Mid-Range Game 1: The Stormfather and The Nightwatcher

[Rubix he/him]

Looks to be, yes. I'm seeing 11:55 GMT right now, and 5:55 where I am. So... Yes.

[WeiryWriter he/him]

That doesn't seem right, Mountain time should be -7GMT, since Eastern is -5 and Central is between Eastern and Mountain...

[Rubix he/him]

Daylight Savings, or something like that.

Also, regarding protection roles:

 

Can I protect someone based on role, or do I have to protect a specific person?

You have to protect a person, not a role. You have to say "I want to protect Rubix", not "I want to protect the GM."

[firstRainbowRose she/her]

Letting out a squeak of fear, Hinah pushed herself against the pillar of a home, silently praying that the rough looking man coming down the road was more interested in his own needs than her. She had heard stories, even as a child, of voidbringers in the shape of men taking small women such as herself. Of course, those stories were often followed by the proper brother being boxed about the ears, but the stories still left her wide eyed.

 

With the recent change in the city, every time she stepped outside it felt as though those stories had come to live. Men, and women even, going about as though the Almighty had abandoned them. And who's to say he hasn't, she thought.

 

Stepping back onto the street, she tried to ignore the way that thought chased itself around her mind. It terrified her, more than the thought of a voidbringer brought to life, to consider what it meant if the Almighty was gone. Why, there would be no one to protect us. No one except...

 

Mentally pausing, she thought about the way her favorite Uncle had been banned from the family. One morning she woke up to him in the front room, tears streaming down his face as he begged her mother for forgiveness. At the time, the thing that fascinated her the most was the way his skin seemed to glow like polished silver, and the hair on his head changed to an almost golden color. When she asked her father how she could also receive such a pretty change -- after all, men were more likely to want someone as beautiful as her uncle had become -- she had been sorely punished. Her backside hurt from the memory.

 

Now, as an older woman she understood the taboo her uncle had completed. Though, she thought, passing through the door into her home, if the Almighty has abandoned us, it's not much of a taboo. It was a thought worth considering...

[WeiryWriter he/him]

Daylight Savings, or something like that.

 

It is Daylight Savings Time in the UK as well though, for me its 8:30 right now in EDT, and it;s 1:30 in London.

[Rubix he/him]

https://www.google.com/search?&q=what+time+is+it+gmt

 

https://www.google.com/search?&q=what+time+is+it+west+jordan+ut

 

Six hours off. Google knows all.

[Gamma Fiend he/him]

Magam shook his head and walked away from the rambling madman going on about Chaos and Insanity. How dare he presume that I believe in Vorinism! He huffed to himself. Vorinism was the farthest thing from what Magam had believed in. He wasn't called Magam the Blasphemous without a reason, and not just because of his name.

Okay, maybe he lied and told everybody his fanatic parents had given him the name. But it was a better introduction story than just straight-up saying, "I am audacious enough to give myself this Perfect name.". And that was the truth. Magam had given himself his perfectly symmetrical name. But not because of Vorin beliefs.

Amusing. Magam thought to himself. That I get accused of believing in something half-true by a strange fellow who believes in something else half true. The fact was, both the Ardentia and the strange fellow spouting off about Chaos were half-right. They each just praised One Half of the whole.

Chaos and Perfection. Entropy and Order. They were exact opposites, yet without each the other couldn't exist. For there to be Order, there must be Chaos that needs arranging. For there to be Chaos, there must be a Perfect system that can be destroyed.

THAT was why Magam had chosen this name. Because for a fleeting time, in the face of death and chaos, he could represent true perfection. His name was a symbol for all the symmetry and Order throughout the world. But he was no Herald. His time on this planet would be temporary. Chaos and entropy would eventually do it's job and destroy all he had built and worked for.

But for now, in the midst of the Riots, Magam had work to do. He couldn't get held up in theological debates or tangents.

 

[Sart he/him]

I'm just checking in. Real life is getting in the way.

