The City I - Metropolitan Mayhem (Game Started(Autolynch Replacements accepted))

[Aemoh]

*points at Kyrian*

To be contrary

[Elder Tsofu]

Damn you Aemoh - I planned to do that!
...
*Points at wolfbane to weigh up pointing with him twice*

Translation:

Yarr ye blasted landlubber Aemoh - Me planned to do that!
...
*Points sword at the scurvy dogsbane, he's got me help to much lately*

[RedScholarGypsy]

Aemoh, because I don't think I ever pointed at him before.

[The Bushranger]

happyturtle, for ordering a hit on me.

[Ghanz Nmi]

happyturtle, for ordering a hit on me.

No attempts to defend yourself? You're not gonna get this wagon off you unless you get real convincing, real fast.

[The Bushranger]

OK...how's about I'm not the wolf you're looking for?

I'm a villager, not a wolf?

Lynch me, and the wolves will become more powerful than you can possibly imagine?

...OK, maybe that last one doesn't work. >_>

But, needless to say, I'm not the person you want to lynch. Since I only pointed at FC for the sake of pointing at FC (to counter Happy's llama-logic ).

[Elder Tsofu]

*hark*
Daybane
*hark* *cough*

Sorry, it's the cold affecting me.

[TFT]

Need to pay more attention in this game.

The Bushranger.

[Gryffon]

Going with Thufir

[Robert Blackletter]

Need to pay more attention in this game.

The Bushranger.

Ditto and Ditto The Bushranger

[Supagoof]

Goof and the producer of big hollywood movies are having a dinner. The conversation is about a movie Murska shot before he died, and Goof wants production on it to be completed.

My father is Murska's godfather. Now we regard that as a very close, a very sacred religious relationship.

Tell your boss he can ask for anything else, but this is one favor I can't grant him.

My father never asks a second favor once he's refused the first, understood?

You don't understand. Murska never gets that movie finished. That part was perfect for him. It'll make him a big postmortem star. I'm gonna never run it. And let me tell you why. Murska ruined one of Orzel International's most valuable proteges. For three years we had her under contract, singing lessons, dancing lessons, acting lessons. I spent hundreds of thousands of dollars. I was gonna make her a big star. And let me be even more frank, just to show you that I'm not a hard-hearted man, that it's not all dollars and cents. She was beautiful, she was innocent, she was the greatest dance partner I've ever had, and I've danced all over the world. And then Murska comes along with his olive oil voice and guinea charm and she runs off. She threw it all away just to make me look ridiculous. And a man in my position can't afford to be made to look ridiculous. Now you get the hell out of here. And you tell that father of yours that if he wants to try any rough stuff that I ain't no "band leader". Yeah, I heard that story.

Goof has been calmly eating his meal throughout the tirade

Thank you for the dinner, Orzel, and a very pleasant evening. Have your car take me to the airport. My father is a man who insists on hearing bad news at once.

Goof gets up, and before leaving the room - he pulls a piece of paper out of his pocket. Griever. Heroic. Orzel. He crosses Orzel's name off the list. With a nod, he drops the completed list on the floor, and walks out of the room.

[cd4]

I think I will point at Happyturtle

[EleventhHour]

Blah. Lesse... That's and... but...

RSG, because... well, why not?

[Internet Flea]

Changing to happyturtle for not saying whether or not this is a scry.

[Odd Fielding]

I'm going with Internet Flea for asking whether or not this is a scry.

[Ghanz Nmi]

Changing to happyturtle for not saying whether or not this is a scry.

You want seer to come out this early?

I'm going with Internet Flea for asking whether or not this is a scry.

We should probably do this tomorrow, Flea seems suspicious.

[Internet Flea]

You want seer to come out this early?

They made it sound like a scry yesterday. Now they're backpedaling.

[happyturtle]

I'm not a 'they'. I'm a 'she'.

[Internet Flea]

If it is a scry, I'm assuming you're a proxy.

[Chaotic Bob]

Dang-blasted school work...hard to pay attention to this and apply effort beyond reading posts.

Happy's quite the troublemaker lately.
So we'll point at Robert Blackletter for the mildly creepy avatar and so I can spare one more post of not being analytical or having substance.

...blar...back to math homework...

[VA_beds]

pile it on some more...thebushranger

[Deathslayer7]

Happpyturtle to save BR

[Calamity]

Aemoh because I need to catch up and I don't want to join a bandwagon I know nothing about.

[Murska]

Day 5 Ends!

