Werewolf Classic XII

[Alarra]

Thu? Ina's notorious for disappearing from games as a narrator. I might end the day without her.

[Horoar]

Thu? Ina's notorious for disappearing from games as a narrator. I might end the day without her.

If Alarra speaks the truth, I second her motion.

[Thufir]

“Werewolves? But that can’t be-”
“I know, ma’am, but it’s true. We’ve seen the bodies.”
“And my husband is- is-”
“Missing, ma’am. Various bodies have been found in the settlement, but not his. We’re hoping that’s a good sign. These are the next set of papers, ma’am.”

Following Captain Sanderson’s departure, the assembled crowd fell mostly to silence. However there were occasional mutterings, until eventually one man, a scholar who had been researching the native myths, stood up and spoke loudly in the natives’ language. He then said something about a game, and there being no other way out. Whereupon he accused another man of being a werewolf.
While this might seem crazy, many others immediately responded in similar fashion. One young lady even accused the Lieutenant-Colonel. It seemed as if something was affecting their minds, though it seemed to have no effect on me. I could quite clearly see the scholar was the suspicious one. Far too keen to point fingers. However not everyone saw it that way, and when it comes down to it we have to follow the majority, don’t we?

“Do we know anything about this scholar?”
“I think we’ve got some of his papers somewhere, not sure where. It’s all a bit disorganised, I’m afraid.”

“Well, we’ve got to root out those damned wolves, don’t we? He was easily the most suspicious around.”

“I don’t trust that scholar. I think he could be somehow behind all this.”

“I still say Lieutenant-Colonel Miles shouldn’t have bombed me.”

“They all went mad I tell you. MAD!!!Thankfully I seem to have avoided it, hehehhe...”

“I don’t understand it all... I just tried to keep my head down. I didn’t want to go killing anyone, but what could I do against a mob?”

“It wasn’t my fault...”

This turn of events is distinctly worrying. Under normal circumstances, we would of course undergo the usual system of criminal justice, but this is not a case of merely one man killing another. Everyone here seems to have undergone some sort of mass hysteria, a common delusion relating to this apparently supernatural lupine tragedy.
What is to be done? It has only been one day since the disappearance of Lieutenant-Colonel Miles, and already I feel out of my depth here. What is to be done? Is there anything which can be done? So far my best idea is simply to hope we can better rein ourselves in and resist this delusion in future. If not, how many times will this murderous error be repeated before we succeed in rooting out the monsters in our midst?

Summary: Internet Flea was lynched. He was a Villager.
Night 1 begins now and ends in approximately 26 hours. Send night actions to me and InaVegt.

[VampireRot]

"Ah ah ah! Zat was wince-worthy. Ze Internet Flea could've been a good ally. But you must make sure, I suppose."

[Grag]

Grag walked up to the hanging tree, touched his hand to Internet Flea's foot.

I'm sorry... I was trying to save my own worthless villager hide. I couldn't point at Grlump because he was leading the charge to point against me.. I figured if I pointed at you it would get some traction. I had no reason but cowardice to say that you were a wolf, and I'm sorry. I'm really sorry.


Grag kneeled down under the tree, wondering if his would be the next body dangling from it.

No better than I deserve..

[bruntonspall]

Tis a shame for sure, a sad day for the Flea.

[Orangeban]

A swarthy bloke standing amongst the crowd lets his teacup hang limply from his hand as he watches the swaying body.

"Damned Shame," he says. He carves an epitaph under the corpse.

"More honourable in death than most Brits (excluding the nobles of course)."

[GrlumpTheElder]

Grlump watched the gaunt figure swinging from the gallows tree, a shiver ran down his spine, this was getting all to real...

[Julian84]

He shook his head sadly. Fate had not decreed this one had to die.

Now, to hunt for the real wolves . Vengeance for the fallen Flea shall be swift!

[Phase]

Duke Venison straightened his glasses and adjusted his vest. "Well that's one less person to be maimed, at least." He strides out of the town square looking dire. When he reaches the door to his semi-modest abode, her turns to look at the townsfolk. "I bid you good evening, my friends, and good luck. If it should come then we shall all be granted a death as quick as this man's." He closes the door, barring it behind him.

[Imperial Psycho]

A man with a military countenance, but no uniform but dirty rags watches the cadaver swing slowly, almost hypnotically. As the sun begins to set, his eyes widen. With no home to go to, the man rushes with some haste, looking desperately for a place to hide. He chooses to slip under an empty cart. The wolves were coming, and he was afraid.

