Jo and the Bush

Cycle 6: Failure to act as One Sheon examined the Spear again. The weapon that had been used to kill both The Survivor and the Lord Ruler. He was carrying History in his hands. A history of Bloodshed and Slaughter. Of Revolution and Restoration. He idly wondered if the weapon was cursed. Avrao had told him that the spear had been used to kill her mother, and Avrao had died less than an hour after lending the thing to him. It had taken him considerable effort to survive having the spear, and so far, it had not been worth it. As soon as he had borrowed it from Avrao, he had set about trying to unlock it. He knew what it was, a siphon. He knew it could transfer power, but he didn’t know how. He just needed a bit more time, but the mob had almost caught him. He didn’t have the time. All he could do was hide the spear where it could be used for some good at least. -- Glow leaned against the wall, gasping in and out. He shivered, despite the warm air. He was running out of time. “Kayana Ire, sending me here without any reserves. How did they expect me to finish the shekking mission without the Dor?” He raised his hands, and began to sketch with the Dor. He drew the basic Aon of Scadrial, the five dots for the ashmounts, the ovals for the two perpendicularlities, and the outline of the continent itself. Then he hesitates, seeing how pale the light was. He had enough power for two spells, maybe three if they were small. What could he do with those? He had not gathered enough spikes to complete the connection to Ruin, so he could try to kill two more of Ruin’s servants, but he had no leads, no ideas. Or, he could break a rule. He was using energy gathered in Elantris, from Sel. He couldn’t gather energy from here, but, he could at least teach someone else who could how to do it. Teach someone what he was doing, and how to replicate it. Pass his mission on to someone with similar ideals. His course decided, he finished the Scadrian Aon, adding lines for the major canals, and a series of widening dashes to convey exactly where he was moving to. There was a flash of light, and the Alley was empty. -- He wept at the blood on his hands. He wept that he was not strong enough to add his own to it. He wept for the city he was destroying. He wept for his inability to just, tip forward, and fall from the roof where he knelt. He wept for Rin. The other stood behind him, arms folded, voices silent. They reveled in their destruction, their power. They danced through the bloodstains, sung as they sawed through the sinews, and laughed and the pleas of mercy. One stood between the Weaper and the Revelers. He paced back and forth, growling and snarling, aching to be released, to rend and destroy once again. Growler kicked Weaper in the back. “Shut up. If he hears you, he won’t go inside, and you won’t be able to kill him. Weaper sniffled. “That’s preferable, i think. I don’t want to kill him.” Growler grabbed his face, and wrenched it towards him, making direct eye contact. “Do you see that window there? The room next to Rin’s? Do you know who is in that room?” Weaper shook, either from fear or in reply to Growlers answer. “A little family of four. The father only has one arm, and the mother is starving herself. Both of them are doing their best to keep their children fed and happy. That window?” He pointed to the other window neighboring Rin’s house. “An artist, and master craftsman. He makes beautiful furniture, and toys for the children. The window above hi is a newly married couple, one of whom was a veteran in Kelsier’s rebellion.” Growler leaned forward, mashing his nose against Weaper’s. “Do you remember what I did to Avrao? What i did to her family, her friends, and the random skaa who lived in the same building? Do you remember their screams? Their agony? Some of them took hours to die. You’re going to go in there, and kill Rin, or I am going to go in there, and wipe out every living thing in the building. I will peel them open, and let them ripen before i finally snap their necks.” Weaper didn’t remember Avrao, other than the smell. He had closed his eyes, and covered his ears, muting out the worst. But the smell had filled his noses, until he stuffed them full of ash in desperation. “Alright. Survivor save me, I’ll kill him.” “Good, because he’s walking into the building right now.” -- Sheon kicked the door open, and walked in, spear out before him. The Room’s occupant scrambled to their feet, sending papers flying in surprise. “Sheon?” He leveled the spear and the person's neck, and hardened his eyes. “Do you know what this is?” “Uh, that’s Avrao’s Spear.” “No, it’s art, and history, and Connection. It’s an aretefact of power. In the right hands, it serves to balance the odds. In the wrong hands, it’s a curse.” He flipped the spear, turning it so that the butt was pointed towards him. “My hands were the wrong ones apparently. Keep it safe, use it only when necessary. And for your own sake, don’t tell anyone you have it. They’ll kill you for it once they learn what it does.” The occupant didn’t reach out to take the spear, so Sheon simply dropped it, turned, and left. He walked out of the building, and into the growing mist. It wasn’t long before he felt a familiar presence beside him. He didn’t bother to look to confirm that the Mist Spirit was keeping step with him. He could tell by the feeling that was sufficing him. The feeling that he had done the right thing. “He’ll abuse the power you know. Take it for his own.” The spirit disagreed, in its empathetic way. “What do you know about him that i don’t? Why are you so certain he’s the right choice?” The answer was not what he expected. It was an oppressive feeling of sadness. Of Loss, and Despair. It sickened him, as he realized what it meant. He hadn’t given the spear to the right hands, just the necessary ones, the best available. “He’s not going to die is he? The spiked aren’t going to come for him, that’s why you had me give him the spear?” The Spirit didn’t answer, and when Sheon finally turned to look, there was nothing there. But off in the distance he could see torches. The Mob had finally found him. -- The room was kept dark. The windows and doors covered, no light could get in or out. Which meant that every last scrap of light in the room, was coming from the man who had simply appeared there. The Glowing man was regarding him, looking him up and down. He looked strained, as if carrying a boulder on his shoulders. He sighed, raised his hands, and began to draw on the air. “I always saw this power as a Blessing. I could shape the world, protect the weak, destroy the corrupt. I could create works of art, produce food, heal wounds, and move great distances. But it also put a great deal of scrutiny on me. What was i using the power for? Was i doing the right thing? Was I abusing my power?” The picture almost blocked the glowing man from view now. It was an immensely detailed map of scadrial, centered around Luthadel. “I imagine you’ll see it as a curse. Power comes with responsibilities, not privileges. But, you will be able to use it to finish hunting the Spiked I hope. Please, use it wisely. You will not have it long.” He finished the picture. It exploded with light, and suddenly, knowledge filled everything. The man, now drained of light, sighed. “Good Luck.” Seonid was lynched! They were a Citizen! (He had no items when he died) Doc12 was killed! A Player was attacked! Votes: Seonid (3): Lopen, Bugsy, Alvron Stick (2): Ecthelion Time until Cycle <7 Player List:

