THE Mafia VI Return of the Departed Emerald Dragon - Day 7

[Andre Fairchilde]

Scene 1: The City. The year 1926.

HOG Butcher for the World,
Tool Maker, Stacker of Wheat,
Player with Railroads and the Nation's Freight Handler;
Stormy, husky, brawling,
City of the Big Shoulders:

They tell me you are wicked and I believe them, for I
have seen your painted women under the gas lamps
luring the farm boys.
And they tell me you are crooked and I answer: Yes, it
is true I have seen the gunman kill and go free to
kill again.
And they tell me you are brutal and my reply is: On the
faces of women and children I have seen the marks
of wanton hunger.
And having answered so I turn once more to those who
sneer at this my city, and I give them back the sneer
and say to them:
Come and show me another city with lifted head singing
so proud to be alive and coarse and strong and cunning.
Flinging magnetic curses amid the toil of piling job on
job, here is a tall bold slugger set vivid against the
little soft cities;

Fierce as a dog with tongue lapping for action, cunning
as a savage pitted against the wilderness,
Bareheaded,
Shoveling,
Wrecking,
Planning,
Building, breaking, rebuilding,
Under the smoke, dust all over his mouth, laughing with
white teeth,
Under the terrible burden of destiny laughing as a young
man laughs,
Laughing even as an ignorant fighter laughs who has
never lost a battle,
Bragging and laughing that under his wrist is the pulse.
and under his ribs the heart of the people,
Laughing!
Laughing the stormy, husky, brawling laughter of
Youth, half-naked, sweating, proud to be Hog
Butcher, Tool Maker, Stacker of Wheat, Player with
Railroads and Freight Handler to the Nation.

(***I want to credit Carl Sandberg’s poem "Chicago" from 1916. ***).


Scene 2: The East Coast.

They were gathered around a large table, cigar smoke in the air. In the middle of an underground casino, behind them the bodyguards were playing poker – but at this table for the big boys a larger game was underway. They planned to take over a city. Each member of the table had agreed to make this union the most important in their lives. Their wives? Secondary. Their children? Forgotten. Their ethics? Lost. Their souls? Sold.

A recent gang war in the City left a power vacuum and a void unfilled. Millions of thirsty workers lived in the city – it was only right that *someone* should bring them the beer? And if they balked at the rise in prices? There were plenty of places to stack the bodies. Eventually they’d cave in, they always did.

After much discussion, and agreement they decided to split the City between all the members at the table. And if the Citizens stood up to this consortium of demons – then they’d be damned to an early death.

Scene 3:

The Kingmaker was furious. “Who were they to come into my city?” The Kingmaker was also known as the Kingslayer. He can make you, and he can break you. The weight of the Machine in the city, all the grease, all of the administration was poised to remove the cancer that was the incoming Mafia. “These mobsters can go back where they came from – in coffins! We're the power in this town!”
Scene 4:
The attorney general looks over the smog filled city – the stench of the rendering plant blowing into his window. He closed his window and lit a cigar. Sitting down his assistant, they began to discuss two campaigns – the campaign to clean up the city and the inevitable campaign for office. Which would be best? State Senate? House of Representatives? Run for office as a Judge?... the plans continue…

Scene 5:
FBI Agent Fairchilde arrives in the City by train.
The memories of his ex-wife’s death haunt him. She was involved deeply in the plots of this city. Now that she has been laid to rest, maybe he could finally heal his heart. He leaves the train, and hails a taxi. “Where to sir?”

“The cemetery. I have some friends I have to see there. And my wife. Especially my wife.” So much violence in this city. Months ago they were averaging over 2 a night – as much as 3 for the better part of a week.

Maybe life will be more peaceful here for this visit… or maybe not.

As Agent Fairchilde arrives, so does the storm – the storm from the east.

The Return of the Departed Emerald Dragon begins now…

Rules post to be attached.

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Fraternal Order of Police (FOP) –

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Kingmaker
Leader of the FOP, aka the Kingslayer, but not to his face. Kingmaker has Influence or Corruption once per night. See Note 1. (Scries as a CITIZEN.)

Sergeant at Arms FOP
The Sergeant sends in the nightly kill, unless another player is designated to do so. Losing the Sergeant does not lose your nightly kill, as you may designate who sends in the kill. (Scries as Fraternal Order of the Police – Sergeant at Arms.)

