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Metacognition

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  1. Metacognition
    Night 10: The Unwanted Path Tyrian Falls was in shambles. It seemed as if every other house had been burned to the ground and those that still stood were in a state of such disrepair that it would be understandable if someone thought it was a ghost town. Ash and trash littered the streets with more of the same buried under mounds of last night’s snow. It was in this desolate place that Herwynbe walked the streets. It wasn’t quite yet noon and there were no people out and about. That didn’t mean that they weren’t watching though. As he turned his head to the side, he heard the clasp of a shutter closing before he could see who had been peering out at him. The day had not been kind to the steward. It had started like any other. He cleaned himself and shaved. He ate breakfast and put on his robes, making sure that everything was in place. He tried to make himself an example of order in the chaos that surrounded him. He took a few deep breaths, centering himself, before he left the small hut that he rented to make his way to the Canton building and the assured arguments to come. He hadn’t made it beyond his front door before he saw the note nailed to his door. Terrisman, It is time you left. The rest of us have discussed it and we believe that you and your foreign ways are part of the reason that our village is falling apart. Take your Spiked and leave us in peace so that the rest of us can stand a chance. Your kind is no longer welcome here. Leave. Please? Sincerely, The Villagers of Tyrian Falls. They had been surprisingly polite, considering they were basically sentencing him to death. Ever the gentleman, and not foolish enough to think that they wouldn’t kill him if he didn’t, Herwynbe had gathered his things. At first he tried to leave heading west, but he found the path blocked. So he tried north with similar success. He didn’t even bother trying south; it was obvious what they were doing now. They were herding him towards the approaching Koloss. They probably even had Slart set up to follow him out of town to make sure that he didn’t deviate. When one’s options are limited to death or death, Herwynbe chose the one that allowed him to make that decision for himself. So he walked the street of Tyrian Falls with his head held high and his back straight for the last time; heading east and towards the plumes of black smoke that could now be seen in the distance. If was getting on to late afternoon before he finally stopped. There was a small cove of trees up ahead that would provide some shelter for the night and he made his way to them. Surprisingly, he had passed beyond the smoke from the Koloss campfires. Somehow he had made it past the Koloss horde without calling them down upon him. The slightest glimmer of hope ignited in his chest, but he didn’t let it grow. He wasn’t safe by a long shot. He was only a couple of meters from the cove of trees when the Koloss stepped out of them. It was one of the shorter ones; which still meant that it towered over Herwynbe. For his part, the Koloss looked more startled than Herwynbe did. Herwynbe just let out a long sigh and dropped the sack with all of his belongings beside him. “Because of course you are here,” he stated to the Koloss, a wry smile on his face. The two stood like that for about half a minute before it seemed that the Koloss finally understood what was happening. It roared as it finally charged him. Herwynbe didn’t even flinch as the blade fell. Night 10 begins! You have 24 hours until the end of the turn Herwynbe was a Village Smoker! Current Player List Votes Herwynbe (3): Locke, Clara, Lu Clara (2): Herwynbe, El Kane (1): Exisa Slart (1): Kilven Jain (1): Slart No Votes (6): Bartholomew, Unknown, Riew, Inor, Jain, Kane EDIT: Fixed the voting after the last minute stuff. As much as it sucks that I didn't catch it before, I'm glad I still didn't accidentally kill you, Hero by not noticing it!
  2. Metacognition
    Okay guys, so here's the deal. I lied. I'm not actually a Traitor, as you're soon going to see. What I do have is the Living Legend side role. I claimed to be evil to give you guys one last helping hand. See, the Traitors would know that I was lying about being evil and would thus know that something was up with my decision to claim to be a Traitor. Thus, the people who voted for me after my reveal (Twei, Ada, Kipper*) are likely Loyalists. I'm not saying that they couldn't be Traitors, just that I find it to be far more unlikely. I also have a list here of people who were online and checking the thread after my reveal and didn't vote for me. There are two possible reasons for such: They're Loyalists that felt like I already had enough votes on me. Or, They're Traitors that smelled a trap since they knew I wasn't a Traitor and decided not to vote for me. My point being that I would not trust any of them explicitly without additional proof and I wouldn't be surprised to find out that there is at least one Traitor among them. Those people are: Hellscythe, Kipper*, Mark IV, Araris, Kynedath. Somewhat Burnt. The people who voted for me before my "reveal" could go either way, but I'd be wary of anyone whose vote drops off of me as well. That means that they very well could've switched to searching once I "revealed" and thus avoided the trap. *Note: You'll notice that Kipper is on both lists. This is because he worked so hard to keep from voting for me. It took me spelling it out for him and Ada dragging him along before he finally did. Very suspicious, IMO. Almost as if he was trying to avoid it because he knew something was wrong.... So, that's all I got. I'm going out swinging and I've tried to help out one last time by hopefully getting the Traitors to reveal themselves a bit more. Also, hopefully, I've locked a few of them from acting during the Night as well. I'd say I'm sorry to any fellow Loyalists that wind up getting caught in this, but I'm not. You guys did kill me based on the word of a supposed Blind Snitch!
  3. Metacognition
    I said you were lucky, Kipper, because your Blind Snitch evidently beat the odds and got a true reading. I'm giving up. I'm a Traitor.
  4. Metacognition
    So I decided I'd do an actual tally for you guys: Meta (6): Phatt, Clanky, Orlok, Ada?, Meta, Twei, Burnt (1?): Ada? Kipper (1): Stink Stink (1): Hellscythe Ada (1): Maill Hellscythe (1): Elbereth Ada never retracted for Burnt, so I'm not sure if his vote will count as having moved. You better hope it does, cause you're going to need it!
  5. Metacognition
    Okay, fine. You guys are going to kill me anyways, then let's get this lynch train rolling! Meta. You got lucky Kipper. I thought I almost had everyone convinced.