[Mailliw73 he/him]

I want to put this in my tally in my sig, but I don't think I should count it as game 6. The struggle.

Mailam walked the streets with his sword in plain view. He didn't believe in hiding things like that. But unpredictability was his signature. So, obviously, his sheath was upside down and his sword had a special clasp to keep it from falling.

V

He walked in erratic patterns to keep people guessing what his next move would be. It also helped to avoid pickpockets. It's hard to cut someone's purse or take their spheres if you're zigzagging randomly.

[Sir Jerric he/him]

Jerrek sat with one knee up on the roof of a building overlooking a broad swath of Kholinar's mercantile district. People moved through the streets at random, in groups or even alone dispite the chaos. One person was literally moving at random, zigzaging through a market square in a manner that looked a hair too disciplined to be drunken. Jerrek hoped he won't have to deal with the fellow too directly in the days ahead.

 

Looking across the crumbling city, Jerrek wasn't certain that holding these regular meetings would do anything to calm the riots. But then again, it was already becoming clear that people were coalescing into factions.

 

Some supported the merchants, like those at the shop Jerrek had visited yesterday, assuming that money and goods would be the deciding factor of the future. Some threw in their weight with the original upper crust of the kingdom, whether from a fear of change or from a longing for familiarity, he found it hard to say.

 

Still others thought to seize the opportunity and toss the class system out on its ear. The darkeyes were more numerous, so why should they be the ones under everyone's boots? Jerrek worried about such talk. That kind of talk started innocently enough, claiming to welcome all under the new order. But he thought that any lighteyes who sought to join their numbers would would wind up facing more than sidelong glances.

 

In a situation like this, trying to pin down anyone's loyalties was going to be a complicated task. Eye color might have been a clue before chaos had taken Kholinar, but now?

 

All he could see was that the only road to peace was control, and control was still divided. Jerrek wished that negotiations would be enough, but he knew that no one would listen seriously, not until the speaker had a clear measure of power.

 

Blood would be shed before this was over. Far too much blood. Jerrek just hoped that he could keep old Farrah and the children out of the "debates".

[Alvron he/him]

The shutters swinging in the breeze were the only sign of his entry.  No one had noticed him scaling the vine covered wall of the darkened manor, slithering into the hallway on the second floor.

 

Silent as a wraith Rolav moved down the hall to the third door.  Brightlord Khalder's bedroom door opened with a slight creak.  He waited until he was certain no one had heard the noise before slipping in and easing the door shut behind him.

 

Soft light glowed from the infused spheres carefully arranged next the four-poster bed, illuminating the figure sleeping.  Brightlord Khalder was no older than thirty with dark hair curling around his ears.

 

What had he done to offend the queen so gravely that she wanted him dead.

 

He crept to the edge of the bed.  It wasn't his place to question his orders.  His job was to obey.  With each step toward the Brightlord, he ran through the plan.

 

His dagger slid out with barely a whisper.  He took a deep shuddering breath, bracing himself for what he was about to do.

 

Brightlord Khalder's eyes flew open just as Rolav's dagger slit his throat.

[Macen he/him]

Ace stood over a pile of chull droppings... He knew they were around here, how else to explain this riot that had come out of nowhere? He wondered how he hadn't noticed one of them lurking about, they must have some sort ability to blend in. Could they possibly be able to make themselves look like us!?

This was quite a revelation. If the chulls could make themselves look like us, then the source of the desolation could be hiding among those who were now running about the city. How was he supposed to find a chull to interrogate them, if he didn't even know w hat they looked like!? I have been hearing rumors of people going to the Nightwatcher more lately, due to the riots. Perhaps I will consider doing this myself one of these nights.

First though, he was going to go find that Panda Man who he had seen jumping around on the rooftops, he seemed to have a keen affinity for animals. Perhaps he was a hidden chull-agent. If not, then perhaps Ace could convince him to help him in his hunt.

