Gamma Fiend

Fien still sat alone, silently observing the proceedings of the party as more and more guests had arrived. Growing bored of the endless flow of unimportant people, he had began to let his mind and attention wonder, as he idly studied the fine level of craftsmanship that the Lord Heron had put into constructing his mansion. The floors were of exquisite marble, the glossy, flowing patterns illuminating magnificently in the basking glow of the limelights above, shining through the beautiful stained glass windows that arches overhead. Yes, he must have spent quite a shiny boxing on this place, Fien thought to himself, as he shifted his gaze around the room, looking for the so far absent Lord Heron, himself. Who is this man, and just how many connections does he have to be able to show up late to his own Ball, exactly? He should be making rounds between the guests, shaking hands and making cordial introductions. He wondered to himself about the mystery of the host for only a moment before shrugging and turning the other way. He would let the foolish scholars worry about things like that. He would busy his time with the guests. For it was always best to know your company before making your move. He reached for his glass just as his eyes fell on the person walking on the doorway and he started, spilling a small spot of wine on his perfectly tailored dress coat, but didn't notice as his focus was still on the newest arrival at the party. Lord Ruler, not this person! He thought to himself with dismay, Why were they invited? So, just for hilarity and RP sakes, I'm going to have my character have a personal beef with whoever the next person to sign up for the game is! This will be nothing personal, obviously, I just think this will be an interesting idea, but of course if the next person signing up doesn't quite feel like going along with that, I will of course not do that bit with your character, and will do it with somebody else, if anybody so wishes.

Fair enough, Shiv! You get one post as Sooki as well, just to be fair! Although, remember, Gambles still holds your leash! (Bela and Dellan and dead DFs can still make posts too, if they so wish, they'll just need to contact me first and we'll need to work something out!) Enjoy everybody!

The villagers of Drell's Crossing stood motionless, uncertain of what to make of the strange gambler's offer of being healed by somebody who had confessed to being a darkfriend! Most people were uncomfortable in the presence of channeling alone, the power that was responsible for the breaking of the world, let letting a servant of the shadow using the same power on them with impunity. On the other hand, the villagers had elected a madman, male channeler, who had admitted to being affected by the taint of Saidin, and the man who called himself Gambles has constantly reassured everybody that he was in complete control of Khamsi and her use of the One Power. Suddenly, a single, brilliant note rung out in the air, bringing the clamor of noise surrounding Drell's Crossing from the restless groups of shadowspawn poised to strike at any moment to a calm silence. It was a beautiful, deep tenor sound that boosted the morale of the survivors, giving them reassuring confidence that there may actually be a chance to survive. Supernatural mist started rising from the ground and very quickly covered the entire village, shrouding it in a thick blanket. "The grave is no bar to my call!" a golden voice called out, unseen and hidden deep inside the sudden fog. "I can't personally interfere, for I am needed elsewhere. But I have brought help, for Justice will be wrought!" The lonesome, joyous note continued to sound and phantasmal images began to form from deep inside the mist, as ghosts stepped forward, armed and ready to assist their hometown in the fight for vengeance against the forces of evil. Dead players may each post One post in the thread, where they rush forward and wreak havoc among the shadowspawn! The villagers need all of the help they can get, and it's a great way for players who may have been taken out early to get some later-game participation, as they've been patiently following along with it the entire time! I will of course give them further rules and guidelines they will have to follow!

Great game played on everybody's part, I want to say. Even though the Mutineers did an excellent job at staying undetected, there was a lot of in-thread discussion due to the lack of PMs, and it seems that the Mutineers performed exceptionally well with their limited communication. Gamut, or any other pirate-themed avatars I create would really have enjoyed playing this game, as it took people away from the relying on roles and Trust Groups to make the decisions and get the information. The original flavor of the Mafia game is immediate, constant discussion, with severely limited secret coordination, even on the Mafia team's behalf. All in all, this was a very enjoyable game, and once again, great job, everybody! All of your RP and everything was very enjoyable to watch!

"Listen up, everybody!" Gambles shouted, trying to gather everybody's attention, distracting them from their cries to hang somebody who had somehow committed murder despite being locked up the entire evening, or so they claimed. He still wasn't entirely sure what had all gone down in the village prior to his arrival, but there seemed to be quite a bit of bloodlust for people who were in the middle of a ferocious battle with hideous, horrible monsters. But his gut told him it would be better to not to interfere, lest they turn on him! "Now, I know you all accused this one of being a 'friend of the dark', whatever that means," he said, rattling the leash to indicate he meant the woman he had collared. "But I tell you, Sooki is a good girl! Look how compliant she has been!" He gestured toward the gleewoman formerly known as Khamsi, as he sat huddled next to Gambles, fidgeting with the small, ivory statuette that she had been handed the night before. "She says she can heal all of you and wash away your fatigue! Now I'm no soldier or tactician, but to me that sounds like something y'all could desperately use. I don't know why these.... troll ox are attacking you, but I mean to get out of here alive, and I'd prefer it if you all helped me with that." Somebody opened their mouth to begin asking him why he was here, helping them, and Gambles abruptly silenced them with a wave of the hand. "Listen, do you skaa need healing, or what?"

Heh, yeah, I caught that it was actually an axe after I posted the write-up, but I decided to make you go all Perrin, instead. And besides, we can just chalk up any inaccuracy to the weakening Pattern.

