Camelot WW 1 - The Sword in the Stone (Game on!)

[lostlittlebear]

Day 5 Ends

“He’s over here!” shouts Sir Reinholdt, waving the lynch mob towards the alley where Sir Zeb was hiding.

Cornered, Sir Zeb casts around him desperately, looking for a way out. Spotting a ledge, he climbs on it and swings himself onto the adjoining rooftop... then comes tumbling down just as quickly as a red-faced Arden socks him in the face, annoyed at having his attention pulled away from the lovely Castaras Blackletter.

“You led us on a merry chase, but we’ve got you now!” Sir Griever mutters, waving his torch menacingly.

“I swear – you’re all making a big mistake! Why don’t we all just go visit the ‘funhouse’ Sir Tsofu claims to have discovered on the other side of town?”

“Any last words?” Dame Dori enquires, pulling out a cruel knife that somehow flickers with an unearthly flame. Behind her, other nobles are preparing bundles of hay and a very, very large stake.

Sighing, Sir Zeb pulls off his gauntlet and holds it in his naked hand. Dangling the armor in front of the lynch mob, he utters his fateful last words....

“Bet you can’t touch this.”

“Huh?” Taken aback at the sheer incongruity of the statement, the lynch mob pauses in their preparations.

“Seriously?” wonders Sir Peter, reaching forward and touching the offending article.

STOP.

“What? Who said that?”

HAMMERTIME.

A massive hammer flies out of a nearby window, hurtling toward the exposed Sir Peter and the stunned nobles. Reacting in the nick of time, Sir Thufir gives Sir Peter a mighty shove, sending him tumbling into a nearby ditch and out of the hammer’s trajectory.

But even as Sir Peter rolls aside, Dame Ranna dashes into the middle of the lynch mob, panting and glancing around from side to side.

“You’ve got to help me! That Tsofu, he won't stop chas-“

THUD

The hammer smashes into the ground with an almighty thunder, throwing up clouds of dust that shroud the entire alley. When the dust clears, there is no sign of Sir Zeb, or of the mysterious hammer-thrower. Signs of Dame Ranna, however, were spread all over the alley.

As they attempted to scrape together enough of Ranna to give her a proper burial, the nobles find a small tag lying on the ground. It identifies the hammer as Mjolnir5000, made by Blacksmiths Markby, Markby and Markby, and sold last month to a knight known as Sir Ector.

Zeb the Troll would have been lynched, but he was saved by MC Hammer Sir Ector.
Ranna was lynched instead. She was a dissenting noble.

Night 5 Starts

[Blue Ghost]

Ranna! No!
You will pay for this, Zeb!

[Ranna]

aww cute,

though I was well expecting more than one point I cringed when I realised just how many wolf wagons I had missed...

[lostlittlebear]

Sorry, the update's going to be pretty late today Gotta rush a project! I'll get it done ASAP though

[lostlittlebear]

Night 5 Ends

Depressed at his failure to capture Sir Zeb, Sir Reinholdt decides to drown his sorrows in drink.

“Acksh... never mind! I’ll get that Sir Zebsh tomorrowsh!”

Hearing his statement, Sir Hap Hazard, who was sitting at the table across him, raises a mug in commiseration.

“I heard what happened –hic-. Bad luck, y’all.”

“Yoush seem like a good chapsh! Next round’s on me!”

-many drinks later-

“Get out, you drunkards. I need to close up.”

“Justsh... one... moresh... drinksh....”

“NO! And if you two dare sing ‘It’s a long way to Tipperary’ one more time I swear I will kill you myself!”

“Itsh a long way... to TIPPERA-“

“GET OUT!”

Picking up the offending drinkers, the bartender unceremoniously flings them out of the bar, slamming the door shut behind them.

“Wellsh... what now?”

“I –hic- know a good place two blocks down the street –hic-“

“But thatsh the churcsh!”

“-hic- of course it is! –hic- Did you think the sacramental wine was there just for show? –hic-”

“Butsh we’llsh get into troublesh....”

“No we won’t –hic- I am the Archbishop after all! –hic-”

“Oh rightsh... well of we go then!”

“IT’S A LONG WAY TO TIPPERARY! IT’S A LONG WAY FRO-”

Three cloaked figures step out from a side alley, blocking the two drunkards’ path.

“Sir Reinholdt, I presume?”

“Whaddya want? Yesh itsh me!”

“GET HIM!”

