Metacognition

Night 8 (Leaderless) The Crew didn’t know what to do with themselves without Peng around to give them a guiding hand. They gathered in little groups and whispered to each other. Somehow, it seemed that killing the Inquisitor hadn’t settled things as much as they hoped. Many were in denial and were starting to look for someone to blame. It wasn’t long before the accusations started after that. Aspren bore the brunt of it. They knew that he was Modeft’s right hand man and many blamed him for being here in the first place. He barely noticed the angry glares and snubbing. He was busy with his notes and charts. Most people just acted out of an emotional need to do something, but Aspren had learned long ago that if you did the math, and kept good notes, you were far better informed. He had kept track of everything he could since Modeft’s death, working hard to get retribution for his fallen leader and friend. People didn’t make a lot of sense most of the time, but numbers never lied, so he kept at it, hoping that something would jump out to him. He was so entranced that he didn’t even notice that the inn had gone eerily quiet until a shadow fell across his notes. He finally looked up only to find almost the entire crew glaring down at him. He knew the look in their eyes. He’d seen it far too often lately. Modeft, my friend, I’ve failed you, he thought. But soon enough, you’ll be able to chastise me in person. He gently closed his notes and then held them up to the waiting crowd. “Here,” he said. “After you’re done with me, use this. You’ll find everything I’ve recorded and everything I suspect inside. When we’re finished here, I’d prefer my body be burned. See to it, please.” This took some of the Crew aback and for a moment, it seemed like Aspren might live after all. But the inertia had already begun and Aspren did nothing to discourage it. As such, it didn’t take long for them to string him up and hang him. As per his unusual request, after thuroughly checking him for any spikes, they created a bonfire right outside the inn, right there on the street. It was a solemn crowd that watched it burn, spewing even more ash into the sky. So days, it felt like they would be drown in ash…. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Night 8 Begins! My apologies for the less than stellar write up. On the bright side, the write up isn’t as late as I thought, but to try to keep it close to schedule, there will be 23 hours to this night! Aspren turned out to be a Smoker! Player Votes Aspren - 9 (Barty, Wes, Seran, Kukri, Aonar, Herwynbe, Quillion, Roban, Wilson, Grave) Windrunner - 1 (Vron) Mathieu - 0 (Gamon) No Vote - 4 (Windrunner, Aether, Mathieu, Aspren)

Fair warning guys, as the people in the Docs know, I've been spending my entire weekend doing Calc homework for a test I have on Monday. I still have a little bit to do, so the write up is likely to be a little late. Sorry!

If you want to start sign ups, let's just set up the actual game thread, rather than clutter up in here. I'd say there's still plenty of game left in the one we have running, but I understand everyone's excitement as well.

