Vampire: Renfield's Masquerade (Game Thread)

[Helgraf]

((OOC: Could a kindly moderator move this thread to Structured Games.))


Helgraf & Shadow Present
Vampire: Renfield's Masquerade

The master is coming...
London
1897 A.D.

The air is thick and the fog dense as your carriage draws to stop in front of the Godalming Estate. Stepping out of the carriage you notice just how thick. The enormous estate, which takes up the length of an entire city block is nowhere to be seen, hidden somewhere in what can only be a storm cloud descended upon London in the dying light of day. A pity such a wonderful night would be ruined with such horrible weather, for tonight is the Godalming's annual ball, something which you look forward to every year.

Click.

Clack. He comes...

Click.

Clack. I feel his eyes...

The sound of footsteps can be heard through the mists, drawing nearer by the moment. Your pulse quickens, your mind flashing to a time in the not so distant past.

It was just under ten years ago that the body of Mary Ann Nichols was found but a few miles from where you now stand, the first victim of the one dubbed Jack the Ripper. Since that dreadful day when Nichols was found, the sound of footsteps in the mists has forever heightened your senses in the night's fog.

The hair on your arms stands at attention. Sounds seem muffled and yet too close at the same time. Your heart races just as you race towards the safety of the estate. So thick is the fog that you stumble over the first few steps on the porch, barely catching yourself from a nasty fall on the hard stone below. The footsteps draw nearer. watching me...

Click.
Clack.
Click. always watching...
Clack.

Faster now than before they resound. Regaining your feet, you scramble up the stairs towards the door.

Locked.

Grasping the knocker with sweaty palms, you hardly notice how frantic a beating you're giving the poor door.
Come on already! Open the door!....

Click Clack.
Click Clack.
Click Clack.
Click Clack. Yes Master. I obey.

A figure approaches from the walkway just as the door cracks but an inch.
Throwing the door wide, you scramble in only to find the way blocked.
The butler inquires "Is something the matter? You look a bit pale. Come, let me take your coat."

As the tall, tuxedo-ed servant smiles at you, all your fears drain away.

A foolish laugh escapes your lips as you remember the ball.

But that laugh is drowned away by the howls of a great many wolves close at hand. Tens, no hundreds it seems, just outside the grounds. Through the open doorway a man erupts and slams the large oaken door closed with a fury and desperation you've never seen. He turns then, leaning against the closed door and you notice the crazed man's eyes gleaming in stark contrast to his ghostly pallor.

"They're here. They've followed me here! And the Master! He comes as well. He lied. He deceived me! We are all doomed. Doomed I tell you!" I am loyal, trust me Master

Curly hair shakes and twitches like your nerves from the man's head as he screams in terror and exhaustion before falling to the floor in unconscious heap. From the elongated sleeves of his shirt it's obvious that this deranged man is an escapee from the nearby lunatic asylum.

"Who in Heaven's name is that?" Silas asks.

"Come Mr. Graf. Help me to get him upstairs, if you please."

"Certainly Silas. We shan't leave him on the floor for God's sake," Helmund responds.

The two men raise the poor soul into the air and carry his body up the stairs.
They come back down after the unusual gentleman is seen to.

"Well, Mr. Hadow, that was quite the adventure. I fancy a nip of evening air before I retire. Perhaps you'd care to join me?"

The butler cleared his throat. "Good sirs, I must sternly warn you against leaving the sanctuary of the estate. Wolves have been travelling in packs lately, and they have grown bold, setting upon travellers, and, so I have heard, devouring them to the very bones," he murmured, shuddering at the last bit. "Lord Goldaming has taken precautions; and the high walls and stout gates will surely keep them at bay. He has even brought in the peasants from the local village in keeping with the feudal custom."

"Surely it can't be that bad. I assure you, Mr. Graf and myself are both expert marksmen, and we have brought our pistols - rumours of bandits and all."

"Indeed, nothing we can't handle, I'm sure. Wolves flee from the stench and the flash of gunpowder anyway."

"As milords wish," the butler said, resignedly. An echo of maddened laughter came from the stairs, then the voice, weakened by distance and interveneing walls. "He is coming ... he is cooommm-mming ... MASTER!!," this last delivered in a bone-rattling shriek that cried of despair and want.

Mr. Graf and Mr. Hadow exited the manor. The fog, ever-present, was particularly robust this evening; one could barely see the road ten paces hence; ten more and it dissolved into a world of grey-white mist.

Inside the keep, there was much murmuring, as both guests of the ball and villagers regarded one another with terse glances. The occasional mad ranting by the man upstairs did little for the atmosphere.

Nor did the loud discharge of a pistol-shot ... followed in quick succession by several more.

Click-Clack Click-Clack Click-Clack Click-Clack, and a hard thud against the door ... screams for help ... another firearm discharge, much closer this time. The butler finally getting the heavy door open. Mr. Graf staggered in, carrying the body of Mr. Hadow over his shoulder. Both men's clothes were a ruin of blood. Mr. Hadow's head lolled loosely - too loosely. When Mr. Graf threw him down on the table, it became clear why. Mr. Hadow's throat had been half-torn out. It was clear he was dead. You promised that one for meeeeee....

Mr. Graf looked at the crowd with a mixture of terror and relief in his gaze. He took a glass of brandy the butler pressed into his hands as two of the other servants took the body to another room to be made ready for burial.

"They are ... " he gasped, chest heaving heavily ... "... are ... here." he got out with another gasp, then fell to the floor, motionless. Eventually one of the guests worked up the nerve to turn the man over. It was only then they noticed his black overcoat and brown wescoat were sodden with blood. His own blood. Quickly the garments were shed ... revealing savage wounds along his torso, and more peculiarly, four needle-like punctures along the back of his neck. An argument between Dr. Seward and Quincey P. Morris broke out about how to treat the man. Another man, older, quieter, perhaps more observant looked at the two bodies. Dr. Abraham Van Helsing wiped his brow briefly before speaking.

"Zey are both dead ... both victims of the blood hunt ... of the Wampyr. We are no longer safe. But we dare not go outside ... the devil wolves would tear us apart, as they haf ... Mr. Hadow ... and the brave, yet foolish Mr. Graf who tried to save his remains from their diabolical hunger."

The sun set behind the horizon...

Mr. Graf and Mr. Hadow were killed by vampires. Night 1 begins and will end in 72 hours. Remember that in Vampire, Night is the lynching phase.