Day 8: The Battle of Drell's Crossing Pt 2: The city of Drell's Crossing faced it's bleakest hour yet as the scores of shadowspawn that had gathered outside of it had swarmed in for one last rush, threatening to stampede and overrun the entire village, laying all structures to waste and littering the streets with bodies. Gambles watched on in horror as the palisades surrounding the town were stormed and within mere moments, trollocs had penetrated into the city and were running through the streets, hooting savagely and slashing wildly. He was still unsure the exact capabilities of the power he could vicariously wield through the collared woman, and he wasn't even entirely sure how it worked or what she was even doing, but he wasn't to waste time and start asking pointless questions. He didn't have time to properly train Sooki, he realized, and bellowed orders at her, waving the flask in his hand at her threateningly. She at first refused, but after a jolt or two she eventually let up, and with a cry she thrust her hands out, sending fireballs shooting towards the first wave of trollocs that had reached the square where all of the villagers had gathered, reducing them to cinders and shrieking masses of blazing fur, but Gambles could see the next band of trollocs already storming down the streets, ready to take the place of any fallen shadownspawn. After all of the different places Gambles had traveled to recently, and with everything he had seen, he was unsure what he prayed to anymore, exactly, and in a moment of panic and unsure of what else to do, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his Lucky Dice and kissed them real fast before blindly tossing them up into the air. After a second of suspense that seemed to stretch out for an eternity, he heard the unmistakable clacking sound of the dice striking each other and hitting the ground, and he looked around hopefully, looking for any sort of immediate results. The trollocs continued to rage on unperturbed, and Gambles looked on upon the dice, crestfallen, as he saw two ones staring back up at him from the dice. “The Great Lords Eyes,” he heard Sooki whisper breathlessly beside him, and just at that moment the clouds passed out from in front of the moon, bathing the village in brilliant light. A sudden, single howl rang out, rising above all of the din of the battle, and was followed by a chorus of countless other similar cries. Hundreds of wolves appeared out of nowhere, rising out of patches of high grass, rushing out of the woods in packs and troves, all snarling and racing toward the nearest shadowspawn, their fierce golden eyes shining in the darkness. Gambles took advantage of the distraction and on a gut feeling, snatched something from the pile of things some of the villagers had brought forward claiming to belong to a Fosaken, whatever that was. He thrust the item into Sooki's hands and whispered a command into her ear. She sat there shocken and mouth agape, starting at him for a few seconds before shaking her head and complying. With a flick of her wrist, there was a sudden explosion as the barricades around the village erupted with giant spouts of flame that continued to burn and formed a giant ten foot span tall wall of fire around Drell's Crossing. “That should buy us some time!” He shouted out to the villagers who had spread out and were defending the town square, engaging in the nearest trollocs and taking them down before they could get grouped up and overwhelm them. “But now we must fight with no abandon and hope we last until morning!” A few unenthusiastic cheers rang forth, but the worn down and tattered villagers were obviously tired and overwhelmed by such insurmountable odds. But then Leas Fel stepped forward. *** Leas Fel observed the small, ragtag band of survivors as they wordlessly watched their impending doom. Without emotions or thought, the old Aiel War veteran floated inside The Void, the tiny little flame inside of his mind where he would send all of his feelings or thoughts, any distracting emotions or conscious decisions. His fear, his apprehension, and most of all his anger, he directed all of it into feeding the Void, stoking the flame inside. He didn't know why or how it had come to this, and he partially blamed himself for letting a fool, of all people, to lead them during the time of crisis. He knew better than that! He would no longer stand aside and wait for somebody else to take charge. Witless truly was an appropriate moniker for the so-called Mayor, and with resignation, Leas Fel stepped forward, ready to finally assume the mantle he had always known he was best suited to fill. The fool could keep his sash, Leas Fel just knew the town needed a real leader. He watched as Douza came running into the square, covered with multiples stains of blood and wielding a massive hammer that was dripping even more, the young blacksmith appeared to be unhurt, but looked confused, unsure of who to go to for any following orders. Leas Fel had had enough. He stepped forward, “I don't know who this guy is, but it sounds like we bloody well listen to him!” He bellowed, jabbing a thumb at the man who called himself Gambles and was bending down and whispering directions into the ear of the frightened darkfriend he had collared. “But I do know this! He is a stranger, and I see him fighting to save this town more than any of us! We, who have lived through this horrible conflict! We, who have fought and bled for this town! Are we to stand by and idly watched as we get slowly overran? No!” He cried out, raising Mayor Twim's sword high above his head, the heron-marked blade feeling perfectly balanced in his hand, and ran forward, not even bothering to look behind him to see if he was being followed or not. He knew these villagers were good people and would do what was right. Still in the Void, Leas ran up to a group of three trollocs who halted in their tracks, surprised that they were were being charged at instead of fled from, and without thinking broke into Apple Blossoms in the Wind, three quick strikes that were normally meant to drive multiple opponents back, but the sudden onslaught left the shadowspawn defenseless and Leas was already moving past them as they crumbled to the ground with blood leaking from fresh wounds. He skidded to a halt around a corner, and following his instinct he raised up his blade defensively to block from an attack from his blind side and lashed out with Threading the Needle, hitting the shocked trolloc in the shoulder, causing them to drop their weapon and then with a powerful sideways swing, he decapitated the giant beast. He turned back around and saw Douza hot on his heels and fending off a giant beaked trolloc off with wide, ferocious swings of his hammer, and moved to go help him when he saw a flying knife take the monster right in the throat. He followed the path of the knife's trajectory and saw it come from Rishi, the bar maid, who flashed a grin at him as she came running past him, sliding two more knifes into each hand and raising them to find new targets. He turned back around and decided he should focus more on his surrounding as he dodged a swing of a giant spiked mace and struck back with The Courier Taps His Fan, his power-wrought blade easily sliding through the armor the trolloc was wearing. He went to pull his blade free from the dead beast, but it was shoved from behind from another one, and the trolloc lifeless trolloc toppled on top of him, it's massive size and weight overwhelming him and sending him sprawling to the ground, trapped beneath the giant corpse. Leas Fel struggled to get free and yelled for help when suddenly