the recent unpleasant arrival. He figured he might as well try and enjoy the party, and the Host's free, expensive liquor, while he was here.

Tarmon Gai'don After a quiet and restless afternoon, Witless, Newan, Douza, and Rishi all gathered and waited for what they knew would be the final, large push from the forces of shadow that would eventually overwhelm them. They had managed to hold the shadowspawn at bay the night before, with the help of the stranger Gambles and his coercion over the collared gleewoman, but none of them even bothered to pray to the Light for salvation anymore, for they knew they were all as good as doomed. But Drell's Crossing was their home, and they'd be damned if they went down without a fight! The shadow may eventually overrun them and the Blight claim their lands, but they would fight tooth and nail for every inch of ground lost. For evil had come to destroy their village within, and they had triumphed. All of the misfortune and brutality that had plagued the town – the murder, the suspicions, the deception and the betrayals – it had all taken it's toll on the survivors, and a deep, heavy darkness now lay over them, it's unseen, crushing weight driving them forward in their relentless quest for vengeance. They could no longer tolerate the presence of the openly confessed darkfriend, Trimat, as he blatantly mocked and taunted his victims. Despite there being no signs of tampering with his manacles, and the blacksmith's reassurances that he couldn't possibly have escaped the night before, deep in their heart they had known that the manure salesman was somehow responsible for Leas Fel's gruesome death the night before. Well before the sun began to set in the sky, a silent and grinning Trimat was being led to the gallows. “Any last words?” spat Witless as he secured the noose around the darkfriend's neck. Trimat began to laugh, his mirth taking on a manic, hysterical tone, and he opened his mouth to gloat even more, when his laughter was suddenly cut by a lone, piercing noise. A single golden note, it's beautiful, haunting sound raising above everything else and drowning out all other noise. It was the sad, lamenting sound of mourning. It was the joyous, inspiring song of triumph. As the note faded, the villagers looked to the sky, feeling hope rise up within them for once, as a thin layer of mist began to rise from the ground, slowly enshrouding the entire village in it'd dense fogs, protecting and hiding the villagers. *** Taking advantage of the momentary distraction, Trimat slid a hidden knife from his sleeves down into his hand, and with a quick slash, had freed himself from bondage and had ran off into the mists, followed by the shouts of frustration from the villagers. Chuckling to himself, he ran headlong through the thickening mists, not being able to see more than a span or two in front of him, wondering if this was the work of the Great Lord or not, despite the feeling in his gut that this was something different somehow. All he knew is that he needed to get into the safety of the ranks of the shadowspawn somewhere ahead of him, as he cleared the perimeter of Drell's Crossing as he trampled over the pile of ash that used to be the town's defenses. He scrambled up the top of a nearby hill, trying to remember the layout surrounding the village, gauging how much further he would have to run, as all visibility was rendered useless with the thick wall of mist that had enveloped everything. He heard a few more shouts below and the clang and clamor of battle, laughing to himself some more as he imagined the foolish villagers chasing out after him and blindly running into a band of trollocs. He paused to catch his breath, turning away from the din of battle behind him. He was ready to move when he heard a rustling sound behind him, and spun quickly around, using his instincts to know where to toss his knives as he let them fly and dipped his hands down slide more knives down but instead stopped short, stunned and motionless at the horrendous sight in front of his eyes. His knives had indeed flown true, and would have killed any person who was standing behind him. But instead of a human, or even a trolloc, standing on the hill top with him was a monstrously gigantic beast, it's skin luminous and ethereal, opaque and insubstantial, and standing almost twice as tall as him and wielding a freakishly huge sword that was larger than him as well. It's dark blue skin was tight and compressed, as it looked like a bag of flesh that was stretched out over a skeleton way too large for it, so around the eyes and joints of the body, the skin was ripped and hanging loose, exposing the bright red raw flesh underneath, as blood oozed freely from the open tears. From the ground wherever it stepped, and flowing and dancing