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Gamma Fiend

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  1. Gamma Fiend
    I'm gonna go ahead and put my vote on Mighty Lopen. Not anything really definite to go off of, but if we've had 2 noble couriers, then there should maybe be a decent chance the third was an OC. Especially if he's now corrupted, that would be more advantageous for the conspirators to have this late in the game, somebody who would be able to shut PMs down. That and he kind of seemed flip-floppy on the whole him being trustworthy issue. At first he said it made sense that people shouldn't be 100% trusted just by proving their Role, when there are no safe roles, but then accuses me of just trying to spread paranoia and cast doubt on 'trustworthy' people. I'm just trying to highlight the false-logic of being able to trust somebody 100% when they can't be actually verified. Eliminators telling the truth and earning trust that way is one of their best strategies when they can pull it off and get people to think "____ can't be Eliminator because of _____". In games like these, unless a role or mechanic 100% -- without a doubt -- confirms somebody's alignment, you just can't even be completely positive. Which is the basic essence and point of the game, after all.
  2. Gamma Fiend
    Now, I know I haven't been doing a good job at all of keeping up in the thread and staying active myself, but I wish I could have gotten on during the Night cycle, if at least to promote some discussion! Even if we're not actively discussing a lynch, we can at least talk about the results of the one that just happened! (Or was supposed to happen!) I'm still not entirely sure how many have been come across yet, but it seems like a storming lot of shardplates were tossed in this game, either for balance issues, or to troll us -- both are very possible, given the GM. But do we just keep going through each lynch, hitting somebody with a Shardplate, and then moving on? Because at that point, we're effectively just stripping away everybody's layer of protection and leaving us all open to be hit by the Conspirators. This of course is all wrapped up in the WGG discussion that keeps circulating. I honestly feel like that is just a false sense of trust to follow. Same with this whole courier business. Does that role within itself, or with the corruption mechanics prove 100%, that somebody isn't a conspirator? Or is it just a good feeling? Because how I read it, I don't see how Lopen is cleared by proving he is a courier or not -- regardless of corruption. As far as my vote, I'll wait just a lil bit before placing one, for now. But I'll get back on before the rollover.
  3. Gamma Fiend
    .............Can votes for this trial be bought/sold/bribed/extorted, etc.?..... The Lady Urbain sat perched on the top level of the courtroom mezzanine. The handrails were gilded and carved with a majestic, scrawling design, with fine ebony leaves imprinted in a twirling fashion along the length of the rail. The seats were just as lavishly decorated, and with a fine velvet cushion that was actually comfortable. By the Lord Ruler, I might actually enjoy myself here! The trial below appeared to be amusing enough for now, as the accusers and accusees bickered back and forth, the debate not really seeming to go anywhere. Smoke and ash, I swear this all seems familiar, she thought, frowning, swirling the glass of wine in her hand and taking a small sip. She knew she had never actually been in this building before, and putting people on trial required the drudgery of doing things, which didn't really suit her lifestyle. So she dismissed the idea and snapped her fingers, beckoning a servant forward as he plucked a grape off of the vine and fed one to her. No, she was just going to sit back and enjoy the show, she decided, spitting the pit out. Although she did idly wonder if any of the guilty houses down there were responsible for the attacks against her house in the past. She took another sip of wine, and let the proceedings continue, uninterrupted.
