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SAU 19: On the Brink of Madministration 
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Morathi's Best Friend
Morathi's Best Friend
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Joined: Tue Oct 04, 2005 5:06 pm
Posts: 1203
Location: Flanders, Belgium
The administration tower was a tall, beautiful, and outwardly functional building. At this time in the morning, its figure cast a long shadow over the road, metaphorically pressing its importance in and on society. Any advanced society required management, and this was the center of management.

Years ago, the drachau of the province felt that the capital city's administration was slow and expensive. As the final project he would undertake, he decided to construct the administration tower: the administrative complex to group all offices, house all personnel, pool all resources.

It was a grand plan: no longer would citizens and officials have to go all across the city to find the relevant service, because all would be in the complex; no longer would civil servants lose time traveling from and to their office, because they would live inside in the complex; no longer would some divisions have resources to spare while others were short, because all divisions shared from the same resource pool.

This was to be ultimate efficiency. This was to be his legacy.

This was to be the last thing he did before being forcibly admitted into the mental institute.

°°°

Anleth stared at the plaques arrayed on the tall wall, reaching from the very top to the very bottom. Clearly, the directions she was looking at had, at some point, been orderly and clear, but as more divisions and offices were added, so too had the amount of signs needed to grow. At some point, the signs had taken too much space, so people decided to abbreviate the office names and reduce directions to obscure glyphs. All in the interest of clarity.

She blinked, rubbed her eyes, and tried again to match the name on the letterhead to any name on the signs.

"We've got a snapper!"

Anleth looked around, caught off guard by the sudden burst of enthusiasm in this building. Seeing people work in the nerve center of the province's administration filled her with a silent reverence, and the look in the civil servant's eyes sparkled with anticipation. "A snapper?" she asked, only afterwards realising she was not being directly addressed.

"Yeah, the new one on— Wait, you've never seen a snapper?" he asked, and two of his colleagues walked up to follow him. "It's up in the ipafac."

"Ipafac?" Anleth blinked confusedly. "Is that—"

"Internal Process Auditing Form Approval Committee, yeah, in the east wing. Hurry up, or we'll miss it!"

The clerk at reception had mentioned something about the east wing while giving Anleth her visitor's badge and two forms to fill out at the Visitor Regularisation and Classification Department. Figuring that the people there would be able to give her additional directions, Anleth followed the group's hasty pace up the busy stairs, through the populated corridors, past the crammed offices.

The group finally came to a halt in a large but almost claustrophobic office floor, with desks shoved against desks, and only few but clearly marked safe passages through. All of the tourist group's attention settled on a single woman at one of these desks.

Her desk was complete chaos. She had only just returned from a meeting, and had suffered an enormous influx of papers. Frantically, her hands snatched papers from the stacks, hurriedly scanning the forms and letters and other documents for any clue or hint as to what to do with them. She no longer bothered to clear the hair from her eyes, and breathed hurriedly, almost panicky. "Enni, I need an, um... an 'A-5', please," she prodded the colleague to her right.

Someone in the observer group sniggered. "An A-5," he shared, and found agreement with his peers. "Oh boy, this is going to be awesome."

"A-5 needs a B-12 and a DX," her colleague Enni replied, laboriously copying forms from one to the others.

"I-I have a DX, I think, but what's a B-12?"

"It's the form you need to request an A-5. Administrative Acquisitions and Form Approval. Attach form 21 and get it signed by director."

"...Form 21?" Her breath picked up. "W-Why do I need a 21? What's a 21?"

"General Requisition and Standard Expediency Requirements. Didn't they tell you this in orientation?"

"Okay. Okay, how do I get a 21?"

"Get your F6 and your XF-A and attach an A-5."

"But... but, Enni, I need an A-5."

"Then fill out the B-12 and a DX, and deliver them to AAFA."

"But..." She swallowed. "But what do these things even mean? I need that A-5; why can't I just get an A-5? I'm just trying to get some work done, Enni."

"Follow the procedures and you'll get there, Polce," Enni assured her. "Bring me a UH-8 and an 87 while you're getting your XF-A?"

"What are these things?" Polce suddenly burst, her eyes wide open with panic. "Why do we have these!? What's an A-5? What's an XF-A? Why do I even need these? Enni, look, look," she tried, and held the papers up to her colleague. "It's just a building renovation, Enni. It's approved. It's signed. It just needs this stamp. It's really simple, just this one—we can do this, Enni. You and me, we can do this. We can stamp this form."

Enni looked at her colleague for the longest time. Finally, she took a deep breath and smiled understandingly while rising from her seat. "G-16. Suggestion form for procedure improvement. Don't forget to add a DX."

Polce stared at the document she was holding, and then back to the spread out forms sprawled over her desk. Her eye twitched. One of the observers silently counted down on his fingers.

Suddenly, Polce exploded into rage, her arms and legs flailing around dangerously as she tried to crop her anger. Her desk unflinchingly shrugged off beats and kicks; documents went harmlessly flying and fluttering through the air as she scraped them up and tossed them around.

Anleth made a step towards the woman, and was instantly held back by two clerks. "Oh, hey hey, what are you doing? You don't go near a snapper," one of them cautioned her incredulously. "You're going to get hurt."

A sharp, inhuman shriek pitched through the landscape room. Polce clenched her fists, tensing up all her muscles, and screamed from full lungs. Finally, she slammed her head face-first into her desk, kicking a binder up and off Enni's desk and into her seat. A deathly silence followed.

"Is she alright?" Anleth finally whispered, looking at the still body lying on her desk.

"She hit an XA-B," the nearest clerk said. "That's an eleven-pager. She's fine."

After almost a minute, Polce lifted her head off her desk and stared off at the wall. She breathed. She didn't move. She didn't speak. She just stared.

"Don't worry. She's in a better place now."

°°°

"What kind of monster does this?"

Mioralynthia looked at the poor, catatonic man being carried out on a stretcher. His eyes were wide open in shock and horror, his mind scarred by things it could never unsee. He was useless as a witness now.

"Those are A-5's," the department head continued, staring incredulously at the wall. "A-5's deserve better than this."

Ink and rolling tape held together torn letterheads and form designations, covering the wall, corner to corner, acting as grim tombstones to the actual form bodies that lied shredded to confetti and gathered in a large, mashy pulp of glue and eraser.

"We don't get another batch like this until Thursday," the man squeaked in panic. "What will we do?"

°°°

"No." Tarbo chuckled awkwardly. "No."