around the incorpreal monster were the strange mists that had suddenly covered the world. Feeling dread rising up within him, and knowing this monster in front of him to be something even worse than shadowspawn, Trimat let out a blood-curling scream as the phantasmal beast let out a roar and charged forward, swinging it's massive sword and splitting the darkfriend in half as the blade thumped all the way down into the ground. More of the same creatures topped the hill a moment later and and after letting out savage yells of triumph, they moved on from the hilltop, seeking more prey. *** Witless charged forward, leaving his old characteristics of being a fool behind, as memories of childhood lessons and old instincts took control of him. He was of ancient blood, hardened and conditioned like steel in a forge by the Three-Fold land. Even if he couldn't remember his Aiel name, he would not forget who he was and where he came from. Wearing his cadin'sor proudly, he ran straight towards the ranks of trollocs, fearlessly inspired by the beautiful sound of the horn that had rang out and filled him with the courage to charge. “Life is a Dream!” He yelled out cheerily, rattling his shield and whooping with joy as he noticed the gathering mists, thickening with each stride he took and obscuring all vision almost immediately. He heard shouts from ahead of him as large, inhuman silhouettes reared up in front up him in the mists, and without thinking, Witless thrust his spear forward with both hands feeling the blade bite into flesh, and with a yank and a twist, he passed the spear over his head in an arcing circle and brought it back around at full force, taking the trollocs head off with with the swing. He kicked the headless body into two other trollocs standing behind it, catching them off guard, and leapt to the side, dodging the slash of a sword from behind, and lashed out his his dagger he pulled free from his belt with the other hand, slitting the beasts throat in a spray of blood. A screech from above his head drew his attention, and a dragkhar swooped down from the fog-filled skies, it's shrill cry drowning out the noise of battle, it's echoes reverberating throughout his head. The leathery-skinned flying monster landed on the ground with it's stumped, clawed legs, spreading it's thin, bat-like wings as the enchanting song of the dragkhar took hold over Wtiless, making him lower his weapons and be drawn forward, blissfully unaware of the gore and brutality all around him. He raised his arms, ready to embrace the source of the mesmerizing and let everything go, when a silvery, luminous figure rode by in a rush of vapor. It looked like the form of a human wielding some strange, glowing sword, and with a swing of it's weapon, the blade passed right through the dragkhar's neck, doing no visible damage and leaving no wound, but Witless saw the winged-beast's black horrible eyes flash briefly and dim from their darkened, absolute black to a burnt-out gray colour. Was that Malai!? He thought in surprise, watching the radiant spectre ride deeper into the mists, leaving only a hazy, vaporous trail and a pocket of light in it's wake. A glimpse of movement out of his peripheral vision snapped him out of his daze, and he turned, raising his knife, just in time to see the blur of a falling mass as a trolloc was dropped onto another with a splattering thud, and a screeching noise from the air above of Witless let him know that Newan had apparently got his raken healed, somehow. How can he bloody see through all of this fog! Witless thought it wonder, as he snatched back up his spear and charged forward into the heat of the battle once. *** Newan flew through the sky, feeling at home and wholly complete on the back of his raken. His mission for being one of the Hailene – the Forerunners – was to scout and learn of the common people in this strange land, to observe and learn how maleable and easy to subjugate they would be. He had to admit he had been surprised at the hardness and tenacity of these people who weren't even of the Blood, or what had passed for it in these lands. Despite his initial troubles with grasping the realities of the shadowspawn terrorizing this remote, isolated village, Newan knew, for the honor of the Empress and the Crystal Throne, he could not leave until the forces of shadow had been defeated. He swooped down on the back of his raken, scooping up yet another trolloc, using the quick time down near the ground to take another shot with his bow, as his arrow flew true and took the beast through the neck, looking over the battlefield to see where else he might be needed. He saw Witless standing alone, shaking his head and recovering from some sort of distraction, but Newan saw with horror as the Mayor was being ambushed