((OOC: Could a kindly moderator move this thread to Structured Games. Renfield will bake you some yummy cookies...))

Rules, Roles and Revelations (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showthread.php?t=57187)Yummy bug cookies... I caught them himself...

Player List: 42
The Villagers have survived! All two of them!

Most Recent Update: 01/11/2008 01:16 am EST
The Living (2)

Atreyu the Masked Llama
CurlyKitGirl

The Dead (40)

Pwenet - Thrown to the wolves Night 1
Eldritch Knight - Killed Day 1
Khaldan - Death by Cannon Explosion Night 2
Stu42 - Death by Cannon Explosion Night 2
Banjo1985 - Killed Day 2
Andre Fairchilde - Defenestrated & Wolf-Chow Night 3
Flying Elephant - Shot to death Night 3
Indurain - Shot to death Night 3
PirateMonk - Killed Day 3
Castaras - Death by Frenzy Night 4
Joosbawx - Death by Frenzy Night 4
Raeden - Death by Frenzy Night 4
Vuurmeester - Final Death by Sunlight Night 4
Zeratul - Death by Frenzy Night 4
Therarde - Death by Mob Madness Night 5
Raiser B1ade - Drained to Death Day 6
purple gelantinous cube o' Doom - Torn apart Day 6
Terumitsu - Torn apart Day 6
Alarra - Lynched / Sun-exposed Night 7 (Vamp)
Almighty Salmon - Murdered / Sun-exposed Night 7 (Vamp)
evnafets - Slain by vampires Day 7
Traveling_Angel - Slain by the Evoker in retaliation, Day 7 (Vamp)
radikalskippy - Commited Suicide, Day 7
Jeggred Von - Autolynched Night 8
Malmagor Andrigal - Lynched Night 09
Korias - Killed Day 09
Fleeing Coward - Lynched Night 10
Alarra - Lynched Night 11 (Vamp)
freshmeat_ Torn apart by the resurrected Troile, Night 11
Neodan282 - Autolynched Night 11 (Vamp)
Vonriel - Autolynched Night 11 (Vamp)
Pwenet - Autolynched Night 11
Pingcode20 - Autolynched Night 11 (Mina Murray)
Captain van der Decken - Autolynched Night 11
Haruki-kun - Killed Day 11
Lord Fullbladder, Master of Goblins - Lynched Night 12
Jontom Xire - Killed Day 12
ZombieRockStar - Lynched Night 13
Andre Fairchilde - Burned to death Day 13
Hyramgraff - Lynched Night 14
Zar Peter - Killed Day 14
Ichneumon - Lynched Night 15
Eldritch Knight - Killed Day 15
Ink - Lynched Night 16.

[Khaldan]

*points at shadow because you can never be too sure he is dead*

Why are you all looking at me like that?!

[Skippy]

Lord Skippy from Goddamnfarshire gets down his carriage, takes a snuff box and a handkerchief. After sniffing, he covers his nose. London has always smelled like this... It smells like rotten flesh and blood everywhere. I need a place to settle and begin the scheme to hunt down all those cursed Vampires... I need to know where to start... You there!"He says, pointing at Andre Fairchilde "Do you know something about the Children of the Night?"

[Helgraf]

But.. but.. but... I signed up too! See? Here! (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showthread.php?t=57187&page=2&p=3213417)

Waaaah! *runs off crying*

Renfield will make it better! *howls*

[Ichneumon]

From one of the roof tops on one of the highest buildings of London, two big yellow eyes gaze into the night. They belong to Ichneumon, the anthropomorfic wasp. He searches the crowds of people below. He knows they are there. Vampires, vampires. They are here. I must stop them. Slowly he climbs down. He never understood how some people could attain the dexterity to crawl on walls. He always had difficulty climbing walls. It must be some kind of gift, I wish I would learn that one day.

Walking through the crowd he suddenly stops. He points at Ink .You! You must know more. You must help me defeat all those vampires. I can see it in your eyes. You must know more.

[banjo1985]

A rickety old coach drawn by an ugly looking horse. A bent old man drops out with the help of an old cane that looks almost as wizened as him. He wears a plain white jacket and a cream tie, everything else he wears and carries is black, except for the banjo strapped over one shoulder.

Old Man Jenkins walks through the doors and takes a look around the musty old building.

" Eh, I've seen better."

The hosts demise and the wolves outside diminish his bravado somewhat.

"Vampires? Wolves? What the hell is going on here?! Is that the scream of the dead that I hear? No...it seems to have stopped now at least. Ahhhhh a creature of the night!?Old Man Jenkins points at the Cassie Kitty that just walked through the door.

((Now Ink's deleted his early post my point doesn't make sense, so I've changed it at random))

[Jeggred Von]

Sliding his knife out from between the ribs, the thug's lifeless body slumped to the cold cobblestones of the manor's back room. The mist escaped through the deadly wound as the life ebbed from the corpse. The scared chamber maid with the torn dress shook in shock as a few tears streamed down her face.
"Easy now girl. Rest easy. This big lug'll not harm ye anymore, not in this life, anyhow."
Jeggred sheathed his dagger into his coat and Looked to the dead criminal.
"Auch! That is one fine looking coat you have there, M'lord." Jeggred spoke to the dead thug, smirking and putting his hands on his waist.

Jeggred bowed low, flourishing his hand out wide to the sobbing prostitute, before turning to exit the back room. Jeggred pulled his collar up on his new longcoat and dipped his head low, looking right under the brim of his huge feathered hat....both taken from the thug. He tossed his old longcoat to the chambermaid and picked up his violin, plucking a few strings as he walked to the main hall's doorway.

Spotting a stranger, Jeggred points a gloved finger at Khaldan and walks back through the doorway into the manor's kitchen.




.

[Korias]

Korias snores loudly, tossing and turning on his old sleeping mat. *Snore*....*Paunch*.... *Murmur*... He sleeps soundly, only to wake up with a dazed look on his face. Hungry... he lurches towards Khaldan, and says Say, Mate... Could ya bring me an apple? I havent had a good one in ages. Now that he's standing up, you can see his attire, grubby as it is. He wears a long pirate's coat, unfastened and strewn with streaks of dry mud. His face is covered in dirt, and his hair matted in many places. Beneath his coat is a simple brown (Or mud covered, its hard to tell) shirt and pants.
Well mate? I'd be loving me an apple right about now...