Drawing longswords from underneath their cloaks, the three men charge Sir Reinholdt and Sir Hap Hazard. Panicking, the two drunkards turn to flee, running unsteadily down the street, gaining on their adversaries despite their inebriated condition.

As they round the corner, Sir Hap Hazard breathes a sigh of relief.

“-hic- The local guard station should be around he-”

KLITCH

As Sir Reinholdt watches in horror, Sir Hap Hazard’s head slowly rolls off his shoulders, cleft cleanly in two by a gleaming longsword that appears to be suspended in midair.

The air shimmers, and an armor-clad figure materializes from the shadows, holding his longsword unwaveringly at Reinholdt’s throat.

“ARTHUR!”

“Any last words?”

SSSS-THUNK

Throwing himself desperately to one side, Arthur barely avoids the foot-long shaft that buries itself into the stone wall behind him.

“Wales! Fight me like a man!”

The only response from the rooftops above are three more deadly shafts which wing their way towards the exposed knight. Moving with nearly inhuman speed, Arthur chops the first arrow out of the air with a deft swing of his longsword and rolls under the trajectory of the second, a move that brings him into the path of the cunningly placed third arrow. In one fluid move, Arthur forcibly stops himself mid-roll, springing up and snatching the final arrow out of the air with his gauntleted hand, then drives the arrow-point into Reinholdt’s chest with a vicious backhand blow.

“Merlin! Do something!”

In response to Arthur’s words, a fireball lifts itself from the darkened street behind him and hurtles towards the building from which the arrows had come.

BOOM

The entire building goes up in a massive explosion of hellfire and brimstone, but even as Arthur watches, a black-clad figure jumps clear of the inferno and disappears into the night.

“Damn that Wales and his longbow. I’ll need better armor next time.”

Glancing down at the slowly expiring noble by his feet, Arthur snorts contemptuously and puts Reinholdt out of his misery with a single, well-placed thrust.

Reinholdt would have been saved by the King of Wales, but was targeted by Arthur’s unblockable nightkill. He was a Knight of the Sword.
Hap_hazard was nightkilled. He was the Drunken Deacon.

Day 6 Starts

[Reinholdt]

Aha! Even in my inbrat... inni... *hic* drunken state, I pulled a fasht one on youse Artie.

[Blue Ghost]

Well, we know who is responsible for this, do we not? Death to Zeb the Troll!

[calar]

I love it when things are clear. Zeb The Troll.

[Zar Peter]

Argh! Third in the bandwagon. This means I'm a wolf... no, Zeb the Troll is a wolf!

[Zeb The Troll]

I am no wolf, good sirs. I assure you I have been setup.

Take a look at the night kills last night. Reinholdt and the FOOL were killed. Reinhold was acting as a seer proxy for the fool who gave him false information, as well as making him a good target for Arthur, I might add.

Your in thread conspiracies make me an obvious target for the deceptions of the sympathizers. It took no genius to figure out who was going to be targeted for the lynch yesterday. What better way to make me look like I'm something I'm not?

I point at Arden for initiating the comment about Sir Reinholdt being fond of flamethrowers. (It's weak and RP based only. I've got no more information than the rest of you.)

[Arden]

Zeb, you make a good point, but I'm not sure that explains why they would bane you. Just so you could be lynched the next day? That's a waste of suppression points, in my opinion.

[hap_hazard]

*hic* I like dat song. ONE MORE TIME!

[Griever]

((Zeb the Troll was a half-devil according to our now-confirmed mason? Good enough for me.))

[Fleeing Coward]

Zeb The Troll

[Aemoh]

*points at Zeb The Troll*

[Castaras]

*points at Zeb the Troll*

[Zeb The Troll]

Zeb, you make a good point, but I'm not sure that explains why they would bane you. Just so you could be lynched the next day? That's a waste of suppression points, in my opinion.

I don't pretend to know what's behind their machinations. Perhaps its to get the focus off of someone else for a bit. Honestly, if I were in your shoes I'd point at me too. But I'm not so I'm going to continue to profess my innocence until it's proven.

((Zeb the Troll was a half-devil according to our now-confirmed mason? Good enough for me.))

He was confirmed as a mason, not as a seer. I must presume, then, that his contact was either hap_hazard or the real Sir Ector. On the bright side, the Seer now knows he's not the fool.

[Fleeing Coward]

And therefore the fact noone else had come out to dispute those claims by Reinholdt means you're actually Sir Ector

[Deathslayer7]

zeb yet again

[Dori]

Zeb the Troll pointy

[Wizibirb]

Senior Zebb I always knew there was something fishy about you.