Day 8 (Revenge) With the Inquisitor dead, the Crew breathed a little easier. They may not be out of the dark, but there seemed like there was a light at the end of the tunnel now. Perhaps that was why they let their guard down. Ridge would always stand out. If not because of his “dashing good looks,” his “impeccable sense of fashion” would draw the eye. Even if it did tend to give people headaches from all the clashing colors. He knew that the women fawning all over Gamon were just trying to make him jealous, but he was a good sport and didn’t begrudge Gamon for it. That’s why he had decided to take the poor orphan Mistborn under his wing. Peng had grown up on the streets and so the only fashion they had was Skaa trousers and ash. It was a sad story indeed and Ridge decided that Peng deserved some help with that after all he had done to help track down and kill the Inquisitor. And so they walked down the main thoroughfare in the Harrows with Ridge gesturing wildly and Peng wearing a frozen on smile. “...And that is why mixing orange with any color will bring out the color in your skin!” Ridge declared. Peng couldn’t hear much of anything over the rustling of Ridge’s clothing and the booming nasal of his voice, so he didn’t notice that the night had gotten unerringly quiet until it was too late. While fashion might not be one of them, with a lifetime of instincts he had learned on the streets, he flared his metals and pushed Ridge to the side and dove the other way just as a hundred blue lines appeared out of the mists in front of them. The coins barely missed them. Peng pointed at Ridge, who was still trying to get to his feet, a look of shock on his face. “Go! Run!” Ridge didn’t need to be told twice. He was far too pretty to want to be caught in an actual battle. A scar or two might just make him even more handsome and he couldn’t subject the world to that. He quickly took off towards a darkened alleyway where he could save the world by saving himself. Just as he reached the mouth of the alleyway, a dark figure stepped out of it as well. In one quick, fluid motion, they caught Ridge by the shoulder with one hand and forced him onto the dagger they held in their other hand, right into his gut. Ridge gasped in pain as his attacker twisted the dagger. “This is for my eyes,” his attacker whispered to him before letting Ridge fall back into the street while they slipped back into the shadows. Peng had been too busy trying to find out where the coins had come from to notice what had happened to Ridge. It wasn’t until his tin enhanced hearing heard Ridge gasp that he realized something was wrong. He whipped his head around just in time to see Ridge start to fall to the ground. No, No, NO! Pent thought. He had promised himself he wouldn’t let anyone else die. “Ridge!” He yelled as he sprinted towards where he had fallen. Once Peng had been distracted with Ridge’s death, another volley of coins came at him from behind and he was so focused on Ridge that he didn’t notice in time. The coins dug into his back and one even shattered his kneecap, but even such a large barrage of coins couldn’t stop a determined Mistborn. Peng crawled across the ground towards the garishly dressed man. Another series of coins hit him, some of them puncturing all the way through. It was enough. Peng continued to reach towards Ridge, still trying to protect him and everything faded to black around him. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Ridge and Peng never showed up to Roban’s Inn. It was his inn now, due to Dyring’s demise, though he didn’t show it the same level of care as Dyring did. As one example, the writings from the previous night had yet to be scrubbed off the walls and there were two new ones to add to the clutter. The First one was: ––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––– S\omber\_silence,_The_simple_sound_of_/viole/n ce\;_And\_truth_be___––––__told,_It’s/­_my_d/es ire\_So_l\et_it_b/e_More_tha\n_a_mem/ory;_/As_ it_\fills\_your/_soul,_Feed_t\he_fi/re_Te/mpt ing_\flame\__–/––____––––____––\–__/s,_Ch/aoti c_ga|mes_–|,_|Ma/de_\ins/ane\,_|An|–_d_l|eft_ in_pa|i/n_A|n|d/_isn’t\/_it_so\_|b|eau\t|iful_ And_i|/sn’t|_||it_____/\____so_||r|ight\|,_And _isn’|t_it_|p/\ur/e_JU||STIC\E_/\t|o_wat|ch_th em_bu|rn_at||_nXig•ht|_|So•_lXig||ht_yo|ur_ma tches|_So_g|r\/ab\____\/y___/ou\/r|_torc|hes,_ Man_y|\our_|p||itchfor++ks,_We’||r|e_go/|nna_p lay;_|A\_ni|g|h\t_of_f/\lames,/_|A|_ni/g|ht_of _gam|es,–_|__|A_\­__/night\__/_o|f_|_–_pa|in,_ It’s/_all_/to–––_gai––––––n_Un–––ti\l_bre\ak_o f_d/ay_An/d_wh\en_the_sun_beat/s_do\wn_No\thi ng_/is_le/ft_to_b\__e_foun__/d_Not_a\_sing\le_ si/lent_/signal_No_ev––––idence_aroun\d_Not\hi n/g_lik/e_sweet_revenge_-Mikeyla_S_Ben\zinge\r ––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––––– And the second one was: Hello everybody! This is your good friend, Tineye number 2, and I'm here to tell you a story! There are seven upon whom we set our sights In our pain comes their delights They seek to provoke an endless night Ridge has fallen from the light Vron too far gone, no longer right Seran betrayed, his tricksy fight Quillion's nothing, his proxy has might Roban too, loves our plight Wilson's lists just to spite Aspren's gift of pain. Of course, only four of these horrible individuals are actually the Spiked. But this is the list which tells us the truth. Let the gutters run with their rusted blood. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Day 8 begins! You have 48 hours now. Ridge turned out to be a Seeker! Peng turned out to be the Mistborn! Updated Player List

So far, we haven't had the need, as a large portion of the players are already in the game, but if the group gets too large, then yes, we'll be running multiple at the same time.

I like both takes on Bendalloy and Cadmium. 18th's Bendalloy could still be useful, especially if you get to see who your attacker was. You're a dead man walking, but you survive long enough to point the finger at your killer. Hero and Wes's idea would also work, though if it were me, I'd just make it a specific time, like 4 hours forward or backward and I probably wouldn't continue doing requests for extensions on time if they were available. It could be a pain though, as that would consistently change when the write up would need to be done. Of course, I haven't put them through the ringer yet to see how they'd play with everything else. Would it be too powerful if Zinc and Bendalloy were used together often, as per Hero/Wes's version? If you used Bendalloy like 18th's, would that be too many Seeking roles if you also still had a general Seeker in the group? We've got some great starts here, but I want to warn any GM from just pulling them directly from here. You'll probably want to consider how it would play in your game or else they make become to overpowered!

Kind of a reverse and more specific Seeker. Not bad at all, Aonar!

The day will be extended for 24 hours rather than the typical 12. That way we can keep to the schedule easier. UberTin worked basically like flaring Tin would in the series (think Spook from book 3). PMs are basically like whispering things to each other from an RP stand point, so the Inquisitor would have been able to tell who said what. It's not like listening in on a phone call and only hearing half of a conversation (though near the end, I'll bet Spook would've been able to hear the other half of the conversation anyways), so the Inquisitor got both sides of a conversation.

I'm going to clarify some rules here, as I think you guys are confused about a few things. Some roles have consistent powers. Other roles have activated abilities. I don't ask the Thug to send in an order every night that basically says that they are turning on their Pewter. I don't ask the Tineye to state whether they're allowing PMs or not. Unless they state otherwise, the Smoker is always at least smoking themselves. Those are constant, passive abilities of the role and are separate from the activated abilities a role might have. A Coinshot or a Seeker need to activate their roles, as those roles have a target. How this plays with the Inquisitor's abilities, I'll let you guys decide, but I'll say this much, some of the UberMetals are passive, consistent powers. If you guys want, I can update the General Rules Thread to include these types of situations, but I intentionally left it as bare bones as possible to allow other GMs the freedom to tweak things as they see fit. Just because I run the game a certain way doesn't make that the only way and if there's one thing I hate, it's stifling creativity! Plus, I didn't want to turn anyone away because the game started to read like a complex derivative of a first edition DnD game! I urge you guys to make use of me and ask me for clarification of anything you're not sure about. I'll do my best to answer what I can without giving the game away. If you're unsure about how a role or a power works, or if a situation confuses you, I'll do my best to answer it.