[Pwenet]

((Points at Khaldan while trying to work up a character for this game.))

[Haruki-kun]

((Points at Shadow. I still don't know what kind of character to play yet.))

Well, Crap.......

[Skippy]

((Points at Shadow. I still don't know what kind of character to play yet.))

Shadow is dead. He's the narrator

[Andre Fairchilde]

50 Silver a month to cover expenses and travel. It's an honor to be selected. Only the most holy, the most righteous complete training. The most justified...

What they don't explain is the temptations. You arrive in a town and everyone is pointing "Witch" at one another. Some of the finger pointing - if not all is for personal reasons; vendetta, greed, lust, whatever.

Sometimes the accused is rich, and there are a lot of people that can benefit from a merchant no longer holding the town in it's debts....

Sometimes the accused is a wife, a mother, a girlfriend, a brother, a father, or a teacher - any of which has cheated, lied, stolen, or lusted after the wrong person. Sometimes it's about revenge.

The opportunistic see me as a solution, the righteous fear me... but those that should fear me - the wicked - know me as what I really am... a Knights Templar Witchhunter.

I don't really care if the wife has been cheating, but I'll burn the house down anyway. If there is the tiniest chance the infestation of evil exists - it must be expunged in the holiest of fires.

I don't really care if the merchant owns the town through debt, if he is the son of the devil and a Vampire - I will cut his head off and stake it to the roof of a church.

Today, I am here to ask Alarra some questions.

[Pwenet]

((Based on recent events, I change my vote towards Andre Fairchilde for pointing at poor Alarra at the start of the game. Give her a break and let her play for once, please.))

[Vuurmeester]

John Burns looked around the castle afraid he would be taken by the darkness ready to strike.

John Burns of the Times, here to bring a report of the rumoured darkness in this castle.

You, Pwenet, why did you point at Khaldan as the third person, before switching to mr. Fairchilde. Realized that action is suspicious or is there some other reason, please do tell.

[Castaras]

A faint scratching sound comes from one of the doors, a timid little kitten peering nervously out from her hiding place.

Mew?

The pure white kitten slinks slowly out, looking around at the crowds.

Meow mew miiiiiiiaaoooooow.

It trots over to Pwenet, and sits in front of him, looking pathetically up at him with wide, green eyes.

[Andre Fairchilde]

((Based on recent events, I change my vote towards Andre Fairchilde for pointing at poor Alarra at the start of the game. Give her a break and let her play for once, please.))

(It was an RP point; I'll change my point as soon as we find someone that either confesses to being a vampire, or has been off the boards for two weeks and will probably autolynch anyway.)

[Pwenet]

(It was an RP point; I'll change my point as soon as we find someone that either confesses to being a vampire, or has been off the boards for two weeks and will probably autolynch anyway.)

((Fair Enough. Mine is semi-RP, plus defense for the lynch Alarra bandwagon that seems to happen way to often at first, just having a brain-lock trying to come up with a character.))

[Haruki-kun]

A large man in a brown coat walks into the Mansion. He looks exotic, his clothes ragged and torn. While he seems friendly, you can immeiately tell this is a man who's seen his share of Night creatures.

As he joins in conversation, he talks about the places he's seen in Europe, Africa, and Asia, fighting the demonic beasts in said places.

We must be very careful. You never know where they might show up. In the meantime, might I ask how things are around here? And why is that Andre Fairchilde pointing at that woman?

[Ichneumon]

As soon as the half-wasp/half-human walks to Ink, ready to question him, Ink suddenly disappears in a pink cloud of deleted posts..... As soon as the cloud vanishes, it is clear that Ink has left the scene...

Strange, where could he have gone?

A small voice in his head tell him it is not important.

How could it be not important? He just turned into a pink cloud of smoke? Where could he be? How did he do that?

The voice tells him that there are more important things to do.

So he forgets about Ink and walks away, still a bit confused.

[Shadow]

"The maaaster made it all better for him.
Now he's ready to feed the master and give him strength, as you will if you stay....
Yes you will....
Renfield shakes his head and his eyes clear for a moment.
No master. I cannot.
"Save yourselves, all of you. Risk the night air and RUN!"

[Jeggred Von]

Placing his violin down, Jeggred moves off a bit to the pantry, plling out a bit of Rye bread and some venison meat. Cutting himself off a chunk, he places it on the bread and retrieves his violin.

Walking back into the main hall, Jeggred tips his hat back so he can properly eat and leans against the wall, watching the main door.

[Atreyu the Masked LLama]

*From the stables, there is an NPC who has heeded Renfield's advice and is saddling up Mr. Hadow's first class pedigreed riding llama to escape.

(You know, being a 1st class pedigree is much more glamorous than being a nag. :smallwink: )

*As the man throws open the gates, he kicks the llama in the sides to spur him on, but the beast stays rooted to the ground. The llama hears the howling and feels something out there. It refuses to budge. The man swears loudly and goes to run back into the manor. The llama follows the man and forces himself into the house. The NPC curses and tries to shoo the beast away, but it refuses to go back outside. After spitting rather rudely on the NPC, the llama tries to get farther into the house to get away from the doors and windows.*

[Ichneumon]

The waspman hides inside the house. He doesn't think. His thoughts are at a minimal level as he knows that if there are any complex thoughts to be made the voice will make them. He only knows one thing, the vampires must die.

He closes one of his eyes. Listening to the everlasting alien music in his head.
Yes, I can wait. Let them come, let them come.

[Indurain]

Being very busy with other games, I'm not sure how heavily I'll RP this one. We'll see...for now though.

I point at Korias. On the grounds that he was the first one to second a point. Trying to start a bandwagon? Perhaps, but it's the first day night, and that's about the most we have to go on. I'm not going to point at Andre just because he didn't "give Alarra a chance".

[Freshmeat]

Upon hearing of an impending vampire attack, Frederic Mearingdor, a blonde-haired young man, begins to grow wary of the other guests. After a quick look around, his gaze settles on Pwenet.

