Mid-Range Game 4: The Alethi War of Unification

[A Joe in the Bush]

I don't think it's Rengade, though his offer of a Ketek for the spy would make a great cover if he is the Spy. 

 

I'm on the fence between Araris and Torwel. They're both suspicious.

 

Here's what I think we should do, Lynch Kas today to give him his personal Victory (I'll vote first since I don't have a role) and Shardblade Araris and Torwel. If neither of them are the spy, then we lynch me tomorrow and shardblade Renegade and anybody else. Thoughts?

 

Also, with do people think I have a habit of throwing Teamates under the bus? I only ever did that with Erendi, in LG3. If I had been a Spy, I would have made an irritated rant against Jasnah last cycle for surviving Inactivity again, and then Voted for her.

[Kasimir]

To be honest, Joe, I would prefer to defer talk of lynching me to tomorrow. My reasoning is that I don't exactly want to block discussion now (and indeed, I'm regretting having even brought it up until tomorrow.) In addition, I actually would prefer if Ren, or whichever of the three suspects cast the first vote for me. If you do, there's no point in it because you just get busted down to Darkeyes. But if one of them is a Scout pretending to be a Spearman (especially the one who's getting killed tomorrow), then I'd prefer that they not be able to use their Scouting abilities to evade a Shardblade kill.

 

The other alternative is to lynch Ren tomorrow and to Shardblade you if the game doesn't end, but I'd like a bit of insurance. So if tomorrow, we're going ahead with Operation Help Kas, then I think I would like to request Ren to cast the first vote.

 

Anyway: I'm still not sure what to make of the lot of them. (I wish I'd thought to request that Mek watch Alv while Araris was purportedly watching him...) I'm going back through the previous cycles to see if I can make sense of things.

 

In particular, does anyone have any thoughts surrounding the lack of a kill this cycle? We only have Ren, Torwel, and Araris unaccounted for in terms of roles (I mean that we have nothing else to go on apart from your say-so; the same predicament exists for Joe but it's not relevant here) so they're our Scout candidates. But they quite frankly can't have Scouted last cycle because they all voted. So to me, it reads like there was a Lighteyes battle skip or the Eliminator kill (see: the Aladar kill) hit either Jasnah or the remaining Roion Spy. Question is, who would Aonar target? Or does madness lie down that path?

Edit: Color.

Edited December 13, 2014 by Kasimir

[Mckeedee123]

In particular, does anyone have any thoughts surrounding the lack of a kill this cycle? We only have Ren, Torwel, and Araris unaccounted for in terms of roles (I mean that we have nothing else to go on apart from your say-so; the same predicament exists for Joe but it's not relevant here) so they're our Scout candidates. But they quite frankly can't have Scouted last cycle because they all voted. So to me, it reads like there was a Lighteyes battle skip or the Eliminator kill (see: the Aladar kill) hit either Jasnah or the remaining Roion Spy. Question is, who would Aonar target? Or does madness lie down that path?

 

The eliminators targeted one of the Shardbladers, no doubt. It was their only hope of surviving to the round after next. If Newan hadn't killed Odysa, I would have assumed that he had used his battle skip.

 

So the other possibility is that Jost is actually yet another officer, and roleblocked Aonar. I'm fairly certain that Kaddar is who he says he is, because if he is actually a spy, then it's the most elaborate ruse in history. Those two are the only ones to have lighteyes roles (besides Alv, supposedly)

 

I'm double-checking the rules here, but if we can assume that the Eliminators targeted a Shardblader, Jost would have to be an officer.

 

Actually (I know that this undermines the above theory), it sounded in the writeup as if Aonar had lost hope completely (with two Shardbladers in play, I don't blame him). He might not even have sent in a vote, and trusted the other eliminator team to make the right choice.

 

Anyway, Alv used his ability on Tal last round. Probably his surgeon ability, but possibly an eliminator vote. 

 

EDIT: Ah, yes. I forgot to apologize for voting against Odysa 4 rounds in a row. You were innocent after all.   

Edited December 13, 2014 by mckeedee123

[Renegade]

Well, we've had Alv pretty much cleared for several cycles now, so I very much doubt that he'd be trying to kill Tal.  I find it odd that Joe said that if he were a Spy, he would've "made an irritated rant against Jasnah last cycle for surviving Inactivity again, and then Voted for her."  Not only do I not believe those kind of statements, but he actually did the first half of that last cycle.  (Maybe not a rant, but still close enough.)

 

If we're going to find a Scout, then perhaps we should look at voting patterns, since that's really the best indicator we have.

 

I voted on cycles 2, 3, 4, and 6, and since there have been no vote losses there, I couldn't have Scouted so far.

 

Alinel has voted on cycles 2, 5, and 6, skipping 4.  Cycle 4 was a Skirmish against Highprince Roion, so if he is a Spy, there would've been no point in Scouting that cycle anyway, unless he was trying to avoid Tal's Shardblade.

 

Torwel has voted on cycles 4 and 6, skipping 2.  Both cycles 4 and 6 were Skirmishes against Highprince Roion (so, again, unless she was trying to avoid the Blades, no need to Scout), while cycle 2 was a Battle against Aladar.  However, she was roleblocked that cycle anyway.

 

Neither Torwel nor Alinel have posted yet, and Torwel hasn't been online since before the beginning of the cycle, so I'll wait to see if they like my plan.  Otherwise, they'll die anyway, the boring way.

[Araris Valerian]

What exactly is your plan? I am fine with getting shardbladed this cycle since I would still have one last shot at using my guardsman power (I think). I am really considering claiming the spy role just to get a ketek written in my honor. At this point, I see no reason for the spy to not accept Ren's offer, so for that reason I am a little suspicious of him. I guess I'd like to hear from Torwel as well since that is the main person Ren has voted for the last couple cycles.

