Metacognition

Aftermath: When Hope Dies Herwynbe held out his hand, a spike held within it. "This spike contains the power to show you your potential, Master Tormander. Would you care to see what you could become? To see the glory and power that could be yours?" Jack stood straight, resolve seeming to radiate from him. “Not in this lifetime or any other, you fiend,” he said as he pulled on the scraps and nails and another other source of loose metal behind him. He threw himself to the ground and let the debris fly past him. The rain of objects didn’t even get close to Herwynbe before they parted around him, but that was okay. Jack had only meant for it to be a distraction tactic in the first place. He needed to get away. With as strong of a pull as he could manage, he threw himself upwards. The iron railing that he had been pulling on wasn’t strong enough to hold against the force Jack drew upon it. It came flying towards him as if it were shot from a cannon. Jack twisted at the last second and he was rewarded to hear Herwynbe grunt as the railing flew into him just seconds later. He’d be back though. Jack was no match for a full mistborn on his own. But, if he could rally the rest of the villagers, maybe they would stand a chance. Jack sailed high into the sky. And he felt his spirits drop with every inch higher he flew. The town was in utter chaos. He could see multiple fires that had been set throughout the town, the smoke drifting towards the heavens like chimneys of mist and people were running for their lives. He saw Aralis moving through the streets… *** Aralis strolled down the middle of the road, all signs of the frailty of age gone from his demeanor. He barely registered the burning buildings around him. He seemed as if he was just out taking a leisurely walk- except for when someone would pass just a little too closely by. When that would happen, Aralis would snap out with his staff, always catching the person in the head. They would crumple to the ground with a satisfying crunch, never to get up again. Few could survive a pewter enhanced blow, especially when Aralis didn’t want them too. The night was still young, but the head of his staff was already slick with blood. And people, in their panic always seemed to either not notice the blood at all or misjudged just how far it could reach, keeping Aralis in a pleasant mood. *** He saw people fleeing in every direction. And he saw Whistler…. *** A small group of villagers ducked out and away from the main street. They had gotten far enough away from some of the burning buildings that things were almost silent for once, other than a mother trying to calm one of her children. They huddled together, unsure what to do next. They were safe for the moment and while they knew that couldn’t last, chancing another mad dash through the chaos of the town, even on the hope of getting somewhere even safer, wasn’t very appealing. They had only made it this far thanks to a hidden Rioter concealed amongst them. Their decision was taken from them though when they heard an ominous sound. Just a single, high pitched note and then all was quiet again. Even the children were silent. Then it came again, followed by a few other notes and it echoed around them. Someone was whistling. The group fled, running away from where they thought the whistling was coming from. But sound is tricky and they were brought up short when someone step from around the corner they were running to. Whistler stood there, casually tossing a very wicked dagger in the air and catching it. Slowly, he turned towards the group as they felt their strength leave them, as if blanketed by a cloud. They fell to their knees; mentally, physically, and emotionally exhausted. And Whistler just casually sauntered towards them, flipping that dagger. Whistling. *** He saw as a few people tried to fight back against Wyl… *** Murder. It was a crime, to be sure. And one that, at one time, Wyl would’ve been more than happy to track down the perpetrator and bring them to justice. But as with most things in this god-forsaken world, things had changed. The law had failed him. Oh sure, he’d put away one brute or another, only to find them back out on the streets the next day. And then he’d have to do it all over again. It was enough to drive any man to the edge. And so, Wyl had done what the law could not. He stopped those that needed stopping; no matter the cost. If the law was going to fail him, well then Wyl Sharpe would just have to mete out justice on his own terms. Though it seemed that the number of people that needed to be stopped had consistently gone up over the year, in Wyl’s estimation. Take the people that now surrounded him, threatening him with swords and shovels and whatever other weapons they could find. They sure seemed intent on doing murder this night. And that wasn’t the worst of it. His partner, Kas, was right there on the frontlines with them. Oh, how the innocent had fallen. “How could you?” Kas accused him. “After all this time? You were supposed to be the better or us!” All Wyl wanted was a stiff drink, but it seemed like this situation wasn’t going to resolve itself. So he pulled out his leaf bag and packed his pipe. He lit it and took a few puffs before answering. “I am the better of us, ex-partner.” Suddenly, every metal item in the crowd, whether it was a blade or a coin, ripped out of everyone’s hands and flew directly towards Wyl. With a deftness that could only come from knowing the exact trajectory of each object, Wyl casually dodged them all. The weapons from those facing Wyl flew into those behind him and vise versa. Soon, the only person left standing other than Wyl was Kas. Wyl took out a throwing dagger in the hand not holding his pipe and with a simple flick of his wrist, embedded it into Kas’s neck. Wyl sighed. Yes, murder was a messy business. *** And as he reached the crest of his pull, he could make out huge, black shapes mulling about outside the walls in every direction. Why the Koloss hadn’t already attacked after being so close, Jack had no idea, but the message was clear: there would be no escape. Jack choked back a cry that was two parts despair and three parts frustration. He pulled himself toward the belfry of the church, using part of his hookway to slow his descent as he neared the edge. When he dropped over the edge, he fell to his knees. He needed to fight! He needed to figure out how to fix all of this, but he just couldn’t see how. His hands balled up into fists of rage on his knees. Herwynbe emerged from the shadows from further into the tower; as calm and as graceful as ever. “You see? We have already won. We have accomplished what we set out to do; provide you with hope and then destroy it. If you somehow survive this, let this be a lesson to you for the future. Our master is coming and there is nothing that you can do to stop it. Do not hope for salvation.” Jack looked up with fire in his eyes. “If I survive?” Herwybe nodded ever so slightly. “I am not here to kill you. My intent was only to keep you busy while my companions did their work. “In fact, this spike was never even meant for you. It’s intended for someone else; someone special.” -Herwynbe grinned- “I doubt that he will be as… reluctant as you were.” Herwynbe bowed. “Goodbye, Jack Tormander. I would wish you well, but it would be hollow.” And then Jack was alone, as Tyrain Falls died around him. AG3 is finally over! I took a little bit longer with this one, but it is the aftermath after all. All of the write ups have been completed as well, so if you missed one, I highly suggest going back and taking a look. The Spiked win again! Congrats to the Spiked! I truly thought that this was going to be the year after two of their mistborn went down, but they played masterfully. The Curse continues to hold. But there’s always next year! And the Villagers that finally break the Curse will definitely go down in history, so use the rest of the year to prepare! Now, we have one last bit of business to go over this year. We need to crown our winners of the Cosmetic Role Challenge! We’d really like to hear your thoughts on who really stood out for you and who you would vote for. There will be three winners and, as stated in the OP, they will be able to pick which Non-Sanderson related games we’ll get in the future! I know I went over this a bit in the Dead Doc already, but there were a lot of great characters and a lot of people that had a lot of fun with their CRs. So you’ve got a quite a pool of people to choose from! Finally, I want to thank each and every one of you for making this game amazing; even those of you who didn’t play. All of these games are only great because we have such a great community here and you should all be proud of that. Here’s to another amazing year and to all the death that that will entail! Master Doc Master Spreadsheet Cognitive Realm (Dead Doc) Ruins Guide To Destruction (Spiked Doc) Final Player List

