He waited outside the all night diner to make sure the coast was clear. This was a truce, they’d called it and he had to make absolutely sure the coast was clear. So far it looked like it was.
His first rule when meeting with a very hostile enemy is making was to always arrive early. And, of course, be armed.
While watching the diner he noticed the table the meeting was going to be at was already occupied. Meaning, he wasn’t early enough.
With a sigh he flicked his cigarette to the ground into a rain puddle, pulled up his collar and jogged across the street to the diner.
It was 4:15 in the morning, and he was on time. He fingered the pistol in his pocket, and opened the door.
About a dozen of the tables were filled at the diner, working stiffs coming off shift at the factory, three milk men swapping stories over pancakes before their morning deliveries, and a tired waitress taking orders while the fry cook prepares eggs and hashbrowns for the patrons. Smoke curled through the air from the cigarettes and stove top.
There was only one other gangster in the place, sitting in the back booth by the bath rooms.
He walked up to the table gesturing to one of the open seats on the bench “Is this seat taken?”
“It is now. Help yourself.”
After ordering, the gangster that was waiting in the booth spoke up “You’re a hard man to find. The last member of the Joker’s Troupe. ”
“I get around.”
“How much do you want to finally leave town?”
“$1000 and a guarantee that I won’t be killed where ever I go.”
“Is that all? I have that here in cash…” as he reached into his jacket the Troupe member drew out his pistol and pointed it across the table.
“Keep your hands where I can see them. Now reach in and grab ALL your cash, I’ll need traveling money….”
BOOMBOOMBOOMBOOM
The window shatters as multiple shotgun blasts from assassins outside the resturant shooting into their victim turn the last Joker’s Troupe member’s insides outside and all over the table, the chair, and the fry cook.
As the gangster leaves the table, wiping off with a napkin and stepping over the blood pools he remarks “You certainly do get around.”
The City – At the City Museum
Richard 'Rick' O'Connell and his fiancé Evelyn Carnahan have come to the city on a tour with High Priest Imhotep’s treasures before they return to England to marry and buy their house.
They’ve stored their treasures in the City Museum, to include a sarcophagus with an unknown mummy. Imhotep’s living priests, converts from Imhoteps most recent attempt to take over the world, have followed Rick O’Connel and Evelyn Carnahan to the City in an attempt to capture Evelyn and resurrect Imhotep again.
The leader of the High Priests is currently possessed by Imhotep, and if they succeed in defeating all enemies (winning the game) they will have succeeded in resurrecting Imhotep!
The Rules
Spoiler
Rules - Rule 1 – Don’t sign up unless you’re willing to play any role. You are not allowed to give up your roles.
Rule 2 –Read your PMs. You may receive a message, or be killed, and it won’t be broadcasted to the game. Read your PMs before you check the updates to see if you’ve been killed.
Rule 3 - This is a game based on turns - 48 hour day phases (comic updates notwithstanding) and 24 hour night phases.
Rule 4 - We are using "Helgraf's Interference rule" for multiple scries. If more than one person scries the same person (i.e. Mafia VI when 3 (!) people scried Shadow on Night 1) then the results for all scries is "Undetermined" or something to that effect.
Rule 5 – Due to the Abduction rules, if you’ve been killed in game PLEASE DON’T POST IN THE THREAD UNTIL YOUR BODY IS FOUND.
We reserve the right to add more rules, especially if someone tries to break our game.
Autolynches are enforced for every two day phases without a vote. Pointing at yourself doesn't count. If you don't think you can post once every five days, expect to be autolynched. This is after all a turn-based game with winners and losers, which has elements of team work, subterfuge, and a time limit. These time limits are enforced to maintain game balance.
______________________________________________
Roles: Masons - Fraternal Order of Police (Good Guys). Traditional mason role. These are the few good cops trying to turn the city around again.
Once the “Bad Guys” the Fraternal Order of Police have rebounded and now represent the honest cops of the City. Allied with the Citizens, Commissioner Gordon, the Warden, and the Richard 'Rick' O'Connell, but do not start out knowing who they are. The Fraternal order of Police does know all of its members. (Scry as Masons)
Winning the Game: The Masons win if they successfully eliminate both the Falcone Mob and the High Priests.
Baner - Richard 'Rick' O'Connell
May make one Bane attempt per night protecting a citizen from assassination.
Carries both a cat and a shotgun. Mummies are afraid of cats, and gangsters must respect the shotgun.
