Mid-Range Game 1: The Stormfather and The Nightwatcher

[Alvron he/him]

It took them hours but Rolav and Ratel tracked down every informant, tipster and rumourmonger.  The questions were simple.  Who was the scholar?  Where did she live?  Who did she talk to? How well was she protected? Why was she here?  And it was all for nought.  Whoever the scholar was, she was very adept at remaining hidden.

 

After Ratel had left to pursue another lead, Rolav found himself wandering down some deserted streets.

 

I have to find her soon.  Those writings cannot be allowed to leave this city.  Aesudan is almost ready to burn the entire city down to stop those writings from leaving the area.  If I don't find the scholar soon she might start calling for my head to roll.

 

Letting loose a wordless howl of frustration, Rolav drew back his fist and slammed it into a wall.

 

The stone cracked under his hand.

 

Not a small crack, but a spiderweb that kept growing.

 

It wasn't possible.  Maybe he had hit the wall in the wrong spot and the ancient wall had simply given in.  He had never heard of stone cracking that way, spreading out like a living thing.

 

Heart racing, Rolav lowered his hand and looked at it.  There wasn't a bruise or a cut.  He couldn't feel any pain either.  But he had hit the wall as hard as he could.  He should've broken his hand at least, yet his knuckles were unharmed, only white from gripping his fingers in a tight fist

 

The wall had splintered but was intact.  It wasn't possible, was it?

 

Rolav dropped to his knees and was violently sick.

Look what you've driven me to Lyla.

[Gamma Fiend he/him]

Soaking wet and disgruntled, Magam sat around a small fire trying to dry himself off and recover in a random abandoned building. Seeking refuge from yesterday's highstorm had proved more difficult than he had originally anticipated and he had ended up having to run into an alleyway and climb up on a small ledge to ride it out, barely avoiding the stormwall as it struck. Stormwinds and ice cold water had buffeted him relentlessly with endless waves of debris slashing and lacerating him the entire night, leaving him weak and shivering when dawn had finally come.

Storms, I swear I'm done with this odious city, he thought to himself as he huddled closer to the fire for warmth. Shinovar seems like it'd be nice this time of the year....
 

Edited June 8, 2014 by Gamma Fiend

[Wyrmhero he/him]

A measly three books. That was all Wurum had managed to save from his home that was worth anything. He couldn't even live in his home now, the floor being so damp. He'd just catch his death from cold, and then it really wouldn't matter that his house and its contents were waterlogged.

 

He sighed as he traipsed down the lane, shoulders hunched together to try and remain unnoticed. He didn't look at anyone directly, but did sneak glances now and again. Rough and strong men seemed to favour the streets now, with a knife or a cudgel or something similar at their sides all the time. They weren't afraid; why would they be? This was the best it had ever gotten for them, with the whole city in disarray.

 

He stumbled and then fell as one of the uncooth brutes put their foot out to trip the scholar. He hit the cobblestoned ground in front of him hard, and his last three books fell into a puddle.

 

There was laughter from him, and his group of people. It made sense. Pick on the weak to avoid being picked on yourself. One of them grabbed him by his shoulders and pulled him to his feet. He seemed to have a broken nose, unset due to the lack of medical attention in the city.

 

One of them pushed him. They shouted at him. He couldn't really make out the individual words. They wanted his money. They wanted his food. They even wanted the shirt off his back, though why, he couldn't see. It wouldn't fit them. One of them pointed at the books on the floor.

 

Then their upstanding citizen nature kicked in, and they started calling him a heretic for the sin of reading. He didn't even think they knew what glyphs were, though that didn't matter, since the books did not contain glyphs. One of them slid the cudgel out from his make-shift belt of rope, taking his time, joking with his friends. What danger could a pathetic scholar hold for them, after all?

 

Something inside Heron snapped. He grabbed the knife from his inside pocket and leapt at their leader. He unbalanced the man, and they both hit the floor, the leader banging his head on the stone. Heron used that distraction to stab the knife into the man's eye.

 

Everything when silent as Heron stood up again, switching his bloody kitchen knife into his other hand and picking up the cudgel that the man used. The others were wary, but not concerned.

 

He threw the cudgel at them, unconcerned as to how accurate it was. It had the desired effect, one of the man put his hands up to defend himself. But he didn't even check what had happened, as he'd started running as soon as he threw the cudgel.