Night 15: Omens The others couldn’t see it, but Mr. Hoid could. The writing was on wall- err walls, you could say. Everywhere he looked, he saw what the future held for the town of Tyrian Falls and all he could see was more blood, more burning, and more destruction. It was most disconcerting when he started to see the futures of the people themselves painted over their regular faces like masks. As he passed the butcher, he saw that the man had the bulging eyes of someone that had been suffocated or strangled. The seamstress looked as if she had been beaten upside the head with a club. Even those few that looked like they might live had a cast around them that suggested, if not death later on, at the very least a lot of pain and misery. When surrounded by such foul omens all the time, perhaps it wasn’t as surprising as it was for the rest of the villagers what happened next. *** Those few that were left were startled out of their now daily routine of casting accusations and glares at each other by the sounds of someone shouting near the edge of town. They couldn’t make out what was being said though until they drew closer. They all seemed to arrive at the small, no taller than 2 meters at best, “wall” that surrounded Tyrian Falls around the same time. There, standing on top of the wall, was Mr. Hoid. He was facing out and shouting at the countryside. “What are you waiting for?!? Attack already! Come and satiate yourselves! Can’t you see that we are beaten? Can’t you end this misery? You will come and you will conquer! I have foreseen it! So why not now? Let us end this charade, once and for all. Don’t make us- make me wait any longer! End this already! Attack!” The villagers, realizing what he was doing, reached up to grab at him and pull him down. To taunt Koloss? Surely the man was insane! But on the off chance that they did heed his call…. Well, they decided not to take that chance. And so a hundred frantic hands raised up to yank Mr. Hoid down off the wall. They were in such a hurry that they didn’t realize how they were doing so until gravity took the situation away from them. The only part of Mr. Hoid that they could easily reach was his feet. So they grabbed him by the ankles and pulled. This definitely had the effect of getting Mr. Hoid’s legs off the wall, but the rest of his body fell straight down. His head cracked into the wall where his feet had been and everything was silent; on both sides of the wall. No one had the courage to peek over to see if the Koloss were close enough to have heard. Day 14 ends and Night 15 begins! You have 24 hours. Conquestor was lynched! They were a Village Smoker! PMs are no longer available! I repeat, you can NOT send anymore PMs! Votes: Conquestor (5)- Joe in the Bush, Wyrmhero, Araris, Wilson, Herowannabe Araris (2)- Jondesu, Stink Herowannabe (1)- I am Stick No Vote (2)- Conquestor, Wonko Player List

Day 14: Not Again Senn felt that looming sense of deja vu that he’d been feeling ever since that first man had died with a warning on his lips. He watched as the entire town fell into chaos and couldn’t help thinking that it was all too familiar. Now, he was staring at pages upon pages of reports about what was happening in the village; all of it dismal. There was a lack of food and supplies. No preparations were being made to stop the coming horde. Buildings were being looted and burned. And it all felt like he had been through it all before. He could almost tell what the next page was going to say before even looking at it. Senn rubbed at his temples, trying to massage away this portending feeling he had. He felt so helpless at the moment. He knew that he should be down in the village trying to add some sense of stability and try to steer things away from this course, but it seemed as if this was fated to happen. If it wasn’t, his feelings of deja vu wouldn’t still be there, right? Eventually, he couldn’t take just sitting there anymore and so he began pacing. This triggered another episode of deja vu in him and it just made him more antsy. What were they to do? Was there anything they could do? Were they meant to just die here, again and again; never learning from the error in their ways? He paused in his pacing. Again? Where had that idea come from? He’d never been through something like this before…. Had he? Suddenly, he just knew that he’d find his inkwell would be dry. He didn’t know how he knew, but it would be true nonetheless. He had what seemed like a vision of him going to collect a new one and then returning to his study, only to be ambushed and killed. He shook himself back to reality. The vision had seemed so clear and so detailed, but it couldn’t possibly be true. He had noticed that it had been snowing out in the vision and there wasn’t even the hint of frost in the air yet in the season. Even so, it was with a shaky hand that he finally built up the resolve to reach out and check the inkwell. *slosh* Senn let out a breath that he didn’t ever realize he’d been holding. The inkwell was still easily half full. His sense of deja vu had been wrong. He mulled over that last bit in his mind for a moment. His sense of deja vu had been wrong. If it had been wrong here, then that meant it could be wrong in other areas too! Perhaps the town wasn’t fated to fall! Perhaps there was still hope! For the first time in weeks, Senn turned to look out the huge window that dominated one wall of his study and looked out at the town of Tyrian Falls with something bordering on optimistic resolve. He smiled. He didn’t notice the figure standing behind him in the reflection of the glass until he felt something tug at his throat and soon after the world went dark. The only thought that Senn could muster before dying was, Not again… Night 14 is over and Day 14 begins! You have 48 hours. Seonid was attacked! They were a Regular Villager! Good Luck! Player List

Night 14: Highly Unfortunate Miscommunication “Hasing the wasing of being! Hasing the wasing of innocent!” Sart shouted the words back to the mob of people who were chasing him; not that it seemed to deter them. It was as if they couldn’t understand him at all! This entire situation was all due to some miscommunication. He had tried to speak up at the latest meeting between the remaining villagers and claim that he thought Herwynbe was trying to lure them all into a false sense of security. Somehow, him saying, “Ising of the believing wasing the Spiked. Ising of the trying to be of the deceiving. Ising of the wasing Herwynbe.” had made the rest of the villagers think that he was one of the Spiked! They took it as if he was gloating to them and from there, it didn’t take long for the chase to begin. “Hasing the wasing of innocent! Being of the idiots, you having the being of!” It was no use. Evidently, no one in this town could speak proper High Imperial. Sart would just have to escape and let them cool their heads for awhile. Surely after a little time and clear thinking, they’d realize their mistake… right? As he ran, he couldn’t help but notice how run down the village had become. It seemed as if every other house was either boarded up or burned or broken into. Where once there had been happy families living in peace, there were now the skeletal remains of homes. And it didn’t stop there. The shops were in just as bad of disrepair. The blacksmith’s forges were cold when they should have been burning brightly to make weapons and armor for the coming battle. The food stands were bare after someone had destroyed all of their crops and orchards. The late Rin’s metal shop had been looted days ago and there would be no new salves from El’s Apothecary. It suddenly hit him during his mad dash through the town just how much destruction had been done in only two weeks time. It was horribly depressing and Sart began to seriously doubt whether or not they’d even make it even if he could lose the mob hounding him. He went to dash around the corner of a building, hoping to shake his pursuers by constantly changing direction. He hadn’t even made it around the corner when a gnarly looking staff seemed to come out of nowhere from around the corner and knocked him upside his head. He stumbled and fell in a daze. He barely had time to recognize Aralis and his thumping staff walk around the corner before the rest of the villagers caught up to him. After that, he didn’t have to worry about the state of the village anymore. In fact, he didn’t have to worry about anything at all…. Day 13 is over and Night 14 begins! Sart was lynched! They were a Regular Villager! PM are OPEN again! I repeat, you can PM again! Votes: Sart (5)- Jondesu, I am Stick, Herowannabe, Araris, Wilson Herowannabe (2)- Seonid, Sart Stink (1)- Wyrmhero Conquestor (1)- Joe in the Bush I am Stick (1)- Stink No Vote (2)- Wonko, Conquestor Player List