[Kasimir]

Well, we've had Alv pretty much cleared for several cycles now, so I very much doubt that he'd be trying to kill Tal.  I find it odd that Joe said that if he were a Spy, he would've "made an irritated rant against Jasnah last cycle for surviving Inactivity again, and then Voted for her."  Not only do I not believe those kind of statements, but he actually did the first half of that last cycle.  (Maybe not a rant, but still close enough.)

 

If we're going to find a Scout, then perhaps we should look at voting patterns, since that's really the best indicator we have.

 

I voted on cycles 2, 3, 4, and 6, and since there have been no vote losses there, I couldn't have Scouted so far.

 

Alinel has voted on cycles 2, 5, and 6, skipping 4.  Cycle 4 was a Skirmish against Highprince Roion, so if he is a Spy, there would've been no point in Scouting that cycle anyway, unless he was trying to avoid Tal's Shardblade.

 

Torwel has voted on cycles 4 and 6, skipping 2.  Both cycles 4 and 6 were Skirmishes against Highprince Roion (so, again, unless she was trying to avoid the Blades, no need to Scout), while cycle 2 was a Battle against Aladar.  However, she was roleblocked that cycle anyway.

 

Neither Torwel nor Alinel have posted yet, and Torwel hasn't been online since before the beginning of the cycle, so I'll wait to see if they like my plan.  Otherwise, they'll die anyway, the boring way.

I think you're missing the point. For obvious reasons, all of you have claimed to be Spearmen. So if you all were to not have voted on every even cycle, it would be startlingly obvious that one of you was not who you claimed to be. The worry is then that one of you is concealing your Scoutness, because it would be a useful nasty surprise to have up your sleeve and that that is going to cause us more trouble going forward tomorrow.

So as I see it, there are two main ways we can do this. Again, our suspicious group consists in: Torwel, Araris, Ren, and Joe.

One way is that we lynch me today, and two of our suspicious four. We get the Darkeyes who isn't dying today to put that first vote on me, just to make sure that there are no nasty surprises for everyone left standing going on forward tomorrow. The other way I see we can do this is that we lynch the three suspicious Darkeyes today, and then if the game doesn't end, we take Joe down tomorrow as he doesn't have protection against Shardblades or the lynch. Frankly, given how tricksy Ren has been in the past as an Eliminator, perhaps I'm overcompensating but I'm surprised that no one else sees the need to make certain that he can't pull more tricks up his sleeve if we plan for him and Joe to be the surviving suspects.

Personally, I prefer the second option, if only because it seems really hard to force people to vote for me, so I guess I'll settle for the crude, nuclear option by wiping out our suspect pool.

So here, I'll start. Araris. Ren.

 

Edit: If it's not clear, then what I'm advocating at this point is that we lynch and Shardblade the three most suspicious people on Newan's chart. That makes it Araris, Ren, and Torwel. And then we leave Joe for tomorrow if the cycle doesn't end, seeing as he can't pull a Scout on us, can't role-block our Shardbearers (I doubt he's an officer anyway), and can't save himself even if he were a Surgeon.

 

Araris, at this point, I'm inclined to just let you protect whomsoever you wish to. If, as it seems, the general inclination is for the crude option, then it doesn't matter by this point. If you're not a Spy, then I'm sorry.

Edited December 13, 2014 by Kasimir

[Renegade]

I don't see how being a Scout is going to hinder us.  In the very worst case scenario, we target the Scout tomorrow with a Shardblade, when they're out Scouting.  They won't be able to take any other actions, including the Spy sabotage, if they have it, so we just lynch them the following day.  But still, that scenario shouldn't happen anyway, if we kill at least two of the darkeyed suspects today, and lynch the third tomorrow.

 

As unhappy I am to die on what is likely to be the last cycle of the game, I'm otherwise fine with this lynch/Shardblade plan.  But I would still like to see if Torwel goes for my deal.  (And I don't really see why she wouldn't.  It's the best deal I have to offer, at this point.  I'll throw in a few clearchips, too.)

[Kasimir]

I don't see how being a Scout is going to hinder us. In the very worst case scenario, we target the Scout tomorrow with a Shardblade, when they're out Scouting. They won't be able to take any other actions, including the Spy sabotage, if they have it, so we just lynch them the following day. But still, that scenario shouldn't happen anyway, if we kill at least two of the darkeyed suspects today, and lynch the third tomorrow.

As unhappy I am to die on what is likely to be the last cycle of the game, I'm otherwise fine with this lynch/Shardblade plan. But I would still like to see if Torwel goes for my deal. (And I don't really see why she wouldn't. It's the best deal I have to offer, at this point. I'll throw in a few clearchips, too.)

Really? Because as I can see it, the Eliminator kill isn't their most potent weapon right now. It's the ability to make the people with the Shardblades stab the wrong people and to cause a mislynch. I'm pretty sure that numerically, the slaughter tactic will probably work for us, so you're right in that, but I don't believe in leaving even the slightest possibility of exploitation, especially considering how persuasive you can be. Sure, you're not Wilson. But that doesn't mean you're not dangerous anyway. And I have great respect for that.

I'm sure Wilson is about to beat me over the head for this because she didn't enjoy being on the other end of my paranoia, but there you have it.

And you should get Wilson to throw in a free Shardblade if the Spy comes forward. Though really, if everyone but Torwel has read it, then it's just down to, strangely enough, you or Torwel.

 

Edit: Apologies, 17S is messing up very badly for me now in terms of posting, so I don't really know how the two empty posts happened, but I'd like permission to remove them, if possible.