Treasurer - FOP
May make 1 scry per night phase – at 100% accurate. If the Treasurer is killed, the FOP lose their ability to scry. (Scries as Treasurer Fraternal Order of Police – Devil).

Dues Paying Member FOP
The other members of the FOP - standard wolf role, counting towards victory. Acts as back up to the Sergeant at Arms. (Scries as Fraternal of the Police – Wolf)

Note 1: Influence/Corruption - The Kingmaker (or any member of the Fraternal Order of Police – FOP, but only one vote per night phase) may tell the narrators the name of one player that is not a member of the FOP per night phase. The FOP tell the narrators who they want to influence, and how they want the person to vote. (We tell "Andre Fairchilde" to point at "EmeraldRose".)

The person may point as they demand, or may not - it is their choice. If they do point as directed, they may receive a free Bane from the FOP for the one night phase. They may never be directed to point at themselves, or reveal their role. The FOP are free to renege on the deal. If they do not point, the FOP have the choice of killing them the next night phase (or not), "Planting Evidence", or doing nothing. "Planting Evidence" means that if the person that was "Influenced" is scried, the FOP may leave evidence (name a role) for the scrier to determine. (Example - Andre Fairchilde is a Villager. The FOP planted evidence on him, and when he is scried the FOP want him to be revealed as the "Mafia Devil.")

The FOP may completely ignore any promises for a Bane and simply kill that villager to cover their tracks. Not a free night kill!

FOP Victory Conditions: Eliminate the Mafia and equal or outnumber the Citizens/Grand Jury/Attorney General at the end of the game.

The Mafia:

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Charles “Lucky” Luciano – The Don.
He sends in the Nightly Kill. If killed, the Mafia do not lose their night kill as long as another Mafia still lives. (Scries as Citizen)

Benjamin “Bugsy” Siegel – The Enforcer.
Sends in an additional Night Kill every third game night. Combining the two kills is a “Bombing” and may ignore a Bane protection – unless the person is being protected by two Banes (which could happen). The two Night Kills do not have to be used together, they may target two separate players. If killed, the Mafia lose their opportunity for a second kill every third night. (Scries as “Bugsy Siegel – Mafia Enforcer”)

Meyer Lansky – The Consigliere.
100% scry once per night. If he dies, the Mafia lose their ability to Scry. (Scries as “Meyer Lansky – Consigliere -Mafia Devil).

Mafia Gangster.
Standard wolf role, counting towards victory. Acts as back up to the Lucky Luciano. (Scries as Mafia)

Mafia Victory Conditions: Eliminate the Fraternal Order of Police (FOP) and equal or outnumber the Citizens/Grand Jury/Attorney General at the end of the game.

Other Roles:

Attorney General (Baner)

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May make one Bane attempt per night protecting a citizen from assassination.

The AG’s victory conditions are the destruction of both the Fraternal Order of Police (FOP) and the Mafia, and surviving the game. Allied with the Citizens, Investigative Reporter, Cub Reporter and Grand Jury, but does not start out knowing who they are. (Scries as Baner)

Investigative Reporter (Seer)

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As the Seer you are allied with the Citizens. You may make one Scry a night and have 100% accurate results. Your win conditions are: Eliminating both groups of Wolves – Mafia and Fraternal Order of Police (Dirty Cops or FOP).
(Scries as Seer EVEN TO THE FOOL – See note 2).

Cub Reporter (Fool)

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Believes he/she is the Investigative Reporter. Scries are 35% accurate, but move to 50% accurate if he/she locates or is located by the Investigative Reporter.
(Scries as Fool).

If the Investigative Reporter and Cub reporter meet and collaborate they have a bonus!

They may either:
Have a third scry at 50% nightly
Or
Release an anonymous newspaper article (post by narrator) stating whatever they want – but only limiting to one player per day/night phase – and only once every 3 game days.

Note 2: When the Cub Reporter (Fool) scries the Seer – it is an accurate result. However, scries are rolled randomly off of a chart – if it’s a 1-35% then the role is accurate, and higher it’s a specific role (around 36-75% Villager, etc.). But, the Fool will never scry anyone as the Seer except the seer.

