Long Game 2: The Devil's Den

[Shivertongue he/him]

And last thing, guys: If you're on and you see a player who hasn't posted viewing this page, then I think you can safely assume that they're the Inquisitor. So be on guard

 

I'm always logged in, and have one tab open to this thread. Your warning is based upon faulty information.

 

Wow... this is what I miss by oversleeping. Sorry I couldn't get a vote in on time, things have been busy and I overslept today and there's a third excuse I'm sure. Just finished reading through everything, though, so I'm up to speed now.

 

 

Shiv awoke with no shirt, no boots, with a strange pattern draw in his chest in wet ash, which had dried and hardened over the course of the night. He stretched, nearly falling over. Steadying himself, he discovered he'd ended the night of drinking and whatever-the-hell-else happened by falling asleep in the rafters of the bar. He rubbed his neck, then winced as a pain shot through his lower back; rafters were hell on the lumbar. "Always the having..." he muttered, shaking his head as he tried to decipher the incomprehensible design upon his skin. "Wasing as always to the right of the rot on the waking. Notting to the learn for?"

 

"Everytime..."

 

"This always happens when I drink that stuff. I never learn, do I?"

 

Giving his neck a crack, Shiv slipped down off the rafter, landing on the bar. Grabbing a glass of water, he chugged it down, sitting cross-legged on the bar. "Hasing the finding of soles nor stitches as the losting?" he asked, "Wasing the clear-" He cut himself off as he got a good look around the bar, his eye growing slightly wider. "Whatting the has? Wasing all the bleak on the have - hasing the has of wonder well wide of the what...?"

 

"I seem to have misplaced my shirt and boots, anyone seen them?"

 

"Anyone remember-"

 

"What's going on? Everyone looks so sad and upset - I think maybe I missed something..."

[Aether he/him]

Even so, this was the first thing I thought of after Aether started training Wilson.

Well, very close at least. Though with Lists we're more or less supposed to make a lot of sound.  

 

 

All Hail the King! 

I shall proudly make this part of my Signature, somehow!

Edited February 2, 2014 by Aether

[Edgedancer he/him]

What have I done!? I helped him to create another monster.

[Grayv he/him]

Grave watched, aghast, as the group surrounded Shimble and proceeded to kill him. "By The Ja!" he said, "look what you have done. This innocent man was killed because you let fear rule your minds. Once again I say, take Ja into your hearts, and fear will not rule you. If you place your faith in The Ja, you will find the answers you seek. Praise the Ja!

 

 

I am finding it hard to play a religious person. According to the coppermind, i should be more zealous. I don't think i shall be playing a religious person a second time. Although difficult, I am having fun trying to figure out what to say. 

Edited February 2, 2014 by Grayv

[Mailliw73 he/him]

I think that we just have to see what the Seekers have to say after the night.

[Kurkistan he/him]

I think that we just have to see what the Seekers have to say after the night.

 

They'll saying nothing to us, hopefully.

[little wilson she/her]

Actually, yes. Especially considering there was quite a few embarrassing mistakes in the last one. 

You got it. Any chance to use my mod-power must needs be taken.

 

But of course, dear Apprentice! I am not entirely sure what you wish for your Lists™ to convey, but let us start with saying that the order of which you write up things can have a huge impact on how that Lists™ will be read and understood! Clever colour-coding can also produce some fun effects. Work with it earnestly, and let the Survivor guide your quill.

Wilson listens to the wise List Master, creating a short list (of course) of this very crucial information. "I shall practice," she nods. "Every day. Every hour. I will make you proud."

  

This is terrifying.

It's like watching a lion teaching it's cub how to hunt.

  

Haha! I endorse this analogy.

What have I done!? I helped him to create another monster.

In your defense, I'd already suggested being an apprentice prior to your statement. The secondary opinion simply made me realize how brilliant it was. And that it was indeed the path I wanted my life to take. I mean, messenger was kinda fun. I kept up on all the gossip and secrecy in town. It was great. But it's just not a very ambitious career choice, you know?