"The investigative committee needs two more people," Anleth explained. "It's—"

"No," Tarbo stressed, and pointed out the diner window to the large administration tower down the street. "This is as close as I get to that thing."

"It's only for a while, sir, until this is sorted out."

"Captain, there are things in there that no sane man should see, realisations that no soul should bear. I've seen people—good people—go in there. They don't come back right."

Anleth nodded slowly. This was a fight she wasn't going to win anytime soon. "Mistress Mioralynthia will be disappointed to hear."

"Lynthia?" Tarbo glanced briefly at Anleth, but returned to his coffee all the same.

"Mistress Mioralynthia will be presiding the investigation. I hadn't mentioned this?" Anleth smiled briefly at Tarbo, thinking quickly. "If you would excuse me, sir, I'm due to pick up my skirt suit for the proceedings—dress code, you see. I'll let the mistress know you won't be attending?"

"Oh, ah, let's not do anything rash here, Captain," Tarbo suddenly said. "When you say 'dress code', you mean everyone... right?"

°°°

This is one of the newer meeting rooms, fitting with the thenwhile idea of an open and transparent administration, accessible to all. The walls are light and completely transparent, marred only by a white, wooden door; the table, too, is see-through, and requires everyone to bring a mat so that they wouldn't get spots, wipes, or stains on the smooth surface.

"Then now we turn to the sixth point on our agenda," your department head announces. Notes rustle and pages turn in the otherwise quiet meeting room. Someone clears her throat quietly, while another sips from his glass of water.

You check the clock briefly. The meeting started well over two hours ago, and the end has so far eluded sight. That's not really any different from the other meetings you have with your department head, but this meeting seems to be even slower than others. You glance over at the threesome of new people sitting in on the meeting, wondering when they get to say something (and silently hoping they won't).

"Our sixth topic handles the recent act of vandalism of at least eighty-nine of our A-5 forms. It doesn't need to be said that this is a serious situation. Normally, we would use our allocated DX's to request additional A-5 forms, but the majority of our DX's is currently unaccounted for.

"This shortage also means we cannot petition the Internal Rectification and Auditing Committee of Means to investigate and mediate the situation because, as we are all aware, the production rules require six DX's and at least two A-5's for this."

You've worked in this department for a few weeks, but have yet to really get to know your colleagues. It doesn't help that your desks are scattered across the building, uncomfortably far away from each other, but that is about to change, according to bulleting number three of today's meeting. Good ol' Bullet number three, how we miss thee already.

"Fortunately, as an unbudgeted service consisting of seconded staff, we have the right to invoke discretionary means, and have petitioned for temporary external consultancy. The investigative committee headed by Mistress Mioralynthia will act as impartial observers in this process, and they will handle all external communication and procedural administration, so that our service can continue unabated.

"All it requires on our side is that we schedule an extra topic into our daily procedure and review meetings, wherein we will discuss the happenings and decide who will represent this department in our team building exercises.

"Earlier on our agenda, we already decided that this topic will be the sixth topic in our meeting, barring exceptional circumstances that may require changing the order of our agenda." Suddenly, the head of the meeting turns the attention to you—all of you. "Does anyone have any questions?"

The room is silent. Mioralynthia is looking bored and annoyed with your department head's longwindedness. Anleth has long since given up being attentive, and instead stares uncomfortably out the tall glass walls and down to the street several floors below. Tarbo is leaning back on one leg of his chair, balancing his pencil on his upper lip.

Someone finally rises from her seat and quietly excuses herself. "I thought this was the budget meeting."

____________________

    Player list
  1. Meteor
  2. Calisson
  3. Lordanubis
  4. Deroth
  5. Belial
  6. Drainial
  7. Telrunya
  8. Nelmeer
  9. Sleekdd

With 9 players, 5 constitute a majority.

It is now Morning. Evening will set in on the 25th (Monday), around 17h UTC. People who have not posted by then are removed from the game.

Good hunting, and good luck!

_________________
SAU XV: Pawn of the Dead | SAU XVII: The Frosty Dozen | SAU XIX: On the Brink of Madministration | Running fiction: House Arhakuyl


Fri Mar 22, 2013 3:44 pm
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Corsair
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Calisson was himself a young administrator within the city. He had patiently improved his position and was proud of what he had achieved.
However, his area of proficiency being exclusively about the military, he had little experience in other administrative areas.

During his time in military service where he used to be a corsair, he had survived a few battles where his performance was not noted by anyone, luckily for him. But he had observed how his comrades died, and managed to avoid a similar fate. He made a compilation out of it. This had attracted the attention of his dreadlord, who ordered him to man positions where he could observe better - and survive - with the intention to write a book about strategy, that the lord could use for political gains. Calisson never went up from mere corsair ranking.
The fact that the lord died in battle shortly after receiving Calisson's strategic advice did not prevent him to become famous, as his tomes of tactical knowledge already had been copied and sold all over Naggaroth.
Calisson had a real talent to reuse second-hand reports of battles and to assemble them in incredibly elaborated theories about the Art of War, that himself was well unable to use, and anyone else was unable to understand. Nevertheless, many young commanders had read his theories and pretended to have gotten the best from it. Sometimes, it proved tragically ineffective but those who learned it the hard way did not survive to tell it. Sometimes, it happened to coincide with victory, and soon, Calisson was associated with these successes.

Calisson was clever enough to understand that he'd better train a real strategist as a relief, who would initially benefit from his reputation and later acknowledge all his debts towards him.
So he did, and ceased to pay much attention to the Art of War, except during dinners with fine ladies.

-=-=-

At the time when the late Drachau had investigated how his administration could improve, Calisson seized the opportunity to find a new area of competency, and suggested a concentration of efforts, applying one of the principles he had observed during war. He was quite surprised when the Drachau decided to put this idea in practice and build an administrative complex within a single tower.
It was during this overhaul of the city that Calisson got his nickname upgraded from the ficticious title of Dreadknight to the no lesser ficticious title of Dreadlord. He knew that many people had become jealous of his success, and all the real dreadlords would not like to consider him as one of them. So he was keeping a low profile about his title, and insisted that everyone had to call him by his name, without fuss.

-=-=-

When Calisson learned about the gossips on the "accidents" happening in the tower, he understood immediately the opportunity to make the head of the administration a little bit more unconfortable.
He did not know whether he would help them so that they would owe him a service, or take the chance to try to influence their replacement by one of his own benefactors.

That was why he had intrigued successfully to be part of the committee that Tarbo had gathered.
He had never participated to such a committee, but he thought that his sense of observation and manipulation skills would be as good here as they had been everywhere else.