 

Half a mile later, he'd managed to lose his pursuers in the twists and the turns of the city's slums. He sighed in relief, leaned on a wall, and caught his breath. He was glad that speed wasn't as important in the city as strength was, or else he'd have been caught ages ago.

 

But still, now he was here, in the slums, with not a chip to his name. His right hand was bloody, and people were already starting to avoid him. It hit him just then. He'd killed someone, and it was as easy as that. He smiled a little at the thought, and then changed his mind and threw up.

[Ashiok]

Hello all, I'm NOT inactive, just too lazy to think of a RP right now.

 

People Fell like flies. Asphodel frowned

[Binnut he/him]

Binnt woke up to a new day with new deaths. He had been riding out the Highstorm terrified in the corner of the basement in his house and then he finally fell asleep, exhausted. Today was a new day, and the new day brought more death. Anyhow, he was to meet some friends and plan for Survival today, so he had to get out on the streets today.

He brought only a small knife, but he planned to stay in the shadows and try to not be detected by others as he didn't have a lot of confidence in his own fighting skills. He managed to not be detected except for one street urchin that was sitting on one corner clutching a wound in his side. They nodded to each other in understanding of that none of them wanted to make much noise in fear of that people would hear, and Binnt threw him a few chips so that he would able to by food if he found any place offering any and then went on. He finally arrived to his destination and slipped through the door and locked it behind him.

[firstRainbowRose she/her]

inah sat at her desk, feeling overwhelmed by the number of papers that had piled up. She had chosen to stay in bed for the last two days before being forced to face the truth of the situation.

 

 

With a sigh, she picked up the first page as the sounds of a scream was cut short outside of her window. What a lovely melody, she thought with a shake of her head. Appropriately grim sounds for such grim work.

 

 

If you can't tell, I'm a bit behind. Hopefully over the weekend I can actually catch up on my proper doc and junk...

[Alvron he/him]

The guide Ratel had sent led him to a nondescript iron door in a quiet alley.  Hired thugs stood watch on either side.  The guide flashed a hidden sign to the guards and they opened the door.

 

As he headed down the steps into the subterranean warren below, the reek of unwashed bodies hit him like a fist to the face.

 

The main chamber was lit by an oil chandelier and several candles lined the walls.  All laughter ceased as he passed the tables.  Red rimmed eyes following as he was led to a table overlooking a pit where two men fought each other for the amusement of those watching.

 

'Welcome to the bowels of Kholinar.'  Ratel intoned as he sipped on red wine.  'The place where anything can be found.  For a price.'

Don't go there.  They overcharge.

 

A few hours later and Rolav was standing in the scholars empty rooms waiting for her to return.  Everything had been removed.  Taken by soldiers and scribes to be studied and destroyed.  A number of spanreeds had been recovered.  They would be monitored to see who was in communication with the scholar.

 

They had apparently also found some documents that revealed the scholar had already sent part of the blasphemous writing on to someone.  Once they knew who, the queen would sent word to her agents in the area and have the writings destroyed and any who knew of them killed.

 

All Rolav had to do was wait for the scholar to return and kill her.Your move Lyla

[FeatherWriter she/her]

He didn't have long too long to wait. 

 

Lyla let out a wearied sigh as she entered her building, resting against the doorframe in the hallway for a moment. Things were starting to look very bad in this city, but she wasn't dead yet. After her meeting, she'd managed to sneak back into the People's Hall and do a few context sketches in her notebook containing Pai's documents. Truly, the folio was becoming a rather valuable piece, the more information and accuracy she was able to add to it. 

 

Of course, it's value is meaningless if no one is ever able to read it. Again, she thought of fleeing the city, but shook her head. I'm getting so much information. I cannot leave yet. The spanreeds with have to suffice for now. She promised herself she would survive these riots and see her originals safely to Kholinar. She refused to let these riots stop her.

 

As she rested however, she noticed something fluttering in the corner. Hesitantly, she walked over to it and picked it up. A piece of paper with writing on it. More specifically, her writing on it. It was her spanreed conversation from this morning. For a moment, she stared in confusion. How had it gotten out here? It should have been safely tucked away with her things back in her locked ro...