[CurlyKitGirl]

The sound of gay French dancing music whirls dizzily from a mansion on the outsirt of London; the most atmospheric of the capitals of the wrold this night. The mist eddies eerily acrosss the vast grounds and winds its way through the dark towering ppines and evergreens lininng the gravel drive.
As the music ecstatically roars to a fever ppitch of geteel frenzy faint raucous laughter can be heard coming from the downstairs*; a child or stablehand looking enviously in from the dank outdoors will see a perplexing scene. Very perplexing indeed.
A girl of high standing, in single girl who should be at the ball being courted is in th kitchen slurping beer and eating bread and dripping with the help! But then you wipe away the mist on the flawed glass and realise it is only Lady Clara. Lady Clara, the most eccentric of all the debutantes for near a score of years. You relax and enter the kitchen boldly, lnowing iith certainty that she'll offer you a small something to eat. "Hey, Charlie. Fancy a bit o' dripping tonight." Lady Clara is talking normal talk this night so you answer back in kind. "Thank you Miss Clara." Seizing the dripping from Lady Clara you pass along an interesting tidbit; "Apparently, Mr. Graf and 'is servant Silas were bit to death by some Children of the NIght. although evryone really thinks it's just
Lord Fullbladder out for the lands again Miss." Lady Clara laughs coasely and nods for the gossip to continue. You relax and enjoy the warmth tonight, companionable with all present.


*downstairs - a very much British euphemism for the servants quarters and the place where alol the wrok gets done Except the cleaning, naturally darling.
((For all to note: Lady Clara is the PC of Curly. Charlie is just an NPC or tool to pass along the less refined gossip my character may or may not have heard. Point at Lady Clara to help the Narrators will you? Oh, Narrators; I may not always be able to post within the usual autolynch limits so could you grant me some grace with the autolynch rule please.))

[Terumitsu]

Stepping forth from his room in a well-to-do inn, Terumitsu adjusted his hair in passing and looked at the streets with bland contempt. Such a dirty town... But buisness called him and he must answer. He notices a movement of something behind a window and gives Ichneumon a rather unkind look for his odd actions.

[HyramGraff]

I say, that Ink fellow seems to be an odd one.

[Alarra]

Alarra stands at the window of a neighboring manor, watching the fog creep across the grounds with an impending sense of dread. A wolf howl in the distance sends a chill along her spine and she clutches her dressing gown closer around her shoulders. She squints through the gloom toward the neighboring walk and catches a glimpse of a large figure in the moonlight, entering the mansion. She glares (points) at him (Haruki-kun), wondering what he is up to.

A knock from below draws her attention and she turns to head downstairs.
She pauses near the foot of the stair, one hand trailing along the ornately wrought iron railing, as she listens to her butler addressing the man at her step.
"The hour is late good sir, the lady is likely abed. As ought you be. Ill night to be moving about."

"Questions? I dare say you ought return to ask them in the morn.. There's an inn up yonder, I dare say they might put you up the even."

"Robert..." A voice like silk caresses the air, interrupting the conversation and causing both men to turn toward the elegant woman crossing the foyer. "It's alright. He's not awakened me." She smiles at the guest. "An ill night indeed and twould be a remiss hostess that would send you back into it."

She draws the man inside, allowing Robert to close the door and begins to head toward the drawing room. "Questions you say? Of me? I dare say you'll not find me of much interest. Although you are of course most welcome to ask."

"Robert will bring us some tea to ward against the chill evening."

She glances at the small, disapproving butler once more before leading Mr. Andre into the other room. "Do prepare a suite for our guest, won't you."

She smiles once more. "Forgive me sir, I've not even learnt your name."

(Andre, should you not want to have begun questioning Alarra right away, forgive me for taking control of the situation. Hope you don't mind if I npc'd you a mite. Also, I dare say that most of my posts won't be this involved, nor will I have a great deal of time to devote to this game, as school is being insane.)

[Captain van der Decken]

Lurking in an alley, Decken gazes at the witch hunter with slight awe, before spotting Lord Skippy. He scuttles down the road, and pausing to give the kitten a kick, follows his lordship while making faces.

[Traveling_Angel]

"Vampires?" *The next minute is censored*

"Well, I do own a tent shop..."

TA proceeds to run over to his shop and jury rig a bandolier of Wooden stakes.

"Now I just need enough tea to stay awake..."

[Eldritch Knight]

It would appear that this Pwenet is a person of some suspicion.

[Lord Fullbladder, Master of Goblins]

Staring out a window of a building of no real distinction, a man takes off a heavy leather glove to claw at the inside of his ear as the howling occurs. As he examines the wax partially under his fingernail, a blast of steam blooms behind him with an accompanying whistle. At this, he repositioned the large, bright orange goggles from his forehead to his eyes (leaving pale rectangles in the grungy skin) and spins around to observe the results of his latest tests.

Laid out on the table before him, shining brass bristling with copper tubes and silver pipes whirr and twitch as the four claw-like fingers attached to the end of the contraption flex slightly and seem to grip the table before lying dead once more. Lord Fullbladder, having slaved over this arm for a week already, rubs his chin in thought. He ponders on the great amounts of rumours flying about about his nightly disappearances to this remote little house, but every night he returns and sets his brainmeats to mechanical engineering. The howling continues somewhere off in the distance.

"Clara's (Curly) probably going to blame all that ruckus on me again. That woman has her fingers in more affairs than I have tight bolts."

He shakes his head. On the table, the arm's shoulder-tubes whistle weakly.

"Right then, Reginald, let's see if I can't improve your grip."

The arm didn't answer.

((You should never tell me what to do, Curly. I just might do it.))

[Andre Fairchilde]

Templar Fairchilde was not one to let the time of day interfere with his mission. After securing his lodging at the church ('requesting' the Priest's quarters for privacy) Fairchilde checks his equipment - three pistols with silver bullets, three wooden daggers hardened cured with holy water, and a flask with a liqued consecrated by the pope himself.

Foregoing the late evening, Templar Fairchilde smiles as he enters Alarra's study.

As he enters the room, Andre notices watches the small, disapproving butler wince as the lady of the house smoothly coos "Do prepare a suite for our guest, won't you."

She smiles once more. "Forgive me sir, I've not even learnt your name."

"Madam, I very much appreciate your time and hospitality. Tonight I have already moved aside the local priest, but I do belive you are doing the church a great service for allowing my stay in your home. Thank you, we accept.

Allow me to come to my business quickly, as I feel the night harbors dangers to those of the mortal coil. I present to you a this work (hand's Alarra very old, tattered book) that belongs to your family, and as such is your heritage.
If you did not know, your father's brother was a Templar.

Believe it or not he died defending al lthat was good while fighting Werewolves in a small bar named the wolves bane. His papers led me to bring this book to you, as you are his oldest living relative and he had no children.