-=-=-

"Does anyone have any questions?"
One elf stood up and left hastily, ending Calisson's reverie.
Happy to break the silence and prove his high competency, Calisson stood up calmly, bowed and replied.

Thank you very much, Mrs chairelfin, for your excellent introduction brief.
If I may take the floor, I would like to have a short intervention in four points.
Firstly, and I associate all my goodwilling comrades with this point, I would like to thank you sincerely for the honor of being present here and benefitting from your exceptional trust.
Next, despite being an honoured scholar, I have to admit that this is my first time as member of an inquiry, so I will be happy to count on my distinguished colleagues to pardon my questions and help me understand how it works.
Lastly, in anticipation and in addition to our normal fees, considering the extra amount of work that the sixth point of the agenda will require, we will need more KB-87 coffee break forms, that we would be delighted to see delivered before we provided you with our first conclusions.
Thank you againk, Mrs chairelfin.


He deliberately had used the word "chairelfin", that a recent commission had decided to replace the neutral and old fashioned "chairman", when talking about an elf belonging to the feminine gender.
He had taken a calculated risk by doing so, as not everyone wholeheartedly had agreed with this decision, but that was also a way to tell the group that he knew the latest administrative decisions, and he was not an elf who would question them.

Also, the requirement for KB-87, that chances were slim to get in so little time, would provide the group a good excuse in case they did not reach any conclusion in time.

This was going to be a long investigation, at least as long as he would participated to it. Calisson wondered whether he would be a mere observer of events that he was clueless about how to control, as usual, or if he could talk enough so that one or two good ideas would finally emerge from his nonsense.


-=-=-

OOC: EDITED after Tarbo's reply to my earlier comment.

_________________
Winds never stop blowing, Oceans are borderless. Get a ship and a crew, so the World will be ours! Today the World, tomorrow Nagg! {--|oBrotherhood of the Coast!o|--}


Fri Mar 22, 2013 7:41 pm
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Morathi's Best Friend
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No, you are seconded staff -- personnel assigned to join or form another department. You are administrative personnel native to the tower, and you are the people being investigated! ;)

I'll change the story to be a bit clearer in this.

_________________
SAU XV: Pawn of the Dead | SAU XVII: The Frosty Dozen | SAU XIX: On the Brink of Madministration | Running fiction: House Arhakuyl


Fri Mar 22, 2013 8:09 pm
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Morathi's Best Friend
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“Perhaps a short introduction is in order,” Mioralynthia starts.

“Oh, no no no,” your department head intervenes. “Introductions are the seventh topic on the agenda.”

Mioralynthia gives your department head a cold, level glance, then turns to address you again. “I am Mioralynthia, a sorceress in employ of the city council. These are my experienced associates: Anleth, captain to the guard of the city temple, and Tarbo, who also...” She stops a moment to look at the man carefully balancing his chair on one leg. “...in some capacity works for the Temple of Khaine.

“In response to your department's petition for external assistance, the city council has decided that I should head an impartial committee of three—chosen to be Anleth, Tarbo, and myself—to make sure these proceedings occur faithfully, and to keep the council apprised of your progress.”

Mioralynthia looks over the papers in front of her briefly, and holds up some of the meeting notes. “Your department has decided that those responsible for the act of vandalism are in violation of proper conduct, and should be sent on correctional courses. This is what this part of the meeting is about: deciding, by majority vote, who of those among you will be sent off to follow these courses.”

“That's what I said,” the head of the meeting adds.

Mioralynthia beams a brief, polite smile. “Of course.”

_______________

I hope this clears up (some of) the confusion!

_________________
SAU XV: Pawn of the Dead | SAU XVII: The Frosty Dozen | SAU XIX: On the Brink of Madministration | Running fiction: House Arhakuyl


Fri Mar 22, 2013 8:52 pm
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Prophet of Tzeentch
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'Should I be here? I am not sure I should be here,' Devan thought as he sat round the table. He wasn't used to sitting round a table, as an intern he was usually standing in the corner, or else fetching someone a drink. All in all he was far from certain why he had been hustled into this meeting but it seemed like a decision had been made and if there was one thing you learned in the administration tower it was that once a decision had been made it took a hell of a lot of effort to unmake it. Almost as much effort as it had taken to make a decision in the first place.

'This could be my chance, if I can impress people here I might be able to get noticed, maybe even get onto a fast track scheme. I can't just stay quiet though. I should say something...'

"So our problem is a lack of A5 forms? Well I suppose we could send off to the AOFWOBAS (administrative welfare office for beasts and slaves) to take control of their usual surplus. Oh wait, you need a S-14 to do that, which of course requires a 1-19 union rep endorsement which in turn needs an A5 to apply for. Oh never mind, forget I said anything," Devan concluded sheepishly. He would never get anywhere like that. He would have to plan his next move carefully. Play to his strengths.

"Does anyone want coffee? Tea? My name is Devan by there way."

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Fri Mar 22, 2013 10:53 pm
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Calisson thought: Oooh? How unusual.
A sorceress, a city guard, a Khainite from the Temple?
Better collaborate. And let them know.


Calisson blushed in anger and took the floor again. He was entitled to speak up a second time, he had not formally released it.

Of course, vandalism is a severe crime and those found guilty must be firmly educated about not to even think about committing that again.
But do we really need to limit ourselves to acts of vandalism on A-5?

<threatening>
I know a few misbehaviours about most of my distinguished colleagues present here.
Actually, a good and healthy period of re-education would benefit them all.

<theatratical>
But the best education comes from oneself, and they would improve greatly, and testify for their will to improve, if they endeavoured to denounce themselves in the first place.
In the interest of the community and in their own interest, this is what they should do.

If I may start,

<humble>
Me, Calisson, second-class administrator, coming from the war achives department, I have to admit that I am guilty of remaining at work after hours.
It happended last month. I confess I was trying so hard to fill in an XA-B that I did not realize the time.
But, Mrs chairelfin, it did not exceed fifteen minutes and never happened again, I swear.
Thank you for your indulgence, Mrs chairelfin and dear distinguished comittee members.


Calisson seated back, eager to listen about his colleagues.
He wondered. Tarbo being from the Temple, what were the chances that the education camp might be run by the maibds? That might be an incentive.

OOC: I know, I know, I need to let other gamers play a little. I'll try not to intervene too often... I'll try.