Day 13: Surprise! El sat alone in the darkness, on the bench along one wall that was usually reserved for patients’ families. She leaned back against the shelf at one end of the bench, knees resting against the wall with her feet atop the bench. One elbow sat upon her knees, and from one finger of that hand dangled the locket that she’d found at Locke’s mansion when she went looking for it, though the Lord himself hadn’t been there, nor had his Terris steward. She didn’t know what had become of him, but she worried. He might have been the only person left in this cursed village that she cared about. The locket turned gently in the gloom, white on one side and black on the other. The last reminder of her parents that she had, if it could be called a reminder when she couldn’t even remember their faces. She imagined, for a moment, what it’d be like to be held in a mother’s arms and sob into her hair; to be picked up and swung around by a father; to hold her parents’ hands. Then she was back to herself, alone, in the darkness, with only the occasional glimmer of the locket’s chain. She should’ve gone to bed. It was well past midnight, now, and she’d been sitting since the sun went down. But she wasn’t tired, and didn’t particularly care to move from her position. So she just waited, thinking about nothing in particular. It was peaceful, here. Calm. Home. And for those few hours, she was at peace. She slowly became aware that there was another reason she wasn’t going to bed. She was waiting for something, she thought, idly turning the locket between her fingers, alone in the darkness. Or… not quite. Not quite alone. She wasn’t sure when she sensed that there was a presence there, or why she hadn’t noticed when the door opened and closed. It had a bell on it, for goodness’ sake. How had they gotten in? She wasn’t afraid. She knew what this was. Her death was coming, again. Again? But she dismissed the question. Perhaps her death was coming. But she wasn’t planning on going down without a fight. El quietly reached her hand behind her to the shelf that she’d been leaning against. There wasn’t much of use within reach. A few powders that she could throw into her attacker’s eyes, but it was already dark. She almost certainly wouldn’t be able to light a candle before the Spiked got to her, and it was better to be in the dark anyway. She knew the room better than whoever was after her did. Finally, her fingers hit something useful: a pair of sharp tweezers. It wasn’t going to stop her attacker by any means, but perhaps if she hit somewhere useful it’d be enough that she could get away, or survive long enough to find a better weapon. She grabbed the tweezers and quietly lifted her feet off the bench and onto the floor. She stood, wincing at the quiet sound of rustling cloth. Holding the tweezers in one hand and her locket still in the other, she tried to figure out where the sense of being watched was coming from. In the far corner by the door, perhaps? Her eyes had adjusted enough that she could see most of the room well, but that corner was always particularly dark, tucked away from light as it was. “Who’s there?” she asked, pitching her voice as high and childishly afraid as she could. She moved on silent feet to the other edge of the room, with another bench between her and where she thought her attacker was. Hopefully they didn’t know the room as well as she did. If she could get to the door, if she could get out, if she could be certain the Spiked were alone… but she didn’t know. She didn’t have any other options, though. There weren’t any other doors out except the big double doors in the back, and those would take ages to open. She briefly considered trying to get upstairs to her room and then escaping through the window, but she’d almost certainly injure herself in the drop. She wouldn’t get away if she couldn’t run. So, then. The door it was. Only a mysterious attacker that was probably in the shadows near the door. Hopefully. It was silent, still. El nearly screamed just to break through the silence, but she knew she’d be dead before the scream ended. Why didn’t the Spiked say something. Anything. A deep, malicious chuckle would do. She didn’t even know there was a Spiked in the room, really. It was only instinct telling her so. She’d been missing from the village for days now. Would the Spiked really kill her? Well. If she was wrong, there would only be an empty room to laugh at her. Best to assume the worst. Which meant, at some point, that she needed to move. Simplest was best. El ran, leaping over the bench and around the various obstacles with the ease of long familiarity. As she neared the door, she finally saw a glint of movement, and plunged her tweezers towards it in a vain attempt to protect herself She reached the door, and tried to open it to find that it had been locked. She sprang for the latch, but already knew she would be too late long before the dagger came down, nicking her neck and leaving a long gash along her arm. She tried to ignore the pain, and finally managed to open the door, running out as fast as she could. She didn’t care where, only away. There were no footsteps behind her. But then, there hadn’t been any sound in the apothecary, either. She kept running, until she had passed the village square. Her arm was easy to ignore with adrenaline coursing through her body. She risked a glance behind her. There was no one there. She blinked, trying to look into the shadows, but she knew she’d find nothing. All was still. Why had the Spiked left her alone…? She stumbled and nearly fell against a wall, arm twinging slightly. She touched it and felt it slick with blood. She should have been in more pain… “Oh,” she gasped faintly. “I’m an idiot.” Poison. Of course the dagger had been poisoned, and of course her increased heart rate had spread the poison through her body even faster. The Spiked didn’t need to come after her. All they needed to do was let her run. Her arm was completely numb, now. She did fall against a wall and slide down it. She couldn’t go back to the apothecary to try to cure herself, if that were even possible at this late stage with no idea what the poison had been. The Spiked would be waiting if she tried. She tried to get up, but couldn’t. Sitting down would be her death, she knew. Sitting and slowly… falling… asleep. Yes. Sleep sounded nice. She would do that, then. Good night, Tyrian Falls… El woke up somewhere that she somehow knew was called the Cognitive Realm. She rose out of her body groggily, leaving the poisoned corpse behind her, and - oh. She remembered, suddenly. Tyrian Falls. Getting trapped in time, dying and resurrected, again and again and again. She remembered her many lives as an orphan, always looking for her parents. Kassien... Always good, always trying to find the Spiked, always failing and dying. She couldn’t do it again. She couldn’t. The mist was coalescing as it always did. She didn’t have much time. El pushed against the mist, not trying to remember everything this time. Instead, she fought to break away, to find a path through the all-enclosing mist, to escape. She could feel her memories slipping away and shuddered at the horror of it and hated that she could do nothing to retain them. She fought until she could no longer remember why she was fighting. Then, finally, there was a shift. Something was different this time. Something - someone? looked at her. She heard a voice. What’s this? Why are you here, child? Well. This will never do. Something twisted, and the mist receded. El fell onto stone, gasping. She sat up, slowly, holding onto the cool marble beneath her. It felt… solid, in a way that she hadn’t felt in a long, long time. She was in the real world again. There, she heard. Much better. “Who… what…” she managed to say, shaking from the relief of freedom at last. She tried to remain coherent, to thank her unknown rescuer. “Who saved me? Who are you?” I am the one who protects you even when your parents abandoned you to your fate. I am the lord of time, the breaker of bonds. Do not worry, godchild. You are safe now. El didn’t try to understand, for the moment. Curiosity could come later. For the time being, she simply smiled and relaxed as she had not for as long as she could remember. She was safe, at long last. That was enough. To be continued. Night 13 has ended and Day 13 begins! You have 48 hours. Elbereth was attacked! They were a Regular Villager. Good Luck! Player List

Night 13: The Most Dangerous Game “What are you doing?” Carmichael stopped in the middle of the street and turned to see half of the village staring at him quizzically. He set the chair he had been carrying on the ground. “What does it look like,” he replied as he dusted off his hands. “I’m moving my furniture back to my house.” This seemed to confuse them more. Was it really that hard of a concept to grasp? Carmichael knew that he was the smartest person in the village (not to mention the strongest and best looking and funniest and so on, but those weren’t important at the moment), but he expected better than this. “It’s really simple,” he explained. “See, I had moved most of my belongings out of the town last night, because I was planning on leaving. I couldn’t allow myself to get trapped here after all. Out of everyone, if I were to die, it truly would be a great loss. For all of humanity. “But, then I thought about it and decided that I just couldn’t do it. I knew that if I wasn’t here to help you, you’d all wind up dead. And while that might not be the tragedy that if would be if I were to die, I just couldn’t leave you all to such a fate. I mean, you might all be stupid, lesser people, but you’re my stupid, lesser people. “And after I made up my mind, since I had already moved everything out, now I need to move everything back in, of course. “Here,” Carmichael said as he picked up the chair and handed it to the closest villager. “In return for me saving you from yourselves, you can help me pick up the rest of my stuff and bring it back in!” *** And that was how Carmichael found himself back out in the wilderness. The villagers hadn’t been as gracious as he had expected and they had chased him out of the town. Of course, since he was obviously the fastest out of everyone in the village, he’d easily outran them, but now he was turned around. If he could get back to the little cave he’d found, where he’d stored all of his stuff, he could leave those ungrateful people to their well-deserved fate. The sun was getting close to setting and he was pretty sure he was slightly south of the cave, so he started north. Suddenly, he heard a snap and felt something yank his feet out from under him. In a blink of an eye, he was hanging upside down in what appeared to be a very big snare trap. What could possibly need something so ridiculous and large? He pondered as he swayed side to side. That’s when he heard it. The sounds of grunts and large footsteps approaching and it all clicked into place. Carmichael went white as a ghost and broke out in a cold sweat. They’re so close! He desperately tried to free himself before the Koloss arrived. He was unsuccessful. Day 12 has ended and Night 13 begins! You have 24 hours. Magestar was lynched! They were a Village Smoker! PMs are NOT open! Player List

Jondesu has the right of it, but I'll make it official. Mistborn can draw Pewter again and, when drawn, they will have an extra life; even if they had drawn Pewter before and were attacked/lynched. One special note- If a Mistborn draws Pewter twice in a row, the extra lives do not stack. The first instance of Pewter will wear off at the end of the Day turn and they will get a new set of Pewter at the beginning of a Night turn. So they'll only be able to have one extra life at a time, but if they get lucky, they could draw it multiple turns. This is due to the fact that they only have Pewter for a limited amount of time and that they cannot plan on when they will draw Pewter.