 

Lyla felt a cold chill as she snapped alert, freehand moving to her sword. She cast a wary glance upstairs, wishing she were able to see her room's doorway from where she stood. Then again, if she'd had a clear line of sight, they might have been able to see her as well. Whoever they were. If there was someone up there in the first place. It was possible she was jumping at shadows again, but if someone had been going through her things, caution was key.

 

As silently as she could, she backed out of the building, not turning away from the staircase until her feet hit the broken cobbles outside. She'd hide her satchel first before going up, just in case. She could stash the notebooks she was carrying with her someone nearby and retrieve them after she'd assessed that there was no danger. Almighty send that there's no danger, at least.

 

Only a few minutes later, she returned to the building, one satchel lighter, and fairly sure that her notebooks would be secure where she'd hidden them. Perhaps someone someday might find the folio with her work on Pai's denunciation if she wasn't able to return for them. She suppressed a shudder at that thought. Drawing her sword, she crept up the stairs as silently as possible, careful not to let the floorboards squeak.

 

When she turned reached the corner to her hallway, she pressed her back against the wall and peered around it. Sure enough, her door was ajar, the chain on her lock broken. Damnation. This can't be happening right now! How much of my work have I lost?

 

Feeling a protective anger rise within her, mixing with her fear, she made her way to the door and slowly pushed it open wide enough to slip inside. sword in hand and ready to face whatever was waiting within.

[Sir Jerric he/him]

Jerrek wandered along the crumbled facades of Kholinar's once lively weaver's street. The street had been an early target for looting, bales of cloth having an excellent barter value in a city of ruined dwellings. Jerric routed most of his trips through the city along similar streets. Losing pursuers was not all that difficult for him, but he preferred to save his energy when possible.

 

His thoughts turned again to the children. Old Farrah could handle their basic needs for a couple of weeks now, hopefully long enough to outlast the riots. But a basement was not a place for keeping children. Better to get them out of the city entirely, and soon. However, Jerrek didn't think he could get them through the streets alone. If he could find five respectable persons, moving the children would be easy. Two others ought to be sufficient. One . . . maybe. So much would rely on chance, perhaps too much.

 

But the children couldn't stay in Kholinar safely. Time to start finding some help.

 

Consider this an invitation. If you'd like to join in a RP extraction mission, feel free to add to my intro. Jerrek is willing to try extracting other people beyond his collection of waifs, if that suits your character.

[Aonar he/him]

Aonar, back on the rooftops after yesterday's Highstorm, wasn't sure what to do. He was being still more strongly pressured by his fellows in the city to take a hand in the current events, and this "Broken Spanreed," that Regnar's chaotics spoke of, whoever he was, seemed to gathering a worrying amount of support. It appeared as if he would need to do something, or else these riots might not end until Kholinar was nothing more than ashes blowing on the stormwinds.

 

A crash echoed further down the street. Aonar's fingers found the fletching of an arrow in his quiver, and he turned towards the sound. A pair of burly men were hauling a chest, filled to the brim with papers, out of a nearby apartment. He went to turn away again, but then stopped. If he had resolved to do something, why not start here?

 

He crept over the rooftops, keeping low to avoid the looters' notice. Over the window that he thought must belong to the apartment, Aonar stopped and listened. Nothing. As quietly as he could, a climbed down to the apartment's balcony, and hazarded a glance inside. It was empty save for one man, leaning against the wall opposite the entrance and holding a wicked looking knife.

 

Aonar recoiled. Looting, that he had no problem acting against. But assassination? Whatever his skill with the bow, he knew he was no fighter, not really. He already made his choice, however. If Aonar wanted to stop the riots, he had to act, not talk. Steeling himself to move into plain view of the assassin so he could line up his shot, he was distracted by a bang emanating from inside. A woman with a sword - a sword, of all things - had slammed the door open, and was now advancing on the assassin, anger written plain on her face.

 

Oh Stormfather...

Edited June 9, 2014 by AonarFaileas

[Lightsworn Panda he/him]

Mm... Tempting, Jerric. I'll see how many will Join your extraction. For now, I'll watch.

 

Jain watched the encounter from the rooftops. A woman with a sword... Jain had always found it odd that men were always so touchy about things like eye-colour and gender. Just because a person was a woman or had dark eyes didn't necessarily put him ahead or above others.

 

The man with the bow yelped and scrambled backwards. Archers were virtually unbeatable on the rooftops, but in the confines of a room, they were hopeless. The woman slipped into a stance, murder in her eyes. 