_________________
Winds never stop blowing, Oceans are borderless. Get a ship and a crew, so the World will be ours! Today the World, tomorrow Nagg! {--|oBrotherhood of the Coast!o|--}


Sat Mar 23, 2013 5:52 am
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"Make it a double-double, new guy," Nelmeer told Devan imperiously, not letting in on the fact that she, too, was a new recruit. This was a 'Flesh Hound eat Flesh Hound' world, after all. "See if you can fetch one of those little biscuits to go with it. You know... the ones with the, er, almond sprinkles, that look like someone sneezed on them?"

There. Not only had she asserted her authority, she had also inveigled a means to get that piss-poor beverage down.

This is what this place had reduced her to. Top grades in all her group tutelage sessions, winner of the local 'Most Scantily Dressed' accolade two years in a row (achievements in no way correlated, mind you) -- and here she was, imbibing... coffee. Being a filthy coffee-imbiber. What would her parents think of her?

Her eyes, which had taken on a glazy sheen at the thought of the aforementioned substance, blinked back into focus. Her colleagues were expecting her to add something, weren't they?

"Name's Nelmeer, and you may not call me 'Nelly' unless you have great abs, great pecs, great biceps, and cheekbone cavities one could drink champagne in..." She surveyed the room's inhabitants in a languorous manner, taking in the mostly black circles on mostly pallid cheeks on mostly emaciated faces. "...Which, given that we all work in an administrative complex, poses absolutely no danger of happening."

She smiled sweetly and whipped her dark hair once, like a female merchant trying to fob a defective product off on someone.

"Now, would the A-5 defiler be so kind as to step up so we can all get back to our paperwork?" Attagirl. Assertiveness. "If he won't accommodate us in that regard, for starters, we oughta --" Her eyes glazed over again, very slowly, as she caught sight of Tarbo and his pencil-balancing act. "How are you... doing that?"


Sat Mar 23, 2013 9:06 am
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Location: Belgium, the only country where surrealism is a way of life.
Sleek swallowed quietly. Correctional courses? Anything sounding that neutral must be horrendous.

Unlike some others, he wasn't very new to the only magical lore accessible by lesser mortals called 'administration' and, much like real magic, the consequences of mucking up were dire indeed; as would mucking up in this room right here.

Being seconded to this workgroup because of his 'ability to create synergy', Sleek decided to make the best of it.
“Well then, seeing as we will be working together, I suggest everyone introduces him or herself so we at least have a name to refer everyone by,” he says. “My name is Sleek and I come from the department of Militant Emergency Health Insurance Requisitions, that is to say, we ship out shields and armour to our soldiers in the militia. Some may know the department under the incomplete acronym of M.E.H.”


Sat Mar 23, 2013 4:21 pm
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Sitting cross legged on his chair, one elbow on his thigh with his sharp pointed head resting upon it, and his other hand busy flicking a small throwing knife on the table like a baton, Meteor yawned. He didn't like briefings, they were too troublesome to listen to, but the AILAA would be on his backside if he kept skipping them, and hearing an earful from those old farts was worse than sitting through a mundane session like this. Still, it was probably because he found it too troublesome to even pick up a pencil that has landed him here. He had a peculiar way of doing things, most of the time it wasn't what you'd call, ethical, in his mind, as long as the job gets done, that's all he really find that matters. Procedures, and logic, it was a distasteful word, such things that this administrative tower functioned around, was usually overlooked by Meteor, once again, probably why he has landed himself in here amongst this rabble of misfits.

He let out a slight chuckle as Dedora excused herself out of this mess, giving such a lame excuse as mistaking it for the wrong meeting. Perhaps he could've done the same, but tossing his knife right now seemed the better option. Some of the fellow misfits stood up and said some things, he missed it all, his mind wondering onto lunch already. Meteor yawned again as he threw his knife one more time, letting it drop squarely with its pointed obsidian black tip deep into the pages of his blank notepad. That was how much he cared for details. He ran his long fingers through his cluster of jet black hair, bouncing the palm of his hand on his tough hair.

"So am I being grilled? Or are we grilling some sea king for lunch?"

_________________
What's mine is mine, What's yours is mine.
Now that we understand each other, lets get down to business.

Jacks -Shade
- WS 5 - - S 3 - - T 2 - - D 6 - - I 5 -

Equipment
Short Sword, MC Long Sword*, Dagger, RxB & RHB [20/10] MC Shade Cloak, 4 Throwing Daggers, 3x Healing Vials, 451C, [3]Dark Venom, [4]Unseen Chains, Food, Dark Steed- Spike

Skills
Basic Stealth, Awareness, TWF, Suithenlu Khythan, Ride

Magic Item
Eye of the Jabberwock

*Magical properties possibly imbued


Sun Mar 24, 2013 3:40 pm
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Standing in the corner the short elf looked around, blinking at the endless forms and bureaucracy facing them. "Should I be writing this down? Did I miss something? What does it even all mean? I'm just a messenger, I'M SO LOST!".

Looking around again his outburst in the corner seemed to have gone mostly unnoticed by the others while they were all talking. "Breathe, just breathe" he muttered to himself. "Now I don't know what an A-5 is but it sure seems important to you lot and by association important to me. My name is Deroth and I would rather not die because of some paperwork so I guess we should start trying to figure this out".

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Sun Mar 24, 2013 8:39 pm
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"And figure it out we will, I'm sure!" piped a cheery voice. "I do hope it won't be long though. I had planned to do audits this week."

The speaker was completely out of place among the elves, but, at the same time, he made the elves seem like they were out of place. For one thing, he was most decidedly human, thin and gangly of limb, dressed in a grey suit. For another, he was most decidedly way past his expiration date. Pale skin, sunken cheeks, long tattered ears, yellowish eyes behind gold-rimmed spectacles... In fact, he so closely resembled a corpse, that perhaps a much greater surprise than him being here, was the fact that he was able to talk. And underlying all that, was an aura, a feeling of absolute malevolence. Unsettling enough, it didn't help that the damned thing just wouldn't stop smiling. None of the assembled administrators could harbor any doubt. Before them sat one of those creatures of horror, a legendary evil spoken only of in hushed whispers and hateful sorrow. Tax-division.

Oh, and he was probably also a vampire.

"Introductions in order, I am sure! Belial, senior administrator, taxes."

The last word sent a slight shiver through the room.

"Now, I realize none of you have worked with me before, so I just want to assure you that there's no reason to be afraid! I'm a teamplayer, yes sir, and I love my job very much! No nasty blood sucking business with me! I get all I need from my work, thank the drachau and rest his poor soul for giving me this opportunity!"