  6. Metacognition
    Defend myself against what? That Hellscythe confirmed that I was telling the truth? Yeah, don't do that, Hellscythe. That was bad of you. Why would you do that since it helps point to the fact that I'm innocent? This really isn't that difficult of a situation, though you're all trying to make it so. I drew a lot of attention on the first day because I was attacking people to get a response from them. Due to that, even I suspected that some people would want to check me out and know where I stand. So: That means that if I were a Traitor we wouldn't even be in this situation because I would've made sure to cloak myself in whatever means necessary to keep people from getting such information on me. Since we've had multiple people (Kip's Snitch and Hellscythe) claim to have checked up on me last night, I obviously didn't do that. Along the same lines, would I have really brought so much attention on myself on the first day, almost guaranteeing that I'd get scanned, if I were a Traitor without the means to conceal myself? Would any of you? Didn't think so. If I was pretty sure that I'd get scanned in some way, then how likely do you think it is that the Traitors had the idea that I'd be scanned? If there is a hidden role that can change what Snitches receive (or a hidden side role that says that you get false alignment readings), then it wouldn't take a genius on the Traitors' team to decide to use it on me. I want to firstly say that people need to stop freaking revealing their roles so easily! As of now, we have a Snitch and two Beggars out in the open by Day 2! That's crazy. Honestly Ada, I don't know why you revealed at all. It's honestly a bit suspicious, considering you're obviously a role that the Traitors would want to kill. The fact that you were protected after you had already revealed means that either the Traitors were hoping that no one took you seriously or that you were banking on that protection, trying to draw it off of everyone else, and trying to use it to pull off a WGG. There's even precedence for this type of plan working in the past (Burnt), so I wouldn't put it past you. But I'm getting off topic. The point is, we know of 4 information based roles in the game already. Even if the Traitors do have one of them, that's still 3 to 1. That's quite a bit. The Traitors will likely have some means of either cloaking themselves from scans or ways to deceive the scans. Considering that we've already have a situation where my alignment has changed, guess which one I'm banking on? So, it's either Kip is lying (I kind of doubt it. Which is why I thought it was more likely that I had Compulsive Liar), or there's a role that isn't being taken into account. Last cycle, people get suspicious of me for coming off too aggressive. Now, this cycle, I'm suspicious because I'm not aggressive enough. Make up your minds, slontzes!
  7. Metacognition
    It is the only explanation that makes any sense to me unless Kip is lying about receiving a Snitch note that said that I am a Traitor. He very well could have still gotten a note that said that I was a Loyal Beggar and decided to lie about it, claiming that it said that I was a Traitor instead, but as others have pointed out, that would be very risky for him. Especially now, if you have a way to confirm that I don't have Compulsive Liar. The Mirror or the Street Performer only redirect actions, so it's unlikely that they would also get my role correct and I highly doubt Kip guessed at that. So either I have Compulsive Liar or Kip is lying and, as I said, unless you have a way to confirm that I don't have Compulsive Liar, this just seems too dangerous of a plan to try for this early. EDIT: Ninja'd. >.<
  8. Metacognition
    Okay, so let's unbox this crazy situation, shall we? First off, as other people have stated, I do not think that this situation was handled very well. In a game with multiple ways to either redirect or to get false information, Kip really shouldn't have just accepted the initial read as fact and then blurted it out in thread. The fact that he did just accept it at face value is disconcerting in the first place. It also doesn't help us, even if I actually was a Traitor. Let's go ahead and assume that Kip's information was accurate for a second (it isn't, but I'll get to that). We've only had one full cycle, almost exactly, before Kip revealed his information. That's not a lot of time to be able to look for possible connections to other players and who I might be defending or attacking. Sure, I always come out of the gate swinging in these games, so there's typically something from the first day, but it's not a lot and I had been busy with other duties for basically the entire night turn. If I was a Traitor, by calling me out at the very beginning of the second day, you can be guaranteed that I'm not going to give away any additional information on who the rest of my team would be and I'd spend the rest of the time trying to sow as many false trails as possible. So even if Kip's information was accurate, this entire situation would still be a bust for the village and I would've expected Kip have already considered these things before posting. As far as why his information is false, I asked Alv about the Compulsive Liar side role last night to try to get to the bottom of this. The role itself reads, "Whenever someone tries to find out your role, faction or actions that you have taken, they will be told lies." I wanted to find out about whether or not that meant that all of them had to be lies or if the lies could be jumbled with the truth. This is important because I am, indeed, a Beggar and there was no way for Kip to have learned that without it coming from a role of some sort as I had not revealed to anyone yet. Alv confirmed for me that it could be just one or two pieces of information as well as all of them being false. As such, I believe Kip when he says that he received a Snitch note that said that I am an evil Beggar (though I don't understand why the Snitch's decided to both trust Kip in the first place) and this makes a few of the other possible redirection scenarios even more unlikely. I believe in Occam's Razor when it comes to stuff like this and a lot of the other possibilities are just a little too convoluted for them to be realistic; not for them to also get my role correct. So I do believe that I am the proud owner of not just one side role (I'll keep the other as a secret until a later date, thank you very much), but two and one of the two is the Compulsive Liar. It's the only thing that makes sense other than an incredibly complicated plot. And while I'd be incredibly flattered if the Traitors went to such extremes to try to get me killed, I don't think they'd waste that many resources so early to make it happen. To answer your question, Hellscythe, I targeted Clanky last night. I wanted to check up on him and make sure that his decision to play along with my RP was not just a way to get me to overlook him. And for everyone's information, he did not wind up targeting anyone last night. You can lynch me if you like, but you'll be setting yourselves back quite a bit and then you'll still be unsure about whether Kip is a Traitor or not. So you'll gain very little, if not actually losing some, from confirming that I am telling the truth. EDIT: Calm down, Hellscythe. It takes some time to type! Oh, and I do agree that sending both Snitches back at me would be a waste of resources. Let the Traitors have to waste a kill on me as a known entity rather than us basically wasting an entire night on me. It only takes one to be able to get a result different than Kip (due to the rule explanation of Compulsive Liar that I stated above) and I'd rather die than see us lose an entire night to confirm me and then let the Traitors kill me.
  9. Metacognition
    I am still uber busy, so I'll respond more tomorrow, but I can tell you right now that Kip's information is wrong. Since this really is very early for the Traitors to pull off such a tactic, I'm more inclined to believe that I must have the Compulsive Liar side role (which would mean I have two....). I'll defend myself more sometime tomorrow, but I am not a Traitor.