Grand Jury (Masons)

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The Grand Jury’s victory conditions are the destruction of both the Fraternal Order of Police (FOP) and the Mafia, and surviving the game. Allied with the Citizens, Investigative Reporter, Cub Reporter, and the Attorney General, but do not start out knowing who they are. The Grand Jury does know all of its members. (Scry as Masons)

Citizen:

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You may vote once per day phase to try to make this city a better place. You want to clean up the City and eliminate both the FOP and the Mafia. Allied with the Grand Jury, Attorney General, Investigative Reporter, and Cub Reporter, but knows none of these roles in advance. (Scry as Citizens)

Player list (Currently 12 playing)

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Aemoh
Alarra
Banjo1985
Cristo Meyers
Fin
Lamech
Phantom Fox
Ranna
Shadow
Timberwolf
Vavaara

The Graveyard

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Androgial
Atreyu the Masked Llama
Dom
Draken
Freshmeat
Gezina
Jontom Xire
Mordokai
Satyrquaze
Whitehelm
Nom de plum
Piratemonk
Topher
Uncle Festy
Xykon Fan
Zombie Pixe
Bayar
MattKatt
Evnafets
Dr Bath
Purple GCOD
Supagoof
Curlykitgirl
The Bushranger
Shishnarfne
Zar Peter
Doseki
Eldritch Knight
Fleeing Coward
Ganurath
Gwyn Ap Nud
Helgraf
RadikalSkippy
Raiser B1ade
Emperor Demonking

LOOK HERE FOR ANY RULES UPDATES!

.

When doing updates, I am going off of the Global Clock at this link. I am in Minneapolis, and if I say an update will be at at 9:00 PM Minneapolis time (Central Standard Time, U.S.) - that means add 6 hours to the time. Sorry for any difficulties. Anyway - look at this link if you aren't sure how much time you have for an update.

I won't be warning those with night actions to get their pms in. This is a timed game, there are over 40 players waiting on updates, and to keep the momentum going I will probably give no warnings that night actions are due.

On the other hand, if I do get all night action pms in on time, then the day phase may end early (depends on my work schedule).

Any role that is autolynched in the first two days will be reassigned by the end of Night 2 to an active player. Active means having voted both day phases. If that role is again killed/lynched - it's gone

Each Day Phase will last 48 hours, and each night phase 24 hours. I will update if I am late, and I will end the nights early if I have all inputs and I'm not at work. Any player that misses two consecutive day votes without publicly posting that you will be gone will be autolynched. I realize that life happens, and things occur.

Each Day phase, by the end of the phase vote for your favorite active poster like this:
( OOC Best Post = Andre Fairchilde).

Place the vote at the END of your post so it's easy to see. Putting a in there will make it easier for me to see. The best daily poster *may* receive a bonus. Or may not. We'll see how well this works. I don't think I can do this in my PM box since I'm still assisting with WW DW. If this doesn't work, we'll drop it.

DAY 10 ENDS - NIGHT 10 BEGINS

NIGHT 10 WILL END IN 24 HOURS ON THURSDAY MARCH 6 AT 10PM (EST) OR -6 GMT

[Zar Peter]

It was a rainy night. Zar Peter’s looking out of the window. Nothing. The town seemed to be deserted. No wonder, today is the day. Superbowl!. No one will go outside. All the familys sitting in front of the TV and watching.

Ok, some of the woman will go out, invading bars without TV and talk about men and their weird sports. But most of the people stay at home.
Zar Peter turns on the TV set.

I’ve got the feeling something will happen today. Something which will change my live. And the live of some other people in this town. But the game comes first! After the match we will see what happened but now I have four hours for relaxation. Maybe the last peaceful hours in my life…

[Ganurath]

Ganurath, in a different part of the city, wasn't watching either. He would never watch a Superbowl unless the Bears were playing, which meant that he usually didn't watch the Superbowl. Instead, he would go for a walk. His doctor wanted him taking care of his heart, and walking the block would be peaceful with everyone inside for the Superbowl. On his walk, he'd be humming a random Queen tune.

[Uncle Festy]

I was in the bar, as usual. Not drinking - I don't drink. Not watching the Super Bowl - I hate football. I was playing the piano.

"And we're all in the mood for a melody...
And you've got us feeling all right."