Two audible clacks preceeded the opening of a briefcase. A stack of papers were extraced, and put on the table.

"The sooner we get to work, the sooner we get done! I was going to treat myself this week, and do audits. It would dissapoint me so to miss that."


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Mon Mar 25, 2013 3:04 am
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Shade
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Telrunya sits there, grinding his teeth, bloodshot eyes shooting left and right. Left and right. Right and left. Today was supposed to be a good day. Every day you don't wake up screaming is supposed to be a good day. But now this happened. This.

He can't be send off to a team building exercise. When you're on a team building exercise, you can't request a new cubicle. And then everything he had worked for, could be postponed for another umpteen years.

In his "previous life" (a few days ago), Telrunya worked at the Internal Motivation and Publicity Department. A surprising number of people worked there, but he impressed them all with his suggestion to replace all "backslashes" in the form names by "forward slashes." So, the dreaded form "seven-D-dash-backslash-thirty-three" became the loved "seven-D-dash-forward slash-thirty-three." Shortly afterwards, he got named employee-of-the-month, and was allowed to wear the department's Tie of Honour for seven days.

Those were the days! And Telrunya loved those days. It was in the rush of those days that Telrunya applied for --and got granted-- the corner cubicle on the window side. But when he tried to move in, he found the cubicle barred and guarded. Afterwards his boss explained him that their budget was cut, and that the corner cubicle got "detached" from the Internal Motivation and Publicity Department.

It took Telrunya years and years to figure out who now owned to empty corner cubicle. Every day, he would walk past the empty cubicle, and every day one more blood vessel in his eyes seem to bulge out. The deafening silence of the cubicle taunting him while Telrunya tried his best to serve Internal Motivations.

But it is hard to be motivating other people when you are so demotivated yourself, and in all those years, Telrunya hasn't been named employee-of-the-month again, hasn't been allowed to wear the Tie of Honour again.

But now, now he finally got transferred to the one department which seemed to own more corner cubicles than they could use. The department that took his. The department of bread, butter, and honey. The department that could fulfill dreams. He already had all the forms filled in and hidden in the double cover of the file he brings along to every meeting. It only lacks the signature of his new chef. One scribble of a feather lies between his present cubicle and a corner cubicle.

But autographs are not free, and a corner cubicle is something that you need to earn. This situation was clearly here to test him.

Telrunya's eyes shoot left and right. Left and right. "Need coffee, I can't fail now." He grabs his mug and tries to sip, before noting the mug is empty.

He puts his cup and then his head down on the table, and starts crying.


Mon Mar 25, 2013 8:13 am
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Morathi's Best Friend
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Mioralynthia dutifully checks the attendance lists and attached notes and sheets with the diligence of an experienced administrator and the speed of a time-pressed organiser. She takes a deep breath through her nose, crosses her legs, and furtively kicks Tarbo's chair.

Tarbo's eyes open widely for a moment, his arms swinging in an effort to balance, and he manages to snatch the pencil from his lip before gracelessly landing the chair on all four legs again, sitting uncomfortably upright. “Sorry about that,” Mioralynthia mentions without taking her eyes off the lists in front of her.

Tarbo narrows his eyes at her, straightens his waistcoat, and reaches for his coffee. He indistinctly mutters about glaciers, dragons, and thawing.

“Anubis is missing,” Mioralynthia says, and scrutinises your department head with icicle-coloured eyes.

“Oh no, he isn't missing,” the head of the meeting claims. “He is currently out for a four-week study on the relation between letterhead sizes, form distribution, and employee morale. Not missing at all.”

“He's on the attendance list,” the sorceress mentions or, perhaps, demands an explanation.

“It's... it's quicker to acknowledge his absense daily than to change the attendance list.”

The city clock tower strikes noon: time to retreat to the cafeteria for lunch.

°°°

The cafeteria! A brief respite from attending meetings and labouring, a chance to catch up with colleagues and friends. A moment to catch your breath, and to fuel up for the afternoon.

The food here is not bad, not bad at all. Of course, it's not a high class restaurant, but stringent nutritional rules and health requirements have made sure there is a great, wide choice in food to match tastes and diets.

If you can decipher the acronyms and designations on the menu, that is.

The motion to add a translation to the official General Health and Nutrition Service (GHENUS) is currently stalled and being subject to broader review. In the meantime, rather than holding out for a solution talented colleagues have paper-sketched what some of the food supplements look like; adventurous others have added notes of what they taste like and are most likely to contain; and the most organised of you have compiled them into lists, unofficial dictionaries to be privately passed around.

Today, the tables in the cafeteria are all lined up against each other. The motto for the day, you hear, is 'interpersonal connections,' and this table setup is to encourage people of different departments to mingle and talk, to overhear information and share wisdom. In reality, the uncomfortably long rows of tables force you to navigate the cafeteria like an opera building, holding your food tray high over your head to prevent accidents.

On one side, people appear be in an impromptu meeting, most staring listlessly at the meeting notes while one reads them aloud slowly, arduously slowly and yet painfully inarticulately. On your other side, people are joking and laughing about DX's, FA-B's and, my oh my, this one time with the fabled G-16.

Mioralynthia sips from her glass and sets it down next to the meeting notes. “Since the allotted time for the meeting is almost coming to an end, I must press you to make a decision about your colleagues. The goal of these meetings is to find the ones responsible for the recent 'vandalism', lest they continue unabated. Speaking of responsibility,” she says, and looks around, “where is your department head?”

Confused looks all around. In the meantime, Mioralynthia throws Tarbo an accusing, icy glare. “Tarbo?”

“Lynthia?” Tarbo innocuously chews on what appears to be tofu.

“Is the department head in the process of having an accident?”

“I hope not,” he says, and sips from his glass, looking out the window. “Sounds unpleasant.”

“Oh, she?” Anleth suddenly says. “Yes, she mentioned having to make reservations for the next meetings. She wasn't sure when she'd be back.”

Mioralynthia nods thoughtfully. “That's good to hear, because we need her alive,” she clearly stresses, and glares at Tarbo, who seems to be blissfully enjoying his tofu.

____________________

    Player list
  1. Meteor
  2. Calisson
  3. Deroth
  4. Belial
  5. Drainial
  6. Telrunya
  7. Nelmeer
  8. Sleekdd

    Dearly Departed
  1. Lordanubis (loyal)

With 8 players, 5 constitute a majority.

It is now Evening. Night will set in on the 28th (Thursday), around 17h UTC.