  4. Gamma Fiend
    38 pages is too much to try and analyze at once. >.> But I did get through the first day or two, which was still very interesting. Which I found strange was how the Conspirators don't have the Doc during the day to communicate with each other in, so during that Day 1 lynch, we can see now how Ripple was up for the lynch, and then Hero started the vote train on Phat. While this was under the guise of the Crusade, I do think that that vote can be worth taking a look at, with 2 known conspirators taking part in a lynch swing. We know that Stink was a Noble, so that leaves Lopen and Alvom. I would try at least looking at anymore connections between them and Hero and Ripple, possibly, throughout the game. Especially the earlier in the game, they would have had less Doc time to be able to coordinate and communicate with each other effective strategies at dodging suspicions, possibly. Also, the whole discussion of the WGG.... I don't think I need to explain to anybody the multiple levels of #UrbainParanoia. The more the idea gets discussed and dismissed, without any sort of follow through, then the more temping the idea becomes to the Eliminators. Especially if all we do whenever it comes up is go, "meh, but would they really do that?"..... Um, yeah. They really would, given that mentality. I'm still trying to figure out the rules, and possible allocation/interaction of the different roles, but I could see tons of benefit in sacrificing a Shardplate for the sake of earning trust for that player going forward in the game. So I'm going to toss a vote onto Bort, simply because of 1 of two reasons: 1) Obviously the possible WGG, and 2) Even if you are a villager, you still can't be 100% trusted or verified, (I don't think?), and since your 2nd life is used up, the Conspirators don't need to worry about attacking you again, since you're the focus of so much villager discussion, so we either argue back and forth about lynching you or not, or we just go ahead and do it. >.> Maggus brushed his shimmering cloak aside as it hung well down over his shoulders and past his arm, it's radiating light illuminating the small, abandoned wooden cabin he had found inside the sprawling encampment. It's smooth, grainless features indicated it was soulcast. Artificial. Like so many other things in the Kholin war camp. He was writing down his thoughts and the results of his inquiries. It was borderline blasphemy, he knew, to be a male who was able to write in this part of the world. The Alethi could be so backwards at times. So he had to play the part, sending missives to the scribes, asking for past trial records, and bribing the couriers for any messages they remembered delivering, things like that. Maggus didn't know how he had gotten mixed up in this whole storming mess, but the armored guards posted at the gates and not allowing people to leave made him take things very seriously.
  5. Gamma Fiend
    Maggus appeared in a puff of smoke, mysteriously coming from nowhere, and yet being right in the middle of things. Just a smoke fabrial and perfect timing, along with the use of distraction, he thought, smirking to himself as he did his best to appear as impressive and enigmatic as possible, his rough and faded black cloak, tattered and ragged at the edges, shone radiantly with stormlight. He had taken the tiny gem centers out of hundreds of diamond and sapphire chips and bedazzled them into the fabric itself. It just worked out that he often had to sleep outside somewhere under a hedge or taking shelter wherever he could find during a highstorm, so it always managed to stay charged with stormlight. He hoped it managed to make a dazzling impression, but just noticed everybody standing around and congratulating themselves and patting each other on the back. Some sort of victory? Even more disappointing, they had seemed to completely been unphased by his grand entrance, and barely anybody seemed to have taken not of him. What in the Nightmother's name? Maggus thought, slunking back into the shadows. It appeared he was still behind on a few things. He should have known better than trying to make his grand entrance in the very camps of the storming Blackthorne without knowing the political climate. But he had been on a mission to find his apprentice. Some poor, orphaned shin. He had thought he had heard rumours of one in the Kholinar encampment, but that appeared to be a cold trail. Well, I appear to be here now, so might as well make the best of it. He flipped his brightcloak around, not wanting to stand out anymore than necessary, and tried hiding in the background as unremarkably as possibly. There was still a lot of catching up for him to do before he could make his grand appearance.
  6. Gamma Fiend
    *Ahem*
  7. Gamma Fiend
    *Throws on cool-guy sunglasses*
  8. Gamma Fiend
    Also, for anybody who does have any questions or awesome suggestions of the like for the SE Community or us Mods, feel free to shoot us a message at any time, and we're always more than willing to work with everybody! This is also a good time for us to get back around to the AMA: SE Mod Edition thread, as that is a great place for such things, and is a great example of the Elimination Community spreading out and utilizing other parts of the forum as is! Thanks again, and now we'll let you get back to your organized chaos!
  9. Gamma Fiend
    Ok, yeah, I didn't look at the size of the game before I decided to take over. >.> So please be kind and give me time to catch up and settle into the game at first before harassing me for my take on things! I will try my best to carry on in the spirit of Emerald, and will also somehow try find time for some good RP that'll make the transition awesome.
  10. Gamma Fiend
    Glim the Torpid, signing up, I suppose. Coming all the way from Sel >.> She'll probably just be mostly quiet and lethargic, just another body to pad out the numbers. I'll even make her wear a red shirt. Edit: Storms, nevermind. I'll be pinch-hitting for MR8 instead, so have decided to drop out of this one before it gets started. Apologies for the lost expectations of killing me, Wilson.