[Quiver he/him]

Give a skaa a knife, and he'll try to stab his betters with it. That was something Quillion's father had always told him, but the reality of it didn't quite sink in until now, until he saw a group of thieves decide who should live and who should die, and heard his name- his!- put forward for the block. There was some debate amongst them, as to whether they should kill him or Lord Ollivier, but that wasn't much consolation.

Neither was their decision, in the end, to turn on Shimble. Quillion didn't like the man- his nose was still bent from the first night in the bar- but... he was nobility. Minor, perhaps, a bastard almost certainly... but a noble. The sight of skaa crawling over him with knives, stabbing, and piercing, and cutting...

He shivered. His only consolation was that the Mistborn, Peng, hadn't advocated it. He hadn't acted to stop it, but even so... Quillion thought he heard something about "knowing his place' echo in his mind faintly, but that didn't seem to be it. He frowned, biting his lip. He didn't want to spend the rest of the night thinking about the Mistborn, and he certainly didn't want to spend it under the same roof as a group that had voiced killing him.

He wasn't sure he wanted to go outside, either, but what choice did he have?

Before he left, however, he sidled up alongside Cessie. "A word of caution my lady," he whispered. He nodded towards the stains of Shimble's blood on the floor. "Do not become comfortable here. That's what they always do to people like us in the end."

He picked up his two duelling canes, slid them under his coat, and left.

The night was cold and dark. He couldn't see the stars overhead for the mist, or the buildings to either side. It was cold. Quillion shifted in his cloak, raising his duelling canes and hoping he wouldn't have to use them. Professionally, a small part of his mind was trying to record the days events, but he knew enough to realise that was just a distraction from his real concern.

That after how the day had gone, he wasn't sure he was going to survive the night.

[princess she/her]

Cessie watched a Quillion walked out the door, trying to ignore the sinking feeling his words had caused.  Glancing around her at the dejected faces, she whole heartedly wished she had never decided to leave her home.  "If I live through this," she though, "I shall find that man my mother wanted me to marry, get it over with as quickly as possible, and never leave home again.  I've had enough adventure for one life time."

 

With that thought she raised a finger to request a drink.  After all, if she was forced to stay, the least that she could do was dull the edge.

[Gamma Fiend he/him]

The night was quiet. The mists had started coming in as soon as the sun started to set, slowly creeping in at first, and then rushing in like a wave that finally busted through a dam.The mists swirled and danced with intensity, a power seeming to flow through the air like static electricity in the air. This tension was felt among the small group of people still left at the bar. All nights, conversations had been subdued and there was an anxious energy buzzing throughout the room. There was the occasional murmur from the corner where Aether sat going over his lists with Wilson, teaching her the secrets of the trade. There had been some spirited discussion earlier in the night - when the mists had first started coming in - but as they came in heavier, the day seemed to weigh more and more on the minds of everyone.

Gamon sighed and finished another mug of ale. He lost count of how many he had already had. What did it matter? They were going to be sitting ducks tonight anyway. He watched as Quillion leaned in and whispered something in Cessie's ear, somewhat unsettling her, and then he walked off into the night, the mists swirling around him as he opened the door and disappeared into the fog.

He was at a loss of what to do. The village was slowly starting to tear itself apart, suspicion and mistrust quietly sowing it's way among them. And when the morning came? Who knew what this Inquisitor could do? Gamon remembered all the nasty rumors he had heard over the last year, the secrets of the Steel Ministry slowly leaking out and spreading across the land. Surely the stories of them being able to convert people over to their side were just fanciful myths? He could barely handle the thought of one of those spike-eyed bastards slinking around amongst them. But having another one to worry about?

He shivered and signaled for another drink. It was going to be a long night, and Gamon just quietly sat there, hoping for the familiar sight of the red morning sun to come quickly.