Winning the Game: The Baner wins if they successfully eliminate both the Falcone Mob and the High Priests. Allied with the Citizens, Commissioner Gordon, the Warden and Fraternal Order of Police, but does not start out knowing who they are. (Scries as Baner)
Seer or Scryer – Commissioner Gordon
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 – Falcone Mob and the High Priests. (Scries as Seer).
Fool - Warden Gad Hassan or “the Warden” Believes he/she is Commissioner Gordon. Allied with the Citizens. You may make one Scry a night and have 35% accurate results. Will still receive a result which is 65% likely to be false. (Scries as "the Warden" or "the Fool")
Your win conditions are: Eliminating both groups of Wolves – Falcone Mob and the High Priests.
The Siblings (uses the rules of the Lovers) Sibling - Sister – Evelyn Carnahan– The siblings know each other at the start of the game. Evelyn is wanted by the High Priests as High Priest Imhotep believes Evelyn is the reincarnation of his former lover Anck Su Namun. If Evelyn is killed by the High Priests, lynched, or autolynched the High Priests receive a one time free scry.
Sibling - Brother – Jonathan Carnahan – The siblings know each other at the start of the game. Jonathan is wanted by the Falcone mob to settle a gambling debt. If Jonathan is killed by the Falcone mob, lynched, or autolynched the Falcone mob receive a one time free scry.
Winning the Game: The Siblings win if they successfully eliminate both the Falcone Mob and the High Priests.
The Citizens (Villagers)
These are the everyday members of society. They usually play by the rules and follow the law; however, that isn't to say that when an opportunity comes along to get a leg up they wouldn't take advantage. The goal of the Citizenry is to get rid of the Falcone Mob and HIgh Priests. The citizens are really in the game for themselves to survive. You may vote once per day phase to try to make this city a better place. Allied with the Fraternal Order of Police, Richard 'Rick' O'Connell, Commissioner Gordon, and the Warden, but knows none of these roles in advance. (Scry as Citizens)
Winning the Game: The Citizens win if they successfully eliminate both the Falcone Mob and the High Priests.
The Bad Guys
The High Priests- .
High Priest Imhotep - The High Priest Alpha. Sends in the nightly kills, or designates one of the other High Priests to do so. (Scries as “Citizen”).
Beni Gabor – High Priest Devil. 100% scry once per night. If he dies, the High Priests lose their ability to Scry. (Scries as “Beni Gabor – High Priest Devil”).
High Priests (High Priests)
The other members of the High Priests - standard wolf role, counting towards victory. (Scries as High Priests – Wolf)
High Priest’s Victory Conditions: Eliminate the Falcone Mob and equal or outnumber the Citizens/Fraternal Order of Police/Commissioner Gordon at the end of the game.
The High Priests have two options for their night kill:
Public killing – The public killing is a message to the citizenry to stay out of the way, and accept things the way they are. Traditional night kill, body left in the street, etc. Usually very messy and a loud statement.
OR - Abduction
The Wolves send in the kill saying they want to abduct and kill a player. If the player is not protected (baned) in the night phase – they disappear. The player will be PM’d they’ve been killed, and the body will turn up two or three day phases later.
I.E. If a player is abducted Night 1, the body will turn up the morning of Day 3-4. This is why it is very very important to NOT SPEAK IN THE GAME IF YOU HAVE BEEN KILLED. Don’t worry, the body will turn up.
The Falcone Mob (Mafia):
Falcone - .
The Falcone Mob Alpha. Calls the hits, runs the city after winning Mafia VII (Scries as “Citizen”).
The Consigliore - Falcone Mob Devil - 100% scry once per night. If he dies, the Mafia lose their ability to Scry. (Scries as “Falcone mob Consigliore”)
Falcone Mob Gangster.
Standard wolf role, counting towards victory.
(Scries as “Mafia – Falcone Mob”)
Mafia Victory Conditions: Eliminate the High Priests and equal or outnumber the Citizens/Fraternal Order of Police/Commissioner Gordon at the end of the game.
Falcone's mob has two options for their night kill:
Public killing – The public killing is a message to the citizenry to stay out of the way, and accept things the way they are. Traditional night kill, body left in the street, etc. Usually very messy and a loud statement.
OR – Abduction
The Wolves send in the kill saying they want to abduct and kill a player. If the player is not protected (baned) in the night phase – they disappear. The player will be PM’d they’ve been killed, and the body will turn up two or three day phases later.