Day 12: Perchance to Dream Jack was having a horrible dream- if you could call it a dream. It seemed a bit too vivid for that. It felt more like it was a recollection from another time, where events similar to those taking place in Tyrian Falls… had happened? Were going to happen? In the end, it didn’t matter. They were similar enough in structure that he saw how it would all play out. He saw how the paranoia and the fear slowly sank their teeth into the villagers. He saw how it turn friend against friend and elevated petty differences into justifications for death. He saw as supplies were destroyed and reserves ruined, which made the villagers all the more frantic and fanatic in their search to purge the evil out from amongst them. If it wasn’t so horrifying, he could almost respect the way these forces of destruction systematically encouraged the people to do their work for them. And in his sleeping state, the recent events in Tyrian Falls mixed with those recollections and he dreamt about the gruesome deaths that had just recently happened in new and mortifying ways. Jack tossed and turned throughout the night. He wanted to wake up; to let this nightmare end. But he was not immune to the effects of what was happening in Tyrian Falls and his body was just too exhausted. Then he dreamt of a figure creeping into his room, cloaked in darkness and comfortable in the shadows. The figure stealthily made their way across the room; avoiding any of the squeaking boards that could have given them away. When they reached his bed, they pulled out a wicked looking dagger. When they raised it above their head, it glinted in the moonlight and it looked stained with the blood of those it had already killed. Now this dream felt incredibly weird to Jack. This didn’t feel like a recreation from an earlier time and it seemed embedded in his current reality. Some part of Jack’s instincts kicked in and he snapped awake. He awoke to the exact same scene he had just been dreaming about! And the dagger was already plunging towards his chest. Suddenly, before he could do so much as breath in to scream, he was yanked to the right with such force that he felt as if he had been slammed into by a Koloss’s fist. The dagger stabbed down and sank almost to the hilt into the bed where Jack had laid just a second before. The force was so strong, it carried him across the room and crashing out through the window; glass ripping at him as he barrelled through. Finally, he rolled to a stop in one of the huge piles of ash that hadn’t been cleaned up in the town recently. As Jack lay there, panting and trying to calm down, he could only think of one thought: Thank the gods I got a room on the first floor! Night 12 has ended and Day 12 begins! You have 48 hours. A Joe in the Bush was attacked, but they survived! Good luck! Player List

I thought this was answered before? The way I roll metals for Mistborn is like this: - I roll for their power. If it is a power that they've not had yet, that is their power for the cycle. - If it is a power that they've had before, I reroll. - I keep the result of the second roll, no matter what it is; even if it is the same power that I just rolled. - After a Mistborn has gone through all of the metals at least once, the cycle resets; no matter how many times they received any individual power before then. This allows those powers that the Mistborn has not had to have two chances to be rolled at any given time while still allowing for the randomness that makes the Mistborn Role interesting.

Night 12: Assassin Faith is powerful. It can raise one to hope when despair is overpowering, bring one to kneel despite having all the power in the world. Reduce one to madness and tears. Fuzzy was crying, sobbing, mad. Of course they had to kill him. Didn’t they? Madness was a sign of the Spiked, wasn’t it? And they had to find the Spiked. They were out there, somewhere. Killing the village, one by one, until no one was left. They had to kill him. Didn’t they? The gallows was used, this time. The darkness of its wood darkened again with death. Fuzzy was strung up, following obediently even though he was still crying. The watching crowd murmured, angry or excited or indifferent. Fuzzy stood on the chair, and his mind seemed to clear for just a moment. He looked out over the crowd. “Praise the Ja,” he said one last time, clearly and calmly. He dropped. There was a crack. Faith has power, regardless of its truth. And thus Fuzzy, priest of the Ja, received the answer to his prayer after all, as he was taken away from Tyrian Falls for the last time. Day 11 ends and Night 12 begins! You have 24 hours. Assassin in Burgundy was lynched! They were a Village Smoker. PM are NOT open! Votes: Assassin in Burgundy (5)- Assassin in Burgundy, Herowannabe, Magestar, Stink, Orlok, Sart Herowannabe (1)- Joe in the Bush Araris (1)- Jondesu Stink (1)- Wyrmhero Sart (1)- Araris No Votes (6)- Elbereth, Wonko, Wilson, Conquestor, I am Stick, Seonid Player List

Hey guys, I was hoping to be home in time to get the write up done and the turn done on time. But, that doesn’t look like that's going to happen. I have family down from out of town and we're still out and about. So I'm really sorry. I've tried to be consistent even if I can’t get the write up up right away each time. The turn will end at the regular time, but I might not be around to post the new turn. Depending on how late it is before I finallu get it up, we'll decide what to do about it from there. If the night needs to be extended, then that’s what will do, but I hope it doesn't come to that. Just wanted to let you all know what's going on. Sorry for any delay and I'll get us back on schedule as quick as possible!

Day 11: A Shot in the Dark For Drought, his blindness wasn’t the handicap that most people thought that it was. He had been blind for long enough that he’d learned to adapt. His hearing was better. His sense of smell and touch had heightened. These helped paint him a picture of the world around him without his sense of sight. The Steel didn’t hurt either. Drought’s world was peppered with blue dots and the lines leading from them to him. A coin pouch here, as window latch there. The dagger that someone was carrying. It had taken Drought years of practice and training to get to where he was today. He had gotten so good with his steel that he could pick out what kind of metal it was just by the varying shades of blue and their strength. It made it easier to tell which lines were stationary and which were attached to someone. That was another thing that he sometimes wondered about. Without his eyes, how was he able to see the lines at all? The only answer he had come to was that it was all just a trick of the mind. It kind of bothered him that he might be “seeing” in the same way that an Inquisitor sees things. -Wait. Someone was carrying a dagger! He’d heard the talk from the rest of the villagers about how people were being killed and most of them seemed to come from a stab wound; to shallow to be a sword, but still deadly. And the few that had survived had claimed to have been attacked by people wielding daggers. Could it be that this person that had just passed by Drought was one of those that was killing everyone? Obviously, he couldn’t just leave this alone; not when it could mean that he could save the town. Drought picked up what few coins he’d earned for the day and followed the person from a distance. That was another benefit for his particular brand of sight. He didn’t need to keep a line of sight on the person, he just needed to stay close enough for his steel to detect them. Unfortunately, this also meant that Drought wasn’t close enough to pick up anything else about them other than the fact that they carried a dagger. It had already been late afternoon when Drought had noticed this person and they travelled a lot of the village. Night fell and Drought could feel the mists cool on his cheeks as they appeared. Still, the person he was tailing travelled on, making stops every now and then to either say hello to someone or to run an errand. They still hadn’t done anything suspicious that Drought could tell and he began wondering if he’d been mistaken. After everything that had happened, he couldn’t really blame anyone for wanting to walk around armed. Was he being paranoid of someone that was being paranoid? He was about to give up and call it a night, when the blue line connected to the dagger darted quickly off to the left. Based on the surroundings, it looked like they had decided to run down an alleyway. Now, that is suspicious behavior, Drought thought. He felt a slight thrill at the thought. He’d been right! Now all he had to do was find out where the person was residing and he could end this entire nightmare the village was trapped in! He clutched the coins in his hand a little tighter, with new resolve and then moved to follow. He didn’t go far though, before he heard the faint wisp of fabric brushing together close behind him and he felt the rush of moving air against the back of his neck. He noticed these things a second too late, as something pierced into his side and slid right between his ribs. The last thing Drought noticed was that, whatever it was that stabbed him, had never given off a blue line…. Night 11 had ended and Day 11 begins! You have 48 hours. Droughtbringer was a Village Coinshot! Good luck! Player List

Night 11: False Positives Joe actually felt pretty good. Better than he had felt in a long time and that was surprising since the wound in his side still ached something fierce most of the time. See, he’d figured out the trick to it, his uselessness and now he had purpose again. It had come to him in an epiphany after he’d been stabbed. Whenever he tried for something (like dying this last time), he failed at it miserably. It was why he had never made it as a taco vendor or why he couldn’t walk without tripping. He tried to do those things right. He had really wanted them to succeed. And because he wanted them badly, his uselessness always got in the way and screwed them up. But, if he tried to do the opposite of what he wanted, then surely his uselessness would work in his favor and cause him to succeed! Well, technically, he’d still fail, but the outcome would be far more favorable. It was all about his intent. It had worked last time when the villagers had tried to kill him after all. “Squeak!” “Hush you, I know what I’m doing,” he scolded Rat as he stumbled through the street. “This’ll work. Just you wait and see!” “Squeak.” “What do you mean that it’s paradoxical? This is simple cause and effect! See? It’s working already. I haven’t fallen once!” It was true, Joe hadn’t tripped over his own feet yet and not for lack of trying. He tried to hit ever upraised cobblestone and threw himself off balance multiple times and he had yet to fall. He did look absolutely ridiculous, throwing himself about and waving his arms to keep his balance, but he hadn’t fallen. “Squeak!” “Bah. You have the proof before you and you still don’t believe. You are one skeptical rat, Rat. “Now, watch and learn. After this works, I’m going to not open up my Ash Taco business and I won’t become rich off of the earnings and I absolutely will not finally have a home of my own!” Joe gesticulated into the middle of the square, where most of the villagers were debating their next move to try to deal with the Spiked. “Greetings fellow Villagers!” Joe exclaimed, drawing everyone’s attention. “I have come before you as a changed the same man I’ve always been! I have a plan and it’s foolproof the most flawed plan you’ve ever heard. By this time tomorrow, we’ll be free in the clutches of these Spiked-ed people’s tyranny and be definitely not be enjoying some amazing awful ash tacos!” He paused so that they could absorb the awesomeness of his plan fully. “You ready? Okay, here goes: I want you to kill me!” As Joe grinned from ear to ear, he was met with dumbfounded stares. Obviously, they need a moment, Joe thought as he congratulated himself on his brilliance. “You heard me right! Kill me! Let’s do this! Hop to it! This is really what I want!” When they continued to stare at him, he whispered down to Rat. “See? I told you it would work!” Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the villagers seemed to all turn to each other, looking to anyone else to help make sense of what they were hearing. Was this a confession? “Last chance,” Joe said. “I’m telling you right now, I want you to kill me!” So they did. Day 10 has ended and Night 11 begins! You have 24 hours. Hemalurgic Headshot was lynched! They were a Village Thug! PMs are NOT open! Votes: Hemalurgic Headshot (5)- Joe in the Bush, Wilson, Sart, Araris, Herowannabe Stink (2)- Jondesu, Wyrmhero Elbereth (1)- Hemalurgic Headshot Jondesu (1)- Elbereth Assassin in Burgundy (1)- Stink Orlok (1)- Seonid No Vote (7)- Wonko, Orlok, Droughtbringer, Magestar, Conquestor, I am Stick, Assassin in Burgundy Player List