from behind, and with a light yank of the leash and a nudge of his heel, the raken took glided in the direction of the fool and dipped down, dropping the body of the trolloc from it's talons as the body landed on the other trolloc with a splat. Back in his homeland of Seanchan, the continent on the other side of the Aryth Ocean, to become a morat'raken, one had to undergo extensive, severe training to make sure they could perform in the best and worst of all conditions, including dense and impenetrable fogs. As a scout, his ability to navigate in such extreme weathers, under any amount of stress, was absolutely vital for those who he had to answer too. Although Newan had a deep feeling that this fog was slightly different than the magical mists summoned by damane. Shaking his head to dispel his mind from any more distracting thoughts, he looked back down to survey the battle scene, and looked down to a large group of shadows moving beneath him in the fog below, and taking out a handful of heavy, solid lumps of metal he had asked the blacksmith to make up for him, he took out his slingshot and took aim at the silhouettes beneath him, letting loose even more devastation from the air above the battlefield, as they heavy lumps smashed into the skulls of the beasts below with loud, audible cracks as skulls were crushed by the impact. Looking around, Newan began to scout more targets, keeping an eye out for any shadows of flying dragkhar as well. As a morat'raken, the sky belonged to him, not these foul winged shadowspawn. He let out a whoop, and dived right back into the battle. *** Rishi ran forward with reckless abandon, leaving her fears and inhibitions behind. There was the small voice in the back of her mind that would always be constantly worried about her little brothers, left huddling alone and terrified, locked in the Cellar back at the Waffle House, but she knew that in order for them to be truly safe, she had to fight without any restraint, not allowing her worries to override her. She knew deep down she wasn't a fighter. Light, she was a bar maid! But she had watched as all of the other villagers had bravely stepped up time and time again, never backing down or letting their limitations stop them. She tightened her grip on the daggers in each of her hands, wondering once again on why Khamsi had ever bothered to teach her how to properly handle knives, and where and how to conceal and then to toss them with accuracy. She knew it had to have been some for some sort of dark purposes, but she was currently grateful for the lessons. Shadows reared up in the mists in front of her, and with a yell, Rishi let her knives flying, hearing the inhuman roar of pain as the figures dropped down and out of sight, and she paused, letting two more knives slide down into her hands, knowing she had to make each throw count, as she did have a limited number of knives, after all. She saw as a group of trollocs rushed up the hilltop she was standing on, but she heard a whoop from the air above, and with a few loud cracking sounds, she saw the trollocs heads and limbs jerk forward, and they fell down to the ground lifeless, with huge, dents and gaping holes in their skulls. She silently thanked Newan, and rushed forward, still feeling invigoration from the beautiful sound of the Horn that blew earlier, that had seemingly summoned the mysterious fog that had encompassed the whole town and surrounding area. She stopped short as three more trollocs burst forth from the wall of mist in front of her, and with two quick reflective tosses, her daggers flew through the air, one taking a trolloc in the neck and dropping, the other hitting another in the shoulder, causing them to drop their heavy spiked club. She went to reach behind her for another knife, when she saw a glowing image strike past her, as a few glowing, ethereal wolves rushed past her and tackled the trollocs in front of her, their ghostly jaws tearing into the trollocs and ripping out their throats. One trolloc stumbled and tried to run away, eyes wide and making wild, terrified shouts in it's unnatural, guttural tongue, and Rishi ran forward and jammed her knife in the back of it's skull, twisting it with a satisfying crunch. A vaporous image appeared in front of her in the form of Senna, incorporeal and formed of silver mists, wearing ragged and mismatched furs and animal skins, but her golden, glowing eyes remained the same. “I have sent a few wolves to protect your kin. Tonight, we hunt.” The spectral Senna said as Rishi scooped down and grabbed her knives back from the lifeless trolloc corpses, and a small pack of ghost wolves gathered around her and let out a haunting howl. Grinning, Rishi let out a yell herself, giving her best battle cry, as her and the pack charged towards the ranks