Sorry for song long between RP. Ace, the Animal Detective, is going to track down the source of these riots, and hopefully the desolation itself! If you haven't caught on... a nefarious group of Chulls are behind it all.

Edited June 3, 2014 by Macen

[luckat she/her]

Shouts sounded from beyond the entrance to the structure that Lucy had taken shelter in. The riots were getting bad—even just after a highstorm, the streets were in chaos—and she wanted nothing more than to get away from them. It was not a time for a young woman like herself to travel about on her own. However, she didn’t have much choice. Most of her family and friends were gone. She had places to go and people to see to ensure her own survival.

Lucy hesitantly crept out of the small building. She kept to the shadows, one hand on a hidden knife. At times like these, the best thing to do was remain unnoticed and stay away from people who would harm her.

Oh how things had changed. Before the riots, her life had been simple. Her parents had always known what she should do, and her brothers had always been there to protect her. Now, she was alone and could depend on no one but herself. Maybe she could find safety among the people she would meet with.

She wished she had the time and supplies to burn a prayer to the Almighty. Peace, it would say. Peace. Safety. Life. All that had been taken from her and the others in this city. Now, she could only hope that the Almighty could hear and would listen to her frantic thoughts. She couldn’t brush off the feeling that He had abandoned them.

[Rubix he/him]

Day two is coming. Just finishing up the writeup.

[Rubix he/him]

DAY TWO: Murmurs in the Dark

Xeneth stood atop a building, concerned for himself, horrified at what he was seeing below. What had started as a riot had turned into a full blown war between the three factions of the city. 

The fighting was clearly beginning to escalate, and Xeneth decided that it was high time that he left the city for a little while. Maybe go to this "Nightwatcher" all the darkeyes had been talking about.


Day two begins! This cycle will be running for 48 hours. All roles are now available, as is the daily mob killing. Please keep your PM's in the first PM that I sent to you giving you your role. As a reminder, all voting in this game will be done via PM, as opposed to the thread. All actions were resolved from last night, and if you didn't get a PM from me regarding your role action, know that I didn't forget you. Someone got in your way. The Nightwatcher, on the other hand, heeds the call of no man (or woman), and only replies when she's already showering you with "gifts".

Stormwarden's warning: No highstorm today.

Edited June 15, 2016 by Alvron

[Ashiok]

Asphodel ran to hide under a box in the restaurant he worked at. He threw a couple weeks supply of food and water into the box. 'Riots?' He thought, 'I've survived being recruited to Amaram's army like this, surely I can survive a measley riot.'

[Tulir he/him]

Trahar woke up to the sound of clashing metal.  What is going on? I thought there was a riot going on, but that sounds like a war! He stepped out of the crevice between two buildings that he had retired in the night before, after not being able to navigate the streets.  Ok, this has definitely excalated.  I should try to find a better hiding place before someone decides I look suspicious, Trahar thought as he surveyed they fighting.  

[Kasimir he/him]

Almighty GM: Two more questions.

-Does the Ardent invariably die in place of whoever is being lynched, or is the Ardent's ability target-specific. (So if the Ardent targets Rubix, but Rubix is not in danger of being lynched that day, then the ability just doesn't come into effect.)

-Can players both vote and use role-specific abilities? (I understand they can't do either if they go visit the Nightwatcher. I'm just wondering about players who stay in the nice, warm, burning city of Kholinar.)

Edit: color issues--again!

Edited June 3, 2014 by Kasimir

[Gamma Fiend he/him]

The leftover rains from the previous days highstorm had subsided and like a spark in the wind, the Riots of Kholinar ignited in a fiery fashion. A few sections of the darkeyed neighborhoods burned spit out huge plumes of smoke into the orange cast, fire-hazed sky. Magam worked his way down one of the many twisting alleys, splashing and kicking up puddles left over from the previous day's storm. Cremlings skittered along the ground, and small, timid bulbs and rockbuds twisting away from him and withdrawing into themselves as he passed by in his hurried pace.