Patrick, originally from Australia, had arrived to the city as a young man looking for his fortunes, like many others. He had quickly realized the situation in the city and, through both good luck and careful maneuvering, gotten into the Family. With his skill, he got into the good graces of his capo, and eventually succeeded him.

He was a well-liked man in the City. He'd helped plenty of people now and then, and hadn't ever been too rough with his area. There hadn't been much of a gang presence either, and it had been one of the safest parts of town.

However, now he faced down upon a mob gathered at his house. Torches already lit, instead of pitchforks they had torn pieces of metal and wood. It was a lynch mob. He'd seen many of these faces before, even chatted with them in lines or on the streets. They were all but undistinguishable now, twisted in anger and shouting curses and insults. Rocks were thrown, and a few windows shattered.

Patrick stepped onto a balcony overlooking the street, his hands raised.
"Listen to yourselves! Marley! John! What've I ever done to you?"
"You're in the Mafia! It's your fault there's a war going on!" Came a shout from the crowd.
"It's not the Family's fault. It's not the Gang's fault either, and least of all it's the fault of the innocents stuck inbetween. We realize the grievances of the Gangs and if they stop their senseless slaughter we're willing to discuss things. But you all know I've never been unfair to you all. Just go home for today to think about things...

It was clear the mob was calming down. Lowering his arms to the railing, Patrick breathed a sigh of relief. A moment too soon, a shot rang out from the crowd piercing his stomach. He stumbled and collapsed over the railing onto the street, colliding with the pavement with a sickening crunch. Nobody was quite sure who had shot it, but the people fled the scene nevertheless.

Here lay the Bushranger, one of the few, a relic of a time long past.

Night 5 Begins!

Summary:

Spoiler

Show

The Bushranger was lynched. He was a Capo.

Notes:

Spoiler

Show

Votes:
Bushranger: 15
Happyturtle: 4
Aemoh: 2

[The Bushranger]

...hmm. DS, you want to keep the RP seperate from my role, now that I'm dead and actually a bad guy?

[happyturtle]

Betty Scranton wasn't working tonight. She was too scared. She'd washed off all her makeup and changed her normal working clothes for some scruffy jeans and a shapeless gray overcoat.

They got Frank. Right after I saw him at the bar. Was it Al who had told the mafia where he was?

She had to find someone to protect her. But she didn't know who she could trust.

If only there was a Hero somewhere...

[UncleWolf]

The sounds of several thuds come from an alley near Betty, and after a moment, Vinny steps out, pulling off a pair of brass knuckles. He does a bit of a double take when he finally recognizes the dame he had bought a few drinks for a night or so back. Something wasn't right. He knew her kind of job, and gals like her needed to work as much as possible, and look pretty while doing it. She was obviously trying to hide. "Everythin' 'kay, ma'am?" he whispers to her as he falls into step to her right.

[happyturtle]

Betty swallowed hard, giving him a sidelong look before she recognized him. Was he one of them? Well, it didn't matter, did it? If he was, she was good as dead. But if he wasn't...

... if he wasn't, maybe he would help her.

She shook her head, blinking back tears. "They killed Frank. My boss."

[UncleWolf]

Vinny winces a bit. A dame with a sob story, he knew he was going to regret this...

He takes off his fedora and offers it to her. "Take this and wear it low, I'll take ya someplace safe." His thoughts are already scrambling as he remembers his plans in case he ever needed to go into hiding.

He just hoped his boss wouldn't mind him using a safe house.

[Orzel]

Orzel walked into the restaurant he partly owned with a thick swagger on his face. His smooth limp bopped to unheard music. No violins played. No horns blew. No guitars are strummed.

Hey, Vinny Tea.

Orzel, partner. Wha'cha here?

Looking like a fool. That's what I'mma doing.

The patrons of the restaurant all stopped as it they were compelled to do so. Orzel's voice was so soft to here over the slight racket befere but it still silenced the room. Some people stared at the fancy dressed man. Others ducked and hid their faces into their plates. All and almost all, the only sound was Orzel's soft angry whispers.

Wha'cha mean?

See how I strutted in here. There's supposed to be music to that strut. Where the music, Tea?

I told the band to only come on the weekends and Fridays and holidays. They want more money to be here everyday. So I let them come on the days we need them. It saves money.

Give them whatever they want. I want my music everyday. You acting like I'm poor.

That's unothrodox though.

Why the heck do I need to be normal, Tea? Normal may be safer. But it's boring as hell. Call Felix and tell him to get his butt over here, man.... Have me looking stupid.