Edited December 13, 2014 by Kasimir

[twelfthrootoftwo]

Lazy Sunday. Time for some RP.

Torwel strolled through the camp, ignoring the countless pairs of eyes following him. Early on - after Kenara's unfortunate interference - there had been calls for his head. He'd talked them down, but the suspicion remained. Now, after so many had proven their loyalty, his name was brought up again. Whispers became conversation; surreptitious glances became open stares.

Six little stranger spies, starting to connive,

Blackthorn drew his blade on one, and then there were five.

He'd made no secret of being a reluctant conscript. Perhaps that was part of it. How could you expect loyalty from a man who didn't want to fight? He pictured the recruiter. Alethi black hair speckled with red, bright green eyes, tall. Storm you, he thought. I should be working the paper vats, not sticking men with spears.

Five little stranger spies, scheming through the war,

One was saved but slain in a duel, and then there were four.

He paused. Kaddar was up ahead, talking to a group of men in blue. A strange creature - a chicken, he'd been told, the first one he'd ever seen - perched on his wrist. What did it say of the lighteyes that the King's Wit was giving most of the orders? Beyond that, the strange man seemed to seek death. He'd called on Torwel to bring him to justice before. Well, let the fool have it.

Four little stranger spies, with one absentee,

His silence drew the Blackthorn's ire, and then there were three.

He thought of the Spanreed, snapped and cast into the fire. Torwel could read glyphs - a prerequisite for the job - but conversing with them, as one would talk face to face, had been difficult. He understood the value of the women's script now, and had even begun to learn its letters. Not that it would do him any good now.

Three no-longer-stranger spies, grand plans thrown askew,

One could not maintain his lie, and then there were two.

The notes from Wurum indicated the musician had been far more skilled with glyphs than he was, even grouping them phonetically into long words he'd had to whisper to himself to read. They'd exchanged only a few messages; enough to identify each other, and to realise they were trapped. Aonaran had been loyal to Aladar, though, and planned to cause as much trouble for the Kholin army as he could.

He was dead now, of course.

Two never-stranger spies, seeming now outdone,

His message betrayed one to Tal, and then there was one.

And so was Torwel. The only question was how.

His allegiance to Roion was entirely in spheres. Perhaps he could have bargained his life for information, if he hadn't been the last spy left alive. He certainly wasn't going to cause chaos for Roion's benefit - from this point forward, his actions belonged to no-one but himself.

He looked leewards, towards the command tent.

 

One solitary spy, left all alone

He had his spear, and knives at his belt and boot. They would expect him to act in darkness, or to catch one of them alone. Surprise could help him. And he wasn't intending to emerge alive.

He turned into the tavern. The ale wasn't Saro's Five, but it was the best in camp. Why have a last meal, when it could be a last drink?

And then there were none.

[Renegade]

Torwel.  Storms, I didn't actually think that'd work.   I was kind of hoping I could convince everyone to weasel me out of the lynch, but that's not necessary now, seeing as how Kaddar is so obviously a Spy.   But great job anyway, Spies!  You definitely did a excellent job of hiding, with all of the kill actions and protective roles around.  Plus, none of you ever mis-Sabotaged another Spy, which is pretty impressive.  I'll start working on that poem, as promised (although it looks like you've already made one of your own).

[A Joe in the Bush]

Huh. So I guess we shardblade Torwel tonight and ignore the others? And lynch Kas of course.

[Mckeedee123]

Mek set his drink back on the counter, mulling over the events of the past month.

 

Highprince Roion had surrendered at last. The string of defeats he had suffered had finally been enough to break the man's war machine. The terms of surrender had been generous, but from this point on, Roion's princedom would probably be the weakest in Alethkar. His demise would serve as a powerful symbol of Kholin strength. Already, Thanadal and Ruthar were in the process of joining Gavilar's coalition.

 

The Roion campaign had been short, but intense. Dalinar's army had taken a real beating, which was why it was currenly resupplying in Kholinar. Mek wasn't quite sure what to do with himself without that constant tension that he had felt during those weeks. Of course, the war wasn't over yet. Duke Aladar, er... Highprince Aladar, was openly defying Gavilar's authority. Mek found that ironic, as Gavilar had given Aladar the throne he now held.

 

A few days after Mek had defected from Yenev's army, Highprince Yenev had been killed in a contrived duel with Sadeas so that Aladar, who was supposedly sympathetic to Gavilar's cause, could take the throne. Storming lighteyes... thousands of soldiers are going to die just so that man could prove he isn't a puppet. Mek attracted a few angerspren just thinking about it. In a few days he would be fighting his own comrades, pillaging his own homeland. Storms. Could I really do that? He had grown up in a small village in the center of the princedom before apprenticing himself to a silversmith from Dalilak. He remembered fields of Lavis polyps and a girl with large, brown, eyes.

 

And he decided that yes, he could fight against his own princedom. He would do anything to see Gavilar's dream fulfilled.

 

Mek pulled a clearchip from his pocket. Sometimes, Mek wondered why people never really stopped to look at spheres. They were so beautiful. Each and every one. Unique and full of light. And as Mek stared at that shifting light he thought he saw something. A paradise. An Alethkar without war, where Lighteyes were honorable and soldiers didn't have to kill each other in needless squabbles and him and Riela could live in peace. And it was beautiful.

 

That was what he he had fought for. That is what he would fight for. He glanced about the tavern, and saw most of his friends and comrades talking and laughing. The last few weeks had been hard on all of them, and over half of the group he had initially signed up with had already ascended to the tranquilline halls. The survivors were so diverse. Norlav, Reihmer, Alinel, Eoldren, Kaddar, Jost, Tal, and Newan. Many of them hailed from faraway lands and princedoms, yet they were united by this one dream.