[Project_Mayhem]

Project Mayhem looks around hurriedly, and sees everyone returning to there houses. Realising that he's a tasty appetizer, he retreats back to the pond, and pulls into the obligatory castle ornament.

Glub

[Horoar]

Dr Horaor MD, looks down on the lynching tree.
"Well now... It looks like the towns been given the flea treatment... I wish I'd never pointed at him"

[TheBritish]

Private British was beginning to feel more uncomfortable. He had just watched his friends and collegues lynch an innocent man. His eyes span in his eyesockets, glancing from the poor man's corpse to the solomn crowd of people around him. For all he knew, they were all wolves and he was the last survivor. He couldn't think like that though. He needed someone to trust.

He went to bed that night, scared and alone, but for the one person he could trust. Mr Fluffy Duffykins stood guard outside his tent. The teddybear's vigil.

[VampireRot]

Rot cackles. The corpse doesn't bother him. The vampire throws off his cloak and starts skipping down the night streets. In his hand is a large brass bell. Every 30 minutes, he calls counts out the time and claims that 'all is well' to some loud bell ringing. Probably to torment the sleepers. Crazy vampires.

[Ghanz Nmi]

Ghanz has seen enough blood and corpses in his life as a doctor that he's not so disturbed by the form of Flea, still left to sway in the winds.

What does disturb him is the loud ruckus that damn Vampire is throwing up, making it half-past impossible to hear anyone trying to sneak around at night. Or to sleep, for that matter.

The doctor silently wishes the Vampire will run into a Werewolf with wooden dentures soon.

[IXI FatTony IXI]

A little old man steps onto the front porch of a rickety house up on a hill just on the villages borders, he is short and wizened carrying a small walking stick.
The lynching today has got the people riled up, he thinks to himself.
He turns to a small rocking chair and notice his pot plant is missing.
"Hmm?", "How did it get down there?" He places it backon its hallowed spot just next to his chair, three inches in from the edge of the window.
He sits and relaxes enjoying the night air, it feels fresh in his lungs he surveys the town from his perch shotgun on his lap and drifts of for a little nap.

(Missed day one due to my new found obssesion with Halo:Reach, sorry about that looks like there was a lot of drama.

Also to anyone who understands this setting better than me would my character be more likely to have shotgun or a sword because i cant tell the setting time zone etc. although it seems old west-ish)

[Project_Mayhem]

Well, we have a vampire and a sentient flying fish, so verisimilitude is limited.

Glub.

[VampireRot]

"Vampires go hand in claw with Werewolves. Vish? Not so much."

Rot cackles again and rings the bell.

"Von! Von hour! All's vell!"

[Horoar]

"Come Good count. You've said it yourself. It's 1 in the blimean morning. Stop that awful racket.," Horoar says slamming his windows shut and covering his head with his pillow.

[razovor]

Samuel stood, watching the body. He had ran off when all the screaming began, but he had returned in time to see the body still swinging.

The sight had shook him to the core, but strangely, he was not suprised. This was just how people were, another reason to stay away from everyone.

This person however, was not a danger. He was starting to smell though, and rather spoiled the view of the fine tree he hung from.

Samuel took out his spade, and started digging.

[Uber-Gam3r]

A furious figure could be seen storming around a lonely old shop near the edge of town. Were one curious and/or nosy enough, one might hear the following rant...

"...tried to get by just slidin' me opinions under tha door, stay all nice an' objective-like, but NOOOO! Apparently that ain't good enough! An' now an innocent man hangs dead while that durned wolf is still runnin' free, feignin' guilt or some such rot. Makes me blood boil, that..."

One might almost think the poor man was MAD that his advice had been so heedlessly ignored... or at least not followed up to the point of hanging the obviously correct target. One might also be getting annoyed at the constant used of the word 'one'. One might also have just punched the narrator for that.

...ow.

[Rogue Nine]

Hugh watches with abject horror at the swinging corpse.

"I'm so sorry."

Spoiler

Show

Quick and dirty:

[VampireRot]

A furious figure could be seen storming around a lonely old shop near the edge of town. Were one curious and/or nosy enough, one might hear the following rant...

"...tried to get by just slidin' me opinions under tha door, stay all nice an' objective-like, but NOOOO! Apparently that ain't good enough! An' now an innocent man hangs dead while that durned wolf is still runnin' free, feignin' guilt or some such rot. Makes me blood boil, that..."