_________________
SAU XV: Pawn of the Dead | SAU XVII: The Frosty Dozen | SAU XIX: On the Brink of Madministration | Running fiction: House Arhakuyl


Mon Mar 25, 2013 6:08 pm
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Corsair
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Calisson took what he believed to be a delicious Burger Khaine. He recalled having appreciated that dish in the past.
He was seated between Meteor and Deroth, but did not recognized what they had taken as meal. Never mind, he couldn’t care less.
Calisson discussed with his lunch mates. Or rather, he thought aloud, not paying much attention about who would listen and who would not.

"The sooner the 6th point of the agenda - aka 6POTA - is solved, the earlier each of us will be back to our respective all-important tasks.
One method which would slow down the process is the “trial and error” method, which some people glorify like if it had achieved anything in millenniums.
Fortunately, I know a real scientific method, which will achieve very quickly spectacular results. It requires a quality that most people seem not willing to use: their intelligence.
This method has a name: theoryhammer."

The idea was to gather as much statistical data as possible, and to compare to each other, if possible with nice looking colored graphs.
The result was most often unexpected, except in the hands of skilled computerists, but it was unmistakably supported by the strongest theory, to the point that nobody could argue against. Confrontation against reality was not needed as it would just delay the outcome.

Calisson had experience only about theoryhammer applied to battles. The defense of A-5 was definitively a battle worth fighting, so he decided to use his favorite tool there as well.

Which data was available? No evidence had been collected. They had to base their decisions on the hints that everyone provided in their speeches and attitudes.
Fortunately, this could be computerized.
Calisson quickly made the statistics of how many words would describe the attitudes of the suspected protagonists.
The ones giving away the least information would certainly be the most suspect.

Frantically, Calisson computed the data on the recycled paper napkin.
Meteor 307
Calisson 1679 (including the present intervention)
Lordanubis 0
Deroth 117
Belial 321
Devan (this one was annoying because, for some reason, Calisson would have a tendency to call him Drainial) = 256 words
Telrunya 470
Nelmeer 315
Sleekdd 144

"A testimony of the validity of the method is not required, but in case anyone had a doubt, this method applied earlier would have designated Lordanubis, and Lordanubis has been indeed the first one sent away from the group.
Therefore, the next one should be the one with the least words used to describe his attitude and speeches.
And that is… Deroth, with Sleekdd a close second."

Calisson exposed his theory, leading to a logical vote for sending Deroth to the next team building exercises.
Of course, his vote would change as quickly as people around the table would provide more details about their general attitude and their specific recent actions.

This method was scientific: the final outcome could not be predicted.

-=-=-

Vote: Deroth

-=-=-

OOC: Rationale:
With no better idea about how to start, I’d like to encourage risk and discourage too prudent an attitude.
So instead of accusing someone randomly as I’ve seen done in previous SAUs, I find more fun to incite people to roleplay and take risks.
By accusing first the ones who talk the least, the usual prudent tactics of remaining silent and just listen should be countered. :twisted:

_________________
Winds never stop blowing, Oceans are borderless. Get a ship and a crew, so the World will be ours! Today the World, tomorrow Nagg! {--|oBrotherhood of the Coast!o|--}


Tue Mar 26, 2013 1:59 pm
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Location: Belgium, the only country where surrealism is a way of life.
Sleek leant back and frowned a little at the exposition Calisson made.

“Somehow, I'm not surprised you make this argument but I can't find myself in it because there are some serious assumptions you make there,” Sleek said. “First of all, you're assuming the length of our speech is in some way correlated with the information we provide. Words can be used as a smokescreen just as well – the more the better. In fact, depressingly few of us have bothered to do more than display idiosyncrasies and give outsiders reasons to put steel bars over the windows lest we turn our attention to the outside world. I'll admit I haven't been outshining anyone else in that department but the point still stands.

“Another point is that you position yourself as the very last person to vote by your own reasoning; coincidence, of course, but very convenient as well.”

“Perhaps we should admit that we know little or nothing about each other expect that quite a few should be here in this building – against their will if need be,” Sleek went on. “Still, there are those among us who are eager to start doing something, even if they don't know how. And there are those who prefer to sprout nonsense and hope to keep us busy or distracted.

“Finding out the true intentions is no easy feat and requires 'reading between the lines' rather than counting them, although I will admit the latter is far easier.

“In that respect, my impression so far is that neither Belial nor Devan are not who we are looking for. I'm not too sure about you, Calisson, you could have good intentions but you might just as well be trying to lead us on a theoretical goose-chase.

“In the end, I find myself wondering more about Meteor, Nelmeer and Telrunya.And seeing as time is slowly slipping away, I think I'll place my vote along those lines. Should another option present itself or should the group reach another conclusion, I'll consider changing my vote in order to achieve something. But for now, I'll take my pick from my own line-up.”

Vote: Meteor


Tue Mar 26, 2013 6:54 pm
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Calisson listened, :|
and updated:
Calisson 1685
Sleekdd 500.

_________________
Winds never stop blowing, Oceans are borderless. Get a ship and a crew, so the World will be ours! Today the World, tomorrow Nagg! {--|oBrotherhood of the Coast!o|--}


Tue Mar 26, 2013 7:54 pm
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Assassin
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Taking another bite of his fish and fries Deroth heard Calisson start talking and then heard his name mentioned, listening further his enjoyment of lunch diminished until he felt the need to speak up.

Finishing his mouthful Deroth added to the discussion, "Now while I will be the first to agree that it is easy enough to hide behind speeches that are short enough that even a dwarf couldn't hide behind them, the same can be said of long winded epics that you could hide a hydra behind."

"While I cannot speak for everyone else, I find it difficult to express myself in such confusing situations as this. I am used to more simple tasks than the endless form shuffling that seems to be par for the course in this place but this is somewhat irrelevant. Finding the A-5 vandal is our task so that is what we shall focus on."

"I myself want to know why there is a vampire here and even worse a bloodsucking tax man, I count these as terrible and untrustworthy traits and wish they were not here so I intend to fix this issue."

VOTE: Belial

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Tue Mar 26, 2013 11:44 pm
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Telrunya gets up, walks mechanically to the coffee, and pours himself a mug. A cloud of milk, stir clockwise. One cube of sugar, stir counterclockwise. And a bit more sugar. With that, he shuffles back to his seat, and starts nipping from his mug, his pupils dillating a bit more with every sip.

"I know some people who would take offense by your calling your method 'scientific', Calisson. Especially after announcing your strategy, you should expect intricate handwaving to conjure up a lot of smoke."