 

The door to the tavern opened, and Torwel emerged from the night's darkness, two hooded men following. He carried his spear over his shoulder, and had a resigned sort of look about him. He walked over to the counter. "I'll have your best ale," he said quietly, handing a bag of spheres to the bartender. It was fairly large, and Mek saw an intense, bright green light shining through the fibers. Storms. That thing's full of emerald chips. Where did Torwel get so much money?

 

Neither of Torwel's companions sat down. The bartender, looking a bit perplexed, handed him a mug of vintage horneater lager. Torwel gulped it down, barely flinching at the taste of the powerful brew. Impressive. Torwel called for another, and again, he drank it in a single swig. There was a storm brewing in his eyes as he stared at the table full of Kholin soldiers.

 

Mek didn't like the way this storm was blowing...

 

EDIT: Changed the ending to make it more open-ended. I wanted the final write-up to be an epic bar fight (See QF Game 2), but I guess everyone needs some more leeway to write their final lines (nice one, Reihmer)

Edited December 14, 2014 by mckeedee123

[Renegade]

Meanwhile...

 

Reihmer sat on a soulcast bench just outside of the training grounds, watching the other men walk off in search of Torwel.  And what had he done the whole time?  He had written poems for their dead.  Reihmer still wasn’t entirely sure why he’d taken up that job; after all, it did appear to have a grim mood set to it, and Reihmer was not one for grimness.  That said, Reihmer noticed that his poetry was actually getting… better.  A little.  Perhaps, one day, he’d get out of these storm-forsaken warcamps and write great poetry to be displayed proudly upon the walls of the Palanaeum.  He was thinking of leaving the Warcamp, actually.  Just after he fought in the next skirmish…

 

Reihmer’s poems for the hundreds of wounded and dead soldiers began to change him.  He felt less at ease in these Shattered Plains, and even more at ease with his poetry.  He wrote about silly topics, at times, but he also wrote serious poems, in the hope that one day he’d get published.  He’d already heard several of his fellow darkeyes praise his work, and he actually saved one man’s life with them, a man who was planning to commit suicide into the chasms far below.  And Reihmer saved him.

 

The Spies’ days were numbered, Reihmer had heard.  The other Highprinces were beginning to yield to Gavilar.  Grumpy old Dal had won the day.  However, as Reihmer heard the men cheer for the Blackthorn’s return after the recent skirmish with Roion, he realized that there was another group of unsung heroes in these warcamps: the spies.  They hadn’t done anything wrong; they were simply serving their Highprinces, as much as he himself was (reluctantly) serving his.

 

“Sir!” Reihmer heard one of the Brightlords shout to old Dal.  “The men have seen one of Roion’s spies in the camp!”

 

The Blackthorn nodded, his face grave.  The efforts of the spies had taken a toll on him, quite visibly.  The battles over the past few weeks had been brutal, with their enemies anticipating every one of their moves, and retaliating.  Reihmer counted himself lucky to still be alive, all things considered.  But this Brightlord’s words interested him.  The lighteyes told Dalinar that the spy had last been spotted somewhere near the command tent, and Reihmer took off, before anyone noticed.  The spy’s description seemed to suspiciously match Torwel’s, one of his fellow spearmen.  If that was the case, Reihmer knew exactly where to find that spy.  Stormwall Tavern, a bar on the other side of the warcamp.

 

---

 

Reihmer burst through the wooden door, nearly crashing into one of the barstools.  A Horneater innkeeper nearly dropped the cup he was drying in shock.  Panting, Reihmer looked around the tavern, seeing only three patrons inside.  It was still midday, and Reihmer should have been out in the training grounds, with everyone else.  Oh well.  Hopefully old Dal wouldn’t execute him for it.  Reihmer quickly spotted Torwel, and strode up to him.

 

“Hello,” Reihmer spoke, causing Torwel to jump.  The poor spy really was worried.  He knew he only had minutes to live.  Reihmer wasn’t exactly sure how drinking would help the fellow at this point in time, but who was he to judge?  Reihmer reached into his folder, and gave a sheet of crinkled paper to Torwel.

 

“I assume you can read glyphs?” Reihmer asked.

 

Torwel nodded silently, taking a swig of his drink.

 

“Well, here’s a poem.  I figured you’d be the last spy, so I wrote this up in advance.”  He paused, as Torwel began reading through Reihmer’s scrawling words.  Reihmer sighed, hearing the approaching cries of soldiers.  “It’s… well, it’s the best I could do.  I hope you enjoy it."

 

 

Scenes are set, and actors cast.  Casting actors, and set are scenes.
Now is our final act, the end of all.  Of endings, the act finale, ours, is now.
Before desolation, the cries of slain unite; united, slain of crying the desolations before.
Spies shouting: “Fools!  All fools,” shout spies.
Stones tossed, revealing hands with towers.  Towers with hands, revealing tossed stones.
Endings are now, and now are endings.

 

Noble adversary, your game played well.  Well-played game, you adversary noble.
Left us running from chasmfiends, your tricks did.  Tricky, your chasmfiend from running us left.
Aladar, Vamah, Roion, of spies all worthy of praise.  Of worthiness, all spies of Roion, Vamah, Aladar.
Jain’s death was simply lucky tosses, luck simply was death, Jain’s.
Ace’s gambit did precarious positions put surgeons.  Put positions, precariously, did gambits, Ace’s.
Karlin and Damon stayed away from suspicions; suspicious from, away, stayed Damon and Karlin.
If connections unseen, Aonar’s life would still be.  Still, would live, Aonar.  Unseen connections.  If
Longer we had delayed, manipulated greatly would he.  Would great manipulations, delay had we longer.