the trolloc was lifted from him in a fluid motion, only to fall back to the ground a second later on a couple of other shadowspawn who were rushing towards him a few feet away. A screech from the air above jolted him to his senses and he looked up to see Newan riding on the back of his fantastical winged beast he had called a raken, clinging to the saddle and deftly maneuvering it throughout the air above the village and occasionally swooping in to take shots at the trollocs with a bow and arrow as the raken would keep up it's routine of scooping up bodies and tactically dropping them. The veteran got back to his feet, spinning out of the way of the strike of an axe, grabbing ahold of the weapon and twisting back around the other way, wresting it from the trollocs grasp and bringing it around in a powerful swing, wedging the axe deep into the monster's skull. He frantically looked around and saw the hilt of Mayor Twim's sword sticking out from underneath from a corpse of a trolloc, and he dove and rolled over toward it, trying to pry it free. As he struggled with the weight of the beast, he heard another group of trollocs round the corner less than ten feet away from him, and almost abandoned the sword when he saw a flying spear go right above his head and slam into the chest of the closest trolloc. He looked around and saw Witless standing there, no longer looking a fool as he was dressed in strange mud and dirt colored garbs, wielding a small little shield with a handful of spears tied around his back and a large knife strapped to his waist. The town fool wordlessly bent down and with a nod, helped Leas to heave the body onto it's side as he pulled his sword free, and instantly rose to his feet, spinning on his heels and swinging the blade in an upward vertical slash, forcing yet another trolloc to jump backwards and out of his range, as four more trollocs rushed up beside him and contemplated both of the prey in front of them. Still deep inside of the Void, Leas thoughtlessly rushed forward and struck out with Heron Spreads It's Wings, a wide-spread cutting technique that sliced right through the beasts. Not even pausing to catch his breath or wipe the fetid blood off of his blade, Leas kept on rushing forward, refusing to back down to the vile forces of shadow that had threatened him and his hometown. With a loud roar, Leas Fel let out a savage battle cry and raised his sword in front of him, and continued on to battle. *** Many hours later, Leas found himself completely exhausted, with sweat pouring off of his body, along with small rivulets of blood from numerous shallow cuts and scratches he had received while battling. His vision had begun to grow blurry, and with each ragged breath he took, there was a sharp pain in his chest from where he had received a wicked blow to the ribs earlier from a warhammer. His armor had countless dents and nicks, and he wasn't entirely even sure how many trollocs he had even managed to cut down so far. He just knew he was so tired! Light, save us! He silently prayed as he leaned against a tattered wall, looking around for any immediate enemies. The One Power fueled wall of fire that had surrounded the village had began to dwindle as the horizon began to lighten, and Leas knew that it wouldn't last forever, and soon enough hundreds more shadowspawn would come flowing into the village to find a group of injured and disparaged group of survivors who would be too weak to even defend themselves. Not for the first time that night, he thought about just how hopeless their situation really was, and wondered just exactly what they could do to save themselves. Even the collared Dreadlord, seemingly underneath the control of the psycho who named himself after an ill-reputed hobby, wouldn't be of much help much longer, for Leas Fel had no illusions of the limitations of Channelers. Eventually, the gleewoman would either collapse from exhaustion – the same as any regular human – or they would burn themselves out. Either scenario did not bode well for the villagers. So distracted by his morbid thoughts, Leas realized he wasn't exactly sure where he was in the village anymore, and was by himself, he realized with horror. He started and looked about, trying to see some sort of landmark, when he noticed the building in front of him. It had a Dragon Fang scrawled on the door. Perplexed that somebody would take the time to paint something like that during the middle of a battle, Leas shook his head and slightly limped away from the house, trying to get some sort of bearing on his direction. He passed from in front of buildings into an open field onto his side, and with a sniff, he realized where he was with a groan. Flaming manure, he thought with a grimace, figuring he should have realized it would be Trimat's house with the Dragon Fang scrawled on it. Bloody darkfriend, he told himself with a curse, he was selling us his crap all along, and we just bought it right up. He went to turn away and head back in towards the town square, when he stopped short and noticed something odd. A small, thin tendril of silvery fog was seen in his peripheral vision, but when he turned to look at it, there was nothing there. What he saw instead was a fresh hole dug in the pile of manure that Trimat had always kept next to his house, which the villagers had always forced him to keep far away from the rest of the houses. He frowned for a moment, wondering why somebody would spend all of the time digging a hole when the realization dawned on him. Too late, he heard the squelching sound of a footstep from behind him in the pile of manure, and his vision turned to white as he was struck from behind in the head by something metallic, the clank of metal hitting his helmet setting it reverberating and dazing him as he was knocked off of his feet and went sprawling face first into what he now realized to be a grave, his mouth filling with manure as he opened his mouth to yell as he landed. He scrambled to regain his feet, still dizzy and head still ringing from the blow when he heard a grunt from above, and looked around in time to see another swing of the hammer as it clipped him in the face, knocking him back to the ground. He lay helpless and unable to regain motor control as he felt tiny thuds as shovel full after shovel full of manure and dirt was piled on top of him. He feebly struggled underneath the increasing weight as all light was slowly blocked out as he slowly choked and suffocated on the vile stench and the rapidly depleting supply of fresh air. He wished he could do more, and quietly prayed to the Light one last time, not for personal salvation, but for the hope of some miracle to deliver the village from the grasp of evil that seemed to have a firm hold over it. *** Morning brought with it the dead silence of dawn, as the fires surrounding the village slowly burned out, leaving the village completely defenseless as it's barricades were reduced to smoldering piles of ash. The shadowspawn had regathered back outside of town in a disorderly mess, with scores of corpses of trollocs and wolves littering the ground as crows swarmed in mass, feeding openly on the masses of rotting bodies. The villagers didn't know why they didn't immediately rush the town, but they knew as soon as it happened, they would be completely helpless to hold them back. So they gathered, and they waited. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Leas Fel was killed! He was a Regular Villager! A Dragon's Fang was scrawled on Trimat's Door! Remaining players: Newan – Seanchan rider Witless – Town Fool, Mayor Douza – Blacksmith Rishi – Bar maid Trimat – Manure Salesman