  11. Gamma Fiend
    Glam Urbain strode along her keep's perimeter, Grace trailing obediently behind her. She had been a good girl, and would serve the House proudly and with aplomb. She just wish she could have done more for her as a mother, not as a Houselord. But the treacherous political climate of Luthadel demanded such. "I wish my father hadn't burnt down as many bridges as he did amongst the other nobles. Her so-called peers. Even if she thought they were all idiots, she didn't openly insult them like the late Lord Urbain did. No. She'd teach Grace more tact than that. Until then. House Urbain will be Action 2: marrying off Grace to an NPC house. And will also be attending the Trades Fair! Showcasing Fine Urbain Wines, Ubrain Threads clothing line, and my valued Jams and Jellies!
  12. Gamma Fiend
    Glam Urbain stood at the head of the dark, dank tunnels, staring down the dim corridors, her reserve of metals burning within her as steadily as the torch she had her companions carrying behind her. She didn't want to become fire-blind, not when burning tin. So she let the flickering flames cast long and wild shadows, her twisted silhouette dancing along the dungeon walls and ceiling. She smiled and nodded to her Hazekillers as they formed in rank behind her and followed. Each hazekiller carried a sturdy wooden cudgel. They were still slightly charred at the end from when they had been from the burned-out remains of the House Urbain distillery so many years ago. Glam Urbain surely hoped that her house's enemies didn't think the passing of years would lessen any retaliation. No, like a fine wine, the more a vendetta aged, the sweeter the taste. And now she had a name. She slid an obsidian dagger from one of her many hidden straps. It was time to do what House Urbain did best. It was time for an Inquisition.
  13. Gamma Fiend
    Public Action: House Urbain is donating a shipment of obsidian to the Steel Ministry. You don't need to know why. Glam Urbain packed a bottle of her houses finest wine in the crates to be sent to the Steel Ministry for their aid in her own personal Inquisition. They did good work, and deserved the reward. Now it was only a matter of striking back against those who had targeted her House. She knew she was right all along to send her brother away. She knew she had no reason to doubt herself of her actions. For the sake of House Urbain, she went forward with her plans.
  14. Gamma Fiend
    Apologies for the delay in me getting in my final comments for the game! >.> (And for the general laziness of my GM'ing overall) Either way, it was a very fun game to run, and all players did a fantastic job, I think, regardless of outcome! This game was definitely very unique with the essentially roleless aspect of it, save for the Breath which I'll address in a moment. The lack of power roles definitely showed, as there was quite a good bit of discussion and analysis in the game, which I think is always a good thing. Of course, the whole Breath mechanic was totally a new and interesting mechanic. In the Dead Doc, I did discuss it a little bit, and while the Mechanic can have some uses or slight purpose, it was mostly just a red herring so the game didn't feel totally vanilla in flavor. While we did see it's use (and almost use when Joe was lynched), it was designed so that the pace of the deaths would never truly slow down (and could even speed the game up, if many Breaths were used or wasted!). While it's not a perfect mechanic, or even one that makes a lot of sense, I thought it was an interesting flair in the game for sure! I did regret having to do the Retcon on the ruling for lynches with the Breath, but I think my second ruling was more in line with the flavor of the mechanic overall, and at the time, hadn't affected the game in any major way at all. Of course, things could have played out very differently, and could be a possible way to experiment with things in future games, but I'll leave that up to fresher GMs than I! Once again, many thanks to everyone for playing and participating, and even the Spectators for watching and enjoying the game! Apologies again for no actual Master Doc, but everything in the game was rather straight forward as it was! I'll leave the thread open for a day or two to allow any final comments or questions, or if anyone wants to do any final RP or anything fun, etc.
  15. Gamma Fiend
    Going to be leaving for camping, so I can't do any good revenge RP yet. Guess I'll just wait til next Turn. Either way, I have a bunch of grapes laying around, so.... Action 1: House Urbain is producing jams and jellies! Delicious!