Telrunya must have perfected the art of drinking coffee: he manages to take short sips while talking without any noticeable pauses.

"Now, I think Sleek said some interesting things. It is helpful to have suspects. It is helpful to have people who you suspect less. But I wonder about the rationale to temporarily exclude Devan and Belial."

Telrunya's eyes shoot to Belial. "I mean, look at him! Look at everyone, and then at him. One of us does not belong. One of us is not like the others. Sleek, why Belial? And why Devan, for that matter?"

Telrunya takes a breath and one more sip. This time the bottom of the cup is lifted so high that it is clear that he is trying to get the last drop. Judging by the size of his pupils, this might be all the coffee his eyes can take.

"But speaking about that which does not belong, I am reminded of Deroth. I like statements of loyalty and promises of action as much as anyone else, but for some reason, yours feel hollow. Empty. Yours feels ... off.

"I disagree with Callison's rationale, but I am going to throw my vote in with his."

Vote: Deroth


Wed Mar 27, 2013 7:27 am
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Belial never dropped that happy smile for a second, not even when Deroth aired his wish to send him on a correctional course.

"Oh dear me, I assure you Deroth, there's nothing odd in my being here. The Drachau himself headhunted me before his, erm, unfortunate bout of ill-health. I'm very good at what I do, you see! My sire gave me the gift of unlife for just that reason! 172 years of taxing, and not one peasant have been allowed," and here the vampire, for the first time, looked unhappy, disgusted even, "savings."

Once more lighting up with that unnerving joy of his, he continued.

"Have you heard of the coming tax on age? My idea, yes sir! Taxes on sugar, rugs, pornography and puppies? All me! I am here, because the Drachau wanted me here. If I was not meant to be here, I am sure I would be chased with sharpened stakes, but no sir, instead I go to the cantina to get my daily supply of, erm, donated blood from the temple, and chat with my co-workers. You would be amazed at how much we seem to have in common. Yours is a remarkable people, it's like you guys were born to tax! I like this job very much, thank you sir, I intend to stay on as long as possible. And there is a strict no-harassment policy in place here, you know. It was necessary once harpies were housetrained as caseworkers down in social services."

Pausing briefly, the vampire fixed Deroth with his small, yellow eyes.

"I don't have time for correctional courses, Mr. Deroth. I have audits! Audits are important, not to mention, very fun! I think it's you that need a little guidance on workplace protocol."

Sipping his mug of heated blood, the vampire casts his vote.

Vote: Deroth


Wed Mar 27, 2013 12:09 pm
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Morathi's Best Friend
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Location: Flanders, Belgium
    Deroth
  1. Calisson
  2. Telrunya
  3. Belial

    Meteor
  1. Sleekdd

    Belial
  1. Deroth

With 8 players, 5 constitute a majority.

    Chronological voting record
  • Calisson: -> Deroth
  • Sleekdd: -> Meteor
  • Deroth: -> Belial
  • Telrunya: -> Deroth
  • Belial: -> Deroth

_________________
SAU XV: Pawn of the Dead | SAU XVII: The Frosty Dozen | SAU XIX: On the Brink of Madministration | Running fiction: House Arhakuyl


Wed Mar 27, 2013 3:04 pm
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Prophet of Tzeentch
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Shuffling along to the cafeteria in a half terrified, half embarrassed daze Devan found himself sitting next to the dead smelling gentleman with an apple and some ketchup. Unwilling to admit any mistake the young elf took his knife and began slicing up the juicy fruit while listening to the 'deliberations' happening all around. Whatever Mr Callison said there was not real science in his methods, they had damn all to go on. That being the case Devan didn't much care who got sent down (so long as it wasn't him at least). What he wanted was to make a good immpression so that left him with some considerations.

Would he do better to stand out with a bold opinion, gain notice and respect by defying his superiors? Or should he tread the more traditional path of siding with the bosses. The first option held the promise of great rewards, but only if he was right. The second was safer and covered more angles. Since he had no more chance of being right than anyone else door number two was duly chosen.

Determined not to admit his error Devan dipped a slice of apple into his ketchup and took a bite. His eyes widened not with disgust (as he had been expecting) but surprise.

'Apples and ketchup ay,' he thought to himself Now that might just make my fortune,

That though was an issue for another time. As he selected another piece to dip Devan spoke up

"I am with Mr Belial," he said. After all he might be a blood sucking fiend, and a vampire to boot, but he was a department head and that had to count for something.

Vote Deroth

_________________
Moding a group of Druchii.net players is much like directing the musical 'Cats' using actual cats. Frustrating, difficult, chaotic but ultimatley satisfying and a great deal of fun.

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Wed Mar 27, 2013 6:41 pm
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Nelmeer watched the proceedings with a faint, clinical sort of interest, in the manner of a warden watching mental patients squabble over how, when and why dragons evolved from hummus. She tilted her bowl of cornflakes, trying to pick up the last dregs of milk, and, having done so, she slurped them off her spoon with a prolonged, theatrical sound. This went on just until she was ensured of everyone's attention, at which point she proclaimed, "I think I should dye my hair pink." She cleared her throat. "More importantly..." The elf's spoon peremptorily toppled back into her bowl. "I, too, am surprised by Sleek's oversight of Deroth and his accusation of Meteor, for which he didn't even provide a reason. A more distrustful Druchii might have inferred that he and Deroth are in cahoots and trying to spare each other. However," she added, addressing Sleek directly, "I'm going to give you the benefit of doubt this time."

Rallying now, Nelmeer steepled her fingers like a callous dictator, or an empowered autonomous modern woman. One of those.

"I also think it possible that Belial is using some form of reverse psychology on us, so we'll declare, 'He's too blunt to be the culprit!' Really, blunt is an understatement, seeing as he is --" and here she spread her hands, as if to frame the yellow eyes, the pointed teeth, the trickle of blood on the chin -- "a tax administrator."

Having got that off her chest, Nelmeer drew her speech to a close: "As things stand, though, voting for Deroth would yield the more interesting results, and he is kinda suspicious, with his detached manner and his easy voting resort." The elf settled back in her chair, giving herself a mental cookie for a speech well conducted. Mmm, snickerdoodle.

On that note...

"Enjoy your lunch, boys!" Nelmeer chirped. "Telrunya, enjoy your coffee! Belial, enjoy your coffee... farmer."

Vote: Deroth


Wed Mar 27, 2013 8:06 pm
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Morathi's Best Friend
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… Three, four, five. Mioralynthia double-checks the tally and the majority it forms. “Deroth,” she says, “your colleagues have decided.”