There was scattered applause - but no more. Not that I expected it. The bar was nearly deserted today, with everyone at home, watching the Super Bowl. Ah well. The bar wasn't my preferred hangout, but the money had to come from somewhere. I hadn't had a regular job for months, ever since the Mafia bought my store out from under me, and the bar owner payed me a bit - not a lot, but enough. I was good at playing the piano - I really was! I would have made it in music! I would have been a big star! Except...
Except I hadn't made it. I wasn't a star. And now, I was nothing... nothing but the man playing the piano.

The bar owner shouts at me. "Am I paying you to sit around and stare into space, or am I paying you to play? Get playing, moron!"
I sigh, and turn back to the piano.
"It's nine o'clock on a saturday..."

[Skippy]

A man in a raincoat watches the city from a distance. Bad memories invade his mind, but he knows he must go in there. There are some debts that should be payed.

"Dad, I'll make them pay for what they did to you. They killed you unfairly, for something you didn't do. I'll find out the truth and avenge your death, and maybe I'll find out more about you."

He took out a scrap of paper where an address was scribbled from his pocket, read it carefully, took out a book of matches and burnt it. Then he began walking, looking for the clues to his father's past...

[Gwyn chan 'r Gwyll]

Gwyn lazes around on his sofa, watching the game. He doesn't understand why there is an extra down. He suddenly realizes that Canadian and American Football are different.

"Oooh, that makes sense now."

[The Bushranger]

Some people have better things to do than sit around watching dead pigs get chucked around on a griddle. One of these is a Mr. O'Connell, who stands by the waterfront, watching a few gulls swoop around the glaring lights of the port, snatching bugs.

Ah, I love this town.

[androgial]

i watched the game. i watch every game. then i went back to training. no beer for me. silly thing prohibition, maybe one day the politicians would realize that people want to drink and will no matter what. not me though, im a boxer. banter weight to be exact. not as thrilling as the heavyweight matches but faster much faster. more training is required to maintain banter weoght than their is for heavys. so back to my training. tonight a run around the city. in the rain. up hill. both ways. im johnathon smythe, and they call me the gemini of the boxing ring. outside i can be very very polite. inside the ring its all business and my fists do the talking, but thats me business is business pleasure is pleasure. maybe i should take a break sometime........no i cant boxing is my life its my business. stupid rain but at least i know ill be better than those whimps sitting inside because they wont train in the rain. the banter weight wold champion title will be mine. i swear on my beloved city. a hope. a dream. for generations to come. thats my business.

[whitehelm]

I arrive outside the bar with a soapbox, a megaphone, and quite possibly, a deathwish.

CITIZENS OF THE CITY!!

Are you tired of all the crime in this city? Are you worn out from all the corruption, and you want to help clean up this town?

There are rumors of a secret criminal group that is blackmailing people into lynching who they want to lynch. This is almost certainly not in our best interests, so I urge you to stand up to them!! Don't go along quietly with their wishes, even if they say they're offering protection. Instead, let everyone else know you're being "influenced"! What can they do to you?

They can certainly have you killed, but all of us are in danger anyway. Besides, if you go public, the attorney general may be able to put you in protective custody, and even the possibility of that will make them think twice! They can also frame you during the next night, but the investigators will know this, and probably won't bother investigating you. The risks of defying them therefore, are minimal, and the benefits are clear...we cripple one of their major abilities!

Do not worry about others lying about being influenced. If more than one person claims this during the same day, it will be obvious that someone is lying, and that criminal will be caught.

So stand with me, and fight!! (As I point at Zar Peter) You there! Are you with me?

[MattKatt]

Across the street, in another bar, a bar that has few lights and less windows. The kind of bar you dont get into unless you know the doorman, the barman, and all 3 other customers. Alone, in a lightless corner of the room, sits a man with his head over a double scotch, nursing the hangover caused by lasts nights double scotch.

"Dammit, why do people in this town have to be so loud?"

[Zar Peter]

The match was over and the trouble began. The first pone call, a friend wanted to cahs in the bet. I agreed to meet at Luckys. In 1hour.
There’s a new piano man there, not very good but not bad either. And if you ask the barman very polite he may give you some vodka in your Cola. Not everytime. You never know. Some of the policemen these days don’t understand fun.

Stupid rain, I’m wet after two minutes walking. But a bet is a bet. And mybe I get some information. My friends quiet good in talking with other people. And he’s often at the police station. Not for long, though, which shows how good he is with words.