Feel my pain, Peng. Feel my pain and come over to the dark side! EDIT: No, this is not confirmation of anything; just a statement of how many PMs I had to go through! I'm honestly glad you guys killed the Inquisitor! Makes my life far more simple!

I just added them right before you posted that.

Night 7 (Hunting the Hunter) The Crew met at the late Dyring’s inn. Well, everyone except Cessie. She had evidently gone to ground. There were a few surprises, as Aonar showed up in his hazekiller armor and Gamon led a small herd of horses. When they finished burying Dyring, everyone stood around silently, planning their next move. Peng finally came in from outside, covered in dirt and ash. He scanned the room, meeting each member’s eye. “It ends here,” he said. “I’m tired of burying people. We’re going out and we’re going to find Cessie before she has the chance to strike again. We’ve been living in fear for the last few nights, huddled in corners and hoping that we’re not next. No longer. Modeft hired us because we’re the best and we’re going to prove it to him. It’s time that Cessie felt the fear. It’s time for her to hide and run, because we are coming for her. This time, we’re the hunters and we’ll not rest until we’ve caught our prey!” The Crew stood a little straighter with that, some of their anxiety melting away. Peng quickly separated them into groups. They’d trust the mysterious note and start by sweeping that side of the Harrows. Each group was to search a building. Once the building was cleared, they’d all meet back out onto the street and move down to the next set of buildings. No one was to get too far away from the others, so that when Cessie was found, everyone could be there in an instant. It was well into the afternoon by the time the Crew had meticulously worked their way down to where The Fishing Hole stood. Aonar, Ridge, and Grave were the group assigned to check it. As they entered the abandoned building, the first thing they noticed was that the dust had already been disturbed. While it could have just been beggars looking for somewhere to sleep, as they had found in other buildings, these tracks seemed too scattered, as if there was consistent and multiple people coming and going. Then there was the specks of blood on the floor. “Go get Peng,” Aonar whispered to Grave. He adjusted his armor and shared a look with Ridge before moving further in. The afternoon light cast elongated shadows across the floor, making the entire place seem like it was draped in black velvet. Ridge moved off to the side, staying close to the walls, as Aonar followed the blood trail. It led behind the bar. Aonar’s breaths came quicker as he made sure his shield was at the ready and then walked around the bar. Cessie sat there, still dressed in the Inquisitor robes and leaning against the back of the bar. Her eyes were closed and she had a hand pressed against her stomach. Her breathing was shallow, but strong. The wound looked mostly healed already. Aonar glanced at Ridge and nodded. They’d found their Inquisitor. At that moment, Cessie’s eye flew open and her hand flew up, releasing a spray of coins towards Aonar. The coins embedded into the shield, but Cessie continued to push on them, throwing Aonar back. He tumbled and came up in a crouch as Cessie made her way to her feet. “Only two of you? After the last time, I’d think you’d know better,” she said with a grin. Aonar tightened his grip on his dueling cane. Peng better get here soon he thought. Cessie grabbed an Obsidian axe she had stashed underneath the bar and shot forward, sprinting on legs made fast with pewter. Aonar feinted in one direction and then dove in the other. You couldn’t overpower someone burning pewter easily, so as he had been taught, he tried to keep Cessie from figuring out what it was that he was going to do. Ridge was working his way around, trying to get behind Cessie when a handful of coins shot towards him. He yelped and dove under a nearby table, yanking one of the legs off as he felt the coins thud into the the table top. Using the leg as a makeshift club, he leapt from behind the table and rushed Cessie, just as Aonar had recovered and was doing the same. Cessie kicked a nearby table towards Aonar, causing him to stumble, which meant that now Ridge had to face the Inquisitor alone. He’d be massacred. Cessie chopped through the table leg with one solid blow and then punched Ridge in the stomach dropping him. Cessie raised her axe, getting ready to deal the final blow. A spray of coins ripped through one of the windows and Peng’s body followed. Cessie turned in surprise, but was able to push the coins away. Peng pulled out a set of glass daggers as he landed on a table top. Aonar had managed to get back to his feet as well and the two of them circled Cessie. There was the sound of rushed footsteps as the rest of the Crew hurried to catch up. We just have to keep her from escaping, Aonar thought. She won’t be able to fight us all once the rest of the Crew arrives. Indeed, Cessie seemed to be thinking along the same lines, as she tried to run towards the back room and likely out an exit out there. Peng cut her off with a shower of coins in that direction as Aonar moved in with a swipe at the arm holding the axe. She barely got her axe up in time to block the blow, but Aonar’s dueling cane held. While Cessie was distracted with Aonar, Peng tossed one of his daggers to Ridge, who was still curled up on the floor. Ridge caught it and hamstrung Cessie before she could get away from him. Cessie cried out and toppled to the ground. Ridge rolled out of the way as she tried to chop at him with the axe. At that moment, the rest of the Crew finally arrived and surrounded the downed Inquisitor. “You think you’ve won?” Cessie spat at them. “This is just the beginning! You may have defeated me, but my minions will finish off the rest of you! You’re all doomed and I will have my revenge!” “You may yet get your revenge,” Peng whispered. “But today, we have justice.” And with that, he took his dagger and plunged it into her heart. “Now what?” Asked one of the Crew as they looked down on Cessie’s dead corpse. There came a whinny from outside and then Gamon came in carrying a few sections of rope, a huge grin on his face and a twinkle in his eye. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Night 7 begins! I’m going to switch things around, because this 36 hour thing is really getting to me, between this and school and work and such. From now on, there will be 24 hours in a night, considering that the most that happens at night is the night orders and there will be 48 hours to each day. How’s that sound? So to get us back on track, there will be 28 hours to this night. Cessie turned out to be the Inquisitor and is finally dead! The Inquisitor Role: INQUISITOR: Somehow, you're hidden among the crew. You must have a very good (and very large) pair of sunglasses. Like the Mistborn, there's only one of you, but whenever a Misting dies, you can convert a different player to your side with the role of the dead Misting. You can only do this with the freshly dead though, so the conversion must happen during the very next night turn. To aide you in your quest, Ruin has granted you 5 special abilities. UberPewter - Ruin has blessed you with exceptional strength and endurance. You survive two attempts on your life instead of just one. After the first attempt, you appear as a Thug in the write up, but still scan as a regular villager. UberTin - You can listen in on any conversation without the other person knowing. This includes PMs. If all the other Tineyes die, your ability does not allow for PMs to continue. UberCopper - While this ability doesn't protect you from emotional Allomancy like a regular Smoker would be, you register as a Regular Villager during any attempts to seek you. UberBronze - Gives you the ability to pierce Copperclouds as well as the typical Seeker role abilities. Smokers who have their Copperclouds pierced will lose their protection from emotional Allomancy, as well as their target. UberSteel - Without this ability, you cannot kill. You'll have to rely on your converts for kills if you lose this one. To convert another player, you need a dead Misting and one of your Ruin granted abilities. Your target will have a 50% chance to gain the powers of the dead Misting and your Ruin granted power will be used up. If you give up your final Ruin power, you will die. You cannot convert the Mistborn. Cessie - 13 (Gamon, Barty, Wes, Ridge, Vron, Seran, Kukri, Aonar, Herwynbe, Quillion, Roban, Wilson, Peng, Grave, Aspren) No Vote - 4 (Windrunner, Aether, Mathieu, Cessie) Updated Player List