  16. Gamma Fiend
    Thanks again for everyone for playing even those who spectated and kept track of everything! Lazy GM is still lazy, so still no time at the moment for a full post-game analysis, but I can at least post the Doc links for everyone to peruse! The Colorful Dead The Rebel Base (Unfortunately I didn't really do up any sort of Master Sheet or anything, as I just made all lists/tallies in my notebook) >.>
  17. Gamma Fiend
    No time for RP at the moment, will hopefully get some in shortly though before the turn ends. Either way, it appears we have some aggressors still, as this Turn I discovered that my wine distillery has been burnt to the ground. Now it could be just random chance, I suppose? But I somehow doubt it. Now, many of you may not know this, but I have vowed to quite a few houses that nobody comes between an Urbain and their Wine. I will dedicate all of my resources to hunting and paying (just!) retribution to the guilty House(s). The birth of the Steel Ministry just allows it to now happen within accordance of TLR's wishes.
  18. Gamma Fiend
    The Gods of the Court convened for one last time, not knowing it was so until the very end. Where colors had once flared and shone with a vibrant force, the drastically reduced number of the Returned was clearly visible where shadows now gathered, and dull, muted colors seemed to stick out more, if only for the juxtaposition. The day seemed to extend forever, never ending as the debates teetered back and forth, almost coming a standstill. The gods had grown weary and tired, exhausted from the daily rituals of deciding which one of each other to have killed. Their morale and resolve started to fade as the day almost passed into night, and still not a decision was to be made. An awakened bell chimed itself, signaling the passing hour, as a group of the God King's priests entered the room, waiting no longer and demanding a decision. "Who among you is guilty?" The High Priest Wilkin asked, the voice and faithful servant of the God King." "That one is," spoke up Gancho the Crass, his face paling almost to the same shade of white, matching the purple robes he was wearing for his colors, pointing toward one of the other gods, clad in their colors of red and black. "Why do you say him?" Wilkin asked, nodding towards the servants as they Commanded ropes to awaken and wrap around the neck of the Returned, squeezing and strangling him. "Because you have a knife to my back," Gancho replied drly, true to his name to the very end. Jadebuffer the Eerie moved forward, tossing off his cloak of turquoise and orange, revealing the strange sphere he had kept concealed, and held it forward -- as if ready to do something -- only to be stabbed in the back by Redcross the Healer before he could take more than a step. Bortholomew the Blind loomed over Jadebuffer, and knelt down, offering out a hand to help the fallen god up, only to plunge another knife into his heart, his blood splashing out all over Bortolomew's white and grey robes, marking him for a traitor as well. Funweaver the Festive cried out. "Isn't this fun?!" And pounced on Ri the Mysterious from behind, stabbing the silver and black goddess of Illusions multiple times rapidly. The Rebels quickly rounded up all the surviving priests and servants of the murdered gods, and had tied them all up in the center of the room when the doors burst open, surprising all of them. "You know the worst part about being a mercenary?" A man asked, striding into the room and sheathing his sword, nodding towards all of the dead bodies. "You always miss all of the fun stuff." Wilkin strode over to the mercenary, handing them a slip and a large burlap sack of money. "Here is our agreed payment." "What about the God King?" Wilkin turned around, signaling to the Rebel Returned who had helped in the cause. "Oh, don't worry about Mirikas. We have that in check. Surely soon enough the God King will deliver an heir, and perhaps sometime after that some terrible tragedy will strike, and thus the God King sacrifices themselves in some magnificent and altruistic way. Same story, different characters, but you already knew all that, eh, mercenary?" The man smiled. "That's the thing about us, y'know, you'd never even believe me if I told you the truth." He said, walking away and laughing. Redcross strode over the Wilkin, jabbing his thumb back at the tied up priests and servants, still looking on in horror. "What about them?" "And him?" Funweaver and Bortholomew piped in, pointing towards Jain who was sitting in the corner, docile and silent throughout the whole ordeal. "Ah, yes, them. You Returned need Breath to live, yes? Well that should last you all a while until we establish a new God King and a Court of the Gods. And the Panda? Leave him be. Let him take petitions from the citizens, they could always use a god who doesn't respond to their pleas.The people of Halladren are simple fools, as long as their dyes and luxuries keep flowing, they barely keep track of the gods, and only praise the Iridescent Tomes when it suits their favor. But now that we can control the Courts and T'Telir, we can start putting pressure on the Idrian Royals in the highlands, raising tariffs and start pushing out at the borders. War will come. And it will come on our terms. Now you all must go and seize control of your lifeless armies. You will be needed as leaders for the other gods for the following years to come. The command phrase to take control of the lifeless is: the Tears of Edgli That appears to be a wrap! Quick Fix 9 is over! The Rebels have won! Bortholomew the Blind, Funweaver the Festive, and RedCross the Healer were Rebel Returned Gods! This game was quite fun to run, even if a little simple and quick, I hope everybody enjoyed playing! I will post the Doc links and do an obligatory follow-up post sometime later today or tomorrow when I have the time. Once again, thanks for everybody for signing up and participating!