  10. Metacognition
    Day 9: Infinite Lives The ash fell lightly on the stained glass windows of the cathedral. Sunlight streamed through illuminating the choir singing softly below. In front of a large gathering lay Vron, his body wrapped in silken ribbons, atop a marble altar. A figure decked in golden robes stood at the head of the altar and laid his hand on Vrons forehead. "Your work is not yet done my disciple. Arise and continue to carry out my bidding." Vron still couldn’t tell if it had all been a fever dream or if it had really happened. Had he really been dead? Did they really being him back to life? He didn’t feel any different. There wasn’t the slight tingle of magic coursing through him or any twinges of deja vu or anything of the sort that he figured would be indications that he had been brought back. Instead, things were pretty much perfectly normal. Well, as normal as things could be in a village run amok with terrorists. That, of course, was definitely cause for concern and Vron had taken the precaution of hiring someone that claimed to be a lurcher to guard him and his lab. He did find it strange that, for a lurcher, the man never asked for any supplies of iron, but after so much of the town was being turned into ruins, Vron wasn’t going to complain too much. The man seemed to be doing his job considering that his place had yet to be hit by the Spiked. Vron had retired early after finding out that Maill had, indeed, not been one of the Spiked. He needed time to think. He started up a few new experiments, as the process of mixing and combining ingredients helped him clear his mind. It didn’t work this time. Every time he started to get distracted with the work and started to relax, he kept seeing the stained glass windows of that temple from his vision. Each time, the sun shone through the glass from a different angle. Was it somehow important? Was his mind trying to tell him something through some complex analogy? Or was he simply going mad? As he made his way across his lab, he stepped on a squeaky floorboard. For some reason he paused and looked down. There was a note on the floor right next to his foot. He didn’t reach down to pick up the note. Instead, he Instinctively threw himself to the side, just as a hatchet that had been suspended from the rafters unlatched and swung down towards him like a pendulum. If he had stayed where he had been, he would’ve likely been split in two. How did he know about the hatchet? How did he know to dodge? How did he know, without having read it, that the note would only tell him that the Spiked had left the note there just to get him to stand still long enough for the hatchet to kill him? And yet, there was still no sense of deja vu or anything to help explain the situation. The important thing was that he was still alive. Of course, the trap meant that the Spiked had been able to get inside his lab to set it up. He’d have to have a word with his “lurcher” about this. He picked himself up and brushed himself off before going to the door of his lab. He didn’t let his bodyguard into the lab itself, but he had had a small shack built just outside his front door for the man to use to keep warm. As Vron opened his front door, the first thing he noticed was the snow. A storm had evidently blown in during the evening and everything was a swirling of snow, ash, and mist. The next thing he noticed that his bodyguard was gone. The shack was empty. Before he could do more than process this information, there was the twang of a crossbow string snapping and the bolt sailed through the storm to embed itself in Vron’s throat…. In a temple that was both far away from Tyrian Falls, but also very, very close, Vron’s “bodyguard” stood with the High Priest. “Bring him back again,” the man said as he handed over a large sack that was bulging with whatever was inside. “He may not be the one I need to find, but perhaps his torment will draw the others. Bring him back and keep bringing him back into this same situation.” The High Priest didn’t say a word. He just bowed low, almost reverently, as the man walked away. Day 9 begins! You have 48 hours until the end of the cycle. And now we’re all caught up too! Yay! Vron was a Regular Villager. Current Player List
  11. Metacognition
    Write up is now added in! Now to get the next one done in the next 40 minutes....
  12. Metacognition
    Night 9: Cobblering Time Maill felt like he was already a veteran at this ever since he saw the writing in the snow that first night. He felt like he had already been through this a couple of times before and now, it would all pay off. It was a strange feeling for a cobbler. It was akin to the skinny bookworm kid suddenly deciding to be a Spartan warrior. But Maill wasn’t one to shy away from destiny, so he got to work right away. He started laying traps for the Spiked and he began cataloging people’s whereabouts. He kept his eyes peeled for clues at every death and he recorded minute details in the village debates. His eyes shone with an intensity and focus that hadn’t been there before. Never again, he’d say to himself before wondering where that thought had come from. It didn’t change the fact that he found it appropriate though. The transformation in Maill was obvious to anyone that had known him. He’d always been a very fun and lighthearted man who could talk your ear off while he took your measurements for a new pair of boots. That man was still there in many ways, but it had been tempered with this new drive. It wasn’t long before people started to wonder about the reason for this change and some began to suspect him of being in league with the Spiked, if he wasn’t one himself! With each passing death, Maill’s determination grew and the villager’s suspicions of him grew parallel to it. It was a race to see which would give first. Edrab’s death the night before was the straw that broke the camel’s back. While the rest of the villagers were distraught at finding the author lying dead on the floor of his home, Maill saw something else in the prone figure. He felt it all slipping away from him. He had been determined to protect the people of Tyrian Falls. He was so sure that he would be able to find the Spiked (his brain kept adding “this time” to the end of the thought even if he didn’t know why). In Edrab’s death, Maill felt the chill of hopelessness creep over him. He saw, as if in a vision, the Koloss rampaging through the streets while the Spiked celebrated in macabre fashion. No, he told himself. He wouldn’t let it. There was still time! Without saying a word, Maill left. He returned to his shop, where he kept his notes and his musings and all of the rest of the clues he had picked up. He wouldn’t give up. The rest of the villagers had seen Maill’s reaction and had misinterpreted it as uncaring. Between that and their rising suspicions of him, the rumors began circulating. By the end of the day, they had convinced themselves that the Cobbler was the coldhearted mastermind behind all their woes and the torches and the pitchforks were picked back up for another round of mob justice. Maill was just starting to put the pieces together when they burst into his shop. He felt like he had found a corner piece in a puzzle and that everything was starting to fall into place. “No!” He shouted at them as they rushed him. “What do you think you’re doing! Unhand me! You don’t get it, I’m supposed to save you fools this time!” Maill struggled and fought the entire way, unwilling to give in. As they pulled the noose tight around his neck, just before they pulled the lever to drop him, Maill scanned the crowd. He hoped to find one last hint of salvation out there. Instead, he found one person hiding in the mob smirking at him. He started to turn, to let the rest of the village know when the floor fell away from him. Night 9 begins! You have 24 hours until the end of the turn. Maill was a Village Soother! Current Player List Votes Maill (5): Herwynbe, Clara, Unknown, El, Lu Herwynbe (2): Maill, Locke No Votes (9): Bartholomew, Riew, Exisa, Kilven, Inor, Vron, Jain, Slart, Kane
  13. Metacognition
    I don't have a lot of time right now, so I'll just address a few things I wanted to before the end of the turn (which also means, I won't be able to do any RP with this post ): I'm touched, Ada. I was the only person at the time that warranted a "mafia read" that had posted. It warms my heart. Of course, you're going to have to back that up with something now. You can't just slide something like that in at the end of your post and then not elaborate. You think I'm a Traitor? Fine, but I expect some explanation for it. If you don't have any reason, I'd suspect you of adding me there as a subtle way to try to influence people. So why do you think I'm a Traitor? Is that sympathy? For what reason? Is a newer player not just as capable as someone that has been here for awhile? So it would've been fine if I had done it to someone else? There's a lot wrong with that kind of reasoning, IMO. By not coddling Mark, I'm being more respectful of him, saying that I think he can hold his own, than people who want to handle him with kid gloves at first. Unless you have another reason for playing the newbie card for him? Possible fear of losing a teammate? I found something that I found to be suspicious and poked at it. That isn't tying someone in knots. Why him? Because he was the one that said the thing that I found suspicious; not someone else. What he's been saying are platitudes;, things that don't really help one way or the other; which I would find suspicious from anyone. As far as the idea of removing poke votes, it's a good plan for the early cycles here. After cycle 2-3 though, I don't think it'll be very effective. There are too many roles that we want to be active and doing their things for us to be pretty sure of anything after a few cycles. At that point, we'll be just as likely to wind up lynching our own roles as we are likely to find a Traitor. And all that comes with the caveat that we don't know Alv's role distribution. He very well could have decided not to put in any of the Bodysnatchers and Morticians after all and just watch us try to play around something that doesn't exist. I don't remember reading anywhere that he said that every role was going to be included and we shouldn't make that assumption. But since I do agree with the idea of trying to force any possible Bodysnatchers to have to use their abilities early, Marr. Yes, I'm aware that puts me up for the vote.