 

Jain decided to break up the confrontation before things got messy and blood became the new wallpaper. Hefting two rocks, he flicked them at their midriff. Both went down gasping for air. Deftly jumping into the room, Jain picked up the man and tipped him out the window, right into one of the new lakes that formed due to the Highstorm. It was a long fall, and a hard one, but the man would survive.

 

"That's for kicking me off a rooftop", muttered Jain as he climbed out of the room.

[Tulir he/him]

The Riots raged on, despite all attempts at order.  It's almost like they want this city to collapse! Trahar thought to himself. He had completed his tasks far quicker than expected, so he had plenty of time before the next set.  Trahar had contemplated trying to calm down sections of the riots, but he quickly recognized that such a task would be suicide to a to all except soldiers and a few others.  What had surprised him, though, was a curiosity.  A want to see how this riot would develop.  After all, this was Kholinar, and it would survive anything!  And so he was up on a roof, watching the chaos and fighting below.

 

The Riots were interesting indeed.  Even in his brief time up on the roof, he could tell that there were leaders spread throughout the street.  They were hard to spot, but occasionally they motioned and whispered to nearby people.  The riot often surged then, and more people fell.

 

I know my city can recover from this, but with all this destruction it might take a while.  These riots better end soon. Trahar moved to a more comfortable position, resting his back against a taller building, and continued to watch the Riots.

[FeatherWriter she/her]

(Small note of consistency, Lyla was sneaking into the room quietly, hoping she could get the drop on whoever was waiting within. She's not really one to go barging into places if there might people there.)

 

Before the strange assailant could escape again, Lyla grabbed him by the shirt, yanking him back into the room. In one smooth motion, she pushed him up against the wall next to the window, bringing her sword up to his throat. Her midriff stung from where his rock had hit her, but at least he hadn't sent her toppling to the ground the way he had with the other man. 

 

As she pressed the flat of the blade up under his chin, she glared at him, mustering every bit of righteous anger she had. "You have five heartbeats to tell me who you are, why you're in my room, and most importantly where you've taken all of my things. Speak quickly, or I might just decide to cut a nice hole to help you get some more air to your lungs. Where. Is. My. Work."

[Lightsworn Panda he/him]

Jain raised an eyebrow.

 

"Quite the trigger-happy fellow, aren't you?" he asked. "I don't really like losing body parts, even if it is a small hole of flesh, sinew and possibly some lung tissue. However, while you do look quite trained with that 9-inch of steel, I think you should know that slamming a person against a wall without restraints is only something done in novels"

 

Jain lashed out with a foot, taking the woman in the knee. She instinctively loosed her grip on his throat and clutched her knee. Jain grabbed the woman's wrist, jabbing a thumb into her wrist-nerve, paralyzing her hand, before winding her - for the second time - with a kick to the stomach. As the woman doubled over gasping, Jain brushed himself off and walked towards the exit.

 

"I have no idea who you are, or what your "works" are. I'm just a traveler caught in the middle of a riot." Jain took something out of his pocket and dropped it onto the floor. "

 

As a sign of trust and peace, you can hold this for safe-keeping. It's very dear to me. Take good care of it, or it might get unhappy."

 

It was a toy panda.

 

I don't think I can make it through today, so continue this legacy   

Even if I do survive, you can keep it. I'll want it back if you die.

[Ashiok]

Asphodel saw Jerrik leading children through the streets. "Do you need some help?" he asked.

I just want to do something to help

[FeatherWriter she/her]

Lyla made an attempt to push herself up, but fell back to the floor with a gasping breath. Her entire body trembled, but not out of fear this time. Rather, when she looked up again, there were tears in her eyes, and she shook with choked back sobs. It wasn't the pain, though her wrist and ribs burned from the rough treatment. No, these were tears of frustrated helplessnes. Of futility. Of losing everything.

 

"Damnation take you," she managed to gasp out, before losing a battle with a fit of coughs. When she managed to find her words again, her voice was hoarse. "Those journals were my life's work, you cremling. You have no idea how invaluable those documents were. I won't stop until I find them. I won't. Aesudan can send all the thugs and assassins she wants after me. She doesn't frighten me. The world will know what's happening here, even if I have to write the account of it with my blood!"