  19. Gamma Fiend
    Cycle (finally) over! Write-up coming soon!
  20. Gamma Fiend
    Glam Urbain waltzed adroitly throughout the Keep dance floor, lithe and beautiful, her grace enhanced by the steady burning of pewter, as she flared bronze very quickly and subtly on the band performing, rioting their confidence and boldness, prompting to just so slightly pick up the pace of the music and start exploring more ambitious improvisations and intoxicating instrument solos. She burned tin and took it all in. The sights, the sound, the vibrations as the floor shook with the stomping and shuffling of feet and the walls rattled as the band reached a majestic crescendo. She stole the center of attention, of course, in her swirling in her bedazzled mistcloak, mesmerizing and captivating all of the guests as the spiral pattern of pure-white diamonds and cold, black obsidian gems embroidered down the lengths of her tassels fanned out as she spun. The blazing limelights shone down through the stained glass windows, painting the patterned dancefloor in a rainbow mosaic. She burned steel and iron, pushing and pulling off of the winding metal embroidery wrapped around the marble support beams, using the increasing momentum to spin faster and faster, becoming nothing but a glistening blur, rising slowly up to one thin pointed toe, and then gently lifting off of the ground, like a spinning top taking flight. She was glamorous. After the party ended and she booted the guests and free-loaders out, she sat there swirling a drink of her House's famous wine, trying to talk with her tragic brother. Gerund towered next to her, a head or so taller than her, wide and burly, his unruly mop of black hair spilling down past his confused and furrowed brow, sat draped in the house's colors, looking more like a motley fool with his patched and mismatched suit. "Wasing of the dancing?" He asked. "Having of the fun," Glam replied sadly, speaking in her younger brothers 'secret' and simple language he had managed to express. It had taken her years to figure out what in The Lord Ruler's name he had been trying to say half of the time, but once she had gotten the general idea down she was able to understand enough to make small-talk. Sometimes. "Showing of the money." It wasn't his fault, not really. As a child, Gerund had always been a larger boy, and their father had always chided him for being half a pewterarm, and half as smart when growing up. But then came time for the Snapping Ceremony. Glam Urbain had already had extensive talks about how barbaric and uncouth the whole process was -- even if it was effective. Either way, Gerund had Snapped alright. It wasn't a surprise he was a pewterarm, after all, but what was surprising was how long it had taken the boy to snap. And how long their father kept going, pushing his son's limits. Glam could only watch in silence, of course, as she tried rioting her brother back even then, encouraging him to keep going, to not give in. Only something else had given, and ever since that day, Gerund could burn pewter and seem as strong as a koloss, he was as smart as one as well, it seemed. Glam had always promised to take care of him. But now she was the Heir. All of her House and her allies were looking at her to lead and be strong. And her enemies were waiting for her to slip-up and show weakness. Weakness she couldn't afford. She finished her glass of wine in one final swig before making her decision. She had to send him away. He was her brother. But he was also an asset, and one that she couldn't afford. Not now, when her House's enemies and jealous rivals could try and strike at any time. Public Action Turn 1, Action 1: Glam Urbain is sending her brother Gerund Urbain out to the Eastern Dominance, there he will be out of harm's way, and maybe can do some good of his own, in his own wasing of the way.