 

Now you, Torwel.  Unfortunate death inevitable, inevitably dying unfortunately, Torwel.  You now.
A truly awesome road did you take.  You did ride awesomely, truly.  A
Pity old Dal sees not the same.  The not-seeing Dal, old pity.
Caught are we, visionaries, in this war-stricken world.  War-stricken, these in visions.  We are caught.
Trapped in wars, skirmishes, death… skirmishes, wars, in traps.
You have evaded the traps this whole time, for that I applaud.  Applaud I, that for time wholesome, this traps the evasion.  Have you
Wondered everything Alethkar could be, without corruption?  Without being, could Alethkar everything wonderfully?
Alas, this chapter is unspoken.  For now.  For unspeaking are chapters, these.  Alas,
True awesomeness art thou, in the face of war.  Of facing in thou, art awesomeness true.

 

Praise shall we, “Torwel!”  We shall praise.
Final spies, silent heroes, silent spy’s finale.
Thorns in Blackthorn, have you poked.  You Blackthorned in thorns,
Causing disarray in armies.  In disarray, causing
Awesomeness, via spanreeds.  Via awesomeness,
Do we praise.  And praise we do.
All is done, and united we are.  We, united and done, are all.
Fare thee well, Torwel.  Well thee fare.

 

And there's that poem I mentioned.  There is probably some sort of deep, underlying message in the poem... you just can't see it.  (Or at least, I can't.)

[Newan]

Yay Kas gets his win!

 

I'll send in my shardblade action for Torwel now.

[Alvron]

I tried to come up with some rp for Norlav but nothing really worked.  So instead I decided to use Rolavs POV to make the connection between the two.

 

It was raining, a chill persistent rain that swept through the camp.  The rain did not noticeably dampen the celebration that was going on, since most of the revellers were too drunk to even notice the weather.

 

Rolav was not drunk.  He had work to do and he had nothing but contempt for those that drank on the job.  Rolav wore a nondescript cloak of brown that covered him from head to toe.  He went through the crowd as unobtrusively as possible, moving to where the lighteyes slept.

 

Rolav stopped and drew back into a gap between the tents as the patrol tramped by.  Normally they would be bribed to stay out of the way but with the last of the spies rooted out from the camp, they wouldn't be looking for anyone else.  Their job was just to keep the peace and break up any drunken fights that got too out of hand.

 

Rolav saw his destination, the building that was housing the lighteyes, and went into the foul smelling alley behind it.  A ladder was placed against the wall as planned, and he went up and entered through a second storied window.  He walked down the hallway and through the doorway leading to his targets bedroom.  A former darkeyed servant having supplied the layout of the building and pointed out the room the targeted lighteyes was staying in.  Once inside the room, Rolav laid on the bed.  As long as he had to wait he might as well be comfortable.  He could hear the sounds of dancing and stomping downstairs.

 

It was less than half an hour later when he heard a heavy, slightly unsteady footfall on the stairs.  He quickly rolled off the bed and moved silently to the door, pressing his ear against the panel.

 

“It’s no trouble,” A slurred voice said.  “I've got a copy in my room.”

“Really, Brightlord Fenned, let us just enjoy the fun.” a female voice called from below.

“I want you to read Gavilars latest proclamation to everyone.  It’s the most idiotic thing I've heard.”

 

The door opened and a man carrying a ruby firemark entered.  It was the same man that Norlav had pointed out to Rolav four days earlier.  Rolav wondered what the Brightlord had done to irritate someone enough to go to the expense of having them killed.  He dismissed the thought.  It was none of his business.

 

The fact that the mark had his back to Rolav provided the perfect chance to try out his latest technique.  Drawing a long thin blade out of his boot, he stepped up behind Fenned, and drove the blade into the base of the Brightlords skull with a steely crunch.  He caught the collapsing body and quietly lowered it to the floor.  A knife-thrust to the brain was always fatal, and it provided a quick, clean and silent death.  Rolav set his foot on the body’s shoulder and tried to pull the blade out.  But it was stuck fast, pulling a blade out of bone takes quite a bit of strength and Rolav just didn't have enough.

 

Giving up on the blade, Rolav rolled the body over and looked intently into the dead face.  Rolav always liked to make sure his targets were dead.

 

Fenned was definitely dead.  His eyes were blank, his face was turning blue and a little trickle of blood was coming out his nose.  Pulling up the hood of his cloak, Rolav walked down the hallway and climbed out the window he had entered before.

 

There were three more names on his list and with luck he could cross another off this night, but it was raining and Rolav hated to work in the rain.  Norlav would understand if Rolav took the rest of the night off.  This was a night to celebrate, after all, the Blackthorn had won a great victory as well as rooted out the last of the spies in camp.

 

Kaddar, looks like you get your wish to be lynched after all.

[twelfthrootoftwo]

I would have revealed myself anyway, Ren I'd have died no matter what I did, and this was my first chance to do an Epic Evil RP. Plus, now you all get to wonder who the final sabotage will be!

 

Norlav, for exposing Brightlord Ace and not dying when he should have?

Reihmer, who wouldn't leave me alone in the last few cycles?

Mek, who probably shouldn't be staring at Torwel while he's deciding who to kill?

Alinel, for not being quite suspicious enough to help the spies out?

Eoldren, since we've been studiously ignoring each other the entire game?

Kaddar, to deny his personal victory in a bizzare change of order of actions?

Jost, for his lucky hit on Jain?

Tal, for killing my partner Damon?

Newan, for killing the innocent Odysa?