  14. Metacognition
    For someone not trying to take a side, you do sure seem to have Marr's back; providing excuses and possible reasons for his actions for him. Could be that you're defending a teammate. Could also be that you know whether Marr is innocent and that you're trying to integrate yourself with him. I'm not tunneling. I'm typically the person to remind people to keep their suspicions fluid, so I'm not about to let myself fall into that trap. You're mistaking my strong approach with a conviction that isn't there. See, by providing strong accusations, it gives people something solid to defend against and we wind up learning more from their responses. Of not just them, but the people around them as well; as proven by the fact that I'm responding to you now. I look at it like this: I give people some rope by giving them something to actually defend against. What they do with it and how they respond helps tailor whether or not they wind up hanging themselves with it. This approach allows us to get the most out of the discussion, IMO, as it's not just a bunch of poke votes and/or votes in jest (your vote on Ada?). Those kind of votes can be more easily ignored because there's nothing one can say to defend themselves against them. As a final word about it; the Day is still young. I never said my vote was going to stay on Marr. In fact, I'm tempted to switch it to you, but I'll leave it where it is for now as Marr definitely seems to be doing more hanging than anything right now. His responses make me feel continuously wary. Theresa's vote was the only vote before you stated that idea that was even remotely based on an RP reason. If you did not mean her vote, then who's vote were you talking about? Exisa's (whose odd voting has its own red flags, but not RP related)? Neal's non-vote? This feels like backpedaling. I disagree with this entirely. Not the statement itself, because that is simple mathematics, but where that kind of reasoning leads us. What would constitute enough proof for you, Marr? Should we just sit back and wait until a seeker-type role tells us who is innocent and who is an eliminator? How strong does a suspicion have to be to make it a viable reason for a lynch? By following this kind of reasoning, it stalls us and puts suspicion on those that vote and actively try to find the Traitors. That was what I meant about you trying to stall the voting. A suspicion is a suspicion. There is no guaranteed proof unless a role states so outright and I will not just wait for a role to do what we should all be trying to do; find the Traitors. Even a poor suspicion will tell us more about the person who presented it. I'm automatically suspicious of someone that I think is trying to hard to come off as innocent by being concerned about our chances of finding the Eliminators. We all know that we're more likely to kill a Loyalists early on, but that doesn't mean we just stop and wait as they whittle down our numbers, just to make our odds better. To quote you from just earlier in your post: So you think that voting based on RP is not substantial enough, but your reason for voting for me is RP based? That's exactly what you're stating in your white-text up there. And you accuse me of being hypocritical? I never said that voting based off RP was the way to go, especially if one has other possible reasoning. You just happened to give me a non-RP reasons. Besides that, you wanted me to give you reasons for why I was voting for you; so I did. This feels like more backpedaling to me. Metrick nearly fell over and rolled down the debris pile as he watched Clanky hop his way back to the stuck boot. This had turned out better than he expected! Now Clanky was pulling on the boot, wiggling back and forth and trying to chip the steel around it. Metrick waited until he went to give it a really good, hard pull and then released it; sending Clanky tumbling back head over heels. At that, Metrick couldn't hold it in any longer and burst out laughing. People were giving him funny looks, but he didn't care. Didn't they understand that, when a situation is as sparked up as theirs was, sometimes you just had to laugh? It was either that or break down and Metrick wasn't about to let that happen again. *** It had been the early days yet. Calamity hadn't even hung in the sky for a full year yet and he was at the mall with his parents. They were in one of the department stores when disaster struck. There was shouting coming from the direction of the food court. When Metrick had stuck his 7 year old head out to see what was the matter, it looked like there was a man curled up in a ball in the middle of the floor. He looked like how Metrick had felt when he had eaten that fuzzy apple his mom had thrown away. She had called it foot boisoning or something like that. Except this man didn't look like he was getting any better. His skin started to turn red and blister. People started backing away from the man as heat radiated off of him. No one had really heard about the Epics yet, just rumors of weird happenings in other cities and states. So no one knew what to expect in this situation or else many more people would've likely been running. With a primordial scream, the man threw himself onto his back as every muscle in his body went taunt. And then there was fire. With the man as the epicenter, it spread outwards in waves, burning anything and everything in site. It was hot enough to melt plastic at a touch and even the reinforced beams were starting to drip as if they were candle wax. Metrick's mother grabbed his hand and ran in the direction opposite of the food court, practically dragging him along since his little legs couldn't keep up. She wasn't the only one and it soon became a stampede of people looking for escape. As they neared the doors to the far side of the mall, the mob made for a perfect bottleneck. Everyone was pushing and shoving; trying to get outside. Many people were getting trampled underfoot in everyone's panic. It was then that someone shoved between Metrick and his mother, making them lose hold of each other. As if the mob was an ocean rather than people, they flooded between Metrick and his mother, pushing them further and further apart. Metrick was shoved towards the back of the crowd, back towards the flames. He was lucky in the fact that he didn't wind up getting trampled! Trapped between a sea of grown ups and the crumbling building, Metrick ran off into one of the clothing stores. He hid in the middle of one of the circular racks and just cried. He wound up staying there for days, hoping his mother would come back and find him. Over 3/4 of the mall had been destroyed, but the fire hadn't reached that far. He survived off of what little there was left in the mall. No one ever came. Not his mom, nor any rescue workers. They had bigger things to worry about now. Epics were appearing in larger and larger numbers. Metrick was left alone. *** He scowled as the memories washed over him. For a second, he was back in the corroding mall, but it was just the rubble after the bomb. He stabbed CT into the ground and vaulted out and away from everything. He looked for his target; for Clanky. He needed to find something to cheer him up again. As he flew through the air, he started trying to come up with his next prank. Maybe, if he could find some water......