Fien snorted in disdain as some elderly stranger walked up to him and fumbled his way through political subtlety and blundered straight into rude accusations, interrogating him for information and backhandedly offering some sort of alliance. No doubt so he could stab me in the back at the soonest convenient moment, Fien thought to himself, I do hope not all people at this Ball are as lacking in tact. But still, he might as well play along for now. He looked the stranger up and down, trying to fit the description of the old man with known key figures around the city and to place a name to the face. After a minute, he shrugged and figured the man must not have been that important if he couldn't immediately recognize him. "I don't know who you think you are, exactly, nor how you got invited here either, but you are right about one thing. I don't trust you." With that, Fien Urbain turned on his heel and strode off in the other direction, towards one of the empty tables. He still wanted to wait for more people to arrive before be began interacting with anybody, let alone nobodies. Besides, he thought with a smile, it'll make them keep coming to me, and not the other way around. So, as a young noble, Fien is of course pretty much arrogant and aloof. We'll see how this RP develops. O.o

"Fien Urbain, at your service," the young gentleman said with a formal bow, announcing himself to the host of the Heron House Ball. He had been unsure what to make of the strange invitation, and by the looks of it, everybody else was equally as confused as him, as they stood around in small groups, impatiently gossiping and awaiting to see who would all arrive before the Ball officially began. Dressed to impress, Fien had made sure that even if The Lord Ruler himself stepped through those doors, there could be nobody who could say that House Urbain was unfashionable. House reputation was the most important thing, he understood. For why else would the Lord Ruler encourage such competition between the houses? It was a challenge to see who was the best and could come out on top. Fien didn't know about anybody else who had gathered, but he personally knew he was willing to do whatever it took to win. He didn't know what type of game he was playing, yet, but he vowed that he wouldn't lose. Him, and his House, couldn't afford to.