[twelfthrootoftwo]

Red shirt. Messy black hair, but neat beard. Dirk just short enough to be allowed for a darkeyes, and more than one suspicious shape beneath his clothes. Walks like he expects people to get out of the way. Not afraid to display his wealth, even with the city in an uproar.

 

Twei fingered the hastily sketched map in her pocket, mentally rehearsing her accent. For once, her fair foreigner’s skin would be useful. Her young assistant –Jem, his name was – peeked round the alley corner. If everything went to plan, what she had promised him would only be a tiny fraction of what she’d get. It was a big ‘if.’ She’d done this hundreds of times. She was good – a natural, supposedly. But never for real.

 

Jem waved her attention, and they backed up a few metres. He started counting down with his fingers. Three…two…

 

As he reached one, Twei shouted. “Hai!!” A moment later, they both started running, though her gait was – intentionally – slightly awkward. Jem turned a sharp right as they left the alley, and cut through just on the far side of her target. He’d timed it perfectly.

 

“Hai!” she shouted again, before barrelling into her target. They fell in a tangle of limbs. As she pulled herself free, Twei glanced at her target’s face. His consternation had only showed for a moment before being replaced by disdainful composure, but it was long enough. She looked pointedly in the direction Jem had gone. He was out of sight. Good.

 

“Sorry. I sorry.” He patted his hip. It would have been a terrible pickpocket attempt. Tripping your target was fine, but falling yourself wasn’t.

 

Evidently satisfied she wasn’t a thief, he shrugged, and turned to leave. No you don’t.

 

“You help, please? I…I have map.” She held it out. He sighed internally, but he stepped towards her and took the map. As he did so, she removed the metal chain around his wrist.

 

She moved around, ostensibly so she could see the map. “I want here”, she said, pointing and unhooking his dirk from his belt, “so I walk here and turn here. Then – ” one hidden knife. It looked expensive – “the urchin. I follow him. Now,” she squinted at the map, “I here? Follow this street?”

He sighed. “No, we’re here. And that’s the wrong way.” He turned to point, and she cut his sphere pouch from the hip now closest to her. “Take the second left, then the third right. You’ll end up here” – he pointed to the map – “facing where you want to go.”

 

“Wait, left, wait, wait, right, ahead.” He nodded. “Tankyou! Tankyou!” She bowed quickly as he handed the map back to her, and she pulled off two of his rings as she took it. She walked quickly in the direction he had indicated.

 

She took the first left instead of the second, and ducked around a few more corners. She could just walk away with her prizes, but she’d been taught that cheating a business partner was rarely wise.

 

Jem was waiting for her. She handed him his payment, then gave him one of the rings. “That’s for such a tight job.” He grinned and ran off.

 

Storms, success felt good.

[Claincy he/him]

Yeah I'm still around and active, no I don't have time for rp

 

Stupid exam period.

[Sir Jerric he/him]

Jerrek hasn't moved his children out of hiding yet. He wants the volunteers first. But since you added children to the scene . . .

Jerrek stopped and cast a wary eye across the stranger. "You aren't welcome to our spheres, if that's what you're asking."

The stranger made a hurried protest, yammering something about children. Jerrek did not look back at the two starving lads he had happened across as they cried out from under a half-buried cellar door. That was the other reason he roamed the abandoned sections of Kholinar.

"And what is your interest in children, stranger? Speak quickly. These streets are not safe for standing about chattering."

[luckat she/her]

Every day brought more death than the last. Bodies were scattered in the streets. It seemed the living weren’t any better off than the dead. Everyone left was crazy or murdering. Or both. Lucy walked the streets again, trying not to think too deeply about everything that was going on.

She noticed a pair of men speaking tensely. Something about children caught her ear. She couldn’t keep herself from listening in–from a distance of course. Their conversation surprised her, and she felt a breath of relief as their tension drained and they got to the heart of the matter. They were going to help get children out of the city to protect them from the chaos of the riots.

Children weren’t likely to last long in a situation like this. The thought that there were still some around, along with people trying to help them, warmed her soul. Maybe this place wasn’t as hopeless as it seemed. Maybe there was a future that didn’t involve constant bloodshed.

Lucy approached them, determinationspren popping up around her. She’d had enough of hiding and doing nothing. “What can I do to help?” she asked.

I might as well join Jerrek’s noble cause since I can’t think of any good RP on my own right now.