  15. Metacognition
    How do you know if those deaths are pointless? The only people who would know that at this point are the Traitors. So, to recap, so far you've tried to stall voting, defended Altermind (because Theresa's vote is the only one so far that could be construed as RP related) for (as far as everyone else knows) no good reason, and now you're claiming to know that Altermind is innocent. Add to the fact that voting for someone because they voted for you is a pretty well-used Eliminator tactic and that you're trying to paint yourself as innocent by protecting people. The fact that you're, in a way, discouraging RP isn't really a mark against you, but it is a pet peeve of mine. I'd say that's more than anything else so far. I haven't named my target yet because I was hoping that someone else would take the RP and run with it. Since no one has, I'm tempted to pick out someone who just doesn't really do any RP and torment their character. They shouldn't mind, since they weren't doing anything with the character anyways.
  16. Metacognition
    Their gang leader rose. Metrick liked the guy, due to his mysterious nature. Was he an Epic, like himself, or just a normal guy pulling one of the best pranks ever on everyone? As such, Metrick was one of the ones leaning forward when the bomb went off. He didn't have time to even try to fling himself away from the blast physically, so he reached for his power. As the explosion radiated outwards, Metrick increased the distance between himself and the blast radius. As fast as the explosion expanded, Metrick was luckily just a little bit faster. By the time the smoke cleared, Metrick was still untouched; as were many of the people on either side of him. He had hit the explosion with everything he had, like a shotgun blast, so he hadn't refined the range to just him. Would he have if he did have the time to refine it? Or would he have tried to extend the range to cover even more people? He wasn't sure and now wasn't the time to find out. Things were erupting into a different form of chaos; the kind that dealt with accusations and led to people's death. *** Metrick scowled as everyone started to get things back in order. That had not been a very good prank. If your target can't walk away from it, then what was the point? Of course, the people who had done it likely weren't thinking of it in terms of a prank in the first place. Didn't stop him from thinking that way though. Metrick saw his intended target picking his way through the steel rubble. While everyone else had to watch their footing, Metrick walked across the debris as if it was solid ground. Basically because it was to him since he could make any surface as large or as small as he wanted. It was a little thing, but Metrick shifted some of the rubble underneath the feet of his target, causing them to lose their footing. As they fell, their foot wedged itself between two larger chunks. Metrick tightened them just a fraction; enough to make sure their foot was truly stuck tight, but not enough to hurt. As far as pranks went, it was small beans, but it brought a smile back to Metrick's face, so it was worth it. Theresa, that's relying on us having certain roles, which we do not know whether or not we even have. Unless you're privy to some information that the rest of us are not? Marr, it's Day 1. You have better reasons already? Cause I'd love to hear them.
  17. Metacognition
    Day 8: First Words Edrab was a writer in the same way that an apprentice was a Blacksmith; both knew all the skills, but had never made anything of their own. It wasn’t that he didn’t try. In fact, he had a whole world sketched out inside his head. It had magic and ancient artifacts and people that could talk to animals and horrible monsters and dream worlds and an epic battle against the forces of pure evil. He knew that if he could ever get it out, it would easily take him the rest of his life to be able to tell the tale. And that was the problem. Getting it out was proving to be more difficult than he thought. He had restarted the story hundreds of times already to no avail. The book he carried with him, though halfway filled, was just him trying to get the intro right. He knew that if he got that down, the rest, like water breaking through a dam, would just pour out of him. As he sat at his desk, he tried again. Time is circle-ish in nature, he wrote. Like a ball. Like a ball with a bright, red dot on it. And if you were to bounce the ball, the dot would be in different places and such. But sometime, it would come back to the same spot. And then, that spot would be the same, but different. And the ball would bounce down the corridor of time forever, like a…. like a… Edrab scratched his pen through what he had just written. It was horrible. Where had the corridor idea even come from? Wasn’t the ball supposed to represent time? If it was, then how was time bouncing through time? It was all wibbly wobbly stuff and it wouldn’t do. He viewed time much more like a piece of fabric in the first place. Edrab sighed. He supposed he couldn’t be too harsh on himself right now. His mind was already stretched thin. He spent his days arguing with his fellow villagers, trying to find the Spike that plagued Tyrian Falls. At night, he went out, hoping that his bronze would help him find them. Between the two, it didn’t leave one in the right frame of mind to get much writing done, let alone the time to do it. But he kept at it. He just needed that one break through. What else was spherical? A barrel? A dome? A wh- A crash sounded from his bedroom. Edrab froze; barely even daring to breathe. He wasn’t much of a fighter, so when caught between the prospect of fight or flight, he choose flight. But his mind couldn’t decide on a direction, so like a deer in the headlights, he just sat there. Nothing. No sounds accompanied the crash. Ten minutes later and still nothing. Finally, Edrab’s heart started to slow down and rationality began kicking in. For all he knew, something had just fallen over and here he was, giving himself a heart attack over nothing. Everyone was jumping at the slightest noises these days, but that didn’t mean that every time something happened, it just had to be the Spiked. Sometimes gravity could be just as culpable. But when he finally talked himself into checking, all his justifications were dashed just like the window to his bedroom had been. The cold wind blew in some of the snow that had built up on the window ledge, but other than that, the room was clear. There were no shadowy figures hiding in the corners, waiting to kill him. He turned to get a blanket to hang over the window when his felt something intense hit his neck. At first he thought it was just one of the snowflakes drifting in the air landing on his skin, but when he reached up to wipe it away, his hand made contact with a dart. He stared at it for a minute, his mind trying to catch up to this turn of events. Which gave the poison time to start cycling through his body. He stumbled his way out of the bedroom, his breathing already becoming erratic. He half fell before catching himself on his kitchen table; knocking his dinner plate off and onto the floor. It surprised Edrab how interesting he found the plate. It rolled on its edge, rolling across the floor of his home like a wheel. A wheel, he thought as his legs gave out from beneath him and he tumbled to the floor. Yes, of course. A wheel. The Wheel of Time turns, and Ages come and pass, leaving memories that become legend. Legend fades to myth, and even myth is long forgotten when the Age that gave it birth comes again. Yes. That is definitely how I should start my book, he thought before the poison devoured him. Day 8 begins! You have 48 hours until the end of the turn. Edrab was a Village Seeker! Current Player List
  18. Metacognition