The screams of the villagers was drowned out by the overwhelming roar of the approaches masses of shadowspawn, as drums and horns pulsed and blared, adding to the pandemonium, as pale, eyeless Myyrdrall, standing tall in their sinuous black armor made of overlapping scales and equally dark, lank hair, raising their shadow wrought blades, created in the bloody forges of Thakan'Dar. Draghkar shrieked and swooped down from the skies, their murderous screeches raising goosebumps on the arms of the petrified villagers who had huddles together in a small circle, feeling hopeless and defensive as nobody moved a muscle, paralyzed in their fear. The sky suddenly flashed and ripped open as dozens of blinding lightning bolts struck from the dark clouds above, smashing the monstrous winged beasts from the air and ripping apart ranks of the charging trollocs as the thunderous booms heaved up huge chunks of earth flying into the air and crashing back down on the ranks of the shadowspawn, causing the ground to shake and tremble, knocking countless more trollocs off of their feet. The dumbfounded villagers unsteadily regained their balance as they looked around, bewildered and shocked at the sudden turn of events. They looked back to the steps of The Waffle House, where a wide-eyed Khamsi was staring, equally stunned and mouth agape, starting wordlessly at the settling dust clouds where the lightning had struck. "What have you made me do!" She shrieked shrilly, and was knocked off of her feet as some unseen source of pain wracked throughout her body and sent her sprawling to the ground once more. "You fool, you have no idea what forces you are messing with! Do you have idea who I am?!" "You are Sooki. And you will do what I say. You can call me Gambles." He turned to address the rest of the speechless villagers, slightly swaying on his feet. "You can all call me Gambles, and it looks like I have but no choice but to help you, if I want to get myself out alive. But I can't do this alone! You'll all have to rally with me, and with any luck all of you can survive until morning!" The drums from outside of the village began again in earnest, as the trollocs formed back up and started to charge once more as Gambles took a swig from his flask. "Time to Roll the Dice," he whispered.

Just a heads up to everybody the the General Rules have been revamped, along with updates to Terms and Game Types!

Night 7: The Final Battle Part 1 The morning sun timidly slid out from behind distant clouds on the horizon, bringing with it the golden glow of dawn that embraced the village of Drell's Crossing, basking the town with it's comforting warmth that lifted the villager's spirits and boosted their morale. Fueled by the momentum of hanging two darkfriends in as many days, the handful of survivors rallied together outside of The Waffle House, demanding justice finally be served and that the Domani Gleewoman known as Khamsi Zareef show herself and answer for her crimes. Underneath the beating sun the villagers remained gathered, steadfast and determined to not fall for any last minute tricks or distractions, blocking out the sound of blaring horns and beating hooves of the trolloc army that had their tiny, destroyed village surrounded, waiting to strike and invade the town for reasons only known to the Dark One himself. The wind brought with it the vile stench of the savage, untame beasts and the shrill, unnerving shrieks and yells of the wild shadowspawn as they mocked the villagers in their harsh, guttural sounding tongue. The only other sound to be heard was the occasional sob coming from a red-eyed Rishi, who was still sharpening her dagger and staring knives at the wrecked inn and flanked on each side by Leas Fel on one and Witless the other. The Aiel-war veteran was standing rigidly and to attention, with his hand on the hilt of his sword, and any trained eye could tell he was perfectly balanced on his feet to be able to react and strike instantly. Likewise, Witless, the Town Mayor and openly proclaimed half-Aiel had begun openly carrying in one hand a noose, and in the other his freshly sharpened spear that had always hung in his house above his mantle, but most people had always assumed to be some sort of foolish decoration and not an actual weapon. As the afternoon dragged on and the sun began it's slow dip towards the horizon and the sky began to gradually darken, the villagers started share worried looks and grew nervous and restless. Eventually, just as somebody opened their mouth to say something, they were cut off as a sudden, sharp sound rang out, as a single, note rang out from being violently plucked on an unseen stringed instrument. The twangy, harsh noise hung in the air for a moment, as the startled villagers began to look around and find the source of the sound. Sudden music flooded the air, as a flurry of chords were strummed out in a wild, incoherent pattern, and as the people went to raise their ears to block out the music, it suddenly stopped and silence fell upon the village once again, as even the trollocs outside of the town fell ominously quiet at the same moment. The silence held for a few moments, with the whole world seeming to hold it's breath with the villagers as even the wind died down, until a slow, eerie tune began to pour fourth from the still unseen instrument. The haunting music gradually picked up pace, as more notes and chords were added, in an increasingly complex array that overlapped them and made them reverberate. As the song grew louder, the notes began to ring throughout the ghost town of Drell's Crossing, bouncing back faded, phantasmal echoes of the sad lamenting tune that would feed into the grand tapestry of music that kept building. Notes poured forth in dizzying scales and beautiful harmonics, with the song rising to an even higher crescendo. Sudden booms erupted from outside of the village, rocking the ground as trollocs began drumming in tandem with the chaotic, foreboding song, as all of the armed, frightened villagers crowded together into a small circle, looking wildly around for the source of it all, for they had no doubts as to who would put on this kind of show. The wild, erratic flow of music slowly died down and fell into an ordered pattern, with a slower, even more sinister tune, when Witless suddenlly strode forward and shouted furiously. “Show yourself!” “Gladly!” A voice cried out with glee, as a section of The Waffle House's floor dropped and slid out of place, and on a slow, rising platform, carrying Khamsi Zareef, wearing her brightly coloured, patched gleewoman's cloak that was stained with blood, with a savage, menacing twinkle in her eye. She strummed her lute and broke out into song: Give me your trust, Said the fool in his guise, For behind it all you will find I am wise Trust me to smile and to share and to give And I can assure that you will live But trust is the scent of the gorging crows, Trust is the scent of battlefield woes, Trust is the scent of a soul's last breath, Trust is the scent of death. Give me your trust, said the horse at her post On my back you can swagger and boast Trust in my stride and speed above par And I promise you shall journey far But trust is the sound of wolves in the night, Trust is the sound of a broken hoof's plight, Trust is the sound of a soul's last breath, Give me your trust, said the seller of dirt, I don't know much, but it couldn't hurt? Trust in my product to be soily and dark I assure that this is not a lark But trust is the color of blood-stained earth, Trust is the color of what mud is worth, Trust is the color of a soul's last breath, Trust is the color of death” The gleewoman took a pause, as the drums outside of the village slowly faded away, and took a breath. “Give me your trust, asked the one singing this song, I'm so cute and clever you cannot go wrong, Trust my stories, my fiddle, my flips, (And don't neglect the generous tips). Because trust is the touch of a warm inn's fire,Trust is the touch thrumming strings on a lyre,Trust is the touch of a soul without strife,Trust is the touch of life.” she half-sang, half-whispered in a conspiratorial tone with a wink. “And besides,” she added in after a moment, with a huge smile on her face, “ARE YOU NOT ENTERTAINED?” “Khamsi Zareef of Arad Doman, you are hearby accused of being a Darkfriend, and are sentenced to death by hanging.” Was the terse response of the prim-lipped villagers, as they held their weapons forward, pointing towards the gleewoman's vitals. “You can't really blame me for trying, can you?” She said with a sigh, and suddenly turned towards Rishi. “I do apologize,” she said to the bewildered barmaid, “You have been one of the greatest helpers I have ever encountered, and despite waffle meaning “distraction” in Old Tongue, I am sorry for the deception and hurt I have caused in my betrayal. But everybody should know this. I only had one task when coming here. To kill Kaim,” she said in a grave tone. “I would have rather have watched all of you choke on the evil that is the Taint of Shadar Logath, and I'd gladly watch with glee as Mashadar slowly devoured this entire town. “But my mission from the Great Lord was clear, and I know his Will is greater than the Pattern, for I will be rewarded far beyond any mortal ken!” She started laughing maniacally as she thrusted her hands above her heads towards the heavens, the gesture causing a ripple in the air above her moving up towards the sky like a wave, as she began to glow with energy and the air around her slightly started to distort. “I know I have pleased the Great Lord, the Lord of the Grave, Lord of the Evening! I have killed the vessel of that evil, and it has already infested your city even during it's brief time in this world here. Your gallows have shed more blood than me, but my Master never gave me any restrictions on what to do after my task was completed. Glories beyond your imagining await me in the afterlife, and I will reap the rewards for serving my Master by taking you all with me!” Khamsi lowered her hands, panting for breath from her diatribe, as wind began to beat furiously around her and dark black clouds suddenly formed in the clear sky above her, blotting out the sun and covering the village of Drell's Crossing in shadow once more. The ominous clouds began to furiously swirl as jagged, crimson lightning silently and unnaturally danced in between them. Gusts of winds buffeted the handful of villagers as they huddles together and feared for the worst when there was a sudden audible click. “Yes. You will do nicely.” A gruff, slurred voice said. “Your name is Sooki now, and if you serve me well, I will also reward you greatly.” The shocked villagers opened their eyes when they heard a painful shriek and a thud as Khamsi fell to the floor and began writhing in pain, grasping at a silver collar that had been placed on her neck and was attached to a metallic collar that linked to the wrist of a stout, aged man who was drunkenly wavering on his feet, holding a bottle of alcohol in his other hand. He had rough, wrinkled tan skin of somebody who had spent their days working in the sun, with balding gray hair, and a small, trimmed beard that was peppered black, wearing worn, slightly tattered plain coloured clothing that was covered in faded ash stains. “Who are you!” The Dreadlord shrieked from on the ground, still struggling with the collar as she continued to spasm in pain. “WHAT IS THIS?!” “I am your Master now, and you will do what I say.” The mysterious stranger replied. He opened his mouth to say something else when hundreds of horns began to blare at once, causing everybody to cover their ears and cry out. A small steady rumbling sound grew louder and louder into a thunderous roar, as Newan, Douza, and Trimat came running into the square, waving their arms and pointing towards the the distance where waves of trollocs could be seen topping a hill and charging towards the town in a stampede. The Final Battle of Drell's Crossing had begun! -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Khamsi Zareef was a Darkfriend Channeler! Khamsi (+1) - (4) - Newan, Douza, Witless(+1) Newan - Trimat Apologies for the super delay once again, but hopefully this write-up will be worth it! Khamsi is considered dead for the duration of the game by all means and purposes, Shiv can't post anymore or anything. Anything Khamsi does is an extension of my actions. As Gambles is now my avatar in the game. For awesome RP, fun's sake. These last few rounds should (hopefully) be super, RP heavy, if you want, just for the fun of having a battle! Night Actions will still be sent in and work like normal, as will lynches. Any kills will still be easily distinguishable, but this should just add for more fun this way! Hope you all enjoy!