Outside of Luckys there is this man on a soap box. Another one went crazy in this town. He speaks through his megaphone. Things like “Clean the town” and stuff. Matching when I think he’s on a soap box, he can just begin cleaning the city! But then he points at me. I don’t like that, I don’t want to get so much attention. I mumble something like “Yes, yes, as you say” and sneak into the bar.
My friend should be here soon, so I’m ordering a “special” Cola and listen to Uncle Festy the new piano man.

[Bayar]

As dawn breaks, Bayar stays in his apartment, eating what food he has left from yesterday, and reading the newspaper (was the TV/radio invented back then ? )

No lynch

[Andre Fairchilde]

As dawn breaks, Bayar stays in his apartment, eating what food he has left from yesterday, and reading the newspaper (was the TV/radio invented back then ? )

No lynch

(Radio was. In fact families huddled around it for Radio shows.)

[Jontom Xire]

I was sitting in my usual place in Lucky's, nursing the usual glass, with the usual bottle on the table in front of me. Business had been fine lately, as fine as one can expect. There was as usual plenty happening in a city like this, and the recent trouble had meant even more activity, and that meant people needed information. People may not like me, but they kept coming back, like flies to a cowpat, drawn by the knowledge. Knowledge I had and they wanted. And they paid for it, and that paid for my whisky and a roof over my head, and that's all I wanted, really. So yeah, life was good.

But I didn't do as well as I wanted without having an instinct. A sixth sense almost. And right now I had an irritating itch I couldn't scratch, a feeling of impending ... something that wouldn't go away. I wouldn't say it was impending doom exactly, but I could feel that life was about to get a whole lot more interesting in this neck of the woods. And that meant, unless I got caught in some random crossfire, that life would get a lot more profitable. At least for me. Because more interesting meant more information. And for me that meant more business which meant more money. Maybe I should buy one of those posh automobiles.

I smiled to myself at the thought as I drained my glass and poured another slug into it from the bottle on the table. I sounded confident even to myself, but I wasn't. The recent trouble had been as nothing next to what was coming. The body count was gonna be high. The chances of me surviving were next to nothing. It would be a smart idea to just lie low and avoid notice, but that meant avoiding business. Besides, I'd always been decidedly bad at avoiding trouble. There didn't seem much point in even trying.

So I sat at my table and waited for the first punter to sidle up to me. Business had already started, but the gentleman in question was being very cagey. There would be others along in due course. All I needed to do was wait. I figured it would probably be someone like Topher. There were a lot of big players in this city, some new names, some older. Topher was an up and coming youngster, keen to make a name for himself. I reckoned he'd be along to see what I had, maybe buy a little information.

[Shadow]

Damn this prohibition era. I'd been distilling since the '90's, some good drink too, and then these damn politicians come along and decide that my trade "isn't in the public interest."
The bathtub gin that I've been brewing ain't bad, but it ain't good either.
A good glass of rye? Impossible to find anymore.
The money from the speakeasies is OK, but it ain't grand. Just enough to keep my head up. Barely.
Then this so called Mafia shows up and scoops up all of my business. Some mean cats, these guys. You should'a seen my place after they found the stills.

See, they got wind that I was undercutting their prices. They didn't find me, but they found my stills. Trust me, after seeing what they did to my place, I'm gonna make damn sure that they don't find me.

After the new batch is finished in my new stills, hidden well from any prying eyes, I'll drop them off and make a few bucks. But first I need to strike a deal with the owner. That's gonna be the hard part. He doesn't want any trouble like I had, and I'm sure he's heard about it already.

They told him when they dropped off a chunk of my stills on his bartop and made him a 'fair' offer.
Fair. Sure. More like "Buy from us or you won't be buying anymore at all."

When I get there, I see a familiar face sitting in the joint, casing it out I think.
That Jontom fella, sitting there looking all nondiscript and bored. Looks like he's waiting for someone.

Probably waiting for me. I better make like a tree.
I can talk to the owner later.

[Jontom Xire]

<< OOC: Make like a tree? >>

[Satyrquaze]

Satyrquaze went busily to work despite that a Superbowl was going on, he had no time for such things.

He swept the floor of his humble storefront. Soon people would be swarming his store for the latest edition of the paper and their morning coffee. He set up a cart of fruit outside, selling them for the meager price of 2 cents each. He knew that he'd see some loss from it. Urchins who were forced to steal out of hunger, or people who felt they were too important to actually pay for goods and services, to the guys who came in from time to time get their "protection" pay. In the three years that Satyrquaze had owned this humble shop the only people he had ever felt he needed protection from were the guys he always ended up paying for it.