    Night 8: Expendable The Spiked sat around the living room of their hideout. From where they were, they could hear the village yelling and screaming as they desperately tried to find out who amongst them was Spiked. One of the Spiked was playing cards at the table while another was paging through a book near the fireplace. If one didn’t know any better, it was actually a very relaxing scene. But looks were disceiving in more ways than one. The Spiked were bored. One of them sighed. “What about the Inn? We haven’t destroyed that yet.” “What good would that do,” another one of them answered. “The Inn houses travelers and with the Koloss approaching, it’s not like Tyrian Falls is getting many visitors.” “How about the post office then?” “Have you even seen the courier in awhile? No travelers means no packages either.” “The Bell Tower?” “Ruin took care of that.” “This sucks. There’s nothing really good left to destroy! The palisade is gone, the forges are cold, there’s no salves for wounds, and the villagers are so scared and confused, they can’t band together enough to even work against us!” As if to punctuate the Spiked’s words, the shouting from the Canton of Finance building grew even louder for a moment. The other Spiked shook their head as the shouting died down. “This is a good thing. It means that we’re doing exactly what Ruin ordered of us.” “Yeah, but what happens now? If we have nothing to do, doesn’t that mean that we’re expendable? And you know how much Ruin despises excess.” The color drained from the face of the other Spiked just as another of their team entered the room. The two looked to the newcomer. “Looks like it’ll be another stalemate day. Another day of nothing happening,” said the newcomer. The other two exchanged worried, knowing glances. Another day of nothing meant another day for Ruin to decide that they weren’t worth the effort any longer. The color hadn’t yet returned to the one Spiked’s face. They swallowed a lump that was building in their throat. “So, the Inn, you say?” The villagers had argued all day and yet they felt no closer to making a decision. They had yelled until half of them were going hoarse! Feeling just a little bit dejected and defeated, most of them turned to leave for their homes for the night. As they left the Canton building, they noticed that the Inn was burning to the ground. After everything they had already been through, most of them couldn’t even bother to stir up enough emotion to even be surprised. Night 8 begins! You have 24 hours until the end of the cycle. No one was lynched! Current Player List Votes Maill (2): Exisa, Sart Herwynbe (2): Maill, Edrab Edrab (1): Locke No Votes (12): Herwynbe, Bartholomew, Clara, Unknown, Riew, Kilven, Inor, Vron, Jain, Kane, El, Lu
  19. Metacognition
    Considering I already had the write up done, I might have strangled you. But really, I'll work around you guys. You have the entire day, down to the last minute, to make your decisions. If I need to, I'll post the results and add in the write up later. It's your guys' time, so feel free to use it. And now the turn is over, so you'll have to wait till next time!
  20. Metacognition
    Metrick, by means of being the only one not to fall into his prank wound up getting to the rendezvous spot where they were all going to meet well before anyone else. It was just on the border of the Warrens and there were plenty of either broken or half finished constructions; both looked like they had been that way for quite some time. Metrick didn't know which he found to be more depressing; the destruction of something that someone had built or the dashed dreams of something that would never be completed. As he walked forward, he pulled the lead pipe he had, he called it the Conversion Table or CT for short, out of his pocket and jabbed it towards the ground in front of him. Using his power, the pipe grew in length. It went from the size of a ruler, to the length of a walking cane, to the length of a car, and continued growing in a matter of seconds. Metrick used it to pole vault to the edge of one of the decrepit buildings before he shrank it back to the size of a ruler and sat down. He rested his elbows on his knees and his chin in his hands as he watched the rest of the group starting to pull themselves together. So many of the group seemed to take themselves a little too seriously, in Metrick's estimate. He'd have to do something about that. He'd help teach them to laugh at themselves again. He'd help knock that chip off their shoulders. In a way, he was doing them a service. Just because it was fun for Metrick too didn't mean that it wasn't helpful after all. But who to start with? His eyes roved across the crowd. He was making his way back across the group for a second time, weighing his options when he, in a moment of inspiration, knew exactly who he'd start with. A wicked mischievous grin spread across his face. That's right, I'm singling one of you out for Metrick's torments. I haven't actually decided who yet, but I do have some ideas on how I'll decide!
  21. Metacognition
    Metrick was crouched behind a rusted out junk car that someone had left behind ages ago, trying to stifle a snicker as he heard voices approaching from the warrens. He'd been waiting for the better part of a half hour, but even small pranks took time to pull off if they were to be done properly and, in an ironic twist, pranking was one of the few things that Metrick took even somewhat seriously. He had sprinted ahead of the rest of the group just so he'd have time to set everything up. The glow of a light let him know that everyone else was finally starting to catch up with him. He flipped the foot-long lead pipe that he always carried with him (he had marked one side with evenly spaced indents, like the markings on a ruler) one last time before running a hand through his ear-length blonde hair and inching forward to make sure he had a good view. As far as pranks went, this one was a fairly simple one; though the execution was something else entirely. One could say that Metrick had carved out a pit all along the floor at the mouth of the tunnel, but carve would've been the wrong word entirely. Technically, there wasn't even a pit. Metrick was an Epic and his powers allowed him to distort spatial dimensions. He could make the distance between any two points either extremely close together or very far apart and he could do it to multiple points at once in any direction he wanted. What that meant for the group of people that had just rounded the curve of the tunnel from the warrens was that there was a line of space, barely centimeters across, stretched in front of the mouth of the tunnel. It would barely be perceptible to the naked eye. But once they went to cross that line, they would find that the rift was actually far longer than it initially appeared and that the floor had dropped by several meters, creating a steep incline, before gradually climbing back out. The people in the lead didn't even stand a chance and they were the ones with the light. Metrick was able to see their eyes widen in surprise as their reality shift and then the cries and curses as they fell and slide into his makeshift pit. Due to the distorted space, the unaffected area above was cast into a dim darkness when the lights the front runners were holding were suddenly a lot farther away. "Metrick!" He heard someone curse his name from inside the pit. It was just a small prank; totally nonlethal. They'd be out of it in no time. But he still found it just so much fun to throw everyone, anyone really, off their stride. As the group tried to regather themselves and get around his pit, Metrick continued on ahead laughing as he went. I've had this character in mind for quite some time now. I have an entire backstory for him and I even know exactly what his Epic weakness is. Even with all of that, I still wasn't sure about trying to get in this game. Classes have just started back up for me and I can already tell that they are going to be very time consuming this semester. In the end, I figured I'd wind up being on the Shard anyways, so I might as well give it a shot! Just don't expect me to be at my best. I'm playing this one far more for the fun and RP than anything else this time.