One might almost think the poor man was MAD that his advice had been so heedlessly ignored... or at least not followed up to the point of hanging the obviously correct target. One might also be getting annoyed at the constant used of the word 'one'. One might also have just punched the narrator for that.

...ow.

"Vat was vat? I can make your blood do more than boil!"

A bell-wielding vampire might be glaring at the man. Do not invoke the name of Rot without reason!

Also: That's is simply epic. Consider yourself exempt from all random vampire votes, Zanshin. Unless there's good enough reason of course.

[Leta]

Leta held a magnifying glass and paced around the lynching tree in the middle of the town. He smoked a pipe and started frowning at the tree, on the verge of some deep insight.

"EUREKA!!" he cried, all of a sudden. "Internet Flea has been lynched! And what's more, he's dead! Hmm."

Leta knelt down and started looking for footprints.

[razovor]

Samuel spots Leta. He briefly considers leaving, to return when leta is gone, but he decides against it. Hopefully Leta will be too busy to disturb him.

Samuel continues digging

[Thufir]

OK, so you will have noticed that the night's running over-long. This is partly because I slept in, partly because I'm lazy, and partly because I'm missing night actions and I'm more inclined to wait for them on night 1. Note that this generosity will not last very far into the game and send them in already.

[Leta]

Leta notices a man off to the side digging a hole. He sprints over.

"Aha! Internet Flea has just been lynched, and now you just happen to be digging a grave next to the lynching tree?!" he says. "Veeeery suspicious."

[Thufir]

“We’ve found several accounts of that first night. Fear. Panic. Howling. They’d thought the howling was their dogs getting exuberant, but the events of the day had taught them otherwise. This night many couldn’t sleep and discovered that in fact the dogs remained curled up and whimpering in fear as the wolves ran amok. Not much point looking through all of them – some are frankly rather frightening. Certain of the inhabitants seem to have had unexpected narrative talents.”
“Had?”
“Well, under the circumstances, and since we’ve yet to find any survivors but we’ve found plenty of corpses... it just seems more-”
“My husband is not dead. I refuse to believe that he is.”
“Of... of course, ma’am. I, er- I believe this is the best account of that night, ma’am.”

This the first night of the darkest of days. Men and dogs all cower within, barred in and barricaded, list’ning to the wolves. Howling, howling on the wind through the streets. Morpheus comes to none tonight, but I fear a longer slumber for one among us. There is death on the air. Inexorably it comes closer, and fear is driven before it. The fear invades, and the shame of our deathly deeds today weighs heavy, and it is all that can be done to stave off the scream which would call the pack welcome.
It passes in time, and leaves only tears, shame and regret. But the sun rises up, and we live still, it seems. Death came for one, and the remainder shall choose the next.

The feeling of fear last night was almost palpable. I don’t think anyone here slept so much as a wink through the whole night. And that dreadful howling! How we ever thought it was the dogs I cannot fathom, it’s positively unearthly and nearly enough to put a man off his morning tea. Of course, though I had it somewhat early, nevertheless the howling was fading away a bit by that point. Wonder how they kept it up so long though? Nigh-on the entire night they were at it, only paused briefly about an hour, maybe 90 minutes before dawn. How can they keep it going? Conversely, if they can keep it going so constantly, why stop at all?

Discovered why they stopped. Gruesome scene at the farm we were setting up to begin growing our own produce for the settlement. The would-have-been owner of the farm, former politician Grlump the Elder, is the only missing person (other than the governor), so we think it relatively safe to assume the blood-spattered skeleton belonged to him, especially since tatters of his clothing also lay around it. No other identifying points, though. Damn werewolves stripped him to the bone!
And so on to another day of fear and paranoia...

Summary: GrlumpTheElder was killed. He was a Villager.
Day 2 begins now and ends in probably more than 48 hours (Since I doubt InaVegt will want to update at 3:20am. I'm not exactly enthusiastic about the idea either)

[VampireRot]

"Seven! Seven hours! Ze sun has risen! AND ANOTHER IS DEAD!"

Rot rings his bell and throws on his cloak again. Getting burned up by the sun would not do. He goes to investigate the scene, and hoots with laughter at the grisly skeleton. Unless someone stops him, Rot grabs Grlump the Elder's remains by their skeletal hands, pulls the body up, and leads the inanimate skeleton in the tango. It's a strange sight to say the least.