  21. Gamma Fiend
    Sharkbait the Incompetent stood in front of his peers, staring down the hostile glares of half of the court, the Returned, while although similar in size and scale, somehow towering over him. He turned and watched his High Priest Klenimar peering over the shoulders of the gods, proudly wearing his colors of Copper and Blue, a savage grin on his face. If only he hadn't listened to that man, then maybe he wouldn't be in this mess in the first place.... Sharkbait felt true to his names, as he felt like a prized morsel being surrounded and circled in the open waters, a feeding frenzy waiting to begin. Colors! He thought frantically, what do they expect from me?! The Returned tried to stand proudly and defiantly in his last moments as the other gods closed in on him. He had a sudden inspiration, a brilliant flash of light and colors, a vision where he saw all of this before. He turned and saw one of the fellow gods, and knew what he must do. He opened his mouth, ready to offer up the last thing expected from a Returned. "My Breath to --" He was cut off as he was tackled to the ground, his mouth clamping closed and biting down on his tongue, causing him to cry out in pain. Seems I can't even end up doing that right! He thought morbidly as rough hands seized him from behind, the bright shine of cold, polished metal flashing in front of his face, followed by the spray of crimson in the air. *** Shar, the God of Sacrifice, strode determinedly, his golden red entourage trailing behind him, confused and concerned looks on their faces as they followed him to his unexpected destination. He walked his way right up the steps leading into the white and red-framed arches of Redcross' royal palace, the long line of petitioners and hopeful citizens all lighting up from the presence of another god. Truly they were all blessed to receive such a blessing. He ignored all the calls for attention or sickly cries for help. He already knew what he must do, and he couldn't be diverted from his task. He stepped right past the confused looking petitioner standing in the middle of the room, begging for Redcross' mercy and gift of divine healing, his golden-red colors sticking out on the mostly white room, the colors glowing from the auras of the two gods so close in proximity. "I don't want to hear it, Shar," Redcross began before the god could speak. "You're supposed to be the God of Sacrifice. Why would I give up my Breath to you, of all people?" Shar got down on one knee, reaching out and touching Redcross' crossed leg. "Don't think any begging will move me any, this one's been yammering on for the better part of an hour already." Redcross said, jabbing a thumb at the dumbstruck random citizen. "My Life to yours." Shar declared, speaking clearly, not stumbling over his words. "My Breath becomes yours." There was an explosion of light and color, and the sound of a body crumpling, as Shar's lifeless body fell to the floor, the corpse seeming dull and drab compared with the colorful room still surrounding it. There was a pause of silence. "Um.... thanks?" Redcross finally said to the body. "Wasn't really expecting." He said after another moment before looking up and seeing the shocked face of the petitioner as they stared in horror at the lifeless god in front of them. "Oh, yeah. Um, denied. Next!" *** Brightwhisper the Keen dreamed again. This time the courts had voted yet again, and found another innocent soul lost in the bloodshed and politics. His dreams were always filled with death and horrible things, which he was always quite willing to share with his Priests as they scurried around, trying to keep up with him in his dream state. It was when he awoke that things were always much more interesting. He was free from the duties and tedium required of his dreams. When he was awake, he didn't have to worry about dying. So he laid down in his royal chambers, surrounded by his soothing colors of deep green and silver, a calming combination that helped him maintain his serene state of mind. As a Returned, he always expected his dreams to be full of omens and prophecies, but even these were more grim and grizzly than he had ever anticipated. Things were always much simpler when he was awake. Scattered images of silver, slashes of dark green, he just needed to figure out why he kept seeing red whenever he would wake up. His dream ended once more, but this time his day never came. Brightwhisper the Keen never woke again, and his dream had ended. -------------------- Shar, the God of Sacrifice gave up his breath to Redcross the Healer! Sharkbait the Incompetent was a Returned God! Shar, God of Sacrifice, was a Returned God! Brightwhisper the Keen was a Returned God! Cycle 6 has begun! Since this cycle has been so delayed in being posted, I decided to extend this cycle until Sunday August 9th, 9AM EST! This will hopefully get it back on track with my irregular schedule. Apologies for keeping you all waiting for the write-up!