  22. Metacognition
    Day 7: Deadringer Citona was having a difficult time of it. First off, she was having a very weird out-of-body type of experience. It was like she wasn’t even herself anymore. Then there was the whole situation with the Koloss and the Spiked, which would be enough to ruin anyone’s week. On top of all that, the large bell that the village used to tell time and to signal emergencies now had a huge crack running up the side of it and wouldn’t sound. Did the Spiked have a hand in that as well or was it just unfortunate timing? Citona had to admit, with everything that had been happening, she didn’t have as much time to travel up the 4 flights of stairs in the tower to check on, clean, and care for the bell as much as she would’ve liked, but it still shouldn’t have mattered. That was one of the things that she liked about her job; bells were pretty sturdy things. With Kilven’s forge still in pieces it wasn’t likely that they’d be able to get the bell repaired any time soon, which was unfortunate since they might have need of it soon. Slart had come back from his last hunting trip with news that the Koloss camp was getting closer…. So, while most people went home to find their beds after putting away their pitchforks and torches, Citona climbed the steps of the tower. It had always been just a place for her and her thoughts. Her own little sanctuary. She needed a place where she could think and hopefully get her head on straight again. When she got to the top, the first thing she noticed was the wind. What was a gentle breeze at street level didn’t have any obstacles to block it up here. It cut through her clothing and froze her to the bone within seconds. That was okay though. The stairwell was more than peaceful enough for her tastes. She had just come out to see if Sovereignty had cracked anymore and to stare off into the distance for a moment. She loved that feeling, of being able to see so much further than you could from the ground. It always seemed to help put things into perspective for her. It didn’t help that night. Granted, she still had the same view and the houses of Tyrian Falls twinkled with lights below her, but when she looked off into the distance, even though it wasn’t actually visible, all she could see was the plume of smoke that would signal the Koloss campfires. The only thing the horizon seemed to hold for her was impending disaster. She pulled her cloak around her a little tighter and made her way back to the stairwell. Once she closed the latch to the top of the platform, it was already much warmer. Without the wind, it was almost tolerable considering it was the dead of night in winter. The stairs spiraled down around her, hugging the walls of the tower as they descended. They left an opening in the middle where the rope for the bell hung down to the floor. ...Except, when she looked again, the rope was missing from that picture. She didn’t have time to really wonder what had happened to it before she found it wrapped around her neck and she was pushed over the railing and into the empty void in the middle of the tower. The bell didn’t sound. It was as dead and the bellringer would be soon. That was good. If it had sounded, it likely would have attracted the other villagers and there was only one way out of the tower. The Spiked would’ve been trapped. Luckily, Ruin was evidently still looking after them. The Spiked waited until Citona stopped struggling, making sure the job was done, before once again disappearing into the night. Thank you for your patience guys! We’re back on track and Day 7 begins now! You have 48 hours until the end of the turn. Citona was a Regular Villager! Current Player List
  23. Metacognition
    I hate to do this because I've been trying so hard to keep to the schedule, even when there were extenuating and understandable circumstances going on in my RL, but this is the first time I've had a chance to get online tonight and it'll also be the last. As such, I won't be around to do the write up tonight and I am very, very sorry for that. I promise that I will try to make this only a one time thing, but I'm going to have to extend the night. Rather than throw the schedule off any worse than I already am, I'll extend it by 24 hours, so the end of each turn will continue to be at the same time. Again, my apologies and I'll be back some time tomorrow. Thanks.
  24. Metacognition
    Night 7: Inner Peace The Villagers were getting noticeably more anxious with each passing day. You could see how the paranoia and constantly sitting on the edge of panic was starting to wear on each of them in their own ways. Erdab’s handwriting was getting more and more sloppy. He didn’t even bother with spelling errors or margins anymore and it kept getting harder to read in its hasty scrawl. It was as if he found it more important to get the words and thoughts out and on paper in the first place rather than make them pretty anymore. Inor had even darker circles under her eyes than normal and a basement filled to the brim with stuffed and posed animals. She had obviously thrown herself into her hobby as a means of coping. There was a small hole in one of Maill’s shoes, which he typically kept immaculate as an example of his profession, and almost a week's worth of stubble marked his face. The signs were there on each and every one of them, if one knew where to look. Well, all of them except one. Jain hadn’t a care in the world. He spent all his time at the inn, just eating and sleeping and staying warm by the fire. The innkeeper, a foreigner by the name of Machin Shin, had taken it upon himself to take care of the panda during the frigid winter months and had created a habitat for Jain in the corner of the main room. It was a very lavish set up. It took over the entire corner right next to the fireplace, so it was always warm. There were bamboo poles all over the place and warm sand and grass. There was even a small waterfall and stream running through it. If one were to stare into the setting, the illusion was so strong, that it looked like it went on forever rather than stopping only a few feet in. It was the epitome of peace and tranquility in a town that had very little of either in over a week. ...And over time, the villagers seemed to begin to resent it. How dare this panda get off so easily! He should be just as stressed and as scared as the rest of them were! Why wasn’t he helping to find these Spiked? What were the offensive capabilities of a panda? How did they not know that the rusting panda wasn’t one of the ones killing everyone, huh? Look at him, all smug and calm and happy. The only ones who deserved to be happy around here recently were the Spiked. Therefore, the panda must be one of the Spiked! With thoughts like these bouncing around in their heads, eventually the villagers rallied themselves into a good old fashioned mob; down to the pitchforks and torches and everything else. They stormed the inn, knocking tables and chairs out of their way as they approached Jain’s habitat. When the ones at the front stopped abruptly, the rest of the mob tried to crowd around them to find out what had given them pause. Soon, the room was full of people just staring into the habitat. In what seemed like a collective, the entire crowd let out an, “Awwwwwwwww.” There was no way that they could kill such a cutsey wootsy panda like that! Look at its little cheeks and that button nose! With their resentment deflected for now, the villagers wound up making their way back to their homes for the night. After the last person filed out of the inn, Jain opened one eye then sat up, watching the doorway. What looked like mist, except thicker and it held its form together more, spilled out around him; emanating from the depths of the habitat. Jain just sat there and smiled. Night 7 begins! You have 24 hours until the end of the turn. Jain turned out to be an Incredibly Adorable Thug! Current Player List Votes: Jain (5): Maill, Vron, Edrab, Herwynbe, Kane Maill (1): El No Vote (12): Locke, Bartholomew, Clara, Unknown, Riew, Exisa, Kilven, Inor, Citona, Jain, Slart, Lu