Things had escalated even faster than Magam had anticipated. It took no time at all for the faction lines to be drawn, the citizens of the once proud and noble city now at each other's throats, with fear and mistrust thick in the air, like the smoke from the burning sections of town. He reached the end of the alleyway and peaked out, making sure there were no large crowds nearby. It wouldn't do to be caught alone at a time like this.

He was about to sprint out around the corner when he caught a shadow moving off in his peripherals, so he jumped back instead and pulled out one of his many knives, brandishing it front of him threateningly. The shadow moved again and formed itself into a small child, huddling behind a pile of garbage. It was a filthy street urchin, wielding a broken leg of a chair as a club and staring at Magam menacingly.

"Whoa, now." Magam said pleasantly, lowering his knife and holding his arms out. "Don't worry, no need to fear me."

The child trembled for just a second, but then shook himself to and raised his club up even more. It was as the kid straightened his back to make himself appear larger that Magam saw the kids eyes in the light for the first time. They were a frosty pale blue. The child was a lighteyes. Some sort of Nobleman's son. His parents had probably been killed in the riots, his home sacked and looted, everything he had ever known destroyed and burning in front of his very eyes.

Magam started for a second, but lowered his hands. He reached into his pocket and fished out a sapphire broam, the blue light from the infused sphere -- recharged during the previous day's highstorm -- lit up the alleyway and illuminated the orphaned lighteye in it's glow. The child's eyes opened wide and stared at the sphere.

Even for a kid who once had everything. Once you lose it all, even a single sphere can seem like a treasure. Magam thought grimly. He tossed the sphere over to the kid, who almost dropped it in surprise and fumbled around with it for a second or two.

"There you go, kid. Find your way out of here, this is no place for children." Magam said, turning away. He wasn't even sure if the city was a safe place for him, let alone an orphaned nobleman's son.

"...But why?" The child spoke up finally, behind him. "Who are you?"

"The name is Magam." He heard the kid gasp at his blasphemous name. So. The boy at least remembered his Vorin teachings in the face of the Riots. "Do you want to know how I got my name?" He asked, turning around with a slight flourish.

The kid still looked slightly scared, but he nodded his head.

"It's a great story," Magam started off immediately, not even waiting for the kid's response."You see, the Church would have us believe symmetry is perfect. 'It is the essence of the Almighty that guides the world', they say." Magam screwed his face up. "Or something like that. Either way, they make us look at these 'perfect' cities, with their symmetrical design. And then the Heralds themselves, with those perfect Vorin names. They never stop with the symmetry! Everything  lines up, and folds into itself so perfectly. That's how they'd like to view their problems. The world. If you just look at everything as a perfect pattern, expecting all of your problems to fold up and disappear like the complicated designs they so like to show off, then your view of the world becomes just as skewed."

Magam looked at the child, who just looked confused, and was still clutching the pale-blue, glowing sphere. He just stared at Magam with a blank look.

Unperturbed, Magam continued with his tangent. "So, to bring back the original moral of the story. My name." He spread his arms out wide again, and took a step towards the child who didn't shy back this time. "I'd like to think I am a mockery to that whole concept. That symmetry is a sign of perfection and holiness."

Magam smiled a savage grin. "I gave myself such a symmetrical, blasphemous name. Just to show them. Just because something is perfect, doesn't mean it isn't flawed."

With a silent flash of metal, Magam swiped out with his knife, slitting the lighteye'd orphan's throat in one fluid motion. The child let out a quick grunt and crumbled to the ground. Magam reached down and fished his sapphire broam back from the spreading pool of blood, putting it back into his pouch and casting the alley back into darkness.

"The truth is," he whispered to himself as the walked out of the alleyway, "is that my name means nothing. But what you do with a name.... now. That's what really matters."