Well, them and the Coppers... who always managed to be too busy to help him when he called. He knew that an honest cop in this town was as rare and as precious as a diamond.

He swore as he accidentally knocked a jar of pickles off their shelf as a voice could be heard loud enough to wake the dead... He would have taken the time to listen, but he now had a mess to clean.

"Dang it, this town is going to pot. Someone should do something."

[Ranna]

The cigarette tasted stale through its holder – just like everything else in my life at the moment. – Still at least whenever I visited Mindy’s she always had new gossip for me.

As she combed and styled my hair I contemplated life’s recent going ons.

“Say Mim’s you’re rather quiet today – is anything up?”
“What? Oh no, no, just focusing on your hair, what have you been doing to it recently? – say you’ll never guess who was in here the other day complaining no end about her husband”

“Erm, Charlotte? I hear she’s been having a few difficulties lately, her husband hardly see’s her, too busy in the bars”

“No…Better…Sheila.”

“NO way, how on earth can she be having problems? Her and that flash automobile of hers. Her husband showers her with expensive gifts all the time and not just last Thursday did I see them walking hand-in-hand into that new posh hotel that opened up downtown.”

“Yes, well she says that he keeps giving her all these expensive gifts to make up for the rows they’ve been having. It seems he’s getting himself involved with some dirty business and she is NOT happy about that one bit”

“I wouldn’t be happy with that either, however I don’t have the luxury of having a husband to complain about. Though now you mention it, I have been hearing odd whispers around the club when I’ve been singing and there are a good few coming and goings of shady looking characters around.”

“I have the suspicion that things may liven up around here but… what do we know we’re only women. Let the men deal with it all I guess”

“I do agree indeed…but still wonder what’s gonna happen…”

Well I guess you get what you wish for… it’ll liven up my life for a little while even if I do only hear things through Mindy. That is quite the shock hearing about Sheila she’s always been quiet about her husband up to now, he must have done something major to get her that upset…maybe I’ll pay her a visit sometime when her husband is out…

“Its time to go under the dryer Princess”
“Oh don’t call me that here its Abby when I’m not on stage!”
“When are you next singing then Abs?”
“I’m not too sure they have this new piano guy at the moment so I’m just taking a break”
“Okay well stay under the dryer for 40 minutes and I’ll come get you in a bit.”

[Shadow]

<< OOC: Make like a tree? >>

((Yeah. Make like a tree. It means.... leave (from leaf). It's a stupid play on words that's sometimes used in the U.S.))

[Shishnarfne]

Well, Lucky's had a pianoman, so the barkeep wasn't going to ask me to break out my sax tonight... At least there's more than one way to make money in this town... I broke out my pack of cards and found a corner booth, one with enough room for people to sit and leave with less money than they came in with, but not enough room for them to get too ugly...

Well, there was trouble in town, but hopefully it wasn't going to start with Mr. Francis Narf, local musician, card-sharp, and sometime salesman...

[Ganurath]

Ganurath arrived at Lucky's along his walk, just for a quick drink of water to cool himself down before heading home. He looked the bar over, slightly surprised to see that many people in a bar during the Superbowl when alcoholic beverages were illegal. He smirks a bit, then glances at Zar Peter and Jontom Xire.

"Can you believe that whitehelm guy?"

[Emperor Demonking]

Emperor Demonking was laying down as he heard the commotion outside his house. "Whitehelm." I think I remember that name." He screamed out as his head hurt. "Its a name that reeks of evil."

[Eldritch Knight]

A tall figure in a grey trenchcoat and a fedora enters Lucky's. He sits down at the bar and gives a passing nod to the bartender.

Scotch. Make it quick. I'm waiting for a business partner to show up.

Scotch. Got it. That's gonna cost you extra. Anything else?

No, now beat it.

The figure sits down and stares into his drink.

[Satyrquaze]

With his grocery shop across from Lucky's, Satyrquaze was distracted with the noise from the pub... He looked at a calendar on the wall and it was indeed Ninteen-hundred-and-twenty-six, smack dab in the middle of prohibition. Satyrquaze groaned at the din.