I.E. If a player is abducted Night 1, the body will turn up the morning of Day 3-4. This is why it is very very important to NOT SPEAK IN THE GAME IF YOU HAVE BEEN KILLED. Don’t worry, the body will turn up.
The Players
Spoiler
Atreyu the Masked Llama
deathslayer7
Dr Bath
Fin
Freshmeat
Hero 1.0
KerfuffleMach2
Lavidor
Mordokai
Mountain Faerie
Murska
Mustiado
Reinholdt
Selrahc
Shadowcaller
SweetLikeLemons
The Bushranger
Vampiric
Whitehelm
Zar Peter
Eric smiles as he watches his roses grow. They were his source of income, and even in this bloodstrained city, they still grew tall. Soon, maybe even the special roses would grow. The roses grew fine elsewhere, but here, in this city, there was rumored to be a love that had lasted throughout most of the city's hardest time. Maybe here, where love could be so strong, his couple roses would finally bloom.
An older gentleman reaches out and pets the dog as he walks down the street, pulling a piece of jerky out of his pocket and tossing it to the hound before continuing down the street. He whistled as he walked, enjoying the reclaimed free air... Again. He was experienced in facing the Falcone's as a former Trouper, and dabbled in the supernatural during his time heading his own gang as the Sapphire Snake. They wanted his knowledge and expertise... He assured them that if they just let him free, the people they were investigating would come to him... Or give him an early funeral and save them the upkeep. Either way, he was free... To pursue an old contact.
((OOC: Oh Mountain Faerie...))
__________________
Half-Orc Scout by Magioth
Founder of the Therkla Fanclub My Exalted Characters
it was raining again. it was always raining. hockey season was over. so was his career in politics. today he was at the train station with his cart of watches. he sat on his stool and waited. that creepy feeling was crawling up his back again. something bad was going to happen somewhere in town. and the first indication was when he got off the train. agent fairchilde. when he showed up it ment things had gotten serious enough for the feds to take action. serious trouble usually followed. wasnt henry's concern. not any more. he just sold watches.
psst hey lady. yeah youalarra i got a nice selection of watches. care to see if one catches your fancy?
(random first day point. id rather see alarra make it to the end of the game for once...unless shes a wolf)
Grim vertical slashes opened up on my chest as light, polluted and filtered by the cheap excuses for blinds that hung in the window, made a feeble attempt to claim me. The ceiling fan overhead spun slowly, a treble-pitched whining hum its protest against the function to which it had been assigned in life
I could empathize. I often protested against the functions I had to perform in life.
Large fingers on large hands rose up, rubbing the detritus of another night's unconscious sprawling from my face; skin rubbery except where it was dried and hardened and shot through with hairline cracks, harbingers of wrinkles I'd be entirely too fortunate to live long enough to watch blossom and steal away another precious emblem and replace it with memories and pain. I pushed myself to my feet; felt the mattress buckle in a threatening manner and the springs groan their sordid tales of abuse.
Again, I could empathize.
Dragging myself to my full height, I lurched over to the poorly hung mirror on the pale green wall. What the hell had the landlord been thinking, choosing that color I will likely never know. I regarded my distortion in the glass. Bloodshot and murky; and that was just the eyes. The stale scent of failure hung around this whole building, its fingers slipping through every crack, every chink in the armor of callousness and self-preservation you had to erect to get by day to day; caressing the skin with hot, fevered strokes, invading the nostrils that flared in a ritualistic and ultimately futile attempt to repel an invader who'd long ago co-rented.
I wish I couldn't empathize with that one.
One hand clamped down on a suitcase handle too small to comfortably fit my fingers and I lifted it. I tossed some change and a Jackson on the dresser for what passed for the maid service here, then opened the door.
Spikes of pure pain blinded me a moment, as the sun, filtered now only by the omnipresent haze over the city, led a surprise invasion via my over-dry eyes. Piss-poor day for it, too; I may have even staggered a moment before regaining what passed for my composure. A short walk to the shared facilities, and I stripped down, the reek of failure giving way to a far more human stench, stale sweat, salt and cheap booze rolled off my body in waves. The water - too erratic to be dependably cold or hot, spattered off me at first, as if it, too, was casting me out.
Soap, water and good firm scrubbing. Slowly the effluvium I stewed in was sluiced away, to circle around the drain set in the tile floor, and my despair was masked by the scent of good strong soap. The hair was soaked, slicked back, and a pair of scissors in dire need of replacing were removed. What followed could not be called a haircut by any reputable practictioner of the barber's trade, but it ensured nothing would hang down in front of my eyes.