[Peng the Just he/him]

Watching everyone trying to drown their imminent demises in enough alcohol to fill a small lake, penguin found meaning in the words of one of his fellow crew members. Religion. That would solve his problems. "If the survivor can survive hathsin, we can make it through this"

[Metacognition he/him]

Day 3 (Fishing for Clues)

 

Dyring kicked everyone out early. Not only did he need to get Roban to clean off the writings someone had scrawled onto his walls last night, but they’d left yet another body dead in his inn. And did they bother to offer help with the cleaning? Of course not. They just left it to him and Roban. Well, if that’s the way they wanted to be, then they could find somewhere else to hang out for the night!

 

It took them the better part of the night, but they finally finished cleaning everything up. With a yawn, but a self-satisfied grin, Dyring and Roban went to get some sleep.

 

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The Inquisitor had no problems hauling the unconscious body it carried. While the mists helped conceal the Inquisitor, getting off the street was a priority. There was a new leader causing a ruckus in Urteau and this Quellion character was trying to convince everyone that they shouldn’t fear going out in the mists. He was wrong though; there were things to fear in the mists. Things like the Inquisitor.

 

With another revolution rising up, many had already abandoned the city, so it didn’t take long for the Inquisitor to find an abandoned building. The sign out front showed a fisherman in his boat, surrounded by a canal filled with blue waters. The Fishing Hole, it was called. The previous owner must have had a sarcastic sense of humor considering it had been built in the Harrows, which meant that the canals had long since gone dry. The Inquisitor shifted the body on its shoulder and entered.

 

The Inquisitor thumped the body onto one of the forgotten tables and pulled out the spike it had made earlier. This wouldn’t take as well as it would if the Inquisitor had had both people alive, but the Inquisitor recognized that it needed help. It could feel the poison coursing through its veins, which meant it needed additional help to end this quickly and find the cure.

 

The person was starting to come to. They hadn’t awoken yet, but they were close. That was fine, they would be more than awake in a moment. The Inquisitor raised the spike above its head and plunged the spike straight down into his victim’s chest.

 

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Elsewhere, hidden in the mists, someone slumped to the ground, shaking from head to toe. The pain was too great for them to actually scream out, so they flailed silently, like a twisted marionette. The pain didn’t last long, but it was intense and afterwards, the person quickly fell unconscious.

 

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Peng was feeling pretty good. He’d been out scouting most of last night, hoping to catch sight of the Inquisitor. Instead, he had heard nor seen anything. While he should be upset about another night that the Inquisitor walked free, he couldn’t help but be glad that no one else had died. His passion and determination to find the Inquisitor and kill it was still there, but it had been tempered by Shimble’s death yesterday. They couldn’t allow themselves to become so divided in the future. The Crew needed someone with a clear head and a plan, not the mob rule that had so far been dominating them. He’d become that person if that’s what it took and because of such, he could be happy with a night without deaths.

 

The sun was just peaking over the horizon and the mists started to fade away when he heard a bloodcurdling scream.

 

“Oh no,” he thought. “And we were so close to making it through the night!”

 

He shot off towards the sound, which seemed to be coming from Dyring’s inn. He threw open the doors and dashed in without slowing down even a bit. There he found Dyring kneeling on the ground, crying.

 

“What’s wrong, man? Are you hurt?”

 

Dyring just shook his head and pointed towards the far wall, the wall he had spent a good part of the night cleaning. It wasn’t clean anymore. There was a new rambling message written there:

 

"Lead us, O Mistborn" we said

I do it because I’m Awesome.

He told us Wes should be dead

Short for A. Wesomeness Summoned, the Third.

It left us confused

the Emoti-quisitor

And some refused

With a rope!

And Shimbles was hung, instead

Who is more foolish? The fool or the fool who follows him?

 

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Day 3 begins and it ends in 36 hours from this post!