Day 10: The Wrong Questions And while this pseudo worship seems to still be in its fledgling stages, there is an ancient feel to it as well. Perhaps these Spiked have emulated parts from other religions? Perhaps that is part of why they have such a dedication and intrinsic piercings? Could they have pulled on the teachings of the Canzi people? Alas, there is still little known, but I shall record what we do know for later perusal. There seems to also be some connections to Jaism, as the followers of this religion are consistently bringing up the concept of ruining things. This may, in fact, be why they are here in the first place. We view them as malicious (and if we are being quite honest, they are), but they could just be following the tenets of their religion. This could be less a coordinated attack and more of a display of zealousness. I brought up before the metallic piercings and their connection to the Canzi. To expound on this further, the suggestion has serious merit when considering not only the precision of the piercing, but also the location. I have beared witness to some incredible feats that show a higher understanding of human biology. I have seen piercings that have gone through the heart and yet, must have not punctured anything vital, as the subject lived on. I have seen spikes wedged within shoulders that did not inhibit the movement of the subject in any way. This would not normally be remarkable. Inquisitors are capable of living on with those spikes driven through their eyes* after all. But these Spiked are not Inquisitors and they seem to have no connection to the Steel Ministry. In fact, in the few times that I have had the opportunity to listen to one, they seem to have a derisiveness for anyone and everyone. I have yet to hear one name some form of figurehead for their religion. The closest they have come is in their devotion to the idea of ruination. I have yet to hear their thoughts on the rewards of an afterlife as well. Perhaps there is no god form? And if so, does this deregulate this fledgling religion to more of a philosophy rather than a doctrine? I shall continue my research, but recently, I have begun to fear that the constant pressure these Spiked have unleashed upon the town will be the cause of my death before I can complete my research. Thus, I write to you with my initial findings; so that you may continue to monitor them in the face of my possible absence. I do not hasten towards my death, but I will not waver from the possibility of it if it means that I will learn something new. Sincerely, Annix *Note: this may be another area from which these Spiked have pulled from the religions of others. More research is required in the matter. The Spiked read through the note. Annix, or at least what had been Annix, laid slumped over in his chair with a dagger in his back. The kill had been quick and, frankly, disappointingly easy. They had caught Annix in the middle of transferring information back into his copperminds and so there was literally nothing Annix could have done to stop them. When they finished the letter, they tossed it down, into the pool of blood that was forming on the ground with a scoff and a shake of their head. “He should’ve just asked,” they said as they turned and walked away. Such a busy Night! I’m surprised I could even keep up! Night 10 has ended and Day 10 begins! You have 48 hours. Bugsy was attacked! He was a Regular Villager! Good Luck! Player List

Night 10: Rinse and Repeat There was a stench of desperation on the villagers, as they went about trying to find their latest target of the lynch mob. It had been some time since they’d last hunted down one of those that were pierced by metal, but the death toll kept rising. So they still had work to do… didn’t they? What if they had actually already found the last one and they were just killing each other over nothing? How would they be able to establish a decent defense before the Koloss arrived at this rate? Especially with most of them still being so divided? No. They couldn’t afford to think that way. They would keep fighting and keep striving until they either won the day or everyone was dead. Besides, they felt they had a good lead on who the Spiked was today. Ever since Cassius had been found dead in the remnants of the Letter Sixteen, rumors had spread like wildfire about the inn’s proprietor. What if he had been the one to poison Cassius? He would have had access to the liquor supply after all. And no one had really heard from his since the incident. They finally found Grumbles in the basement of the Letter Sixteen. In their haste, they had entirely forgotten about the cellar until after they had ransacked half the town. As the villagers approached, they noticed that there was something very, very wrong with the man they knew as Grumbles. He crouched in the corner, facing the wall. He was rocking back and forth while scrubbing at a single spot on the floor. It looked at if he had been there for awhile, as there was a clear indentation in the ground from where he had scrubbed the floor smooth. “1, 2, 3. It’s all gone wrong,” Grumbles would mutter. “1, 2, 3. It will never be clean again.” Surely this was the rantings of one of those Spiked, right? “1, 2, 3. Not even fire can cleanse the bloodstains.” The villagers nodded to each other, feeling some of the tension leave them. This had to be confirmation. They were doing the right thing here and would be vindicated. They raised their weapons high, read to slay the evil lurking amongst them. So you can imagine their disappointment when they found no spikes and no metal piercings of any sort afterwards. Day 9 is over and Night 10 begins. You have 24 hours. Gamma Fiend was lynched! They were a Regular Villager! PMs are now CLOSED again! I repeat, you can no longer send any PMs! Votes: Gamma Fiend (4)- Assassin in Burgundy, Jondesu, Herowannabe, Araris Assassin in Burgundy (2)- Magestar, Wilson Magestar (2)- Joe in the Bush, Hemalurgic Headshot Stink (1)- Wyrmhero I am Stick (1)- Sart No Votes (10)- Elbereth, Wonko, Orlok, Gamma Fiend, Bugsy, Stink, Droughtbringer, Conquestor, I am Stick, Seonid Player List

Day 9: Kiss of Death Cassius found himself surprisingly alone in the Letter Sixteen for once. Ever since everyone had found out about him being a Soother, the ladies tended to keep their distance. Even the love letters had stopped coming; though you’d think people would realize that he couldn’t affect people from that far away. For once in his life, Cassius felt the harsh sting of rejection. And it’s a shame that one cannot sooth themselves, he thought while taking a drink. It wasn’t just the lack of feminine company that had put him in a sour mood though. The scene from earlier in the day, Enias’ lynching, kept playing through his head as well. Death had a profound effect on most people’s libido after all. He hadn’t even been involved in the decision, but it still haunted him. Why? Why that one over all the other deaths that had happened so far? Even Nicki’s death didn’t bother him so and she had rejected his advances, becoming his white whale. What it just that Enias had resigned himself to his death? Did that event somehow portend a turning point in the villager’s morale? Was it a sign that they were all just giving up? That the pressure was just too much and they were finally breaking? Cassius shivered. That was a dark mental path to walk and he took another drink to help steady himself. He went to set his drink back on the table, but misjudged it and dropped his cup before it had reached the table, spilling it everywhere. In fact, the entire room seemed to sway and shift in and out of focus. He felt drunk. Odd, he thought. That’s jusht my first drink and I haf- haven’t even finished that! He turned to face the room and it blurred around him, wobbling back and forth. It seemed as if he was getting drunker by the second. Shhhhhoooom- Somethingsss not rite. He tried to wave his hand in front of his face, but it was like moving through syrup. He felt himself growing more and more lethargic. It was getting to be an effort just to keep his eyes open, let alone sit upright. And yet, he instinctively felt that, if he fell asleep, he probably wouldn’t wake up again. No! He cried out in his head. Thish kan’t beeeee happening! Not like thish! Inside, he was panicing, but outside, he seemed to just be staring blankly at nothing. He willed his body to move, to run, to do anything at all. He would not give in like Enias had! But it was of no use. The poison coursing through his body was indifferent to his pleas and eventually, his body fell to the floor; never to wake up again…. Night 9 ends and Day 9 begins! You have 48 hours. Elenion was a Village Soother! Good luck! Player List