Just a warning that the write-up will most likely be late tonight again. The results are pretty definitive at this point, but I want to make sure I have the time to do an awesome write-up later, so it'll be worth the wait.

Day 7: Serendipity Strikes The center of Drell’s Crossing was a blazing inferno as the massive pile of debris that had been ignited by the lightning bolt burned like a giant pyre, with it’s dancing flames and massive glow lighting up the night sky a foreboding crimson color, with giant spouts of smoke gushing forth and covering the entire village in a cloud of thick, noxious fog. Waves of heat radiated outwards from the fire, burning and scorching everything in it’s wake as the village was slowly engulfed by the encroaching tempest. *** Erik was slowly circling the outskirts of the village on his nightly patrol with his hand shakily resting on the hilt of the sword strapped to his waist, with at least an inch of the bare steel of the blade exposed as he let it out of the scabbard so he could have a quick, fluid strike if he needed to unsheath it in combat. Light give me strength, he silently prayed as he completed his circuit of the town and paused at the front of the palisade erected near one of the roadway entrances into the town. Miraculously, the old, battered gate still stood, welcoming all travelers to the friendly village of Drell’s Crossing, as well as the staked defenses that had been built around the outskirts of the town. As Erik looked in towards the center of the village, where the giant pile of flaming trash still stood burning like an unwavering vigil, he took a deep breath, and with a determined stride, set out on his final task for the night. Duty is heavier than a mountain. Death, lighter than a feather, he repeated the old borderlander mantra, reminding himself that one man’s life was not important, and doing the right thing was never easy. Down in the south, he had always felt the pull of the northern, blight infested lands as they called to and beckoned him to return home and fight. If the Fallen King of Malkier could keep waging his war, despite being alone and without a kingdom or people to lead, then Erik knew he could carry out his self-appointed mission without any regret. He realized now it wasn’t the Borderlands that had called to him after all those years, but it was the Pattern drawing him towards this village, to save them in their time of need. He tightened the grip on his sword as he strode into the darkness, eyes set dead ahead, seeking out revenge against the darkfriends who had tormented this town with their vile, twisted ways. He would make them pay, even if it cost him his own life. The first lesson any borderlander kid ever learned with a sword was Sheathing the Blade. The knowledge that you didn’t always need to live to carry out your task. One man’s life was nothing in the face of stopping evil. Erik paused as he heard a faint, distant sound coming from behind him, and he spun around in horror, dreading the noise to be the imminent approach of the gathering trollocs, knowing that the villagers could honestly do nothing that could hold off the inevitable invasion. He stood there for a few moments, trying to control his heavy breathing, and straining to listen for the rushing sound of hooves and claws of nearby trollocs that never came. He let out a deep breath and laughed at himself for his paranoid fears, when he again heard the soft, muffled sound of a whistled tune that was carried by the wind. “Halt, who goes there!” He cried out in panic, looking around wildly, trying to penetrate the wall of darkness beyond his vision and brandishing his sword threateningly. “In the name of the Light, show yourself!” “Gladly,”a voice hissed in his ear, dripping with venom. He yelled out and tried to swing around really fast but was cut short as his vision went white in a flash and he heard the loud, wet thud as a heavy blacksmith’s hammer was smashed into the top of his head, fracturing his skull and knocking him to the ground where he spasmed and writhed in pain. He could only see the dim outline of a silhouette as the hammer was raised once more, and in his dazed, blurry state of mind he could only raise his arms up in a futile defense to try and ward off the blows that followed. *** Whistling a merry tune to himself, Gambles strode around the perimeter of the village known as Drell’s Crossing -- as the sign proclaimed -- wondering of a way he could sneak past the palisade without raising a fuss. He hoped that he wasn’t too late and there were still people actually inside the city, but the large, unchecked bonfire burning away into the night wasn’t a good indication. Storms! He cursed at himself, still using the bizarre speech patterns of the last place he had visited and been told to observe. Although, in comparison, this world was rather strange, within itself. Compared to where he came from, with the fat, red sun and ash constantly falling from the sky, and then going to an even weirder place where everything was made of rock and living, moving flora that would respond to movement and the ferocious, wild storms that would wreck the land every few days, where he was at now was downright peculiar. With it’s bright, bright green plant life, and clear skies decorated with tiny pinpoints of light that could be seen. But still. He had a mission. Unsure of what to do, he reached into pocket and pulled out his most prized possesions; his lucky dice. With a quick shake he tossed them against the palisade wall nearest to them, and with a loud crack, the wooden foundation snapped and went crashing to the ground. Gambles whistled softly, and bent down to pick up his die, which had both landed face up with the pips showing. With a shrug he scooped them up, and walked into the town proper, wrinkling his nose as he stepped over what he could only presume to be a fresh corpse with most of it’s head smashed to a pulp. The giant pyre in the center of town gave off enough light to peer into the town, and as he looked around the wreckage of all of the buildings, he saw one with two walls still standing -- and a door hanging on a single hinge -- with a large sign proclaiming it to be ‘The Waffle House’. People don’t seem to like ‘waffles’ much, Gambles thought with a frown, unfamiliar with the word. Looks to me like that’s a giant, upside down teardrop painted in red on that door, he remarked, wondering what that meant. Still uncertain of the state of conditions in the town, Gambles sought to seek some sort of shelter to lie low and hide in while he figured things out, and trusting his gut, he walked into The Waffle House, heading towards the Cellar looking for the alcohol. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------ Erik was killed! Erik was a Regular Villager! A Dragon Fang was scrawled on Khamsi's door! Apologies for the late write-up. As you can see, I decided to have a little bit of fun. The Turn will still last 48hrs, however. The List in the thread OP is updated.

And still not one mention of the wizarding world as a whole -- with over half of them coming from muggle origins -- being able to properly pronounce the word "electricity". (or even understand modern technology) Things like arguing the philosophy and ethics of dementors running around or not are kind of silly in comparison to such blatant gaps world-building >.< While the idea of this being released specifically as a reward for all the Pottermore users is pretty cool, and bully for them for getting it, as someone who grew up reading and loving Harry Potter, my reaction is just, "Meh." Clearly J.K. Rowling just has nothing else going for her and is just going to keep milking Harry Potter with these little random, occasional tidbits. There was nothing exciting or groundbreaking revealed. It basically sounds like the Epilogue, in all of it's boring awfulness, just in a newspaper article form, written by one of the most insufferable characters in that universe. (I get the point that it had to be Rita Skeeter's PoV article to get those 'tabloid-esque' qualities and speculation going, but ugh. Not trying to just come on in here and be like, "BLAGH! Harry Potter sucks, screw you guys!" I just wanted to be able to share my opinion on it while it was being discussed. This is all my personal bias, and do not let that prevent you from personally enjoying it. Edit: Just went back and actually read it.... and yeah. That was pretty bad.

Night 6: Eye of the Storm Like the calm during the middle of a massive storm, the village of Drell’s Crossing experienced a brief, pleasurable respite from the afternoon as most of the villagers came together, completely unanimous for the first time, and decided that Dellan must be the leader of the Darkfriends and called him – and the Dragon Fang on his gut – out as being the Forsaken. The sun was shining in a clear blue sky, with a slight small breeze that would gently tug on the villagers cloaks as they walked Dellan up to the gallows, everyone being extremely careful and almost scared of the mysterious man that almost nobody knew anything about. Almost reluctantly, Witless came forward, once again wearing the sash of Mayor that had a small stain of blood along the edge of it, as it was picked off of the corpse of Waes from the night before. “You are hereby found guilty of being a darkfriend, and are to be sentenced to death by hanging.” Witless recited from the piece of paper in his hand as he looked up after finishing his reading, trying to see if people thought he did a good enough job or not. At least I’m not letting a bloody horse make the decision for me this time, the Town Fool silently reassured himself as he took a deep breath and steeled himself to grab the alleged Forsaken and lead them to the gallows. I have the strength of the Three-Fold land in my blood. I will not be scared by some wetlander. As Witless laid his hand on him, his sand sunk through the suspected Forsaken’s arm, as the surface of their body began to shimmer and sway like ripples in a pond. Dellan tossed his head back and began to laugh maniacally towards the sky, as he stepped forward, with Witless no longer grabbing hold of him and backing away with wide-eyed horror. Dellan’s insane laugh became louder and louder, starting to warp and distort into a deep rumbling. With each step he took, his clothing and hair and features all blurred and faded away in a cloud of vapor, and by time he had walked completely to the gallows, he stood almost half a foot taller, looking like a plain, nondescript man in his middle years and lank, untrimmed hair. He had a look of utmost arrogance and contempt on his face. ”Foolish mortals!” He boomed, “You think that you would be the end of me? The Great Lord is the Master of Death, and he rewards his servants well. For I Forsaken!” As he yelled out, the Forsaken raised his arms and the air around him began to shimmer and warp, almost like the haze over a large fire. “I only had orders to keep you petty worms distracted. Look at what you’ve done to your own village in your insatiable quest for revenge! The Lord of the Night shall take great pleasure in my report, and now that I have fully tested the capabilities of this body, I am ready for my next mission!” With a sudden crashing sound, a large single bolt of lightning shot from the sky and struck the large pile of debris that Waes had gathered the previous evening, igniting it with a blinding flash and a deafening boom, with the shockwave of the explosion kicking up a large cloud of dust as it rushed towards the gathered villagers in a wave. As the smoke cleared, the villagers wildly looked around where the Forsaken was just standing a moment before, but all that could be seen was a single, infinitely thin line that was faintly shimmering in the air before it faded, leaving people asking if that’s what they had truly seen or not. A quick search of the village showed no sign of the Forsaken, and with the setting sun, everybody agreed that they must have fled and wouldn’t bother them anymore. Night had finally fallen, and as the villagers turned to settle in for the night, they were aroused from their beds by the sudden blaring sound of horns surrounding the city. Witless rushed to the palisade surrounding the perimeter of Drell’s Crossing and with complete trepidation saw the shadows moving in mass around the entire town. The Trollocs had finally arrived. But they were still waiting, for something. Night 6 Begins! Turn will last 48 hours or until all Orders get sent in. --------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Dellan was The Forsaken! Witless is the new Mayor! Votes Count: Dellan (6) - Dellan, Newan, Leas Fel, Douza, Witless, Erik