  22. Gamma Fiend
    Ah, apologies for the delayed cycle end! I'll get working on a write-up soon, and probably extend this next cycle to have it end back on the regularly scheduled time. (Darn nights off, throwing off my sleep schedule)
  23. Gamma Fiend
    The day dragged on once again as the Returned of Halladren once again found themselves mired in debate and treachery. The lavish luxuries abandoned, servants waiting nervously out of the way, the gods took once again to the court to find the traitors and murderers hidden amongst them. Heavenlypest the Massive had long grown wary of the endless arguments, winding themselves in more circles than an awakened clock, as the tropical sun beat down upon them for hours, he had begun to sweat through his outrageous garments, clad in his colors of dark green and neon brown. Kalad's Phantoms!, he thought, snapping the attention of a nearby servant to fan him, why in the God King's name would we hold these debates out in the literal court, underneath the harsh sun? Sweat stains did not show up well on neon brown. Why should a God ever need to sweat for? Perhaps that was why they had all thought he was guilty. It wasn't long after the sun had reached it's peak in the sky when the court all looked at him. He already knew what came next. He went to take a deep breath, keeping everyone waiting in anticipation, then just closed his mouth and blew a raspberry at them before laughing. He was still laughing when they brought him to the God King's Priests. ** Braveheart, God of War was deeply unsettled by yet another death of an innocent, more divine blood spilled, staining the ground even more, deep, dark red, almost as if in a mocking compliment to one of his colors. He was deeply unsettled by what had become of the courts. He was supposed to be the God of War, and all of the Lifeless commands and pomp and protection that came with his status and title did little to ease his sense of uneasy anticipation that had gripped him for most of the night. He strolled about his palace uneasily, the comforts that were supposed to come with being a god doing little to distract him. He turned about to call for his head priest when a shadow fell across him, causing him to jump in surprise and spin about. It was his high priest, standing in the door way who opened his mouth to say something and stepped forward before collapsing to the ground. In Braveheart's heightened aura, the dark, rich reds and royal purples of his priests robes popped out even more, and then it was he saw the spreading pool of a brighter, more visceral red color leaking from multiple stab wounds. He looked up, speechless, as another shadow entered into the room. All instincts of his past life flooded back into him and he charged the assailant, all fear and doubt abandoned, courage and bravery swelling up inside him. He was the God of War, and he wouldn't die to shadows and cowards in the dark. He was more than surprised when the Rebel simply stepped to the side and tripped him with one foot, following it up with a punch to the back. It was only when he felt the sharp pain, and spreading hotness did he realized he was stabbed instead, his breaths becoming ragged and hurting as he coughed up blood, and he took his last breath as the darkness overcame him. ------------ Heavenlypest the Massive was a Returned God! Braveheart, God of War was a Returned God! Day 5 begins! 24hours, same deal, 9AM EST the cycle will end. I might not be able to post the cycle at the turnover, but the cycle will still end at the same time. We shall see.
  24. Gamma Fiend
    Ven the Procrastinator laid around in bed for the better part of the morning, the warm, golden sun creeping closer and closer to it's afternoon peak, when all of the green, natural world would be in it's full beauty. The god yearned to be outside, basking in the full glory of his colors, away from the insufferable debates and never-ending delegations. He had told them who he thought was most suspicious, he just still needed to get around to explaining why. He figured he would do it later. Instead he had to deal with his nagging priests and servants, beckoning him to fulfill his godly duty of the nagging petitions and dreadful hours spent examining boring art. Who needed pictures when you could already see the true beauty of the world around them? So he decided to continue lounging around, waiting for later to do anything. He was a god, afterall, and had all the time in the world. *** Shar, the god of sacrifice, sat in solace in his temple and draped in his tempered colors of gold and red, meditating on what to do next. He, like all of the gods, knew the threat was real and the God King in grave danger, but yet he knew each god had their own duty to fulfill. His sacrifice was still to be made, he just needed to find out how and when. When the rest of the gods came for him, he wasn't too surprised. He was surprised, however; to see they had also all tied up and gagged Ven the Procrastinator as well, holding him captive with Awakened Ropes. It seemed he shared the same fate. This was how both of the gods were brought to the door of the God King and his priests, declaring they were unable to decide. MiriKas had fury in his eyes and gestured towards his High Priest. They stepped forward, "We shall let the Iridescent Tomes decide," they declared. "Strangle one of them," they said, Commanding both of the ropes that they grabbed from the reins of the Returned. The ropes responded, and immediately coiled around Ven the Procrastinator's throat, choking the life out of them in mere moments, as Shar dropped to the ground. "It seems your sacrifice is still to be made," they said, sparing Shar. It wasn't until the next moment that the rest of the Gods didn't notice Droll the Spontaneous' absence from the previous day's events. It wasn't until they walked right into the God's rooms and flipped over his green bedsheets that they realized he wasn't wearing maroon pajamas, a dagger sticking out of his chest, the Court of the Gods growing steadily and steadily dimmer with each passing day. ---------------- Ven the Procrastinator was a Returned! Droll the Spontaneous was also a Returned! Day 4 begins, 24 hours, 9AM est tomorrow, etc. As a quick note, would all players please be able to green out any retracted or changed votes, just to help make it an easier and faster process when counting them up for the lynch. Thank you!