Night 9: Uncomfortable Routine The constant threat of impending destruction was starting to wear on the villagers. You could see it in the slumped shoulders and the lack of jovial conversation. That had been replaced with suspicious looks and grumbled threats. The entire town was in disarray. Buildings and streets weren’t being swept clean of ash and it was starting to pile up in corners. The smell of rotting garbage that wasn’t disposed of properly wafted through the air on the breeze. And with the arrival of two more bodies, new graves needed to be dug as well… right next to the already considerable number of fresh ones. There was one home that was spotless though, and that was Enias’ place. The house, and the grounds around it, were so pristine in comparison to everywhere else, it seemed like it was trapped in some kind of time bubble, where it remained untouched by the outside world. This was far from the case though. The truth of the matter was that it took Enias the better part of each day to keep it so clean; even though he had it down to a routine. Every morning, even before the sun was up, he would start with the roof and sweep and wash away any ash that had accumulated the night before. Then, he would move down the house, floor by floor. Every room, even if he hadn’t been in it at all that day was also wiped down thoroughly. Any and all collected filth would be tossed outside, where, once done with the inside of the house, Enias would go to work on the walls. Again, starting at the top. And finally, the grounds and all of the grime he’d aquired would be swept away. While this might seem like a fairly boring routine, Enias found it relaxing. He just couldn’t think straight until he had finished it and he had plenty of time to think while he was doing it as well. Thus it was that he had come to his conclusion: We’re all doomed, he thought as he brushed out the final alleyway around his house. So he wasn’t surprised in the slightest when he heard his voice being shouted by one of the villagers. "Enias? Enias, you rat, you set up Felix to be murdered yesterday when people started muttering about you! And then I'll bet it was you or one of your buddies who attacked Ryth last night like a coward! You better be rusting ready to see the inside of a grave. Where are you, Enias?" It was Remart. He was stomping around the square on that absurd metal pegleg of his, letting it toll like a bell with each step. For Enias, this had just been a matter of time, so he sighed and finished his sweeping. At least he had been able to complete his cleaning one last time. Then he walked out of the alleyway, broom still in hand, and noticed that it wasn’t just Remart. There were quite a few villagers waiting for him in the square. “Oh, my dear sir, I would never do such a thing intentionaly. But, you see, I saw him eating some filthy dust. This is what those spiked-misting-things are suposed to do? They are unclean, yes? “I only wished to voice my concern, but….but I see that it is not enough to convince you, is it? “Very well then, if this is the only way to stop the disscourse among us ... I will do it. I will lay down my life and may the Survivor preserve me. “Please, just promise me one thing? That you will make it quick, painless, and most of all clean? I have finished cleaning my old house one last time. I have no remorses. Do as you see fit.” There were a few who were taken aback by Enias’ complacency, but there were plenty more that were far too consumed by the paranoia and fear that had latched itself to the village. Even so, they were still honorable villagers in the end. After they had knocked Enias out with a quick, sharp blow to the head, they snapped his neck by hanging him. No blood was shed and it was as painless as they could do. But their convictions were dashed when they didn’t find any metal piercings on Enias. Day 8 is over and Night 9 begins! You have 24 hours. Manukos was a Regular Villager! PMs are Now OPEN! You can send PMs freely. Just please include me in them. Votes: Manukos (6)- Seonid, Jondesu, Manukos, I am Stick, Wyrmhero, Conquestor Magestar (3)- Elenion, Hemalurgic Headshot, Wilson Assassin in Burgundy (2)- Magestar, Araris Araris (1)- Assassin in Burgundy No Vote (10)- Elbereth, Wonko, Orlok, Sart, Gamma Fiend, Bugsy, Stink, Droughtbringer, Herowannabe, Joe in the Bush Player List

Day 8: A Daughter's Gift Nicki…a voice called out. The sound drifted through the wind, through the dark night, and into the houses of Tyrian Falls. It made its way through the night and into the shop of a deceased metallurgist. Nicki… The voice continued. ...Nicki… Nicki heard the sound and looked up from Rin’s desk. Was somebody calling her name? She listened intently for a few moments, but heard nothing. Nicki… I’m here… Nicki jerked upright. That was father’s voice! Where had it come from? She jumped to her feet and looked around wildly. Was he free at last? Outside… Nicki’s father said. Nicki rushed out the door and into the night. The mist parted around her, as if clearing a path. She ran into it, chasing her father’s voice. She didn’t know how long she ran for. When she reached an intersection, her father would direct her to go left or right. She couldn’t see where she was going in the mist, but she trusted her father to lead her well. He was talking to her! Somehow, he was talking to her! Go right, the voice said. You’re almost there... Nicki turned. The mist ahead was much clearer, so she could recognize where she was. She was somewhere near the graveyard, where she had dug up Pikker’s body. Her father had to be there! Something clobbered Nicki in the head. She whirled around and saw someone in a mask wielding a club. She flared pewter and punched her assailant in the face. They staggered back a few steps. Nicki took advantage of her attacker’s distraction to kick them between the legs. They howled in pain and dropped to the ground. Something scored her ribs. Nicki turned around. Another attacker stood in front of her, holding a knife. She elbowed them in the face, but they held up their arm to block it. Then they swung the knife at Nicki’s head, impossibly fast. The knife sliced through some of her hair. Something blunt hit Nicki’s side. Then something else slammed into her head. She shook off the attacks and swept the legs out from under the second attacker. They fell. Nicki dropped onto them to pin them to the ground. She hammer punched the attacker’s head, over and over. The blows kept on bashing into Nicki. She ignored them and continued punching the person under her. Their attempts to block her grew weaker and weaker, until they finally stopped. Nicki grabbed their knife to slit their throat. Something heavy hit Nicki in the head again. Nicki whipped around. Her first attacker was up now. She tried to stand up, but was smashed in the head again. The world blurred. Another hit smacked into her arm. Nicki flared Pewter and tried to tackle the attacker, but she couldn’t get the leverage for it. She was hit over, and over, and over, until she could barely see. She slumped to the ground, blinded by pain. The last thing Nicki felt was something sharp pushed between her ribs. A few days later, a package was delivered to on the front doorstep of a modest house in Luthadel. A man opened the door and picked up the package. He was a short, balding man, obviously a servant. His only interesting feature was a gaudy hoop that pierced his left earlobe. It was polished bronze, a rare piece of jewelry for a Noble in Luthadel. The servant picked up the package and took it inside. He took it to a bedroom, where an Inquisitor sat on a couch. It looked frail, rebuilding its Feruchemical stores. “Master,” the servant said. “I have a delivery from our friends in Tyrian Falls.” The servant handed over a metal spike to the Inquisitor. It rolled the spike between its fingers and tilted its head towards it, as if inspecting it. “It’s a gift from your daughter,” the servant said. He smiled. “When should we put it in?” Ryth’s training just wouldn’t let him not patrol at night; not in these turmoil-ridden times. It was actually a fairly clear night. The mists were lighter than usual, which still meant that they concealed anything past 15 feet on either side. As he walked, his hand casually resting on the pommel of his sword, he passed by the charred remains of Whistler’s shop. It was the origin of all of this. The stranger dying in the street had warned them, but this was where it had all become real. And now there were multiple other buildings being torched to the ground. Someone is a bit of a fire bug, he thought with a humorless smirk. A scraping sound from the direction of the burnt building pulled him suddenly out of his revery and he drew his sword. He took a defensive position and stood as silently as he could. “Hello?” He called and then, after waiting for a short time without a response, “If someone is there, reveal yourself!” When he got no response, he slowly let his guard down. After all, it was likely just some ash shifting one of the burnt timbers. *Thwip! Thwip! Thwip!* Ryth couldn’t make out what it was that flew towards him, but he could see the trails the small objects carved through the mist. The first hit him in his sword arm shoulder. It ripped through and traveled on, knocking Ryth off balance at the same time. The second tore through his other shoulder. This set him up so he faced the last one head on. And it tore straight through his chest and through his heart. Night 8 has ended and Day 8 has begun! You have 48 hours. Arraenae was attacked! They were a Village Thug! Silverblade was attacked! They were a Regular Villager! Good Luck! Player List

It's just like how it works in the books. So if a Seeker were to try to scan someone with a Coppercloud on, they would get back a " Player was Undetected" type thing. This is not a masking power, that changes a person's role, it just makes them unknowns.