So, here is your legacy.

Now, before I bid you adieu for the night - but accept your offer of lodgings, can you tell me of a man known as Eldritch Knight Pwenet? I understand he may have been affiliated with some unlicensed witchcraft, and wish to ask him some questions and perhaps burn down his house.

(Although more than likely a villager, Pwenet is opting for either a lynch or autolynch. He's starting a new job and running Zombies, and doesn't think he'll have the time.)

[Pwenet]

Seeing the others look at him, Pwenet shrugs and goes looking for a glass of blood color liquid.

[Madmal]

((points at Korias, until he gets an idea on who to play here))

[ZombieRockStar]

A glass of red wine. Fingers clutching the bowl of the glass like ivy climbing up the side of a wall. He drinks, lips and tongue caressing the rim.

A glare. He remains silent, accusations muted, though his gaze is fixed on Pwenet. He smirks. The wine cup is emptied.

((Ugh...Gothic is not my style, really.))

[Jontom Xire]

((I've spent the last hour reviewing WW games when I should be doing work, so just a quick point at Pwenet and maybe write something later.))

[pingcode20]

*Pointing at Pwenet in lieu of a character concept.

[Ichneumon]

Stepping forth from his room in a well-to-do inn, Terumitsu adjusted his hair in passing and looked at the streets with bland contempt. Such a dirty town... But buisness called him and he must answer. He notices a movement of something behind a window and gives Ichneumon a rather unkind look for his odd actions.

The wasp notices Terumitsu, but doesn't react to his presence. His vision is blurred and he is having spasms all over his body. The voice doesn't speak. It screams. He is the only one who can hear it. It hurts.

The voice never stops. In the beginning the wasp could ignore it, but the last few years the voice has become harder to resist.

He is taking over.

Suddenly the spasms stop. His vision is clear. His head is clear.

His facial expression seems a bit different. With a voice, not his own, he speaks:"Let's kill those vampires, shall we?"

[Neodan282]

A kobold wearing green plumbers clothes and a green hat that has a green N on it looks around.
"V-v-vampires!? Oh no! I came here to get away from ghosts and I run into a vampire zone! YAH!

Turns around and points at a statue of Lord Godming.

[Zar Peter]

Zar Peter, an austrian salesman is sitting at the banket table, eating some baked liver with fried onions, looks up.

Werwolves? I hate these abominations of nature. Much too many of them around here nowadays.
You sir!

points at Pwenet

could you give me some of the red wine, too, please?

[evnafets]

He stands on top of the hill, silhouetted against the sky. He can sense his cousins in the surrounding area but does not approach them, knowing they are in thrall to one who embodies a great and ancient evil. One whose kind is a mortal enemy - not just to him and his, but to all things living.
Raising his muzzle to the bloody moon, he issues a great howl of challenge.

The hunt for the Vampyre has begun.

[Alarra]

Alarra takes the book gingerly, "No. I wasn't aware of this. Thank you."

She gazes at the cover, running a finger gingerly along the spine as she tunes out much of the rest that is spoken, nodding where she deems it appropriate.

After a moment the room lapses into silence and she realizes that she was asked a question and searches back into her mind for what she may have missed. "Pwenet? No. I'm afraid I do not know of him. Though I wish you luck in your search should you find he does have dealings with the occult."

She still appears preoccupied and it isn't difficult to tell that while she is attempting to remain courteous and the perfect hostess that she wants nothing more than an opportunity to peruse the tattered tome alone.

[Andre Fairchilde]

With that, Andre leaves takes his leave from his societal betters, and leaves her to her thoughts.

[Vonriel]

A handsome man dressed in the finest cut suit is still standing, looking at the corpses of Silas Hadow and Helmund(?) Graff. "What is it about vampires that makes them do this. Both these men were respectable, decent folk. Some might even call them grand." He stands in silence, mentally cursing the vampires. "Their deaths shall not be in vain." He paces back and forth, willing to wait out the last few moments before night ends. "What, you thought I would go out at night? With this fog? I may be out for blood, sir, but I'm no idiot."

[Therarde]

A man hurries through the door. He hangs his coat on the coat rack and closes the door as quickly as possible, kupo. A bit of a chill out tonight.

[Helgraf]

From the top of the bannister at the top of the stairs, the crazed man dangles, pop-eyes looking at all those assembled.


"Decide ... decide ... life inside and death without. Find them!" Yessss... find them my pretty children.

He dangles upside down, held up only by his feet hooked into the metal latticework of the rail, swaying back and forth like a mad child ... or an agitated bat. Yessss ... No ... which one are you, Master. I know you are here...

"Morning comes and nighttime fails ...
The sun in these walls ne'er prevails ...
So find thee all a toothsome friend ...
... and pray so after night ends."


The madman flips back over the rail and scampers out of sight.

[Ink]

A tourist stands alone in an empty space in the crowd. One look at him and it is obvious that he is not from these parts. He is wearing a strange getup that includes a jacket and pants with plenty of pockets that are bulging with various paraphernalia.

"Aha, vampires, is it? My time to shine!"

He whips out a book titled Vampire Hunting for Dummies and opens to a page.

"Let's see... Step 1: Get some wooden stakes. Check! Step 2: Make sure you have plenty of holy water. Check!" He pats the utility belt at his waist that is slung with potion bottles of all shapes and sizes. "Step 3: Have garlic ready. Hah! Way ahead of you! Good thing I bathed in the garlic oil this morning!" A few of the people closest to him edge further away but he doesn't notice. "Step 4: Find a vampire." He falters here and looks around uncertainly. Suddenly he spots Atreyu nearby.

"Hmm, strange beast... Let's see... woolly... four legs..."

As he peers at the Llama, Ink flips fervently through the book trying to find the chapter on vampire descriptions.

[Shadow]

The tension in the air is thick as the crowd begins to gather around Pwenet. The stranger in the manor backpeddles through the ballroom searching for a way out, a way to safety.
The moon hangs low on the horizon.
Pwenet looks left, towards the crowd, then right, towards the door where the wolves still howl beyond.

The deranged man from earlier this evening appears next to the seemingly doomed Pwenet and whispers something in his ear. Pwenet's eyes grow wide at the words.
The Master will have you either way.....
"It matters little where you run. It matters little." Renfield says aloud in a singsong voice.