 

No one died, but a Conversion did occur. I won’t tell you whether the converted target received the role or not, nor will I tell you what the Unsnapped got either.

 

This is the power that the Inquisitor used up within their conversion:

• UberBronze - Gives the Inquisitor 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.

 

Have at it guys!

Edited February 3, 2014 by Metacognition

[Peng the Just he/him]

Somebody snapped? (Ah, snap. You're an allomancer)

Edited February 3, 2014 by jasonpenguin

[little wilson she/her]

The second part. The person slumping.

Well. It's good no one died. It's not so good the Inquisitor has a convert. And someone Snapped. The question is, why? Was it because the Inquisitor converted a Misting (which requires an Unsnapped to Snap) or was it because they lucked out on their 10% chance each night. Statistically, it makes more sense for the converted Misting, but...yeah.

Also, despite the calmness of the night and the lack of action, that was a great write up.

[Alvron he/him]

Ok, we have a snapped. If they would be so kind and PM Peng their role, he can go through his list and find those that claimed the same ability.

That should give us a 75% chance of finding the new spiked. Assuming that the newly snapped got the same ability that was just taken that is.

[Gamma Fiend he/him]

Really?
UberBronze?!

That is some serious stuff. Especially if we consider the fact that all of their other powers are beefed up. But thank the Survivor nobody died!

And that Tineye poem is hilarious, by the way. Very well done. There is definitely some cryptic stuff in that text.

.... and now we're back from our interruption, and can continue savagely deciding who has to die next.
 

[Edgedancer he/him]

"Zo the Inquisitor has Uberpowers after all. Another drink please!"

[Peng the Just he/him]

 

• UberBronze - Gives the Inquisitor 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.

this terrifies me. not just because it's a good ability, but because this is the one ol' ironeyes gave up. That means all his/her other abilities are even better.

[dyring]

dyring is moving around, cleaning and grumbling.

 

"Bloody idiots could go wrecking their own walls" 

 

"or outside. Outside would be less bad"

 

"keep breaking in here. your not suposed to break into outfit property."

 

Once finished, he disapperes, and starts hauling planks from a neighboring abandoned house to outside the inn, for some sort of an unspecified purpose.

 

Pausing to get a drink and rest up(and to yell at everyone around for... well, whatever he can think of, wich ends up being mostly poor Roban since he´s the one nearby)

 

"Only one working here. Lazy buggers. Their all just sabotaging."

 

"Pong, you promised you would be able to find out if one person was an inquisitor today. Well, out with it. you or anyone else find someone out? Either the inquisitor, or even better, the tineye who keeps making a mess of my inn."

Edited February 3, 2014 by dyring

[Quiver he/him]

All right, so we now have two Inquisitors to deal with; while losing someone to Ironeyes is bad, it's still far from a hopeless situation. So I'm going to repeat what I suggested before; since we have 36 hours, we need to make the most of it. I'm going to hold my vote off until as late as possible, so I can read all the debates regarding everyone before making a sensible decision, rather than locking myself down early on. 

 

So, maybe not starters, but... Peng. Care to tell us why you thought Wes should have died, and what you think of the new situation?

 

(And by 'discuss everyone, yes, I'm including me, and yes, I'll defend myself when I'm called out. I just think that, if there's a chance we could start losing two guys a night minimum, we're going to have to start being more deliberate and thorough for our daylight assassinations.) 

 

I have a suspicion regarding Roban, since he mentioned voting for the terrisman in the night phase... but that might not be completely fair, so don't take that as a vote(or as my pointing at anyone- I'm just voicing a grievance so Roban can defend himself from it. If anyone wants to do the same to me then... do it. The sooner we can lock down  as many "good" team members as possible, the better.)

[bartbug he/him]

Guys it's not about what we want. If Ping seeks you, then you can talk in a PM. If baldface knows who we know is clean, then they will die.