Apologies, yes, Con had a Lucky Hat

hope joe doesnt mess it up . . . I am Offend! I demand Spec Doc! But seriously, i don't have time to play right now, so i won't ruin it for you some how.

Drake Quiver Still trying to catch up, likely won't post again this cycle.

Finally getting around to reading the Docs. Note to self: Kill Arinian every game, or he will kill You. Also Lopen, but that's just for fun =P

I think you'd be the only happy person at that point.

I still haven't found anything to contain Lodium, and i have an unconstrained Jodium. Anyone have a spare shard they'd be willing to let me borrow?

Cycle 5: To Survive the Silent Streets Hissure sat on a rooftop, smiling slightly as the mist ebbed and flowed around him. It tended to keep it’s distance most nights, due to his Blessings, his curse, his Spikes. To be alive, yet to be cut off from Preservation’s embrace. It was only because of the Spear that he could feel the mists tonight. He watched as down in the square below him, a man used the spear to stab the mists, desperately trying to figure out how to work it. Hissure almost decided to go and help him, but couldn’t think of a pressing enough reason to do so. His amusement was interrupted by a searing light from behind him. He was yanked backwards, off the roof and into the street on the other side. He slammed into the hard pavement, and froze there, imobile, bound by something. He tried to move, tried to speak, tried to change, but he was held fast. Whatever held him, it was impossibly strong. He was lifted up off the ground, and rotated around to face a glowing man with silvery skin. The man was drawing upon the air with his fingertips, light pouring out of them in strange symbols that almost seemed to be maps of Scadrial. “Hissure, I assume you know why I’m killing you?” The man drew another symbol, and his mouth was freed. “I don’t! Who are you? What did I do?” Glow raised an eyebrow. “You allowed Ruin to take hold of you. I can sense your spikes.” He reached out and tapped the Kandra on both his shoulders. “Two of them. A good find. We can use them to accelerate the device. I just need the Glowing Sphere after this, and I’ll be able to kill all your fellow servitors. Tell Ati that we’re coming for his shard.” Hissure’s mouth was sealed up again, as he sought desperately to free himself. Glow drew another map of Scadrial, this time with a series of dots around the Homeland. And then fire, and pain. More to be edited in. Elenion was lynched! They were a Citizen! Straw was killed! Conquestor was killed! (Remember that he was RP’ing as a Kandra, the spikes in the writeup are not alignment indicative, and neither is this sentence.) A Player was attacked! Votes: Elenion (4): Doc12, Ecthelion III, Seonid Seonid (3): Alvron, Straw, Elenion Bugsy (1): Lopen Time until Cycle 6: Failure to act as One Player List:

Votes: Elenion (3): Doc12, Ecthelion III, Seonid Seonid (3): Alvron, Straw, Elenion

I would like to claim the title of Honourary Spiked. Sigh. Well played Hero and Wilson and Wyrm. And Araris, but i never interacted with you.

Jack wheezed as he rolled onto all fours. The steward calmly watched him, the smile of certainty gracing his face. Both of them knew that this fight wouldn't end in Jack's favor. But the end was irrelevant to the now. No matter what comes up against you, you fight. Jack stood, and spat at the man's feet, still breathing heavily from that kick. "You don't want to do this Herwynbe. You're being forced to. I know that You were loyal to this town once. a good man, a good steward. You don't have to let Ruin control you, not while you still have your eyes. You're still a man. You can still turn this around."

"Ha" he spat with as much venom as he could. "Recruit me? Death would be far preferable to being spiked. I serve no man or god but myself. You can take your Spike, and pretend it's your new manhood." Then he flared Iron. He'd been sleeping with a full belly for days now, for exactly this situation. He reached out with Iron senses, grabbed hard on the hook he had installed across the road. As Herwynbe stepped forward to stab him, he yanked with all his force. He slammed into the Terrisman (What was with him and fighting evil Terrismen?) throwing both of them out the window and into the road. Jack landed on the rooftop across from him. Herwynbe, not having an anchor below him him, landed in the street. "Catch me if you can, you willess chunk of flesh!" And then he was off, pulling from building to building, along the Hookway he had installed, with an angry mistborn biting at his heels *Sticks out Tongue. I'm not going down without a fight Baldy!

PAFO

Sigh. I was being played. I thought so. Is it you Wyrm and Wilson?

There are 15 possible items in the game. 3 actually do something.

Sorry for not posting, and for posting out of RP, but I'm too darn tired to work a vote into my RP. ALVRON Jonly walked through the stone hallways, musing on the nature of the initiates. As a whole, they were surprisingly corrupt. Each one was a monster in the making, or had been a monster in their past. Each one sought to become a saviour instead. Some of them rivaled even his own monstrosity, and that was not a feat easily done. But still, there were initiates that he believed needn't become monsters. Ralaani, for instance. Or Kintas. They just might be able to do great things without needing the darkness. Like the Lord Bondsmith Dalinar was becoming more and more the subject of Jonly's thoughts. The man had been a vicious destroyer, but was now far more effective as a defender. He unified with words, where once he had split with swords. Was the man a monster or not? Was he, in fact, better, now that he was no longer a monster? As Jonly turned a corner, a welcome distraction, in the form of a yet unmet Initiate, presented herself. The woman stood trembling, staring at the stone wall beside her, teeth gritted. Jonly knew the pose well. She had lost control, and had not yet regained it. What had she done to put herself in such a position? "Tintall? I believe your name was?" It wasn't, he was certain, but getting a person's name correct on the first meeting meant you were watching them. Though, in this case, he actually wasn't watching the woman. "Tintallë," she corrected without voice. She continued to focus on the wall He raised an eyebrow. She was gone. But he could bring her back. He stepped forward, smoothly bending down, grasping her wrist, and bringing her hand up to his mouth. He placed a light kiss on the fingers, then stood, smiling. The smile iced over, as he saw the look in her eyes, of utter horror. What?