Water off, towel. Suitcase opened, clean outfit pulled on one piece at a time, the fabric resisting all the way, like a classy dame forced to travel in the company of a low-town thug 'for her protection'.
Eventually, all the angles are covered, though I probably still bear too close a resemblance to a gorilla in a suit than anything that might be called 'gentleman'.
Stop back to drop off something at the flop. Then outside - where the sun has hidden itself and now nasty blattering rain falls. Nobody escapes it; a quiet curse under my breath, and I begin to walk. No umbrella; better my hands stay free anyway, and the rain, for all the grit that would make any fool who looked up into it quickly flinch and wipe at their face; still feels better than morning's sour lashes had.
Not many would recognize me nowadays, and that's the way I like it. Too much ambition, too much desperation. The city strangled its young and imprisoned its elders. Too many people - he couldn't call them friends; no friends here, that sort of thing got you dead right quick - too many people though, ended up in pine boxes ... or pauper's lane.
Not again. Let someone else get their fool head shot being the hero. This city didn't want to be rescued, actively resented those foolish enough to try.
And as much as I hate it, I am beginning to empathize with that, too.
__________________
Navi Plaguelord courtesy of "Make yourself a Navi" website plus some ingenuity on my part...
Werewolf Awards: 'Best Narration: Helgraf' Rabbit says stuff that makes me blush.
Up early in the morning.
As every day.
Without decay.
With passion he rose.
To his stove.
The ninja chihuahua was once again up and early. Some people found it strange that a ninja chihuahua was their baker, but in The City, weirder things have happend, and his goods were just so delicious, pretty much that he had no competition.... Except those darned cheap donut stands.......
He put his love into his work, he put his passion into his creations he put his skill into the food. That's why. That's why he was the only baker in The City. And some secret ingredients.
Even though some people just made their own, afraid of poisening and such between the store and their mouth, they were afraid that there was something that striked then and poisened the delicious food.... But most people weren't that paranoid to carry only closed of hip flasks and a full security system for their food after getting out of the house. Even though the food from his bakery never made a single casualty.
He rose again.
Before the sun was shining.
In the wee hours of the morning, when the moon wasn't hiding.
But he had a early delivery to make, at Ganuraths house.
__________________
Spoiler
Quote:
Originally Posted by RabbitHoleLost
DD: .... DEM HIPS.
Quote:
Originally Posted by banjo1985
My wedding underwear has a picture of Dallas Dakota's face on them.
Quote:
Originally Posted by faerwain
Why do I have the feeling that you actually really grind Smurfs to make your ice cream?
(@EDK I think it's because you pointed at someone without giving a reason but said that you have one.)
Father Peter sits in the train, just entering the town.
At last. Imhotep the great. The absolute superiority. I hope all the resurrection processes are going well. And that I find him in time. It's such a big city, and I haven't much time...
OOC point at Dr. Bath
__________________
Avatar by the great Lord Herman. Many, many thanks!
Empress Catherine by Dr. Bath!
Castaras made the PiratZarrrrr. Thank you very much!
The random person who I haven't even picked a name for points at Aemoh, for hiding from my spreadsheet by having his name at the top, where I won't see it.
Day 1 - Woke up, had a piece of toast for breakfast. First day for almost three months I've managed that without diving under the table when I hear a misfire or some other loud noise outside. They're not after me anymore, the psychiatrist said so...still, best not to tempt fate.
Looking more closely at the toast, I noticed that whole meal bread has lots of little bits in it. Anyone could put poison in there and take me out without an effort. Clearly they've been controlling my mind to buy bread that they can easily camoflage their venoms in. I'm not buying any more wholemeal bread, white for me all the way, its the only way to be sure.
In other news, it looks like that Shishnarfne guy that runs the shop down the road might be a werewolf. I can see through the guys window and he shaves twice a day...something weird about him.
Note to self - Order some wolfs bane and continue vigil.
__________________
Elder Tsofu believes in the power of Banjo!
Last edited by banjo1985 : 09-27-2008 at 10:20 AM.
I fought The Mysterious Circle of Shadowy Chairs in Discworld I (Dei in Machina) till the end, won the game and survived and all I got is this lousy signature line.
A small gust of wind of wind blows across the dusty main road as a lone man walks out of the sun's haze and ambles along at a slow pace into town.
To any observer, the first thing they would see is the mans large sombrero, immediately followed by the sun glinting off the four visible handguns along with ammunition, holstered in two worn gun belts slung over his poncho and shoulders.