Deroth briefly chokes on his fish, coughs, but manages to swallow his bite all the same. He beats his chest hurriedly, and clears his throat. “Five? Why? What'd I do? I didn't put those A-5's up there.”

“You will be attending team-buiding exercises,” Mioralynthia continues, reading from her sheets, “with the HR department in the south wing.”

“But... but you've got the wrong guy!” Deroth looks his colleagues over. “Fellas, come on! I'm on your side, here.”

“When you're ready, clerk,” Mioralynthia presses. She discreetly nods at Anleth who, in turn, eyes Deroth briefly, rises from her seat, and walks up behind him.

“Ready? I'm not ready. I've been in the south wing; I've seen what happens there! Team-building exercises? They're building an army of zombies there!”

It happens quickly. Deroth leaps from his chair, but Anleth grabs him and locks his arms and shoulders tightly from behind. Effortfully but surely, she drags Deroth to the exit while he struggles and fights, panic creeping into his voice.

“I just wanted to make a difference!” Deroth screams while Anleth drags him through the double swing doors and out of the cafeteria.

The cafeteria is silent for a moment. Soon, next to you, the arduously slow reader starts reading his page from the start again—couldn't remember where he was when the commotion started. People continue their meals with a slight sense of relief in their hearts: that was one less position open for team sessions.

“Very well,” Mioralynthia finally says. “I suppose this ends today's meeting. Thank you for joining us. We'll let you know when the next meeting is; for now, you should return to your desks and continue your work.”

With those words, you finish your meals and steadily filter through the corridors and to your desks. Despite the pleasant afternoon sun shining in through the windows, and despite the fact that you are still here, alive and kicking, unpleasant tension creeps on you. Your spidey sense tingles.

Something is going to happen…

_______________

    Deroth
  1. Calisson
  2. Telrunya
  3. Belial
  4. Drainial
  5. Nelmeer

    Meteor
  1. Sleekdd

    Belial
  1. Deroth

    Chronological voting record
  • Calisson: -> Deroth
  • Sleekdd: -> Meteor
  • Deroth: -> Belial
  • Telrunya: -> Deroth
  • Belial: -> Deroth
  • Drainial: -> Deroth
  • Nelmeer: -> Deroth
_______________

    Player list
  1. Meteor
  2. Calisson
  3. Belial
  4. Drainial
  5. Telrunya
  6. Nelmeer
  7. Sleekdd

    Dearly Departed
  1. Lordanubis (loyal)
  2. Deroth (protector, loyal)

It is now Night. Dawn will come on the 30th (Saturday), around 19h UTC, or when the protectors and infiltrators have reported the use of their abilities to me through PM.

For closure's sake, you may make a post describing your characters returning to their duties, but you are not required to do so.

_________________
SAU XV: Pawn of the Dead | SAU XVII: The Frosty Dozen | SAU XIX: On the Brink of Madministration | Running fiction: House Arhakuyl


Wed Mar 27, 2013 9:24 pm
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Before everyone left, Calisson asked:
"By the way, there are gossips telling that there were actually some pieces of evidence left somewhere, the remains of former A-5 or something similar.
If this was true, wouln't we better examine them?"

As everyone went away, Calisson couldnt help to babble, as usual, with whoever did not manage to escape him, he did not care.

Calisson insisted that his method had proven to efficiently predict the outcome of the first day meeting. Twice.
He thought to give it a name: forensic: Find Out Rapidly Estimated Names Suited to Investigation of Crimes.
That the two designated persons were innocent or guilty meant nothing, the method was accurate, only that mattered.

Still, Calisson couldn't help to have a vague feeling of unease.
For some reason, it seemed that the other members of the team were somehow reluctant to accept his method.
Why? He had explained it thoroughly, so why did they refuse the explanation?
At least, they should have acknowledged that it had forced people to speak up - except unfortunate Deroth, who wasn't given a chance.
And forcing people to speak up was useful for grabbing information.

What else proposed the other members of the group, which could be any better?

Sleek's method was based on dividing the group in two teams, the suspected and the excused.
How he placed each member in either group, that puzzled not only Calisson but also Telrunya, obviously. Maybe he had done that randomly.
In any case, accusing people might have triggered a reaction helping to reveal something.
It did not this time, so he was no more efficient than Calisson.

Deroth based his jugement on ugly faces. This was close to be scientific, at least. Even if ugliness could not be measured, it could have been polled, and definitively Belial would have been applaused as the ugliest.
But would this method lead to find the guilty one?
Let's reason by taking the contraposition.
With this method, sure Nelmeer had nothing to worry about. She was so innocent. She was so young. She had only four days of presence at the office. Sure, she could not even be suspected.
Was it a proof that Deroth's method about ugly faces was superior to Calisson's scientific method?

Anyway, Calisson felt bad in the eyes of the group for having predicted the outcome.
He swore that he would not be the first one to cast a vote the next day.
He wondered even whether he would agree to come back, given the lack of interest shown to his beloved method.
His scientific method.

_________________
Winds never stop blowing, Oceans are borderless. Get a ship and a crew, so the World will be ours! Today the World, tomorrow Nagg! {--|oBrotherhood of the Coast!o|--}


Thu Mar 28, 2013 6:33 am
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Executioner
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Posts: 1956
Location: Hell
Votes and discussions ran back and forth, he distinctively heard his name being mentioned more than once, his mind was indeed elsewhere, lunch to be more precise. It came with great relief to know the meeting ended without him needing to do much more than turning up today. But to know that they'd be having another meeting again so soon, was a great pain in the ass for Meteor.

"How troublesome" he thought to himself as he picked up his things and dragged himself out and back towards his wing as he wondered of Deroth's unfortunate fate.

"A-5 sure is troublesome huh?" Everything was troublesome to Meteor.

_________________
What's mine is mine, What's yours is mine.
Now that we understand each other, lets get down to business.

Jacks -Shade
- WS 5 - - S 3 - - T 2 - - D 6 - - I 5 -

Equipment
Short Sword, MC Long Sword*, Dagger, RxB & RHB [20/10] MC Shade Cloak, 4 Throwing Daggers, 3x Healing Vials, 451C, [3]Dark Venom, [4]Unseen Chains, Food, Dark Steed- Spike

Skills
Basic Stealth, Awareness, TWF, Suithenlu Khythan, Ride

Magic Item
Eye of the Jabberwock

*Magical properties possibly imbued


Thu Mar 28, 2013 3:59 pm
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