Cycle 4: You need to learn the Steps The Duo danced through the misty dawn, leaping from rooftop to street, to wall to garden. They ran, and climbed, and jumped and flew. Over shops and homes and kitchens, and armories, nothing stopped their movement. They moved alone, both unaware of their partner, dancing parallel to them in the mist. Both moved towards the same destination, and left from the same place. Both had the same purpose, and both knew of the foolishness of their task. Both were equally determined. The Duo knew this city like a mother her child. It’s every nook and cranny were open to them. Every alleyway was an arrow, pointing to five victims. Every building a boulder, poised to collapse. Every fountain a grave, promising a watery death. The first Victim was a Thief. A Man who lived to steal coins and bread. He was prowling the streets, breaking locks and windows to enter unoccupied homes when the first dancer found him. Pedro’s death was quick, and simple. He heard the sound of a door opening, and when he turned to check, saw only the bright shine of a knife opening his throat. The second Victim was an honorable man. A man who obeyed the law in all things. He saw, he judged, he proved, and he executed. Misbah a Khattar died far slower than the thief. He was abed, when he heard a growl from outside his window. But when he sought to scare the assumed dog off, he was torn from the safety of his house, and then torn limb from limb. The duo moved on, three more victims to kill. The third to die that night was a quiet man, who loved the mists and the wind. Khaladin Jamaicablessed people called him. He was not loved, but he was appreciated. People would toss him a coin when he was hungry, and he would help and entertain them when they were confused or bored. The first Dancer stopped, and gave him another coin. He thanked him, but the words died in his throat when the coin jumped from his throat to his chest, and then to the wall behind him. The fourth was Joseline Farouq, a happy man, who was excited to be of help. Anything and anyone that needed help had to only call his name, and he would run there to lend a hand, or a shoulder, or a back, or an ear. Humans and animals alike, Farouq helped. So when he heard the growl of a dog, he thought nothing of it, and sought the animal out. Barely half of him was ever found. The duo were stopped from killing their last victim. They circled the house, looking in vain for an opportunity to throw a knife, or to pull him out of the crowd, but they had no choice. Far too many people were already surrounding Soflo Rigorrio, screaming and rioting as they dragged him through the streets to the Hangman’s square. They watched in anger and sadness as their victim’s life was stolen from them by an angry mob. Both slipped away, into the dawning sun, neither aware of the other, neither aware of the third, who had watched them both. Ryth stood shoulder to shoulder with Regiie, both of them uncertainly watching King Penrod mutter to himself The king had gotten worse lately, staying up at all hours, ordering random men killed, and generally acting like a sick man. “Regiie! Ryth!” He was always snapping at them as well. “Come out onto the balcony, tell me what you see!” Ryth exchanged a glance with his partner, but obeyed. Both men walked out to the railing, flanking the king who was clutching at the railing like a falling man grasps a rope. “Your majesty? What are we looking for?” The King pointed down. “Someone’s under the balcony! I saw them climbing up the wall!” Another, far different look was exchanged. An assassin? It would not surprise Ryth if someone decided that Penrod was too unstable to keep his crown. “Your Majesty, please, return inside while we hunt the man.” “Pah.” He spat the word at them, but pivoted and stalked inside. As he slammed the door behind him, a great -CRACK- split the air. Both of the guards froze. There was another, softer crack. Both of them looked at each other. As the third crack sounded, and the balcony began to fall away from the building, they lunged for the doors. Ryth’s hand barely brushed the frame before gravity claimed him. He fell, screaming, into the mist. Darkness Ascendant was lynched! They were a Citizen Silverblade was killed! Votes: DA (5): Magestar, Bugsy, Elenion, Phatt, Silverblade Conquester (1): Lopen Bartimaeus (1): _stick_, Elenion (2: Alvron, DA Time until Cycle 5: To Survive the Silent Strets Player List:

Same.

Are they? Votes: Stink(1): Araris Araris (3): Stink, Jondesu, and Hero Conquestor (3): Wyrm, Joe and Wilson So they are. @Araris Valerian wanna vote for conquestor?

Conquestor Just general suspicon

PAFO PAFO Sorry about the really shoddy GM'ing right now, Really busy, it should settle down in a day or so. The cycle ends in 4 hours.

<Currently at a party, so writeup to be edited in later.> <At party, so really only telling seekers their results> Jondesu was lynched! He was a Citizen with no items Arinian was killed! Ecthelion was attacked, but survived! Votes: Jondesu (3): Bugsy, Arinian Doc (0): Ecthelion Alvron (1): Doc, Darkness ascendant Magestar (2): Alvron, bartimaeus Drought (1): Elenion Bugsy (1): Jondesu Darkness Ascendant (2): Silverblade, Conquestor

One of the reasons I was supicious of hero was that he drew seeker three times.