Night 8: Philosophical Differences The people of Tyrian Falls slept in. After the long morning of fighting fires the other day and a restless night after what sounded like a small army clashing, they were more than ready for a much needed break. Unfortunately, it didn’t seem like they were about to get one. “This must be the work of the Ja,” Fuzzy proclaimed from the perch he had taken up in the town square. “Surely this discord will bring with it many blessings. Praise the Ja!” He continued to preach and orate there all morning. In other times, most of the villagers would just roll their eyes and chalk it up to one of Fuzzy’s little absurdities. These days though, it was more than a little grating... especially so early! Then it got worse. “Bah!” Felix exclaimed with a flourish. He had had enough of this false hope. The people needed strength and unity; not further calls to chaos. And so he too, set up in the town square, facing off against his religious rival. “You and your Ja. You worship at the feet of a dead religion. There’s nothing to your Jaism. “Now faith in the Survivor on the other hand, this is a belief that everyone can get behind. And well we all must. Because in these tough times, it’s good to be reminded that we can and will survive.” Fuzzy scoffed. “Nothing to the Ja? It is all around you! The chaos that has infested this town is proof of the validity of the Ja. And through the Ja, we will prosper.” “You worship a mere man and his personal philosophy,” Felix retorted. “You preach discord when people need to work together. Your blasphemous thoughts could hurt us more than these Spiked ever will.” “Your Survivor,” Fuzzy said the title derisively, “was nothing more than a man as well. One that couldn’t even stick to his own teachings in the end. Plus, he did the Ja’s work. He brought change and discord with him wherever he went. Praise the Ja!” “The Survivor was more than just a mere man! He was the Survivor of Hathsin! Lord of the Mists! He confronted the Lord Tyrant and even the false god could not slay him for good! How dare you call him just a man!” The two continued arguing and debating throughout the day. At first, after they were rudely roused from their beds by the shouting, everyone took it as a welcome distraction; something that they could lose themselves in for a while. But, as time wore on, with no end in sight, and the arguments getting louder and more absurd, even the most stalwart of them began to grow tired of the mess. By the time the sun almost touched the horizon, the patience of almost everyone else was stretched as thin and as fragile as a single piece of ash. “-And that is why the Ja is superior!” “Oh Lord of the Mists! Give me the strength to survive this fool’s prattlings!” Finally, a breaking point was reached and an angry crowd of villagers approached the warring priests. “Enough!” Cried Senn. “Both of you! Can’t you see you’re getting us nowhere? All you’re doing is riling up the people, and yourselves, worse than we already were! This. Isn't. Helping! “So enough, for the love of anything and everything holy! I swear, the next one of you who says so much as a word, I will authorize Ryth here to cut you down!” Ryth put his hand on the hilt of his sword and drew it just slightly with a sadistic grin. Fuzzy looked aghast at this brutal display and put his hands up in surrender, while taking a few steps back. Felix held his ground and smirked at his rival. “Your lack of conviction in the face of opposition betrays you. This is the chaos you sought. I win. The Survivor shelters me.” *Shiiing!* Day 7 has ended and Night 8 begins! You have 24 hours. Drake Marshall was a Village Smoker! PMs are NOT open! Votes: Drake Marshall (6)- Assassin in Burgundy, Manukos, Herowannabe, Arraenae, Hemalurgic Headshot, Wilson Manukos (4)- Seonid, Jondesu, I am Stick, Wyrmhero Assassin in Burgundy (2)- Joe in the Bush, Gamma Fiend Jondesu (1)- Conquestor Hemalurgic Headshot (1)- Drake Marshall No Votes (11)- Elbereth, Wonko, Orlok, Sart, Elenion, Bugsy, Stink, Droughtbringer, Magestar, Araris, Silverblade Player List

Day 7: Pulses Arinian was not asleep. He didn’t sleep most nights. Especially not since the meeting with his brother. This debt he owed had become deadly serious. ….Not that it wasn’t before…. It was still a life debt after all. But after that, it consumed him. He searched every nook and cranny in the town. He then searched them twice. Nothing. These people I hunt, they are good, he thought as he made his rounds for another sleepless night. It was his third and the wear of them was beginning to take its toll on him. He wouldn’t give up, though. He trudged down yet another dark alley, the same as all the others in Tyrian Falls: cobblestone-paved, dark buildings leaning against each other like they were whispering about the people passing beneath their shuttered windows, grime and filth coating everything. No sound or sight of anyone else anywhere. His bronze was on a continuous low burn, now. He wasn’t sure the last time he’d turned it off. He couldn’t sense everything, but… enough. Enough, perhaps, even to. tell him when someone was Spiked. He wasn’t sure. It was a new theory, and he hadn’t been able to test it yet. But he had hopes, and he hadn’t been wrong yet. He frowned. He sensed pulses, now, behind him. They were… odd. He paused in the alley and focused on that sense, quietly drawing his sword. He hadn’t known what Spiked pulses would really feel like, but these were unlike anything he’d sensed before, certainly. He waited until he heard a light footfall behind him, then spun, driving the figure behind him backwards with the point of his sword. They scrambled away, Arinian giving chase, but at the mouth of the alley they turned back and clashed their sword with his. It was Arinian’s turn to be driven back, now. This Spiked was good. Their sword gleamed dully in the starlight. Arinian couldn’t see anything else about them, only a shadow against the blacker night. Arinian nearly fell against the wall, but no. He would not let this murderer get away again. This was why he’d been patrolling, wasn’t it? He wanted a chance to find a spiked? Well. Now he had that chance. He fought back, giving himself enough space to maneuver properly again. He wasn’t winning, still, but he had hope. Perhaps the clashing would be heard by someone in one of the buildings that comprised the alley. Perhaps someone would come to help. The fight wore on. Both Arinian and his opponent were tiring now. The question was merely who would falter first. Arinian never got the chance to find out. The villagers sitting and listening within the walls didn’t dare stir at the noise, but someone else heard and came. Arinian didn’t notice until a dagger took him in the back. Night 7 has ended and Day 7 begins! You have 48 hours. Arinian was attacked! They were a Village Seeker. Good Luck! Player List

Night 7: Properly Useless As the rest of the villagers tried to put out the fire before it spread any further, Joe was just trying to stay out of everyone’s way. Which means he was always in the way. He tried getting as far away as possible and wound up standing in front of the well. When he tried to hide out on a side street, it was the one people were using to haul in ash to dampen the fire. When he gave up on trying to get out of the way and help, he grabbed the wrong cask and wound up dumping more alcohol on the fire; making it worse. Villagers started grumbling the second they saw him and he heard some people ask whether or not he was doing it all on purpose. Finally, despite Joe’s best (or worst, depending on how you looked at it) efforts, they finally got the fire out. The woodworking shop was utterly destroyed, but the Letter Sixteen at least still stood; though it was missing an entire wall now. The villagers were actually fairly lucky that the fire hadn’t spread any further. “I was just trying to help!” Joe said to no one, as he trudged through streets. “Squeak!” “Ah, hello again, Rat. Come to make fun of me too?” “Squeak.” “I tried to help! I really did! How was I supposed to know that Grumbles had been removing all the alcohol so it wouldn’t catch on fire? And who stacks them right next to the water casks?” “Squeak.” Joe stopped and turned to stare at Rat. “What do you mean the water casks were on the other side of the street? They were right next to each other!” “Squeak.” “Well then I must’ve gotten turned around or something,” Joe said. Then he flopped to the ground with a sigh, sitting in the middle of the street. “Maybe they’re right, Rat. Maybe I am just useless. I mean, even my ash taco business is drying up and everyone loves those! The town is in shambles, the Koloss are still on their way, and people are dying left and right. And I haven’t been able to do a thing about it.” “Squeak!” Joe smiled a little at that. “Now I know you’re just trying to make me feel better.” Just then, a group of villagers rounded the corner. They looked like they were search for someone and they weren’t happy about it. “There he is!” Shouted one of them. So Joe stood. He had a pretty good idea what this was about. As they approached, some of them drew swords and knives. “Why’d you do it, Joe? Why’d you try to sabotage us? That seems exactly like something one of those filthy spiked people would do.” Joe just shrugged and smiled sadly. “Don’t suppose you’d believe me if I said said it was an accident and I’m sorry?” But the look on their faces said it all for them and it was clearly a no. Joe sighed again. “Fine then. Do what you have to do.” And he stood with his arms wide. He didn’t even cry out when they stabbed in the stomach multiple times and then left him for dead in the street…. . . . “Squeak!” What an odd noise to hear in heaven, Joe thought. “Squeak!” Slowly, Joe fought his way back to consciousness. There was a horrible pain in his stomach, but somehow, he was still alive. With a groan, he turned his head to the side and opened his eyes. It was night now, but there in front of his face stood Rat and he realized that this must not be heaven after all. “Well will you look at that, Rat.” Joe murmerred weakly. “Seems I can’t even die properly.” Day 6 is over! Night 7 begins. You have 24 hours. Hemalurgic Headshot was lynched, but survived! PMs are still not open. Votes: Hemalurgic Headshot (4)- Assassin in Burgundy, Elenion, Wilson, Jondesu Assassin in Burgundy (3)- Arinian, Arraenae, Araris Jondesu (2)- Joe in the Bush, Conquestor Herowannabe (1)- Sart Drake (1)- Wyrmhero No Votes (15)- Elbereth, Wonko, Orlok, Gamma Fiend, Bugsy, Drake, Stink, Droughtbringer, Hemalurgic Headshot, Magestar, Silverblade, Herowannabe, I am Stick, Manukos, Seonid Player List