[lostlittlebear]

Day Ends. Narration coming soon.

[Elder Tsofu]

It was one of those houses. From the outside it looked very much like an ordinary house, thatched roof and paint starting to peel at places.
If you managed to pass by the burly man at the door (who only understood one language, the one of a jingling pouch) you would find yourself in a quite ordinary inn.
The only inordinary was that the men seemed "slightly" older and certainly richer than what you would see in an ordinary inn, while the women they associated with looked considerably younger.

What you wouldn't be surprised to see was sir Tsofu sitting there drinking an ale.
Suddenly a member of the other sex made her way towards him, stopping behind his back while leaning towards his ear.
Sir Reinholdt sends his compliments, this time is on the house.
Tsofu thought that this Sir Reinholdt certainly had a nice way of relaying messages. Unfortunately the day was already over when he a bit unsteadily wandering out shouting for that nice and gritty fellow Sir Zeb.

[lostlittlebear]

Day 6 Ends

After another long chase through the streets of London, the nobles finally manage to surround Sir Zeb in the city’s main square.

“We’ve checked – and there’s no one here to save you this time,” says Sir Coward, chuckling as he orders his servants to prepare the stake.

“Wait! No! You’re all making a big mistake!” Sir Zeb protests, even as he is unceremoniously lashed to the wooden pole.

“What mistake? You’re Sir Zeb and we’re lynching you – so there!” retorts Sir Arden, heaping bundles of hay around the trapped knight.

“But I’m not Sir Zeb! I’m Sir Tsofu! I went into a tavern that served me free drinks, courtesy of Sir Reinholdt, and after my 5th bottle of wine I suddenly found myself wearing Sir Zeb's heraldry!”

“Nice try, but I doubt Sir Reinholdt would serve you drinks from beyond the grave. If you claim to be Tsofu we'll need you to prove it!” demands Sir Calar, warily watching the noble for any suspicious behavior.

In a superhuman feat of strength, the noble wearing Sir Zeb’s crest rips his right hand free from the restraints that bound it. Reaching up to his helm, he wrenches it off, exposing his true face for all to see.

“Satisfied?”

The crowd of nobles stares blankly back at him.

“Uh... you do realize that none of us actually remember your face, right?” Sir Blue Ghost opines, scratching his head in puzzlement.

“What! That can’t be! We’ve been hanging out for over 6 days!”

“Yeah,” says Sir Griever, “But why bother remembering faces when we’ve got heraldry? In my opinion, faces seems completely unnecessary. After all that effort I spent swotting up archaic devices, I don’t have any space left to memorize stupid FACES.” His statement triggers a murmur of assent from the crowd, many wincing as they remember long hours in dusty rooms trying to memorize the difference between a fleur-de-lis and a chemin-de-fleur.

“But Sir Arden can vouch for me! We’re drinking buddies – surely he knows who I am!”

“Er... about that... well.... you see I don’t actually remember ANYTHING from those drinking sessions, except something about flamethrowers and ‘fun houses’. If you are Tsofu, I blame it on that strange ‘absinthe’ stuff you keep trying to get me to drink undiluted – the last time I tried a pint I woke up half naked next to four heads of cabbage and one very disturbed cucumber.”

“Heeheeh, oh yeah, that night was hilarious. I can’t believe I managed to convince you that the ‘funhouse’ was located in the grocery sto-”

BURN HIM!

“NO! NO! WAIT! IT’S ALL A MISTAKE! DON’T DO THI- AIEEEEEEEEEEEEEE!"

Zeb the Troll would have been lynched, but his points were vortexed to Elder Tsofu, who was lynched instead. He was a dissenting noble.

(Crown of Thorns and Oriole will be autoed if they do not post by the end of the night phase explaining their absence. Cd4, Thufir you're both on two days missed too.)

Everyone is awesome, they get cookies

Night 6 Starts

[Etcetera]

I'm in France with intermittent internet and a confusing keyboqrd. I'll try and get bqck on track.

[Elder Tsofu]

*shakes fist at world in general, and Zeb in particular*

[Thufir]

Ummm... Zeb.

Only missed one day I think you'll find.

[lostlittlebear]

Only missed one day I think you'll find.

Apologies, must have missed that.

[Kroy]

Thiiiiiisssss is friiiiiiiikin hilarious to waaaaaaaaatch

[cd4]

As I forgot to point yesterday and only someone trying to protect Zeb would vote off the wagon I will point at Zeb

The same for me as Thurfir, I've only missed one day of points.