I'm going to merge this with the Art of Creating Roles Thread, as that is basically what you're doing here. You're trying to come up with new Roles and as such, you'll get a lot more feedback over there. EDIT: Well played Swimmingly, well played.

Oops! Good catch, Aspren! I did mean that UberPewter effectively allow the player 3 lives. They survive two extra attempts on their life, not three (probably why they gave it away, eh? ). I'll get that fixed asap.

Day 7 (The Notes of Passing) Dyring insisted that Peng stay at the Inn. Not only would that mean a set of Mistborn eyes and hears to help him catch the hooligan that kept ruining his inn, but Peng wasn’t in much of a position to go anywhere anyways. All he needed was a decent night’s sleep and plenty of pewter and he’d be back on his feet in no time. As such, Dyring set up a cot in the back room. It was secluded enough that Peng should have been able to get some sleep, but Dyring could keep an eye on him as well. The only light was from a window in the back and the lantern light from the bar area. Peng was out like a light. As he unconsciously flared pewter to help his body heal, he effectively went into almost a coma-like state. He knew he’d be needed for the hunt tomorrow and he wanted to be ready. After his pitiful performance yesterday, he wasn’t about to let the Crew down again. Besides, Cessie might not have been the Inquisitor that killed his family, but with each one he killed, the closer he got to that one. While he hated being such a vulnerable state, there was little he could do about it if he wanted to be prepared. Dyring stayed up. His job was to make sure that Peng always had enough pewter. Every now and then, Peng’s breathing would get shallower and he’d half wake up. At that point in time, Dyring knew to have him drink down a mixture that contained some pewter. At the rate Peng was going through the stuff, Dyring worried about him. He had heard that it was very dangerous to keep any Allomantic metal constantly burning, but pewter was suppose to be the worst of them. They said that people who constantly burned their pewter like that didn’t last long. Still, Dyring did his job. Between drinks, Dyring sat watching for the dastardly poet and tried to come up with a plan for killing Cessie. They hadn’t been ready to actually face an Inquisitor last time. If he could help it, they would do better. Light shown through the back window. Over half the night had past and the light spilled across Peng’s unconscious form. Dyring was heading back towards the inn after administering another glass when a shadow passed by outside the window. Dyring paused. There was something unnatural about that shadow, so he hefted his club, holding it like a baseball bat and waited. Nothing. Dyring was just about to let his guard down when something small crashed through the window. Reflexively, Dyring burned Iron. Sure enough, a blue line appeared, zipping across the room towards Peng. Dyring cried out in shock, but barely managed to pull the coin off course. When that coin failed to kill Peng, multiple coins shattered through the window. This time Dyring was ready and he pulled on the coins the second they appeared. Unfortunately, he didn’t have a shield to catch them on. Dyring gritted his teeth and used the club as a very small, very slender shield. The chances of him catching them all were slim. Thunk, thunk, thunk. He looked down in shock to find all three coins stuck in the club. “Ha!” He called out. “That’s right, bring it on! You infernal creatures won’t get anywhere tonight!” He did a little jig on the spot, but kept a wary eye out for anymore coins. That’s why he didn’t hear or see the figure stalking up behind him. The obsidian dagger they carried, the twin of the one that had stabbed Peng didn’t give off any blue lines, so it wasn’t until Dyring felt it slice against his throat that he realized what happened. As Dyring’s body slumped to the floor, the figure turned towards Peng’s cot. It approached quietly, but paused halfway there. Peng was stirring, as if he was waking up. The figure looked back at Dyring’s body and decided that was enough for tonight. There was no need to face the Mistborn alone just yet. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Cessie was glad the secret was out. No more hiding, no more lurking. No, now she would get the recognition she deserved and drive fear into the heart of the Crew. But first, tonight, she needed to drive a spike into someone instead. Her victim waited just inside the abandoned building. They had been tricked into showing up by one of her other pets. She thought of them that way because that’s what they were to her. They only had the one spike, while she had a good half a dozen. And soon she’d have her eyespikes too. Those were especially coveted. She walked into the building without even attempting to hide. Her victim turned and grew pale. “I’ve been deceived,” they whispered. “Yes, you have. But in just a second, you won’t think of it that way and you’ll be thanking them for this opportunity.” True to her word, Cessie moved with blinding speed. She pinned her victim’s arm behind them, keeping them still while she drew the spike she had held onto for this exact purpose and drove it into the victim’s body. Indeed, in less than a second, she had released them. They fell to the floor, gasping in pain. “Stay here and recover,” she said. “Tomorrow, we’ll begin.” ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Many had heeded this new preacher, Quellion’s words and had already gone out into the mists, but not everyone. Still, sometimes there was nothing else one could do. One figure took a deep breath and pulled open a door, looking out into the night. “Just one step at a time,” they thought to themselves. One step was one step too far, as the figure fell to the ground twitching and writhing in pain. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- In another part of town, another figure waited in the mists. It was getting close to daybreak, but they had a task to finish yet. The figure had been waiting for a good half hour now. When they had approached Dyring’s Inn, they came just in time to see someone else sneak in. When no alarm was raised, the figure decided to wait it out. The same person they had spotted before left through the front door. They were giggling and carried what looked to be a case full of writing supplies. The figure raised an eyebrow, but didn’t stop the stranger. When they were sure the stranger was gone, they crept up to the inn and peeked through a window. Dyring was nowhere to be seen. That was unlike him. The figure had spent other nights just waiting for the right opportunity to get in. They glanced down at the note in their hand. It was a copy of what they planned to leave for Dyring for the night. A small smile edged the corners of the figure’s mouth. This game of cat and mouse with Dyring was a fun distraction, considering how bleak everything else looked. The figure edged towards the door and listened. Everything was silent. As silent as a grave, they thought. Indeed, tonight’s venture was starting to put the figure on edge. The figure entered anyways, quickly spotting a new message on one of the walls already. It seemed that the figure now had a copy cat. The figure stealthily made their way to the bar, trying to figure out what Dyring’s game was this time. That’s when the figure noticed the pool of blood leaking out of the back room. The figure jumped back in shock and gasped, dropping the note and their writing supplies to the ground. Suddenly things didn’t seem as lighthearted. They turned and ran out of the inn and onto the street. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Thus was the state of the inn when Peng finally awoke. Dyring’s body was already cold and there was a message written on one wall and another written on a note. The one on the wall read: I'm the tineye now! Good work, my brother, keep it up. You should be happy to know that now I'm here to help. 'Twill be so much fun. We'll kill Cessie, kill the three Spiked... I'm fairly confident. I love this job. Dyring. What will you do? I'm after you. I will kill you. Ps. Poor Cessie, alone and afraid. This time, it looks like the Spiked won't take the victory. But I always win, Dyring. Always. I will Snap her in two. The one in the note read: When Modeft called us 'to his den to be part o' his crew We thought we'd have a riotous time 'till Mo' the 'quisitor slew Then Weiry looked the other way and Lucy lost her luck And Maxill couldn't soothe the Priest and so he too was stuck Tinker Tineye with eyes so bright, He can see what can't be spied, But come tomorrow's morning light, He may be the one that's died. We set out to find the 'quisitor and hang her with a rope And six used nooses later we had all but lost our hope But then Cessie played her hand and we all now thought alike We'll get her soon or later, but what about the friends she's spiked? Tinker Tineye with ears in tune, He can hear the lies you've lied, But come the lynching at high noon, He may be the one that's died. Dyring tends the bar where we must drink our antidotes He's forgone sleep to try to catch the writer of these notes He'll stay awake a thousand days if that is what it takes But Tinker Tineye still will be laughing till his belly aches Tinker Tineye with touch so light, His words you cannot hide, But if anyone ever catches sight, He may be the one that's died. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Night 6 ends and Day 7 begins! You have 36 hours from now for your voting, unless anyone asks for an extension. Dyring turned out to be a Lurcher! The UberMetal the Inquisitor gave up was: UberPewter- Ruin has blessed you with exceptional strength and endurance. You survive two additional attempts on your life instead of just one, like a normal Thug. After the first attempt, you appear as a Thug in the write up, but still scan as a regular villager. Updated Player List

I can clarify that, as that is a question about game play and rules: Everyone only gets one action per turn. If you're a Soother/Rioter, you can only act during the day round. For every other role, their action happens at night, but if there was a way for a Soother/Rioter to gain abilities that allow them to perform a night action, they can use both (Like for example, if you of them were to become Spiked). The Spiked get a "team kill." Once per night, someone from the Spike faction can put in the order to kill another player. This counts towards their action for the night and they wouldn't be able to use any other abilities they have. So if you had a Smoker Spiked player, then they could not use the team kill and Smoke a target during the same night. Likewise with any other night time role. The Inquisitor's main ability is the ability to convert another player to the Spiked faction, under the restricted circumstances, but they are not considered an actual Spiked player. They do have some of the same benefits, like being able to speak to the other Spiked players and knowing who they are (duh, they made them!), but without UberSteel, they wouldn't have the ability to kill at all. As such, the Inquisitor has to decide between their actions at night. They can either convert or use the UberSteel or use UberBronze (well, before they gave each of those abilities away) or use whatever other powers they may have left. If they use the UberSteel, it counts towards the team kill, which means that no other Spiked player could use the team kill action. If they do not use the UberSteel (say they convert instead), then any other Spiked player can use the team kill rather than use any other abilities they have. Hopefully that should clarify how the roles work.