Day 6: Free Cats-sh After that strange business with the somehow not-Sothe-but-actually-Nyah, some of the villagers seemed to be warming up to Matilda. They had even gotten her a new (ish) blanket to help keep off the cold night air and a few new kitties to keep her company. Oh, how I lovesh my catsh! Matilda thought as she hugged a half empty bottle of alcohol to her chest. They’sh the onesh that truly keep me warm at night! So Matilda was in a very rare good mood when she came across the sign. It was set up next to an entrance to an alley nestled between the Letter Sixteen and a woodworking shop. While she never remembered ever seeing a sign there before, there were a lot of things that Matilda tended to miss. Still, her curiosity won out over her self preservation and she approached the sign. The words swirled around on the board (or was that her swaying around?), making it difficult to read. It didn’t help that spelling wasn’t one of Matilda’s strong suits either. But she concentrated and sounded it out until she finally got it. “F-Ffffffrrrrr. Fffrrreeeehhh, Fffffrrreeeeeee. Free! Ka. Kkkaaatttsss. Free Kkkaaaattsss-essss. Free Catsh!*” Matilda smiled triumphantly when she realized she had read the sign (*It actually said, “Free Cats-sh,” as if the person who wrote it was trying to mimic Matilda’s slurred way of speaking, but it was close enough). It took her another minute or two to realize what the sign was actually implying. “Oh, Whiskey-ersh! Shomebody ish giving away free catsh!” She exclaimed as she held the bottle in her hands out in front of her, as if she were holding a cat at arm’s length. “That meansh that we can get you shome brothersh and shishtersh!” And so she gleefully stepped into the alley. It took her eyes a second to adjust to the dark, but Matilda just kept stumbling along. When she had gotten almost halfway down the alley, her nightvision kicked in and she saw the most glorious sight. There in front of her, all lined up and stretching the entire width of the alley, were dozens of bottles of alcohol. Matilda gasped, “Look, Whiskey-ersh! Everyone’sh here! And they’re happy to shee ush! We’ll have a grand ol’ time, everybody playing togethersh!” There was a scratch and fwoosh from somewhere behind her. Then another in front of her. And then the alley was bathed in light, as twin walls of flame covered both the entrance and the exit to the alley, trapping Matilda in the middle. As the flames drew closer and closer, Matilda finally realized what this must be: a trap! The villagers hadn’t really been warming up to her. They were softening her up for their clever ruse! Now, just as villages in the past had tried, they were going to try to burn her as a witch. They had even gotten her to walk right into her own demise, with the lure of more cats. The catsh! Matilda cried. They were willing to shacrifishe aktual catsh to trap me! Well, not if Matilda could help it. She might not survive, but she wasn’t about to see her precious cats burn. Matilda ran to the bottles of alcohol arranged in the alley. She picked up one of the bottles and threw it as hard as she could, trying to get it over the flames. “Be free, my kittiesh! Eshcape!-” she lobbed another bottle. “-Live full livesh! Be happy without me!” In Matilda’s mind, each “Kitten” sailed free and clear of the flames, landing on their little paws and scampering off into the night. In reality, the bottles smashed against the wooden walls of the Letter Sixteen and the woodworking shop and into the flames themselves; causing the fires to grow even larger. Until, eventually, they engulfed her…. Night 6 is over and Day 6 begins! You have 48 hours. Matilda was attacked! She was a Village Thug. Have fun! Player List

Night 6: Beware the Mistwraiths Nyah ducked inside an alleyway and behind some crates while breathing heavily. Not more than 2 seconds later, an angry Matilda, leading a fairly sizable group of villagers rushed past the mouth of the alley. As they passed, Nyah held her breath and then let it out in a rush after it seemed like she had truly given them the slip. I need to get out of here, she thought as she took stock of her surroundings. It had all started when Matilda had opened up that “Free Cat” bar. She should’ve known that anything Matilda did was touched with at least a little madness, so she shouldn’t have assumed that she knew what Matilda meant by “free cat,” but she’d been too hungry to care. She was still hungry! Besides, humans ate the weirdest things all the time! How was she supposed to know that they cat was supposed to be for companionship and not food? And beyond that, cat was pretty tasty. Unfortunately, doing so had blown her cover. Now that they had ratcheted up the fear and paranoia in the village to unseen of before levels, everyone was on edge and looking for the slightest sign of abnormality. Evidently, trying to eat a cat fit into that. Nyah’s stomach growled. She was starving! Her last meal had only been a couple days ago, when she’d been able to eat the flesh off of Sothe’s rotting carcass. That had been satisfying. It always seemed to taste just a little sweeter when you were partially the cause of death. Perhaps that’s why she felt as if she was always hungry anymore? She hadn’t been able to kill anything for a little over a day now. How disappointing. Or it could be these orphan’s bones. Maybe she had inherited this little girl’s hunger? She really hadn’t been much of a meal, what with as thin as she had been. More of an appetizer than anything. Nyah shook her head. She couldn’t get distracted right now. She needed to get someplace safe and switch out for some other bones. She could hunt and kill and eat afterwards. Problem was, she couldn’t think of anywhere that she had a full set of bones hidden around the village. She’d come to Ruin’s call straight away and hadn’t had any time to prepare. There was one full set of bones that she knew of. They were exceptionally clean too… *** Nyah walked down the street with her hands in her pockets. She kept her head down as well, so as to hopefully not be recognized. After weeks in that little orphan’s body, it felt strange to be so tall and far from the ground. With the sun setting in front of her, Nyah made her way out of the village. If she could make it out and to a village nearby, she could hopefully make it back with a new disguise before the Koloss arrived and still be of use to Ruin. Her stomach growled again. Perhaps it would be a few new disguises then. She almost made it out when she came across Matilda and her little group, still out hunting for the orphan. When they saw her, they jumped back, looking startled. “S-Sothe?” Carmicheal stammered questioningly. “But you’re dead!?!” Rust and Ruin! Nyah cursed. Just as with the orphan, seems I’ve inherited his luck too…. Day 5 has ended and Night 6 begins! You have 24 hours. Nyali was a Spiked Mistborn! PMs are still not open. Votes: Nyali (6)- Elenion, Manukos, Wyrmhero, Arinian, Magestar, Madagascar Wonko (3)- Joe in a Bush, I am Stick, Herowannabe, Hemalurgic Headshot (2)- Arraenae, Wilson Assassin in Burgundy (2)- Hemalurgic Headshot, Araris Jondesu (1)- Conquestor No Vote (14)- Elbereth, Wonko, Orlok, Sart, Gamma Fiend, Bugsy, Drake, Stink, Droughtbringer, Silverblade, Nyali, Jondesu, Seonid, Assassin in Burgundy Player List

If it had been a lurching, there would've been someone else within the write up protecting her or some such. While I might be a bit vague in the interest of better storytelling, as I've said before, I won't intentionally deceive you with the write ups. Typically I wouldn't say anything, but this is unintended confusion caused by something I did and I don't want to be an influence on the game.