[jaelre he/him]

Still out of town. Wiil be back later tonight.

[Alvron he/him]

Seeing a flutter of movement coming from the window, Rolav quickly sheathed his dagger and drew a pair of throwing knives.

 

A man flipped into the room holding a bow with an arrow nocked and ready to fly, just as the scholar tripped and slammed the door open.  Throwing his knives at the pair, Rolav mentally swore at himself for not bringing back-up.

 

Just before the knives hit, both of the attackers crumpled to the floor, dropped by a couple of thrown rocks.  And another man leaped into the room.  Light above.  Who else is going to show up.  Grabbing the archer, the newcomer threw him out the window.  Before the stranger could leave the scholar grabbed him and pinned him against the wall.

 

A short scuffle ensued and then the scholar was lying on the ground with a strange stuffed animal next to her and the rock-thrower walking out the door.

 

The scholar was gasping for breath when Rolav reached her.  Kicking the sword away, he drew his dagger and leaned down intending to finish the scholar off once and for all.

 

Ooo, cliffhanger.  Stay tuned folks, same Sanderson game, same Sanderson forum.

Edited June 9, 2014 by Alvron

[Sir Jerric he/him]

Lucy approached them, determinationspren popping up around her. She’d had enough of hiding and doing nothing. “What can I do to help?” she asked.

I might as well join Jerrek’s noble cause since I can’t think of any good RP on my own right now.

Role-playing tip: Jerrek is quite protective of his charges. If you want to convince him, you need to offer him some motivation.

Do you have someone you want to get out of the city? Do you have some thing you want to get out of town with? Do you want to leave town yourself? Give us a motive to work with.

[Rubix he/him]

DAY FIVE: All's Quiet on the Stormward Front

Xeneth huddled in his home, fearing for his life. His hat clearly hadn't been worth what it had cost. In the last day, he'd lost his friends Jain, Jerrek, Rolav, and Greyeh. At this rate, soon he wouldn't have any friends left.

He had just gotten up to fix himself something to drink when he noticed a piece of parchment on the shelf that hadn't been there yesterday. He decided to open it up to see what was inside, and saw the meaningless jumble of glyphs inside: "17S duping you. Kill: Tra, Sar, Her, Aon. Scan: Mag&Luc. 3VB Dead (2 true, Kas&M/N) Nobles: use VB. Trust:Ren, Alv, Lyl. Dead: N!WS, D!M!SG". Storming kids and their pranks. Didn't they know that the royal glyphmasters had better things to be about?

He decided that the parchment would make very nice kindling, and used it to start the fire so he could warm the water for his tea.

As he lit the parchment, a voice boomed, seeming to shake the very rock beneath his feet. "YOUR GIFT THIS CYCLE IS THE TEMPORARY STAYING OF MY HAND IN THIS CONFLICT. YOUR CURSE WILL BECOME APPARENT IN DUE COURSE."

Xeneth watched as the stormwarden fled through the city gates as he sat, drinking his steaming tea.

• (WeiryWriter) Weiriah
• (Lightsworn Panda) Jain
• (Gamma Fiend) Magam
• (Tulir) Trahar
• (FeatherWriter) Lyla
• (Ashiok) Asphodel
• (Renegade) Rengar
• (Mailliw73) Mailam
• (Binnut) Binnt
• (Macen) Ace
• (AonarFaileas) Aonar
• (jasonpenguin) Peng
• (twelfthrootoftwo) Twei
• (a smart guy) Sarmas
• (Adolin_Dustbringer) Jim Bob Dirt
• (GreyPilgrim) Greyeh Pilgras
• (Alvron) Rolav
• (firstRainbowRose) Hinah
• (lord Claincy Ffnord) Clanal
• (Wyrmhero) Heron
• (Sphinx) Nixi
• (dants) Atrus
• (Sir Jerric) Jerrek
• (jaelre) Khiriq
• (luckat) Lucy
• (Awesomeness Summoned) Mon
• (Kasimir) Kasimar

Edited June 15, 2016 by Alvron

[Ashiok]

 We were played. Gamma, Did you get any PMs from Aonar?

EDIT: We need to collaborate on the main thread. If we don't, we will be on the dead doc, with a QF loss under our belts, in the next 2 cycles.

Edited June 9, 2014 by Ashiok