[Atreyu the Masked LLama]

(Hehehe. Nice, Ink.)

*The llama trots around inside the house. Its hopelessly lost, but at least the feeling of dread and death that was outside is less strong in here. It accidently bumps Ink as it meanders around.*
(no reason, but hey, it may lead to fun RP.)

[CurlyKitGirl]

Merriment is abound in the downstairs of Lupe Manor; the heiress of its vast astates is tipsy and laughing along with the servants.
"Clara! Hwhat h'are you doing here?" Spinning around Clara stares aghast at the figure in the doorway. An ice woman dressed in icy green silk is standing in the doorway of the kitchen.
"Mama!"
"How are you ever to get married h'if you persist in consorting with the help? I should not even be here but I was afraid that Lord Poynton Bradbury Wynter Cole would come in search h'of h'you. And you know how he is. A perfect gossip." Grabbing her daughter delicately by the arm, so as not to harm the fabric she pulls her daughter away from her companions and into the dizzying world of falsity and bargaining.
Clara stands dejectedly by her mothers side as noblemen cast an appraisig eye at her wondering, "Is she rich enough to be married to my son? She certainly is catching, in a peculiar way; but far to ruddy. That can be fixed but is she worth my son?" Clara just stands there, eyes downcast and playing the part of "A shy rather withdrawn child who prefers sowing and gentle reading h'above h'anything else."
"Bloody woman."

((Hey, is this Alarras' mansion, mine or Helmund Grafs'? Or is it Anonymous Maison?))

[Shadow]

((It is Lord Godalming's Estate.))

[Jeggred Von]

Adjusting his wide brimmed hat, Jeggred "The Jackyl" Picks at one of the violin strings as he ear-tunes it, twisting it's tuning peg. A few strange things hang of the end of the scroll end of the neck. A necklace with a large incisor, a tied bit of hair, a red ribbon and a few baubles. Finding the correct pitch of sound to his liking, he refocused his attention around the room.

Jeggred viewed the strange gathering of people and ...llamas... milling about the mansion. He walked over to where Piratemonk stood and leaned against the ornate pillar where he stood.

"Strange dealings within these lands. Might be that the lot of us in this house be a sight big meal for the puppies outside, eh?" Jeggred smirks, showing a single golden capped incisor. His canines dull and flat.

"Don' worry tho. With the ammoun' o' people in dis room, give us plenty o' time ta get out, if'n the puppies learn da windows are thin.." Jeggred smiles again and pulls his bow from under his arm, and begins to play his violin. A dark somber ballad.

[Alarra]

((Hey, is this Alarras' mansion, mine or Helmund Grafs'? Or is it Anonymous Maison?))

(I'm over in my own mansion next door. :smallsmile: )

[CurlyKitGirl]

((hey hey, come over for a spot of afternoon tiffin then:smallbiggrin: ))

[Raeden]

Seemingly unbothered by the thick fog, a tall man with a rough appeareance walks over the estate. Over his right shoulder he carries a juvenile female deer, holding on to her hind legs with a hand covered with dried up blood, in his other hand he holds a couple of rabbits. Two long knives are sheathed on his belt, and over his free shoulder hangs a hunting riffle. His strong arms and unshaven face spot bruises and small cuts, his clothes are ruffled and slightly torn, and his eyes are red with swollen veins. This man has had a rough night.

Homing in on the manor with senses refined by a long life of hunting, Raeden walks past the dead bodies. "Fools," he thinks to himself als he enters the manor, guessing the deceased are victims of the wolves. Inside, he walks up to the first person he sees, Ink, who is staring at a wooly creature.
"Hey, Raeden start's his sentence, not really being a person of good manners and social talk, you seem to have an interest in animals. D'you know where I can deliver these dead ones? Y'see, I'm a little late for the ball, but I couldn't show up without a present for lord Godalming y'know.

[Ichneumon]

The dark shadows are moving. Something is chaging. We must be quick. The vampires are coming.

Ichneumon starts walking in circles. He doesn't have a plan, and he knows that is dangerous. They are the children of the night, they kill and do so without any doubt.

I must have a plan.

[Almighty Salmon]

Out of the pitch black shadows a well-built athletic man swiftly walks in. In his left hand he carries a long black bow and on his back a quiver which holds many arrows. He wears a drawn out cloak accompanied by a deep green hood. The man says no words yet this apohtic brown eyes tell a thousand stories.

He raises an eyebrow and looks over towards Ichneumon who is walking in circles.

[Therarde]

The man finds a place to sit down and notices the llama. Hm. Haven't seen one of those for quite a while.

[zeratul]

Zeratul who has been sitting in the corner enigmatically smoking a pipe gets up. "Hmm... vampires eh? Nothing a stereotypical Aragorn-esque mysterious stranger can't take care of!" (goes for the obvious, and points at Zombie Rock Star)

[Flying Elephant]

"Vampires? There is no such thing as a vampire! Some prankster must have done this. Korias must be hung for starting this mob."

[Ink]

*The llama trots around inside the house. Its hopelessly lost, but at least the feeling of dread and death that was outside is less strong in here. It accidently bumps Ink as it meanders around.*

"Gah! The beast attacks! Away, you foul creature of the night! Take this!"

As he leaps to one side, Ink uncorks one of his potion bottles and splashes the contents over the llama. "A-HA! Now you... eh?" He stands looking confounded as the creature does not go up in a puff of smoke. "But that was the finest stock from Honest Harry's Discount Shop. Holiest time of the year to be brewing holy water, Harry said. Hmmm..." He consults his handbook. "Identifying a vampire. 1) Vampires have two sharp implements in their mouths for drawing blood."

"Got it!" Ink lunges at the llama and grabs him in a headlock to try and pry open his mouth.

[Shadow]

The moon sinks even lower in the slowly brightening sky.
The Master will have you either way.....
"It matters little where you run. It matters little." Renfield says aloud in a singsong voice.
Yes. Feed the Master's servants and give them strength....
Converging, the frightened guests at Lord Godalming's ball practically surround the poor hapless Pwenet.
The devil-wolves howl in the courtyard, catching the scent of Pwenet's fear on the wind. Renfield licks his lips in anticipation of the events to come.
Eyes wide, the stammering Pwenet pleads "Please. Why are you all surrounding me. I'm no demon! Let me leave this place. Let me leave and tempt the night and it's beasts outside."
Vuurmeester, Castaras and Freshmeat grasp the sobbing Pwenet and begin to drag him towards the door.