of the terrified trollocs, tripping over each other as they tried to turn around and run away from the sudden onslaught. *** Douza, no longer feeling like an apprentice in any sort of regard strode through the wake of battle, watching the fantastic clouds of mists as they would seemingly come to life and strike out at the ranks of shadowspawn with long tendrils of fog, searing right through the skin of the trollocs and Myyrdrall wherever it touched, causing the flesh to wither away rapidly and dissolve right down to the creatures' bones. Douza was too amazed and grateful that him nor any of the other villagers were being attacked by the mists to be worried about what it was and meant, exactly, so he just accepted the help and used it to his advantage. He would charge through the ranks of the trollocs, smashing into them and throwing them off balance before they could raise their weapons, then with a powerful swing, he would bring his massive hammer around and smash in into the trolloc's body, just like when he would work the forge and pound out the red hot metal into shape. Removing the slag. That's all he was doing. He ducked underneath the swing of a poleax and jabbed his hammer forward, driving the metal head into the gut of the trolloc, and brought his hammer around behind the beast, clipping it's legs out from underneath as as he raised his boot up and stomped it down on the creature's head as hard as he could. He felt the splat as the skull gave underneath the pressure, and hefting his hammer, he looked around to find new targets. He saw three more trollocs who rushed forward as he raised his hammer up and spun it around, catching one in the ribs and knocking it into the other. He side stepped the slash of an axe and brought his weapon back around, knocking the darkened bladed axe out of the trollocs hand before he smashed into the beast with his shoulder, knocking it backwards and sprawling onto the ground as it tripped on the other shadowspawn on the ground underneath behind him. With a few swings of his hammer, all three trollocs were permanently incapacitated, and he raised his shoulder up, resting it on his shoulder. He saw a few approaching figures, just clouded shadows in the mists, but in the shape of human silhouettes, but also with the glowing patch of light that indicated the presence of one of the dead villagers, somehow come back to life in ghost form, to fight for the villagers in their darkest time of need. The area around Douza began to clear of the fog as more pockets of light appeared and the tiny circle the blacksmith was standing in was illuminated from the silvery glow more and more. Somebody stepped out of the wall of mist, with thin little strings of the fog twisting off of them as they walked forward. It was Witless, still holding his spear and buckler. A screeching sound rang from above, and Newan swooped down on his raken, as he deftly maneuvered it to a graceful landing. A lone howl rang out, and Risihi came rushing forward, accompanied by a pack of ghostly silver wolves and a group of the rest of the dead villagers. Jain, Gade, Malai, Grimlar, Waes, Joel, Nath, and more! “Let's end this!” The villagers all cried out in unison, as they rushed forward with what they knew was the last charge. With the help of the Dead on their side, they knew there was no way they could lose. The Light had blessed them, and with it's grace, the village of Drell's Crossing, and it's surviving inhabitants would triumph over the Shadow, once and for all. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Trimat was the Last Darkfriend! And he was a Viewer! (I know I kind of ignored that aspect for the death, but in my defense, just look at that battle!) Trimat(+1) (6) - Rishi, Newan, Douza, Witless(+1) Phew, I really could have gone on and on with that battle, and other things or a Gambles POV. But I believe this deserves to be a Villager Victory! I had a bunch of other plans and things I was going to add in in here, but this really went on for long enough, I believe! I'll post the Docs and Spreadsheet and other End-Game stuff later when I have some time to organize them! I hope you all enjoyed playing! Well done, everybody!

Loving the RP so far! Keep it coming! I have been working on the Final Write-up, but it's been taking a good while (which you're used to), but I'm going to have to postpone it until later today when I wake up! Your GM needs some sleep! (To have some more scary nightmares for dreamwalkers to spy in on, apparently!) So feel free to take advantage of the extra time and get any RP posts you've been wanting to make in! It's the Final Battle, but it doesn't mean we can't have any fun, does it?

Well, I suppose most nobles do have more than one dispute going multiple people. Bring it on Shiv and Meta!