Surprisingly, I have yet to receive quite a few Night Orders. Those of you who have yet to send them in should be thanking your mysterious benefactor who PM'ed me about an extension! There are exactly 11 hours and 59 minutes left to the day!

It's a good thing we all like puns And all see 'em as Shards of Brilliance in a Drab world. I'm sure we will be Vin-dicated for our Devotion when we Iron out the kinks.

With only an hour left, I feel pretty confident that 90% of the votes are in and it'll let me get back closer to our original schedule, so..... Night 6 (She Went That Way!) The entire Crew knew of only one place where each and everyone of them would need to go at least once a day; Dyring’s Inn. They all needed to stop in and get a glass of water to keep the poison from ravaging their bodies. Modeft’s plan, while a bit cold-hearted, was also incredibly clever. It forced the Inquisitor to come out into the open. The only way for someone to not show up would be to let themselves die. So after searching Shiv very thoroughly for a spike and coming up empty handed, they all knew what needed to be done. Perhaps that was why they all showed up bright and early, just moments after the mist burned away. Which meant that there were plenty of hands around when Peng stumbled in, looking worse for wear with an obsidian dagger still lodged in his shoulder. Even Herwynbe took it upon himself to aide the Mistborn. Once Peng was taken care of, they sat around waiting. Some of them seemed eager, others appeared hesitant, but no one left. They shared a silent agreement to see this through to the end. They waited in silence well into the afternoon before their victim showed up. Cessie entered through the front doors and walked straight up to the bar to get her drink of water. She didn’t turn to look at anyone and she didn’t hesitate at all. The Crew seemed frozen in surprise. It was such a bold move, no one thought to stop her before she had finished off her glass. She reached into a pocket in her sleeve and pulled out a wineskin and filled it with water as well. By the time she had finished that, the Crew had recovered and when she turned around, she found herself surrounded. Cessie didn’t flinch as she met each Crew member’s eyes, though some of them, especially Herwynbe couldn’t meet hers. She still maintained the bearing and look of nobility and some of the Crew instinctively shied away from that. Peng was near the back. For one, he was injured and he gladly let the Crew be the executioner this time. For another, if Cessie was the Inquisitor and got through the rest of the Crew, he was their last line of defense to keep her from escaping. “Just tell us one thing before you die,” said Peng. “How are you hiding the spikes?” Cessie sneered. “I have all the spikes except the eye spikes. Those were to be my reward for killing all of you. A reward I still plan to claim!” Cessie ripped at the bodice of the dress she was wearing and tossed it like a net at the first few people in front of her. Underneath the dress, she wore the robes of an Inquisitor. She then pushed on any metals to either side, throwing more people back into those behind them. She had cleared a small pocket of space around her. She pushed off of the metal in the banding of a barrel behind her and shot towards Peng, barrelling through the ranks of the Crew. A few of them tried to swing at her, but their blows were either deflected or poorly aimed in the chaos. Peng was in no condition to fight a full fledged Inquisitor, but he blocked her path all the same. He gritted his teeth and flared his pewter, using it to steady him and dull the pain in his shoulder. Surprisingly, Cessie basically ignored him. She took a swipe at him to get him out of the way, but other than that, she rushed for the door. “No Mistress! Please don’t!” called a voice from behind her. She paused, as she had heard that voice since well before she had joined the Steel Ministry. Herwynbe reached towards her, his eyes begging her to give him a reason to trust her again. In that moment of indecision, Peng took his shot. He pulled out a handful of coins and flared his steel as high as it could go. The coins zipped through the room. Cessie noticed them too late. While she was capable of deflecting most of them, one slammed into her stomach knocking to the ground. She growled as she knelt on the floor. She looked up into Herwynbe’s pleading eyes and all he could see was hatred and anger. Holding the wound in her stomach, she rushed outside. The rest of the Crew stumbled to their feet and followed, but there was no sign of her. A piece of paper floated on the breeze and Kukri snatched it out of the air. It simply read: She went that way! --> -M The Crew searched the rest of the afternoon without finding any sign of Cessie. As night closed in, they met back at Dyring’s Inn, determined to start again at daybreak. It would be too dark and concealing for them to continue through the night and the mists. One thing they were all clear on though, this was far from over…. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Night 6 begins! You have 36 hours to send in your Night Orders! Cessie turned out to be the Inquisitor! A Not Dead Inquisitor, at that! Player Votes Cessie - 11 (Gamon, Barty, Wes, Ridge, Seran, Kukri, Herwynbe, Dyring, Quillion, Aonar, Wilson) No Vote - 9 (Windrunner, Vron, Aether, Mathieu, Cessie, Roban, Peng, Grave, Aspren)

That's fair and as I said at the beginning, I had a lot more to back up my theory, but I just couldn't bring myself to retype it back out, so I apologize for that. I had more than just the one quote from Brandon and a few other things I had grabbed from the books; all lost. I just left the bare bones of what my theory was. One of these days I'll go back through and find it all again, but after all that work lost, I was despondent. So sorry if I came off a bit overconfident. I do still think I'm correct about this, but there is a reason for it at least!