[Quiver he/him]

(Oh, and since I'm going soon and I'm bored, here's some Quillion roleplay)

 

The master of the Canton of Orthodoxy listened to Quillion's report carefully before dismissing him. The obligator was grateful for any excuse to be out from under Lord Ollivier's eyes, but he didn't relax. He spent the night slumped in a chair in his chamber, his duelling canes crossed and with a blanket draped over him. The bed was fluffed, artfully posed, and Quillion kept his vigil, alert for any sound from behind the door, or a figure at the window.

 

He felt relief ease out of him as the sun rose and the mists curling around his window vanished. For a second, he wondered at that; the mist had been lingering more and more each day. Then he realised what the mists burning away meant, and his excitement every other thought out of his mind.

 

Alive again! It was slightly sobering. Well, it's bad that I'm getting to the point where I can be grateful for that, but still... He offered an internal prayer to the Lord Ruler. He changed- Lord Ollivier would note and disapprove of it if he didn't- and steeled himself for another tension-filled day in his master's service.

 

"--And one last thing, Quillion," Lord Ollivier said as he finished relaying his orders. He shuffled some sheets on the table. "You might be interested to know, but it would seem all of your friends survived the night."

They aren't my friends, Quillion thought, remembering the way they had turned on Shimble. The only people there he didn't completely distrust were the noblewoman and her terrisman- 'and,' a small voice added, 'the mistborn'. He shook his head to dislodge the thought.

 

"Good," he said aloud, trying to smile. "That mean's that perhaps these skaa aren't as incompetent as we thought."

He had a sudden sense that he said the wrong thing. Ollivier stared at him cooly over the rims of his glasses, and Quillion swallowed. At that moment, he'd rather have been facing the Lord Ruler himself.

 

Lord Ollivier spoke slowly, as if to a child. "It means our rouge Inquisitor had a more pressing need for the skaa than to kill them."

Quillion frowned. "But... my lord? What would an Inquisitor need with a skaa?"

"My dear boy, where do you think Inquisitors come from?"

 

The words seemed to echo and hang in the room for hours, but Quillion knew it could only have been a handful of seconds. Lord Ollivier waved him away.

"Now, go and meet with your friends, Quillion. You have a busy day ahead of you."

Edited February 3, 2014 by Quiver

[Herowannabe he/him]

Herwynbe looked around disconsolately at the growing crowd. His eyes were bloodshot and had dark bags underneath. He had intended to stay up all night, watching over Lady Cessie's door, but eventually exhaustion had overtook him and he had slept a little. That was two nights in a row that he had slept curled up on the rough wooden floor, and his body ached. But it was nothing compared to the guilt he felt inside over Master Shimble's death.

 

His gaze drifted back to the message scrawled on the wall. He found no humor in it. "'We should be dead instead,'" he quoted, reading the words in red ink, "There is truth in that, I think."

 

OOC: I'm still in favor of following Peng's lead. Hopefully when the seeker(s) and the new misting get in touch with him he'll have a good idea of who to suspect.

Edited February 3, 2014 by Herowannabe

[Awesomeness Summoned he/him]

We stepped out into the morning light and took in a deep breath of relief. What happened to Shimble still weighed heavily but he was determined to make use of the second chance at life he'd been given. The fact that no one else had died last night was a sign that things were looking up right? For some reason he couldn't quite convince himself.

 

His faith in Peng had been damaged a little by the previous day's events but he couldn't deny that the mistborn was still their best chance of survival. As long as he could put a little more reasoning and conviction into future accusations, Wes was willing to follow his lead.

 

He set off down the street determined to uncover some rumor or clue that might help them uncover the truth. Perhaps he'd scrounge up enough loose change here and there for a nice big breakfast as well.

[Kurkistan he/him]

Kukri looked to Peng. "What now, Lord Mistborn?"

He opened his mouth to give his usual benediction, but Ja had been failing them these past crucial days. Instead...

"Praise the Mistborn!"

Edited February 3, 2014 by Kurkistan