[A Joe in the Bush]

Jost, for his lucky hit on Jain?

Can we pretend that was skill? I was suspicious of him after all.

[Newan]

Newan, for killing the innocent Odysa?

 

Yes, and I'd do it again, I tell you! 

*leaps out of window*

[Kasimir]

I would have revealed myself anyway, Ren I'd have died no matter what I did, and this was my first chance to do an Epic Evil RP. Plus, now you all get to wonder who the final sabotage will be!

 

Kaddar, to deny his personal victory in a bizzare change of order of actions?

Good luck with that. I don't think the order of actions agrees with you, there, but who am I to deny breakers of the King's Laws? Ren, Kaddar

For a while there, this was looking just like how the game began

[Wyrmhero]

A friendly reminder, the Cycle will end in ~9 hours.

[Eolhondras]

There were fields not too far from camp, grass not long enough to be a hindrance, but when lying down gave ample protection from the prying of unwanted eyes. Here Eoldren found himself, blades of grass poking through his fingers, wind spren floating softly before his face, his vision distant, yet immersed in the beauty of the night sky. The usual strict discipline that was present in camp had descended into a raucous celebration when the last of the spies’ identities had been revealed, and so here in this field, was the only place left where he felt a semblance of peace.

 

His mind however, would not let him rest.

 

One frenzied run, that’s all it will take. One short dash was all that stood between him and freedom. Eoldren raised his shield as a silent thunderstorm of ruin came arching overhead, and added his voice to the collective groan that shuddered through Dalinar’s army. It struck. A cursory glance of his body cleared him of any harm, and without another moment of hesitation he ran.

Praying that the confusion of the volley would mask his retreat, he scampered between rank after rank of soldiers, sweat, blood and dirt congealed on his face, blinding his eyes, invading his nose and mouth but still he ran.

Shouts started to echo from behind him, the clunking of armoured footfall drummed a constant beat in his head that only seemed to grow louder and louder, still he ran.

Scarcely looking ahead of himself, not daring to look back, hands seemed to clutch at his clothes, his hair, his spear and shield, still he ran.

Eoldren’s guilt added to the constant onslaught of fear and he began to slow. The shouts became a roar behind him, and the hands began to grasp just a little tighter.

It was only the sudden sensation of open air that snapped him back to his senses. Any longer and he’d have collapsed under the weight of his torture. However one look and he could see that his respite had been short lived as before him stood, of all people, a Brightlord. The King’s Wit. And he was injured?

 

Eoldren had been lucky. He’d been able to explain his mad rush as blind devotion to the protection of a Brightlord. Kaddar himself even thanked him personally, which to any other darkeyes would have been a high honour. But to the one man that knew the truth, it had felt hollow, and the memory had not left his mind for the last two weeks.

 

In his mind’s eye, the arrows soared overhead once again as he stood to face the war camp. A decision had been made on that battle field two weeks ago, and it had not been changed in the weeks since. As he turned away, he could hear shouts over his shoulder, athough the absence of footsteps gave him the courage to step forward. As he began to walk, the grass felt like hands grasping at his legs, although this time he had the strength to push through. He left the field and once again found himself in the open air, but here the only thing awaiting him was freedom.

 

It was time for a new home. Maybe somewhere sweet. Like a bakery.

Edited December 14, 2014 by Eolhondras

[Kasimir]

Kaddar stopped, mid-glyph. Ink welled from the nib of his pen, smudging the half-written glyph. "Storms," he cursed, quietly. The letter wasn't ruined, of course, but...

 

He sighed, and began again, writing by the light of the sphere-lantern.

 

Old friend,

 

By now, word of my death must have reached you. I believe we have successfully discovered all the eyes the Highprinces have placed within your forces, and as I write, those among us who remain loyal to you and to your brother will be moving to blind them. It is perhaps as well, Gavilar, for I tire of war.

 

We have Roion and Aladar on the back foot now. If Dalinar has not yet written to you, then know this: we have fought numerous skirmishes against Roion, and two more against Aladar. Roion's forces are weakened and I have spoken personally to soldiers who wished to defect. They simply cannot afford to continue this war, and under Dalinar--the Blackthorn, they're calling him, have you heard?--they continue to lose ground. Eventually, Gavilar, you may be able to consider the resolution we spoke of.

 

Incidentally, I'm absolutely sick of getting shot at. And I've tried insulting Roion from a safe distance, and behind my shield, which might explain it. The only other Highprince here to insult at this point is your brother, old friend, so unless I was put here to insult him...I did say I wouldn't question your decisions, did I? Well, I'm about to die. So I'm questioning them, now. Very hard.

 

The other letters were perhaps written far too hastily. Now though, I think my death approaches for good. Hopefully, by the time word of my death reaches you, you'll also have received news from Dalinar that your forces have been purged of spying eyes. Just consider yourself fortunate we didn't have to slaughter our way through most of your army to do it!

 

I admit, I was hoping it would not come to that. The first chapter of this new Alethkar will, unfortunately, be written in blood. To write it, however, in the massacre of good men, most of whom were innocent...

 

He paused. Hulin squawked. "What is it, girl?" he asked, quietly.

 

He added, on the very last sheet of paper as a post-script: Please take care of my warchickens, for me. One last favour to an old friend. Perhaps they'll fend for themselves, but if they remain with the camp, then I could think of no one else I'd prefer to entrust them to than you.

 

Kaddar ran his fingers through the chicken's feathers, and thought long and hard about the skirmish on the morrow.

[Wyrmhero]

There is just one more hour left in this Cycle.

 

The Cycle is over! Writeup going up shortly.