Since over half of the remaining crew has voted for the same person, I've already finished the write up. I really want to post it, as I think you guys will enjoy it immensely, but there's still 3 hours left before the end of the day and people are still voting. So even though it has been extremely silent, I don't want to gyp anyone out of the chance to be heard. What do you guys want? You want the write up now or just wait till the end of the turn?

Dang it, Joar, I was just about to say that. Even so, it still could be a shardpool. Most of the pools we've seen are small in area, thus condensing the magic held within it, but that doesn't mean that it has to be that way. If you spread out a shardpool, the effects of the magic might just be lessened, causing minor miraculous things like the lake retreating during a highstorm and magical fishes. It also seems to have an effect on the people who live there, making them much more peaceful and calm than we've seen in most people on Roshar. They also seem to put a special significance on give and take dealings and treat them with almost a reverence, like with how Ishikk and Maib used meals and fish to constantly balance out their favors to each other. Seems like a pretty honorable system, yes?

(Son of a- .... I just finished typing out a huge reply that detailed why I'm correct and it's all lost to a misclick.... I will attempt to do so again, but I'll probably be briefer.) So I was browsing the forum when I came across this WOB: This effectively tells us that I'm not only correct about Scadrial, but also explains why Sel is the Expanse of Densities. On Sel, the powers are concentrated based on geographic region. Thus, populations will flock to those areas, as their power wanes the further they get from those areas. Those areas will expand within the cognitive realm with the areas in between becoming effectively wastelands. Now, density is a measure of an object's mass divided by its volume. Because the people on Sel congregate together, they are increasing the density of the area, thus creating "islands" of cognitive expanses. On Scadrial, everyone is divided basically into two categories: spiked or not spiked. Preservation gave up a little bit more of himself to create humans and those with hemalurgic spikes were essentially minions of Ruin. If one were to look at this from a cognitive aspect, you'd see areas where one power is dominate and where the other is dominate. The Koloss were kept separate from the rest of the world, thus creating "patches" of Ruinic influence. The Kandra had the Homeland. The Inquisitors had the Conventical of Seran. This creates a patchwork of interlacing areas of influence, thus the Broken Sky. I'm almost positive that I am right. It even accounts for why Nathis is the Expanse of Vibrance, as everyone has at least a small amount of investment within their breaths. @Green: Brandon has had the Cosmere planned out from the beginning. He already knew which expanse was which well before it was revealed. As such, would it really be so surprising to find out that he left clues before he revealed to us the existence of Shadesmar within books that were already published?

Well this got off topic quickly. Personally, I think that the "force" that opposed Adonalsium was humanity. That would account for Harmony still being the most powerful thing in the Cosmere, but also allow that force to still be present. I think that when Brandon said Hoid was present at the Shattering, he didn't mention why Hoid was there on purpose. It also answers why Brandon said that the argument could be made that Sazed was the most powerful thing in the Cosmere. Technically, he would be, but with humanity spread out across so many worlds, it could easily be argued that they are more powerful. It would also explain why every Shardholder was human (or at least as far as we know of the Shardholders so far) when we know that dragons also existed during that time. What this doesn't explain is why the 17th Shard is after Hoid. This is an area of speculation that I think the entire forum would like an answer to, as all we have are guesses. Is he trying to put back together Adonalsium? Create it anew? Something else entirely? Now this is entirely speculation on my part, but I think that whatever Hoid is up to, it might just cause humanity as a whole to lose whatever edge they have now. What if the 17th is after him because they fear the loss of power they've gained throughout the Cosmere? That would explain why people from each and every world would be hunting him down, as whatever he is doing would effect all of their worlds. So to sum it up, humanity wasn't as large or as powerful a force back on Yolen and they fought to free themselves and shattered Adonalsium. Hoid realized that they had made a huge mistake and is spending his time trying to correct it somehow. The 17th is trying to stop him as they don't want to go back to the way things were. Thoughts?