Hey look! I actually got around to a write-up, for I really wanted to make sure each player has their fair chance at having some sort of RP before their death. I was going to say I this doesn't derail any discussion, or distract anybody, but who would I be kidding? Day 6: Knives in the Dark Small, quiet celebrations lasted long into the night, well after the body hanging from the gallows stopped twitching and slowly rocked to a halt. There were no cries of joy or shouts of elation. No dancing or singing, no music to be enjoyed, or spectacular fireworks to be shot into the sky in late celebration for the missed holiday. The villagers of Drell’s Crossing instead gave a silent prayer of thanks to the Creator, and quietly departed into the night. *** Most of the town still lay in shambles after the recent storm, but with the combined efforts from the rest of the villagers, things were finally starting to be put back in order and some form of clean-up had begun. Waes toiled under the light of the moon, sweat pouring off of him as he trembled and pushed himself farther than he ever had before. He could feel the sweet, insane raging tempest within him as he channeled Saidin through himself, using a massive weave of Air to lift a fallen wall of a nearby house as he pushed all of the debris into one large pile where a group of houses used to be. Panting from the exertion, he let go of the thread of magic and the wreckage fell to the ground with a resounding crash, as Waes coughed and covered his mouth with a cloth as the rushing wave of dust that was kicked up rushed past him. As the new Mayor of Drell’s Crossing, the former cobbler knew he could no longer hide what he was, and decided to put his powers to good use instead of saving them for the cover of darkness. This town needed structure, organization, and hope, not more shadows in the dark carrying out dark tasks. He paused as he saw something from the corner of his eye, and had to fight the immediate urge to fill himself with Saidin, that blazing inferno of molten ice that would pulse through his body and threaten to sweep him away in it’s currents. He slowly lowered his arm, taking deep, ragged breaths as he stared down a rat peering out at him from the corner of the shadows, it’s beady little black eyes mocking him from the darkness. He shook his head to clear the image away, knowing it just to be a trick of his imagination, a trace of the madness that he inevitably would suffer from for his use of the Tainted Saidin. The rats and other rodents he had seen watching at laughing at him all around town were not actually there, he knew that, but it still didn’t make the creeping, uncomfortable itch of paranoia any less severe. He still had no idea why the villagers had put so much faith in him, an obvious madman, but he would still do whatever it would take to save his village, his hometown. He had even started hearing a few whispers of people saying he may even be the Dragon Reborn! Light! He turned to get back to work, focusing on the task at hand of cleaning the village up, ignoring the small, quiet shuffling sound coming from behind him, knowing it to just be another trick of his mind. He raised his hand up to begin channeling some more air when he felt the knife punch in through the back of his neck, catching him completely unaware. He let out a startled grasp and felt the threads of magic slip right through his fingers as he lost his focus, and fell to the ground with a grunt. Three more quick, practiced strikes followed before he could even raise his arm up to try and fend off the blows, and within a few seconds the cobbler lay still in the streets, with his blood flowing freely out from him into a puddle on the ground. *** Nath had always tried to hardest to be an average, regular guy. He had always heard the stories of the heroes and all the legends of the great, wonderful people throughout history doing fantastic, amazing things, performing spectacular feats that would have their stories repeated throughout all of the ages. Nath didn’t want any of that for himself. He just wanted to live a quiet, simple life, where he didn’t have to worry about anything unnecessary or unsettling. That was how he knew the Creator had to have the cruelest sense of humour there ever was to have made Nath how he was. I just wanted to be a regular guy, he complained to himself again as he moved through the silent streets of Drell’s Crossing. I never wanted this curse. He had no idea what it was, or where it came from, but he could see images and auras around people. He didn’t always know what they meant, but whenever he looked at certain people he could see symbols and signs hanging around them like storm clouds, silently brooding overhead and flaring out with phantasmal omens like flashes of lightning. He never wanted this responsibility, for he knew that his gift – or curse, depending on how you looked at it – was one of the best tools the villagers had for hunting down the evil that was assaulting the village of late. It was horrible, being able to look at people and immediately be able to know stuff about them, things that they may not even know yet, themselves. It had cost him many friends and even his family had grown tired of his constant attempts at preventing what were normally unforeseeable events, but no matter how hard he tried, he could never stop what he saw from happening. That was why he had grown so sick over the last couple weeks, with all of the nooses and knives hiding in the dark, waiting above people’s heads, waiting to strike. He shivered, thinking about that dark, ominous cloud of evil that had spread out from Bunnt earlier in the day as he was being hanged. Nobody else had seen it, of course, but the menacing tones of that… bizarre chant the strange darkfriend had recited before his hanging should have been enough to set all of the villagers on edge. That was why Nath knew he had to go out once more into the dead of night and try and hunt down the servants of shadow that were hiding in the villagers under the cover of darkness. He knew he wasn’t just a regular guy, and despite his qualms and worries, he would do whatever he could to help the village in it’s time of need. He quietly slid along a wall that was barely left standing – ignoring the freshly scrawled Dragon Fang that was painted on it and anonymously accusing Dellan of being a darkfriend in dripping, red paint below it -- and slowly peaked his head out around the corner before slipping down the side street he had been watching for a while. He nearly jumped when he heard a loud bang off in the distance, and a quick glance at the large dust cloud told him it was probably from Waes over on the other side of town, using his strange and dangerous powers to help clear up some wreckage. Nath frowned and worried about the cobbler off on his own, thinking about the strange viewings of rats and rodents he had seen hanging around the newly elected Mayor’s head, relentlessly harassing the poor man. He figured it had to have just been some side-effect from the inevitable taint of madness he would feel from his powers, and despite feeling uncomfortable around somebody wielding the same power that had caused the Breaking of the World, even Nath couldn’t argue that Waes was probably the most effective tool they had at routing out the rest of the darkfriends. Nath continued down the small alleyway, peering intensely into the darkness to try and pierce it and make out anything that could help him. His viewings would only work on people and things that may eventually happen to them, but not what they could potentially do on any given night, and that was the real danger. He knew he had to find a target and observe them for the entire night until he could get a clear reading, or just catch them in the act. So caught up in his attempts at penetrating the shadows with his gaze was Nath, that he didn’t hear the quiet sound muffled steps coming from behind him, and barely felt the sharp, concise slash across his neck as his throat was cut in one fluid motion. As he fell to the ground he briefly laughed at the irony of how the one blessing of his power was that he never got to see or know anything about his own fate, and was oddly grateful that he could at least experience one tragedy and feel some small measure surprise, even if it was as the expense of his own life. He had always wanted to be a regular guy, and he hoped that death would be mundane enough for him to finally be content with as he closed his eyes and waited for the warm embrace of the afterlife.