"You want to go outside, do you?"
"I think we can assist you with that good sir."
"Yes. Yes we'll put you outside. Out into the coming sunlight DEVIL!"
Yesss. Outside as the Master wills it.
The three drag Pwenet to the entrance and draw the door open a tiny bit. A few of the guests guard the door from the numerous wolves with gathered rifles and pistols.
Shoving Pwenet outside and slamming the door closed behind him, the wolves begin to howl frantically.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry. Let me back in, I beg of you." Pwenet screams in terror. "Don't leave me out here."

Color washes over the ballroom and foyer as the sun crests the horizon. Stained glass comes alive in the heights of the manor.

Pwenet screams.

The wolves cry out together.

Fearing to open the door and let Pwenet back in, the guests rush upstairs to high windows overlooking the courtyard.
The body of Pwenet has been torn apart by the devil-wolves that have laid siege upon Godalming Manor. A few remain near the door, lapping up blood from pools as if they were merely sipping from a stream.

One window is closed in silence as you all realize your mistake.
Another holds Renfield, his attention never wavering from the carnage below. Yes Master. Let your minions fed and grow strong.


Pwenet was lynched by the guests.

Night One ends as Dawn breaks.

Please PM all daytime activities
(Vampire kills, Van Helsing protection, Tremere incantations, ect.)
to both Helgraf and Shadow.
Dusk falls in approximately 24 hours.
Since it's already been asked of me a few times in the last couple of minutes, I'll repeat.
Once the majority has voted for one person, that person is lynched. Dawn breaks, and it begins again. The lynched person is out, and can make comments, but nothing that could influence a vote. When a lynching happens, it is NOT revealed as to which role the person had unless said player was a Childe of the Night, or unless it becomes a necessity as in the case of the Lovers, Triole, etc..
If/when a body is found at dusk it is NOT revealed which role they had.
If the Vampires start blind, the entire game should continue that way..@v: Meh, that's why I said approximately.

[Helgraf]

Dusk falls in approximately 24 hours.

((Slightly closer to 28 hours, as I'll be getting in a little late Friday night/Saturday morning. But no worries. It will proceed.))

[banjo1985]

Old Man Jenkins shakes his head sadly, seeing the blood and viscera in the court yard.

"Poor poor man, that's a horrible to way to go... I fear for the day those wolves rip down the doors to this mansion."

Old Man jenkins plays a quick but jaunty funeral dirge on his banjo, takes off his white jacket, then heads off to bed.

[Andre Fairchilde]

"Great. There goes one very likely villager."

(Strikes-out Pwenet on the non-suspect list. Of course, he *may* come back from the dead... upon which I'll reevaluate him then. Of course, my suspect list is headed up of people that didn't vote on Day 1....)

[Fleeing Coward]

((Guess I'm on the suspects list then? Havn't been posting due to mid semester exams, might start following this game once they are over if I'm still alive.))

[Korias]

Korias bows his head low, holding a dirty and tattered Tri-cornered hat across his heart. I bid thee well, Pwenet. Putting his hat back on, he fetches a green apple from a nearby bin and crunches into its crisp, juicy center.

[Jeggred Von]

Jeggred walks over to the remaining bits of cooling flesh and ripped gore and meat. Carefully placing his booted feet, as to not slip in the gore, he kneels down and sifts through the mess to find Pewents pants and belt...and goes through the pockets for the dead man's change. After finding a few handfulls, the man stands and takes his hat off, sweeping it wide as he flourishes a bow.

"Thank ye' for yer generous gifts to me and my gullet, Sir meatbag."

Jeggred replaces his hat and does a religious ward in front of him, turning and moving off back into the house to look for more of his kin.

Mumbling to himself, jeggred waits till no one is within earshot,
"Time to plan my survival..."

[Ichneumon]

The wasp starts dancing. The death of Pwenet somehow made him happy, but deep inside him his real personality cries.

"Let's fight those vampires",says the voice, but deep inside him, Ichneumon just wants to his control own body, his mind.

[Helgraf]

((Dusk falls approximately 12 hours from now. Make sure you've gotten your actions in to Helgraf and Shadow by then. Use 'em or lose 'em.))


Renfield, possessed of a mania that defies the need for simple things like sleep, moves through the many hallways of the keep with an almost supernatural stealth. He bites his thumb and presses the bleeding nub against the door to the room that had been reserved for Pwenet. Then, with the tips of long fingernails in dire need of cutting, he swirls the blood, using his fingers and nails as paintbrushes to create a crude tableau. Occasionally he squeezes the thumb for more blood.
Master ... master ... your slave awaits... a wolf's brain have I not earned, master?
The end result has an impressionistic feel ... but the piece is no less disturbing than the medium; wolves feasting upon a corpse.
When will it be my turn to feed?

He slips inside the room, and is not seen coming out.
They are coming...

[CurlyKitGirl]

It is two in the morning when the giddy ball ends. Tired and unusually plae Clara retires to bed, shadowed by her maid Moira. As they her bedchamaber Clara notices the humid warmth of the room and says, "Moira, open the window casings. This room is stifling." Silent Moira opens the windows wide and proceeds to help her mistress change for bed. While at her toilet* Clara notices the pale accusatory scars on her shoulders and neck. "Don't y'be worryin' Ma'am; a fair bit o' make-up 'll sort tha' out sooon 'nough. You shouldn' 'a' been out hunting. What if the paocher had got y', not just the hound."
"Don't forget Moira, it's a secret and I'll keep yours."
"Yes'm."
Clara retires to bed; exhausted.

*toilet: A posh way of saying applying/removing makeup, brushing hair and the like.

[Pwenet]

The remains of Pwenet give violent indigestion to the wolves.

[Captain van der Decken]

Decken stumbles up to the body.

"I tole em, I tole em! Them 'n their big weasel!"

He rifles through Pwnet's things, but, finding nothing, simply takes his boots.

[zeratul]

Zeratul walks up to CurlyKitGirl having noticed the mark on her neck "You don't want to hide such scars girl. Eat this garlic, now, we couldn't deal with someone turning." He hands her a bulb of garlic, then hands a small package to her, "Chocolate for the child, mayby it'll soften her fears."

[Shadow]

((Only a few hours left and we're missing quite a few PMs fromm players.
We were considering extending the daytime (if needs be) even before this became an issue. The final decision rests with Renfeild Helgraf, as he handles the dusk scenes so far.))