No matter where you look from to try to see the man’s face is obscured, save for a bushy black moustache and small goatee. It would appear the man wishes to keep to himself, a lone wolf in a city of ravenous dogs.
He approaches someone and begins "Sir, usted sabe dónde..." but is taken aback when the man Banjo1985 jumps like a cat in the presence of an exploding firework and runs off.
The man stands there for a moment, and then slowly walks further into town.
Quote Of The Week Whenever I Feel Like Updating It (last updated 1/17/12)
Spoiler
Quote:
Originally Posted by Phase
That guy was badass! He was like, "Oh! Oh, you're gonna try to Chuck Norris me, I'll just Chuck Norris you!" Unfortunately, I am the best Chuck Norris since Chuck Norris.
Which is saying something, considering that Chuck Norris... was Chuck Norris.
James finished unpacking the last of the boxes. His job had recently moved him to this city. He was already starting to get familiar with the layout of the city. He usually caught on quick in that area. The neighborhood seemed fine. Although, his neighbor banjo1985 kind of creeped him out.
__________________
Ivaz dressed as Bomb Queen done by myself.
Quotes and goodies:
Spoiler
Quote:
This isn't like the Loch Ness Monster or leprechauns. This is something I have to see to believe.
He believed in previous lives. In his last life, he'd been a private investigator, and part-time superhero of sorts. That had ended abruptly when both himself and his apprentence - who as it happened had been playing both sides of the law - wound up being shot dead by the Joker's bunch on the very same night.
It'd taken him a while to get reincarnated; why, well, who knew? But he was back. And with his old name and everything. Weird. Doubly weird since he was in the same town as somebody moderatly famous with the same last name, but no relation.
Unfortuntly, a careful search seemed to indicate that his one-time sidekick hadn't been brought along. Despite her seeming double-crossing, he still thought highly of her - she'd been a talent. Who knew what might have happened given time? He just hoped that wherever she was she was happy with her lover, who had also fallen foul of the mob.
The Mob. Yes, they were still around. The Falcones. Would nobody ever manage to wipe them out? Bah. Well, it was a dirty job, but somebody had to do it.
And so that was why he'd rented the small office. The sign on the door read, "P. O'Connell, Private Eye." That was his cover. His real work was done at night after the sign was turned to "closed". That was one of the side benifits of his skills, he didn't need much sleep. The major benifits though...
Pulling his bandanna up over the lower part of his face, he reached for the rear doorknob...
...and faded from visibility as he stepped out into the night.
A few minutes later, a mugger in an alleyway froze as a sinister cackle arose from the rooftops behind him. Some things are ingrained in the criminal psyche; a fear of this laugh, carried down through the years, was one of them.
As the would-be mugger fled for his life, bumping into Mordokai in his haste to escape, that cackling laugh was heard once again...
Who knows...what evil...lurks...in the hearts of men?
THE SHADOW KNOWS.
Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha!
Somewhere, a distant train blows its whistle as it travels towards it's unknown destination. Somewhere, a soft gentle rain falls, caressing the earth. Somewhere, a child cries out. When I last visited this city in search of my sister's killers, they found me first. I was fortunate that they underestimated my will to survive, and left me for dead. I limped out of town that night, burning my bridges behind me. That was three years ago. Even still, I find myself wondering late at night why I even bothered to come back here. Not surprisingly, the powers that be are remarkable silent on that matter. At least, some of them are. When I barely escaped with my life, I retreated to the one sanctuary I had left in the world. The house I grew up in. Imagine my surprise when I discover a letter addressed to me hidden in an old toy box.
I still carry that letter for me, as it answered so many questions. My sister was murdered, that much I knew, but the letter filled in so many of the gaps. Her killing was not random. It was an attempt to find me, to destroy me before something of mine could be used against them, something which was part of a past I had long since put behind me, something I hadn't even known at the time. She died to protect a secret I didn't even know existed. She died protecting my son. He was with her when she died, and was taken by her killers. So now, I return to this city to hunt them down, find my son, and avenge all the wrongs done to this city and her inhabitants. In this city the hearts of men may lie in darkness, but the hope of redemption penetrates the deepest shadow.
__________________
I won the WW Game Discworld I (Dei in Machina) by selling sausages ina bun to more than 50% of the surviving player, I showed myself as a cunning, greedy and worthy CMOT Dibbler and all I got is this lousy signature line.
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Trophies.