OOC: Well, that got dark pretty fast. O.o

[Tulir he/him]

Sorry, but I thought up some questions I would like answered.

1.  Will the vote tallies be in the writeup?

2.  If the Ardent protects someone with two lives, will the person they protected lose a life or not?

3.  Will the various kills be identified in the writeup, to differentiate between the Ghostblood kill and Apothecary kill, for example?

Edited June 3, 2014 by Tulir

[Awesomeness Summoned he/him]

Things were looking promising so far. Mon had quickly located a group who seemed willing to work with him. Now they just had to figure out how best to take advantage of current events. They’d been arguing all morning and Mon needed a break. Despite the risks, he decided to stretch his legs and see how things in the city were progressing. He excused himself from the conversation and stepped through the door into the blinding sunlight, shielding his eyes with the back of his hand until they could adjust.

 

He heard boots approaching from his right and spin quickly, knives out and ready to kill. The man froze in mid step and quickly raised his hands, palms open and empty.

 

“Forgive me sir, I mean you know harm.” The stranger reached into his coat and Mon readied himself to lunge but what the man pulled from his pocket was just a rolled up piece of parchment. “I have a message for you.”

 

Without thinking, Mon slide the daggers back up his sleeves then reached out to take the missive that was extended to him, but at the last minute thought better of it. “Who is it from?”

 

The messenger shrugged, “Doesn’t say.”

 

Mon eyed him still not taking the letter. “Who is it addressed to?”

 

The man gave an exasperated sigh and in a rather sarcastic tone responded, “You of course. Didn’t I say that at the start?”

 

Mon began to tense again. “The name.”

 

“There wasn’t a name included. The instructions were to deliver it to a stocky fellow with black hair who would be standing on this corner dressed exactly the way you are. We get requests like that all the time.”

 

The man was certainly dressed for the part but this didn’t make any sense. Few people knew Mon was back in town and the only people who knew he’d be here were in the room he just left. Besides, there were riots going on. Who would be delivering missives in all this? 

 

The messenger gave off an air of nonchalance but upon closer inspection Mon saw a tightness just below the surface. Something wasn’t right. The man’s eyes flickered to Mon’s side and quickly back to his eyes. On instinct, Mon quickly reached down and seized the hand that had been sneaking under his coat. He twisted it sharply and turned to find himself looking at small man with very surprised eyes.

 

To Be Continued...

 

Today's RP got a little out of hand. I decided to split it into two parts so there wasn't a giant block text you had to read all at once.

[Lightsworn Panda he/him]

Jain stood on top of one of the tallest buildings in Kholinar. It had taken him the better hald of an hour to get up there. His toy panda was propped up on a pile of rocks. Below him, the city burned. Recently, he'd seen an insane "priest" preaching about his new found religion of Chaos. Surprisingly, there were a few followers.

 

Three factions had been formed in the anarchy and chaos of the Riot. The Nobles, the Darkeyes and the Merchants. There as a rumored 4th faction. The 17th Shard. Not much was known about them.

 

Jain turned to go, picking up his toy. He frowned. He was quite sure the panda hadn't been facing the city when he had been placed him. 

 

So sad how there's so little blue-text discussion.

 

Edit: Grammar

Edited June 4, 2014 by Lightsworn Panda

[Ashiok]

Asphodel woke up from his nap in the box, yawned, and decided that his box was way too small.  He decided to go stretch his legs and hopefully find a better shelter. 

I should probably try to find my friends. If we can get to shelter quickly enough, we will survive until the riot blows over. No need to get involved and risk getting killed, right?

He went out of the kitchen and down an alleyway. Near a pile of trash, he saw his friend's body prone on the floor, bleeding out of the throat. Galinar, one of the few people he considered his true friends, who would never hurt a fly, slaughtered? This isn't right. It's just like when Gorial died. She was innocent, yet Amaram took her to the chopping block for trying to keep me out of the army. 