Bah so I'm lame and don't have time for a write-up. So here's the results. ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Waes and Nath were killed! Waes was a Villager Channeler and Nath was a Villager Viewer! A Dragon Fang was scrawled on Dellan's gut door. I'm just going to keep the rest of the game in this one thread for however long it may last after this. Forgot to post when the Turn ends, but it's 48 hours after the post went-up, so around 2:30PM Tuesday, July 8th. ListTM of Players:

Howdy all! I've been a little inactive the last day or so, and won't be getting on as much the new couple of turns, but I should still be getting write-ups up in time. (or at least results. Some of the write-ups going forward from this point forward may be a little bit lackluster. But you all have Meta's game to keep you happy and distracted! This Turn will still end at the noted time and any orders sent in after 1:30PM EST will not be recorded.

Night 5: Celebrations The holiday of Bel Tine usually brought with it joy and festivities, when children could laugh and play in the Town Greens, young women would dance around the ribbon pole, and peddlers would bring tales of glee and fireworks to be launched into the night sky, amazing and dazzling the villagers with their magnificent displays. But the village of Drell's Crossing was in no state for celebrations, and the town square lay empty and silent, filled with the wreckage and debris that had built up in the town, the silence occasionally broken by the caws of crows as they gorged on the dead that lay in the streets. No. There was no happiness or celebrations in the village. Instead, there was the grim determination that the villagers had settled into, hoping beyond hope, trying to rid their town of the infestation of evil that had plagued them recently. The citizens of Drell's Crossing didn't know why the Shadow had chosen them to torment, but they would show they would not lie down meekly and let the Dark One win without a fight. Mayor Waes strode up through the village green, a solemn expression on his face as he visibly tried to ignore the taint of madness he was suffering from as a result of his work with Saidin. The fact that a male channeler was their leader was a sign of how desperate the villagers were seek out and destroy the shadow with. At first Waes thought it had just been his madness when the other villagers began speaking to him in strange tongues, making weird, guttural noises that sounded like long strings of numbers when they opened to mouths to talk, but he realized with horror that he could understand what was being said and respond in kind as well! Once the villagers realized what was going on, they were visibly shaken, but undeterred in their mission to hunt down a servant of evil, and with the setting sun, Bunnt was called up to the front of the crowd. Despite a quiet persistence that they had gotten the wrong man, the quiet farmer resigned to his fate and without a struggle let his neck be fitted for the noose. He lowered his head and quiet sobbing sounds could be heard. Waes had tightened the noose and was getting ready to pull the lever when Bunnt suddenly tossed his head back and everybody realized with horror that he wasn't sobbing, but laughing! "You fools! You think this is a victory, but I have watched as you have torn yourselves apart in your feeble attempts to find me! This noose, and all of you, have more blood on your hands than I do! Now watch! I may die, and you may feel a small, fleeting feeling of pride swelling up within you, but know that it is a hollow victory! Now go! Hide back in your homes and cower in fear, waiting for the Darkness to strike." He raised his hands up into the air and let out an insane, maniacal laugh. "And then, shall the Lord of the Evening come. And He shall take our eyes, for our souls shall bow before Him, and He shall take our skin, for our flesh shall serve Him, and He shall take our lips, for only Him will we praise. And the Lord of the Evening shall face the Broken Champion, and shall spill his blood and bring us the Darkness so beautiful. Let the screams begin, O followers of the Shadow. Beg for your destruction!" With a yank of the lever, the floor dropped out beneath Bunnt and with a grunt he fell through the hole and his neck snapped with a sudden, final crunch. ----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Bunnt was a Regular Darkfriend! Lynch Tally: Bunnt (5) - Nath, Leas Fel, Erik, Witless(+1) Nath (1) - Khamsi Night 5 will last 48 hours and will end at 1:30PM EST Sunday, July 6th! Unable to get an exact count-up or player list over at the moment, I'll try and get it updated in later if I get a chance.

In a little late, but Turn ended at Noon EST. Locking thread now and getting (super quick) write-up underway way.

Just a heads up that Day 5 will be ending Friday, July 4th at 12PM, Noon, EST. The write-up may be a little late, but the Turn will still end at the scheduled time.

Well, actually.... I read White Sand Prime, and even still, that is some fantastic work! I know that wasn't his first, first writings. Just his first full length novel (I think?) But yeah, I still wouldn't compare my starting writings to some of Sanderson's early stuff. He's just a freakishly good writer. >.<

So this is the Unofficial Casting Thread for any imaginary Wheel of Time movies/shows! I'll get things started with the most obvious casting out of the way: Starring Samuel L. Jackson as the Green Man in The Eye of The World! Okay, so this thread is mostly a joke just because of this image. >.< What are some of your Ultimate Goofy Wheel of Time Castings?!

Oh, and the one thing I had a friend say to me once that really helped put things in perspective: We are basically comparing our starting, roughest material to all of our favorite author's finished products. Even if it happens at a subconscious level, we still do that. And that really messes with the whole process, because we know where where want to take it, and how we want it to look, but we're trying to make rapid, running strides when we're basically getting used to our baby steps. ^This advice above had really helped me a better view on everything and my writing, and I found I have become a lot less critical of what I'm writing since applying that way of looking at it. Hope it helps here!