  25. Gamma Fiend
    Artweave the Painter sat in his art studio, a room he had attached to his godly palace years ago. The walls coated in his unique colors, brown and mint green mixing together perfectly, complimenting each other in a subtle contrast that both drew the eye and was pleasant to look at. As one of the older Returned in the court, he could afford to spend his afternoons painting for as long as he wanted, his servants and divine duties waiting on him, and not the other way around. To be fair, he was doing his best in hunting down the Rebel scum that would dare assault the Court of the Gods so blatantly. It wasn't his fault that the rest of the gods were fools, so he had instead decided to retire to his palace, being struck by a sudden inspiration. He attacked the canvas with a surprising fury, splashing colors all over the place, colors mixing and melding together, his heightened BioChroma able to make out each tiny change in shade and hue as they did so, his paintbrush slashing wildly, roughly sketching outlines of strange, abstract and unseen figures. There was only one thing clear about the painting, it was almost all completely red, all of the lines and contrast just a slightly different shade that wouldn't even be recognizable if it weren't for the gift of the Perfect Color Recognition, one wouldn't even be able to see it. The work of art was a masterpiece. It also promised death. He turned to get his Priests' interpretation of the painting when he realized how silent everything was. A shadow fell across the doorway, blocking the only entrance and exit to the room. It was the Court of the Gods, arrived to dispense the justice of the God King -- as they saw fit. Before Artweave had a chance to even defend himself one last time he was surrounded and hand his hands and feet bound while they held him down. The last thing he could see was the red-hot knife, still glowing from the heat of the forge, a beautiful shade of simmering red, cooled down from the fading bright, yellow-orange glow it must have held in the flames, speckled by the blackened splotches of slag and rust. He passed out before the pain became too intense. *** With the unconscious Artweave delivered into the hands of the God King's Priests, the gods of the court all returned to their respective palaces, patting themselves on the back for another job well done, and inviting each other to their planned parties and feasts. Aleck the Smart, however, had a clever idea of his own. His purple and green robes shimmered in the light from the posts, popping out even more from the heightened aura. He had found the painting that Artweave was working on earlier when they captured him to be quite fascinating. A little morbid, sure, but good art was good art. Even if he was caught, he knew he could just say he was searching for something that helped cement Artweave's assured guilt. And he would relieve his now godless servants of the burden of having to find somewhere to put all of the deceased god's exquisite art collection. Surely they wouldn't even notice a dozen or so masterpieces missing. He entered the empty room and saw the painting sitting there, some of the red paint still drying in the heavier patches the artist had globbed onto it. It really was a true work of art, and one of the most beautiful paintings he had ever seen. The reds were so vivid, the delicate blending of colors and shades to form the phantom images lurking in the darker shadows of the piece. He couldn't quite tell what about the painting enticed him so, when he saw the dagger. It was almost hidden in one of the darkest patches of the red, just a few drops of blue away from being called purple even, it looked like it had been painted over with a fresher, more raw smear of red. Then he realized with a dread what it meant as he remembered this picture exactly. This scene exactly, blood and death. Daggers in the back. And a voice asking him if he wanted to try and prevent it. Only this time, he was too late. "It's beautiful, isn't it?" A voice asked from behind him. "I knew what this painting meant, even when Artweave was being carted away. Thank you for killing one of your own and making this even easier." They thanked him before driving the dagger in, cupping his mouth to prevent him from screaming out. -------------------- Artweave the Painter and Aleck the Smart were Returned Gods! Day 3 has begun! it will last 24 hours until 9AM EST, Wednesday August 5th!
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