 It will never happen again. I will actually do something this time... save some people. I don't have to let people I care about die. It's time to get out of my comfort zone. 

He picked up Galinar's club, and swore upon his friend's corpse "I Will Protect Those Who Cannot Protect Themselves!"

But how will I ever do that? He wondered

I should probably put together an army of people like me. I ought to get supplies too. 

With that last thought, he walked off to try to save his world.

 

My first proper RP. Turned out better than I thought it would. Thoughts?

[Renegade he/him]

Rengar grimaced, jumping through the wall of flames into the wrecked living room.  A small boy, shivering in fear, sat against the corner of the room.  Rengar grabbed the boy and looked out the window.  They were on the second floor of a building in Kholinar’s slums, built half with stones, half with wood.  Why in Chaos’s name am I doing this? Rengar thought.  As if I weren’t insane enough already, now I find myself trying to save children from burning buildings?  Since when did I care about these children?  I do not even know them.

a

The boy on Rengar’s shoulder began to cry, his tears rolling down his arm.  You’re really not helping me out right now, kid, Rengar thought, trying to brush away the child’s tears.  Rengar glanced behind him, where the conflagration was growing, consuming the living room.  It’s now or never.  Rengar kicked the window, glass shattering against his large boots.  He ducked through the window, landing on a small deck outside.  Just below was another building, only one story high.  Unfortunately, it was on fire as well.  Well, Chaos, isn’t that just great?  Rengar held onto the child and jumped off of the deck.  The boy screamed as they fell, crashing through the burning roof of the shorter house and landing on a kitchen table.  “Storms!” Rengar swore, rolling off the table with the boy.  Pieces of burning wood fell from the hole above, slamming the kitchen table and setting it ablaze.

 

The boy was still clutched tightly in Rengar’s arms, his eyes wide with fear.  In the fire's light, he almost looked like a small Shin boy.  Rengar winced in pain as he took a step, nearly dropping the child.  Rengar limped over to a door, the fires growing around him, and stepped through.

 

He was outside.  I made it.  By Chaos, I made it.  The flames behind him slowly consumed the house, and it began to collapse, smoke rising into the evening sky.  The boy in Rengar’s arms was weeping.  Rengar patted his head softly.  “It’s okay, child.  Everything’s fine.  We just…”

s

An arrow flew right past Rengar’s face.  Chaos, this riot will be the death of me!  Rengar dropped the boy, huddled in fear again, and gallantly limped towards his attacker.  Unfortunately, the attacker had vanished, almost as if into thin air.  What in Chaos’s name-?

h

Rengar whirled around to check on the small child.  The boy was standing up cautiously pointing to something.  Rengar, frowning, ran over to him.  The boy continued to point.  What is he pointing at?  Rengar squinted in the fading sunlight.  Out of a crumbled stone wall protruded the arrow that had nearly taken his life.  Attached to its tip was a note:

e

Dearest friend,

            I apologize for the method that this note was delivered to you, but I couldn’t take any chances.  A regular courier walking the streets of Kholinar these days is bound to be the victim of an assassin.  I chose this guise instead.  As requested, I have delivered the information on the faction’s movements that you wanted.  Do realize, however, that while I am your loyal spy, I cannot perform miracles.  I mean, infiltrating Clanal’s home?  You are completely out of your mind.  But, nevertheless, I have done as you wished.

r

Rengar paused from reading the letter, looking over at the boy that he had saved.  So much destruction, he thought.  But no, that is Chaos’s will.  This destruction was meant to happen.  I will survive.  But as he began reading the letter again, he felt increasingly unsure.

 

The force of Chaos is among us, my friends/enemies.  Some alliances will prosper, while others will quickly wither and die...

[Mailliw73 he/him]

Just in case I can't get on late to make the announcement: I will be gone starting tomorrow at noon until Saturday afternoon. It will be less than 96 hours so I'll still be in the game. I may end up coming back early, but this is the plan for now.