He could hear Uncle Festy at the piano and hear all sorts of people in the drunken revelry... and it wasn't even half past 2 in the afternoon.

[Supagoof]

I heard the noise walking down the street. Everyone clamoring about some sort of "Superb owl" or something like that. Perhaps they were talking about that game of two local football teams that had captured the interest of the local AM station, I don't know. Seems to me like a bunch of idiots running into each other chasing a ball around. And what kind of name was football for it? Should be called handball, as they carry it more with their hands then feet. Ah well, what did I know?

Well, what I did know is that crazy words spewed from their mouths. Words like "tell a vision". What the heck is a tell a vision? Did one of the gypsy's open a shop to tell people their futures? It would be a scam to me, but the way people were talking about it just gave me the shivers. They seemed more excited about it then the invention of the auto carriage. Now that's an invention I could get into. Twice as fast as a team of horses and able to carry more weight then your standard wagon. I couldn't afford one yet, due to the work at the docs not paying very much, but I will buy one as soon as I can. I didn't care if I seen them alongside the road often, with the tires being changed or something about the spark distributer not working properly. Clearly a rich's mans toy, but it did close the gap between our classes. It was nice to see that even the rich enjoyed getting their hands dirty and covered in grease.

As I approached the bar for my late day beverage, a man stood bellowing out promises of cleaning up this city. That's right, elections are coming. Perhaps we'll find a clean and honest person that can turn this town around. I know I've been in fear for my life, seen some shady fellows showing up at the docs. They didn't bother to check in with the harbor master when they came. I stayed clear of them, didn't want to get into any trouble, but yet I couldn't help and feel that trouble would find me soon enough. Perhaps I should spend my money on protection rather then an auto carriage. But this guys was sounding pretty honest and straight forward, so maybe I'll just use the only thing I have to make changes around here, my vote. Seeing others standing around, I figured someone else might give me perspective on this loud candidate. I pointed at some guy walking by humming a tune I didn't recognize. (Ganurath)

Hey you, you know anything about this Whithelm guy wanting to clean up the city?

But the man just kept on walking. I'd stick around and see what else people had to say about Whithelm. Certainly someone has more knowledge of this character. I leaned up against the cobblestone building, listening to him clammer on about how our current system has failed us and what we needed to do to make the city better.

[Fin]

From his small grocery store Fince Hawkins could see most of the high street. It saddened him now to think that this city, his home had become so corrupted.

It was time for him to take his lunch but Jimmy his assistant had failed to turn in again...

Ah well, looks like another working lunch for me then. I'd sack that kid, but I just couldn't do it to him. Heh heh I'm such a push-over.

With that thought fading away and the shop not being too busy Fince tucked into his sandwhiches as he watched Banjo1985 walk past his shop window.

[Cristo Meyers]

A fog a begun to roll in on the lakefront. It was a deep, think fog. The kind normally reserved for bad monster movies

This is the kind of weather a fella could get lost in, Cris thought to himself, Not a bad thing, all things considered.

The city had gone from bad to worse in recent years, what with the mob pushing their way in and all. They made most of their money rum-running, but that didn't stop them from muscleing their way into the docks as well.

Gotta, what'd Sid call it? "Diversify"

Of course, to the folks tryin' to earn an honest living, "diversify" was hardly a good thing. Some good, decent folk were losing their paychecks to "protection money," others were spending it on booze and women in the speakeasys that popped up.

Just a sad situation. Whitehelm's parade walks by, screaming something about taking the city back.

First good idea I've heard in a long time.

[CurlyKitGirl]

It was a long time ago when this happened to me. Once before; now again. The first time I lost a helper. This time I'll lose noone; help noone. Watch and listen.
Watching. Always watching.
It's always foggy. I draw the bad humours and elements about me, "I'm a bad demon. Always killing and bringing the Darkness with me." I always try to leave it behind. But I never see the sun.
. . .
When did I last see that beautiful light? It must have been months ago. Felt like years though.
. . .
I don't know any more. I've come to believe it was a myth. Just like trust; heh; trust. What a lark. Might as well believe in the Tooth Fairy or Father Christmas.
It's so dark out.
Music and clamour scream from every street; piercing my ear. "Not again." I run; stumbling as I crash into walls, people and bins.
"No, no, no, no, no. Please not here." STupid weak tears trickle from my eyes. I risk taking my hands from my ears to dash away the weakness.
I begin humming to that stupid singer. "I'm not going slightly mad! I can't be! I've survived too long to go mad now. You're not even real! There's no Freddy Venus around." My sight began to dim and shadows covered my eyes.
I'm safe in my haven in the dingy park. I can release myself here. In my little hovel I put the stick between my teeth and black out.
I force my way back into painful sentience. A cat is curled on my contorted body.
This, I think I'll keep.
Scabby, mangy little ruffian. Like me.
And that Llama won't follow me any more. Never again.