  25. Metacognition
    Day 6: King of Hearts *Note: This would be a bit odd sounding if I did thing the usual way, so we’re going about this a little differently. Wyrm’s message is an RP of his character, so we’ll start with that as the beginning of the write up and I’ll build off of it to finish things up. Hopefully that clears things up. "I have had it with this blasted and forsaken town," The Amazing Wyrm muttered as he paced up and down in front of his cart. The mule looked at him briefly with disinterested eyes before lowering its head again to the ground to continue eating the bitter grass. "I've never stayed in one place as long as this, I need to move. Inquisitors could already be on my trail. Ha, that would be something, wouldn't it?" He asked the donkey. "They're so worried about these people with metal jabbed into them, imagine how they'd react if they saw one of those guys." He sighed and leaned against the side of his cart, hand going to his face and sliding down as he groaned. "But I can't leave, not like this. I don't even know where those Koloss are meant to be, I could be just headed straight at them. And I probably can't outpace them like this, not with the cart and mule..." The mule in question gave him a look. "Don't look at me like that, you know it's true! I'm not going to bloody well die with you, you selfish and dumb animal." The look continued. "Well, if you want to live, you go and find these blasted Spiked!" He looked away and muttered to himself. "Honestly, some people. Animals. Whatever." "So, if I have to stop this plot before I can leave safely..." he sighed. "Well, that doesn't help. You'd think more than half the people would care about the safety of their own village, but oh no, The Amazing Wyrm has to be even more amazing than usual and save their hides! Hell, at this rate we might as well just send the useless half out to slow the Koloss down..." He looked back over to the donkey. "You know, when I was lucky enough to stumble across my parents being killed by the Inquisition and escape them, I never thought my life would end up like this. I mean, sure, I've kept out of their clutches for far longer than I should have by all rights, but my life ending in the middle of nowhere because of an army of Koloss? Didn't expect that at all..." He stayed there for a few moments, watching the stars beyond the mist, a sight that, as far as he knew, only one other in this town had seen. And now, it was just him, alone again but for a dumb pack animal. He shivered involuntarily at the thought, and again as the wind picked up, the biting cold even worse to his enhanced senses. He shrugged his coat around him tighter, and headed into his cart to sleep. His cart was stocked up of every kind of magical tool you could think of. Magic rings and hoops hung from the ceiling. There were colorful scarves and objects of every shape, size, and color scattered about. Multiple decks of cards, each used for a different kind of trick, were stacked on one edge of his desk. The human sized box he used for some of his disappearing tricks doubled as his bed because there wasn’t room for one with everything else in the cart. Sure, in one sense, it was almost like sleeping on top of a coffin, but Wyrm did what he had to for his craft. Besides, it reminded him of what he was running from. Not that he necessarily needed a reminder; the image of his parents’ deaths haunted him to this day. Sleep was as elusive as some of his tricks. He tossed and turned for the better part of 4 hours before he finally gave up. He sat up and tried to rub the sleep from his face. Then he made a coin appear in his hand, danced it back across his hand before making it disappear again. “That’s a nifty little trick,” someone said near the doorway to his cart. “Can you do that with a knife? I’d like to learn that.” Wyrm jumped to his feet. Well, as much as one could in the confined space. His first thought was that the Inquisitors had finally caught up to him, but as he flared his tin, he didn’t see the telltale spikes through the eyes of an Inquisitor. “You?” He asked. The person only nodded once. “Don’t suppose you’ll just let me go?” The person shook their head. “Then…. how about one last trick? I promise to not try anything. It’s just… well, I never did get to really perform here yet and it just wouldn’t be right, me dying without getting in one last performance; even if it is for an audience of one.” Before the figure could reply, a deck of cards appeared in Wyrm’s hand and he quickly and extravagantly shuffled them. The cards jumped from hand to hand and back again. He had half the deck in one hand the rest in the other and then cut each set with each hand. The cards flew through the air with a practiced elegance and flow until Wyrm was done. Then he fanned them out towards the other person. “Pick a card any card, please.” The person hesitated, but eventually relented and drew a card. “Now,” Wyrm said, “look at it and memorize it. Then put it back in the deck.” The person did and Wyrm began shuffling again. “I’ll need you to keep your card in mind. This doesn’t work unless it’s at the very forefront of your mind. You see, this is my very special deck. It can read minds.” He finished shuffling and held the deck out to the person and let them shuffle it around a bit, even if they weren’t as graceful about it as Wyrm was. When they finished, Wyrm took the deck back. He passed his hands over the top of it, snapped his fingers and pulled off the top card. “Is this your card?” The person shook their head. Wyrm turned the card around looked at it. It was the King of Hearts, also known as the suicide king since it looks like the king is stabbing himself in the head. “Ah,” Wyrm said. “That makes sense, considering why you’re here tonight. I did tell you to keep the card in your foremost thoughts, not on my impending death! Right, we’ll try this again.” -he drew the next card off the top. It was the 6 of spades. He held it up so that the person could see it.- “Is this your card?” The person nodded and reached for their knife. “There. You’ve done your trick. Now you die.” Wyrm was still holding the card out in his hand. “But I’m not entirely done yet. You see, if I do this-” He blew on the card and it flipped out of his hand towards the Spiked. As it flew, it multiplied and then multiplied again and then again. Soon, there was a torrent of 6 of Spades flying through the air between Wyrm and the Spiked. The Spiked backed up initially before charging through the whirlwind, but that was all the time Wyrm needed. He opened the coffin sized box he used for a bed and slipped inside; letting the lid bang shut on top of him. The Spiked wasn’t more than a second behind, but when they opened the box, Wyrm was nowhere to be seen and the box unfolded at the seams. The Spike stared in confusion, their prey lost. Wyrm rolled out from underneath the cart and brushed the snow off of himself as he stood up. He had learned a long time ago that it paid to always have an escape route available and in this case, there was little chance that the Spiked could’ve guessed how he had disappeared. Now he just needed to get to someone who would listen and he could tell them who another of the Spiked were! But first, ever the showman, he stopped and faced the cart. “Bow for applause,” he said before following his words with a flourish and a bow. It was due to this that he didn’t see the other Spiked step around the side of his cart or the swing of the sword blade as it took off his head while he was still bowed. Day 6 has begun and you now have 48 hours until the end of the turn. The Amazing Wyrm was a Villager Tineye! *Special Note: PMs are now closed! You can no longer use PMs to communicate. If a Mistborn draws Tin or anything like that, I will inform you at that time, but for now, no more PMs. Current Player List
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