Edited December 14, 2014 by Wyrmhero

[Wyrmhero]

Week 8

The morning came, and Torwel remained in the tavern.

It was a seedy place, but that was not surprising, considering the clientele it enjoyed recently. It was probably a fine establishment before the army arrived, but the sudden charge of the soldiers to the bar had destroyed any sense of decorum that it had once enjoyed. The innkeeper did a roaring trade the previous night, though he would have preferred it to be easier on him and his staff, even if it did mean it would be less profitable. But at least Dalinar's soldiers had some sense of propriety, and the repair cost wouldn't be too high.

Speaking of Dalinar's troops, he was somewhat surprised to find one of them still there when he got up. He could have sworn that they'd thrown them all out at some point in the early hours of the morning, or their officers had dragged them out. But no, this one was still here. Whatever drink he was nursing had long since been drunk, judging by the stain on the glass he held. Approaching closer, he was rather surprised to find the man was not asleep.

"You're finally up," he said, sounding surprisingly lucid for someone who appeared to be just a little dead on his feet. He placed the glass on the counter somewhat hard. "Another ale. Make it a decent one this time."

"I'm sorry, sir?" The innkeeper asked. Whatever he had expected, that was not it. "I'm afraid I don't start serving until at least midday. Besides, I seem to remember you having quite a few last night, if you don't mind me saying so, sir."

Torwel did not say anything for a brief while. Perhaps the alcohol had some effect after all. Eventually, he seemed to think of what to say. "You pay allegiance to Prince Aladar, right?"

"Oh, well, you know sir," the innkeeper said quickly, "I have little choice in the matter." He had enough of those sort of questions the previous night. "I'm just as happy to serve Dalinar and his men, if not moreso."

Torwel shook his head. "Doesn't matter. You still serve him, right?" He reached into his pocket, and took out a silvered seal, placing it on the table. "You see this?" he asked, rotating it around so the innkeeper could recognise the insignia. "This is the seal of Prince Aladar," he explained. "That means I am out and about on his business," he lied. So he stole it from Karlin's corpse when everyone was watching the head roll around, who was here to judge him? "That means you serve me ale. Best you have. Now. Make it several glasses."

"Ah..." The innkeeper felt a little lost at this sudden turn, unsure of whether he should be professing his loyalty to Aladar again, but nodded, pulling the draft. At the very least, the man didn't seem to be a violent drunk, though he might be if he didn't get to quench his thirst any time soon. "Here you go, sir," he said, placing his original glass and two more in front of Torwel. "That will be... Hey, where do you think you're going?!"

Torwel didn't look back, nor did he verbally respond. Instead, he continued to walk out the pub with his drink, though he did not start it yet. It was not for drinking. He did however hold the seal above his head by way of an answer, before opening the door and leaving. He had one last thing to do.

*

Dalinar's inner circle had changed quite considerably as of late. The only two constants remaining were the Brightlords Kaddar and Jost, with Jost's sister now taking up the role of scribe for the Blackthorn, and looking rather nervous about it as she did. Tal seemed to have settled in to his newfound place in society, while Newan was still somewhat perturbed, particularly with Dalinar shouting at him for killing Odysa like that.

Jost sat where he always did in the command tent, at Dalinar's right hand, and feeling none too smug about such a thing. He might not have a Shardblade, but he was still his lord's most trusted advisor and soldier. Kaddar sat on Dalinar's left, something which Jost put down to being the best of the remaining, rather than any vote of confidence in Kaddar himself.

"Let's go over the lists again," Dalinar said, with an irritated sigh. The five of them had been working on this throughout the night, attempting to solve this problem before the skirmish today. He had hoped that they'd be able to fight today with no worries about their equipment, or the surgeon's tools being damaged, or Soulcasters broken, or anything like that, but sadly, it seemed not.

"I think we can at least cross us off," Jost said, nodding to himself. "I have been by your side for years, and Brightlord Kaddar - while strange - is perhaps too foolish to be trusted with such a serious matter as spying on a mortal enemy."

"I thank ye kindly," Kaddar smiled, tipping his imaginary hat at Jost. "But if it is none of us, then who would you suggest it is?"

"I don't think it would be either of you two," Jost added, waving a hand at Tal and Newan. "A Spy is no better than a thief, and would run off as soon as he laid his hands upon a Shardblade."

"Yeah, and if I was a Spy, I'm not stupid enough to kill a Shardbearer who was attacking this camp," Newan added, his face lit up a little as he remembered that glorious moment. While his new Shardblade was a better weapon, he missed his bow, he had to admit.

"Then I suppose that we'll just have to look through our Darkeyed suspects again," Tal sighed. "Let's just have that part of the list again."

Kaddar held a hand out. "Before that..." he said, sniffing the air a little. "Does anyone smell ale?"

"Ale?" Jost asked, completely confused by Kaddar's question. "Why would we smell ale? Unless perhaps you are soaked in it."

"I think it's more of a burning smell," Newan commented.

Then the tent suddenly collapsed inwards, and fire covered them.

*

Torwel sat atop the Lighteyed accommodations opposite the command tent, laughing, toasting the flames with a - sadly empty - glass. Shardblades wouldn't help them there, when they couldn't see and had no room to summon them or cut through the fabric that bound them.

He watched with glee as the mass collapsed to the ground, and the motions within started to slow. The guards outside hovered around, unsure of what to do. One of them had the presence of mind to call for water. But gathering water at such a short notice would take time, time they did not have.

One of the guards tried to grab the tent and pull it away, but he was unable to touch the alcohol-doused cloth for long enough to manage it. Another took a knife and started to jab at anywhere there was an opening, trying to rip holes in it large enough for someone to roll out of. Though it was hard to see, in the reflections of the sun on the knife, Torwel was glad to see it became bloody after the first few attempts.