[Zombie pixe]

*sitting in Lucky's, contemplating the moment*

wow. this weather is a good competetor for the english summer. I do miss old blighty, with its smog, rain and industrial stench. Still, there is one thing in englad that you just cant seem to get in this "land of the free", a good old pint. Well, that is if you dont know the right people or places, if you check beforehand it seems that you can do just about anything if the police are the ones who own it! Half the time they are in there with you, and if you give them a good tip on the stock market they will leave you prety much alone.

*looks at paper*

Ford stocks rise again! Impresive. im glad I put that $4000 in there, with the current rate i should be able to make a handsome profit over the loan. Better pop down to the loansharks this evening then to pay off that gamble.

*catches sight of Llama's wanderings*

Strange man, the only thing that he will get wandering outside is a cold!

[Freshmeat]

"This town is going to hell.

The man outside with the megaphone knows it. The pianoman knows it. Everyone knows it, but most prefer to drown their worries at Lucky’s, or seek shelter beneath the accomplishments of others, in a twisted devotion of what really matters.

The American Dream is dying. The Italians and Irish have come and stepped on the last vestiges of hope this country still had. The political climate in Europe is becoming too tense for them, and they seek their fortune here – where laws are lax and its once-stalwart defenders can be bribed. It makes one wonder how it has come to this.
There is no definite answer, but we are all to blame. We believed ourselves to be invincible, almighty, untouchable – that only Gods were capable of pulling us of our thrones.
We were sorely mistaken.

Foreigners, to whom violence and vice are a second nature, were – are – the ones that have shown us reality. Every big city has already fallen under their criminal influence. It was only a matter of time before they would show up here. The bootlegging operation in the grade school? The illegal stills that have been been found in the hospital? These are crimes that, even to this day, still appall us.

The worst part? These intruders actually have to share their guilt with others. To save a dying man one has to do more than bat away the vultures preying on a quick meal. To save a dying city you’ve got to strike at the very heart of the problem itself. And I call that problem 'the Fraternal Order of Police'.
They’ve been running the town for years, like ever-vigilant guardsmen, but who watches the watchmen? Their corruption and strong-arm tactics have done this city more harm than good. What this city needs are good and honest men that are willing to put a stop to all of this.

This city isn’t dead yet – we mustn’t allow ourselves to be pressurized by dirty cops or by mafiosos. The moment we start to fear change, to fear death, we have already lost! That is why, dear citizens of this once-great town, we must p-"

A soft cough from the corner of the room put a halt to the tirade.
Jim Morris, aide to Frank Meadows, mayorial candidate, wiped some sweat from his forehead. For an everyday office, it was cramped, with walls that seem to draw closer whenever you're not looking.
Still, Jim knew that he couldn't pass up this momentum. He pressed his advantage.
"I don’t know, Mr. Meadows-" he began, before quickly correcting himself. "or Frank, if you'd prefer that. You don't want to make too much enemies here. Running for mayor is difficult without the backing of t-"

“That’s exactly what needs to change around here!", Frank snapped. "Whether a mayor stands or falls shouldn’t depend on what a spaghetti-eating mongrel European or a corrupt policeman says. This country was built on freedom, and that, my dear Jim, is worth fighting for. Things are going to change around here.”

An uncomfortable silence fell over the room. The kind of silence where the most importants things remain left unsaid.

After a moment, Frank walked back to his desk, sat down, and sighed.
"See if you can find something on that Zar Peter guy," he said, his eyes drawn to an old family picture on the wall.
Jim nodded and stood up.

"That's the way my brother would have done things, and it cost him his life."

“Hm?" Jim said, hlding the door ajar. "Did you say something, sir?”

“Nothing," Frank said, leaning back in his chair and looking out the window.
"Nothing of importance."