Day 6 (Rumors in the Mists) Dyring had some company during his watch tonight. It was completely unnerving company. Cessie still sat where she had throughout the entire day. It was probably a good idea to keep an eye on her, just in case she really was the Inquisitor somehow, but that didn’t mean Dyring wanted to be the one to do it! Something whistled through the air outside and crashed into the ground. Dyring turned towards the sound for only a second before glancing back at Cessie. She was gone. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Maxill had stayed to the edges of the Crew during all of this, trying not to attract too much attention. He hadn’t been in the Crew for long at all. In fact, this was his first Crew ever. Modeft had found him and recruited him because he said he saw something in Maxill. Perhaps this is how Crews like this were supposed to act? Somehow, even young Maxill couldn’t convince himself that Crew leaders being murdered by Inquisitors was a common thing in the underground, but that didn’t mean that he knew what to do about it. So he waited; hiding and listening. Tonight he had hidden somewhere that he didn’t think anyone would suspect him to be; out in the open. He had found a broken lock on one of the windows in Dyring’s Inn and he used that opening to climb up onto the rooftop. There wasn’t any other way up there, so Maxill felt confident that he was safe. He continued to feel that way right up to the point that he was picked up and thrown off the roof. He didn’t even have time to scream before crashing into the ground. Surprisingly, Maxill was still alive. Broken and in pain, but still alive. That was, of course, part of the plan. A spiked needed to be the thing to kill you if it were to stand the chance of stealing a Mistings powers. A figure stepped out of the shadows in a nearby alleyway, holding a spike in one hand. The figure looked up to the top of the roof, nodded and crossed to Maxill. Maxill tried to sooth the figure. “Remove your hatred, remove your bloodlust, remove your distain. Oh gods, please say they still have a shred of compassion that is now being revealed to them!” Maxill thought. It was all in vain. The figure didn’t even falter for a second. They resolutely walked up to Maxill’s broken form and drove the spike into his chest. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- The Inquisitor moved on silent feet. It was somewhere it shouldn’t be, so the Inquisitor needed to rely on its stealth. Not that the Inquisitor planned to be there long. It was only there to bring another person under its control. The Inquisitor’s target slept fitfully. That didn’t surprise the Inquisitor, considering how nightmarish the last few days had been. Most of it caused by the Inquisitor itself, which made the Inquisitor smile. Of course all of its victims thrashing about would make it very difficult to place the spike correctly. The Inquisitor moved up to the side of the bed, as quiet as a breath on the wind and waited. If you were patient, the right opportunity always presented itself. Indeed, one did. The Inquisitor’s victim stopped thrashing around, as the froze in terror from something only they could see. It had a beautiful sense of symmetry to it, that is, if one found beauty in death as the Inquisitor did. The Inquisitor drove the spike down into his victim and thought to itself, “and now you will become the nightmare you fear.” ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- There were rumors going around that the Mists were starting to kill people. Some people reverted to the old ways of hiding inside when the mists were out. Many people considered it foolish superstition. After all, as a new preacher called Quellion claimed, the Survivor was supposed to be the Lord of the Mists. Evidently, the mists gave little heed to the words of just one man, as it dropped multiple people into mind numbing agony. Some of them wouldn’t ever rise again, the pain too great for them. A handful of them did though and some of those were in the Harrows…. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Peng flew through the air, patrolling through the night. That and he needed time to think. Somehow he had been fooled. Another innocent dead by his hands. Why was it always the job of the Mistborn to be the executioner? Luckily, this death was not in vain. They were getting closer to finding the Inquisitor and finishing it off. The job wouldn’t be done until they had found the rest of its minions of course, but if they could cut off the head of that evil faction, they would all sleep better at night. Peng passed an intersect while contemplating this when he noticed something odd. He pushed against a window latch and fell down to the street. He made his way back to the intersection and after confirming that no one was hiding in the shadows, he ventured out into the street. There, in the middle of the street were three coins, spaced equal distance apart from each other to form a triangle. “That is not a natural occurrence,” Peng thought as he stooped to pick one up. “So why go through the trouble of setting something like this up? What purpose does it have?” The only thing he could think of was the few times that he’d used coins in a similar manner to keep himself suspended into the sky. By using three coins, you could give yourself a fairly strong base. “Uh oh,” Peng thought, burning pewter and trying to spring away. It was too late. A figure plummeted from the sky above him. They didn’t have any metal on them and they struck with an obsidian dagger, like a bird of prey diving out of the sky. The dagger hit him in the shoulder. A few inches to the left and it would have cut open his jugular vein. His attacker flipped over him and took off running. They knew better than to endure a prolonged fight with a Mistborn, even an injured one. Peng didn’t have the strength to give chase. It was all he could do to keep his pewter flared and make it somewhere so he could be bandaged up. ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- With Cessie disappearing like that, Dyring didn’t feel very comfortable leaving his back exposed. As much as he wanted to catch whomever was defiling his Inn, even he had to admit it wasn’t worth his life to do so. That’s why he went into the back to get a shield that had been left. He could strap it to his back and then continue his vigil. When he got back to the main room, he grabbed his cudgel that he kept underneath the bar to help deal with fights and other assorted rowdiness. He caught a reflection of himself in one of the bottles behind the bar and he felt a bit like he was a soldier, ready for battle. He stood a little straighter and smiled. There was a glimpse of movement coming from behind him in the reflection. He cursed as he spun, raising the cudgel. There was a figure standing right beside the door. It was carrying a paintbrush and an assortment of paints. It turned towards Dyring, but the lighting was too bad for him to make anything out. The figure raised a finger to its lips and shhh-ed at Dyring before stepping out into the night. Dyring stood there puzzled as his heart started to slow back down. If that was the Inquisitor, then that was the oddest Inquisitor he had ever met. That’s when he noticed that something had been written on the floor, in between the tables: ______________________________________ | | | .:.:˙.˙. .: ˙. :˙:.˙..˙ :: :˙..˙..˙ | | .˙ :˙:.˙ ˙:.˙:..˙ :˙..: ˙..˙. ˙:.˙. | | .: ˙:˙.. ˙...˙ :˙..˙ ˙:˙˙. .˙.:: ˙. | |______________________________________| ---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Day 6 begins! You have 36 hours from this post. Maxill turned out to be a Soother! Peng turned out to be a Thug! The power that the Inquisitor gave up was: UberSteel - Without this ability, the Inquisitor cannot kill. The Inquisitor will have to rely on the converts for kills if this ability is lost. This ability counts towards the team kill that the Spiked have. Updated Player List