The first out through the hole was Dalinar, disappointingly. Looking worse for wear and slightly burnt, he took charge and started to order his men to cut the tent wherever they could. Wounded Lighteyes were better than dead ones, it seemed.

One of the figures in the tent was ripped away from the rest, but with his rolling, managed to cover himself completely in the burning fabric. One of the soldiers watching panicked and started to try to beat the flames off, but resorted to using his feet rather than his hands. That ale burnt magnificently, didn't it? He let loose another laugh.

At this, Dalinar turned to see the source. Their eyes met, and Torwel responded to his angered face with a smile. Dalinar summoned his Shardblade as his men continued their task. Torwel stood up, ready to leave, but stopped as he saw Dalinar draw his arm back. Surely, he wasn't going to...

Dalinar threw his Shardblade forwards, and it cut through the air towards Torwel as though it were made for that very purpose despite its large size. Torwel couldn't help but watch, completely amazed by the spectacle. Then it hit him that he should probably move.

Then Oathbringer hit him, and he no longer could. Torwel's eyes burned.

*

The first thing Kaddar did when he died was to wake up. That in itself was not a surprise, but the fact that the Tranquiline Halls looked very much like the infirmary back in Dalinar's camp did. He sat up, then immediately regretted it. Not only was he badly burnt, but his ribs felt cracked and broken. He grimaced and let out a small cry of pain as he lay back down.

"Three ribs broken," he voice beside him said, "third degree burns across the left side of the face and smoke inhalation causing severe damage to the lungs." Kaddar turned to the voice, carefully.

"Norlav?" he muttered, dredging the name up from Kenara's old list, "did you save me?"

The surgeon shook his head. "No. If I had come across you, I'd probably have done a better job of it. That or let you burn. You have this man to thank for that," Norlav explained, nodding across Kaddar's bed, "if you can thank him while in this state. Before you ask, Brightlord Jost died shielding his sister from the flames. Aside from that, you are the only major casualty." And with that, he abruptly left, not bothering to draw the conversation to a proper close.

Kaddar turned his head the other way. A Horneater sat beside his bed, looking concerned, but rather pleased with himself - though he did flinch a little as Kaddar faced him. Was that because he was a sight, or because the man had technically beaten up a superior officer? "Why?" he asked. Why didn't you let me burn?

"Well, sir..." Alinel said, misunderstanding the question and smiling as best he could, "I tried my hardest to put you out, but that fellow says that all I did was break a couple of your bones. Still, it's better that then burning to death, right?"

Dammit, he had just told Gavilar he was dead. What would the man think of him?

*

Kaddar was lynched, but saved by a Guardsman!
Torwel was a Darkeyed Spearman, loyal to Prince Roion!
Jost Joslin was a Lighteyed Swordsman, loyal to Dalinar!

All the Spies have been slain. The Blackthorn's army is no longer under threat from sabotage and disruption, and will go on to win the war and unite Alethkar under the banner of King Gavilar. Dalinar's Army win!

Master Spreadsheet
Prince Roion Spies
Prince Vamah Spies
Prince Aladar Spies
Dead Doc
 

 

Player List
Darkeyes:
Damon Shan, Worldhopper [Jasnah Damodred] - Messenger
Wok, a Horneater princess serving the Blackthorn [Ashiok] - Messenger
Reihmer, a bad ketek poet [Renegade] - Spearman
Odysa of Shao, a former-assassin turned mercenary [Winter Cloud] - Spearman
Karlin, a Jah Keved Purelaker [surgebound Rainspren] - Guardsman
Aonaran Faialen, a wannabe musician [Aonar Faileas] - Guardsman
Marand, no further description [Mailliw73] - Messenger
Mek, a defector from Highprince Yenev's army [mckeedee123] - Watchman
Alinel Lenia, Horneater exile, second son [Araris Valerian] - Guardsman
Torwel, reluctant conscript, wants ale [twelfthrootoftwo] - Spearman
Eoldren, guy with a sweet tooth and a grudge [Eolhondras] - Guardsman
Meller, a bridge builder for the Blackthorn [Metacognition] - Watchman

Heterochromic:
Norlav, a mercenary drafted by the Blackthorn [Alvron] - Surgeon

Lighteyes:
Kaddar, a one-eyed veteran spearman with a fondness for riddles. [Kasimir] - The Wit
Kenara, a scribe for the Blackthorn [little wilson] - Officer
Jain, a possibly-resurrected Shin traveller with a panda [Lightsworn Panda] - Swordsman
Jost Joslin, a soldier who never had a Shardblade [The Only Joe] - Swordsman
Ace, a guy with an oversized mallet and a talisman [Macen] - Officer
Tal, an enthusiastic young recruit and Shardblade wielder [luckat] - Guardsman
Newan, a failed (and failing) Envisager and Shardblade wielder - Spearman [Newan]

I will post an analysis tomorrow at some point. Thank you all for playing. I hope you enjoyed it as much as I enjoyed running it

Edited June 20, 2016 by Alvron

[Mckeedee123]

Well, I survived for some reason.

 

I started this game with no idea how to play, but now I think I've got a much better handle on it. I've even managed to convince myself that my RP's got better over time.   

 

My original plan was for Mek to start as a fanatically devoted spearman and then slowly progress to a kind of awareness that corruption and immorality pervaded all of Alethi society, even Dalinar's army. I strayed away from that, and my character just kind of mellowed out instead.

 

Anyway, next game, I won't be punctuating all my posts with statements about how nooby I am.

 

So who's up for round two?

Edited December 15, 2014 by mckeedee123