[Vonriel]

(( Zeratul, sheesh man, you just barge into people's houses? I'm surprised you haven't been arrested. :smallwink: ))

[Helgraf]

Though day broke, you would never know it here. Sunlight failed to penetrate these windows, failed to break through the clouds that roiled thick and black overhead. And while many fearful villagers slept, others plotted into the night, each for their own reasons.

The madman Renfield crept through the castle, startling in alarm at the slightest hint of fog, at the faintest sound. He moved from room to room. One was too quiet. Another echoed with the scratching of futile ambitions. This one spoke too much of despair. Finally he found one where the door seemed to sing to him of freedom and loss. Feeling something of a kinship with such a door, he produced a tiny bit of bone, oddly serrated at one end, inserting it into the lock and opening it with a sharp twist of the wrist. He slid into the room, peered about.

Watching the occupant who resting fitfully, his head tilted to one side in sympathy for another denied the oblivion and escape of dreams. He reached into his outfit, removing an object and quietly setting it down at the foot of the bed. He reached out, a clammy hand touching the forehead of the guest, who startled ... eyes flaring open.

A finger pressed to that mouth before it could scream, and he did ... something. A panel in the wall opened, and he slipped through, his last gesture one of finger to lips as the wall sealed again, with no trace or clue as to its operation.

Ahh, but the villagers who plotted, they were not alone ... red eyes opened deep within a hidden chamber, and elsewhere about the castle. Rising to feed on the many cattle that had been brought to their table. Enough, for now, to keep their strength and vitality. To kill all present would be like drinking the whole of several bottles of wine simply because you had them available. It was ... wasteful. A taste here, a taste there. Finally, a vintage was selected, and one of their number went forth to bottle it for them...

In the chambers given him Eldritch Knight goes over the information he has gathered. He checked and double checked his notes and his gear. There were, as ever, preparations to be made.

He failed to notice the faint wisps of fog that seeped in through the top of the window, slowly sliding across the floor of his chamber. When the candle he worked by flickered, he peered at it in annoyance. It was only the tiny hand mirror that warned him ... just exactly too late. Fangs took the back of his neck and bit down, crunching through sinew, muscle and bone. The pain was intense, but very quickly over. His body was taken and carefully laid out on the bed, his arms crossed at the wrists and bound with rose vines. The mirror was shattered, the broken glass shoved under the fingernails of the corpse. As quietly as it had come, his attacker left, a pale white mist in the evening that joined the mists below.

Outside, the soft click-click-click of hard-heeled boots on stone. A figure takes a slow walk outside. It does not take long to find the mangled remains of the wolves' third victim.

Poor Soul... the stranger thought quietly, He didnt survive that long. He pulls out a book from beneath his long coat; an ancient book, riddled with dust and moldy secrets of life and death.

Reading from the dread tome, the figure anoited the body with the appropriate oils and spoke the incantations. Sewing the man back together was the most difficult part of the task; the wolves had been quite vicious in their assault, and the figure had to cheat a little to make up for some ... missing parts. As the incantation reached its cresendo, the air, already cool, grew absolutely frigid and the Gate swung in reverse. The essence of a man tore free of the howling masses beyond and leapt into the corpse, which began to thrash with great vigor but little control, like a seizure victim. This stopped when the body, exhausted of its energy, fell into a catatonic slumber. The necromancer, for such was its manner, nodded. The dead man would recover at dusk. For now, the necromancer picked up the living but comatose body and carried it back into the manor.

Summary
Eldritch Knight was killed in the night
Renfield haunted the castle like a mentally unsettled stalker
Pwenet was resurrected by the necromancer

Night 2 begins and will end in 48 hours

[Pwenet]

Gasping with breath, Pwenets eyes rip open, wide-eyed and bloodshot, his mouth opening in a silent scream, with only a whisper of air running through his throat, until he exhales. Flashing his eyes around, he turns to looks at his hands, hands now covered with thick scars. Wondering what has happened to him, he pulls himself off his bed, his body feeling different, stiff, and awkward. Making his way to the nearby window, he opens it up and looks down at the courtyard, and sees, and remembers!


FLASH

Arriving at the ball, something someone of his status was not used to being invited to.


FLASH

Partaking a little too much in the fine drink.


FLASH

He was trying to defend the honor of a lady from lies and slander.


FLASH

BETRAYAL!

EXILE!

DEATH!


FLASH

Being grabbed by Vurrmeester, Castaras and Freshmeat, screaming for mercy, wondering why they were trying to kill him. Struggling against them as they shoved him through the door, and then sealed it shut.


FLASH

Feeling the warmth of the fresh sunlight washing over his face, like a lovers kiss after a night of passion.


FLASH

Pain!

AGONY!

The sheer horror of being torn apart by the wolves, as they fought with themselves for scraps of him, tearing off pieces as he screamed in agony, with the screams ending when one of the wolves tore out his throat.

His vision faded, rapidly becoming red and dark, especially when one of his eyes was gouged out, then at last, merciful peace.


FLASH

Then came the sensation of being torn from his place of rest, of peace and happiness, back into a shell that was cold, stiff, and used. Seizing wildly, he soon faded back into unconsciousness.

Opening his eyes, Pwenet feels a single tear coming from the one eye that was not torn out when he was killed. Wiping it off with a heavily scarred hand, which he barely recognized as his own, the eye narrows in hatred, pain, vengeance!

With newfound strength of purpose that fueled his body, he exited his room and stormed towards the other guest rooms. Passing by a ceremonial sword rack, he grabs one of the swords from it, ripping the rack apart in the process and storms to the room of the first one to have led to his death Vuurmeester, before screaming with his powerful lungs.

”VURRMEESTER! MY NAME IS PWENET MORGAN! YOU KILLED ME! PREPARE TO DIE!!!”

He slams one of his scarred hands against the door to Vurrmeesters door, cracking the wood with the raw strength, fueled by the memories of his horrific death.

”As for the REST OF YOU! Vastaras, Freshmeat, Eldritch Knight, Andre Fairchilde, ZombieRockStar, Jontom Xire, Pingcode20 and finally, Zar Peter! You times will soon come!”

[Ichneumon]

Ichneumon watched the others. Some moarn the dead, others celebrate it. It makes him sick.

[Eldritch Knight]

Swearing revenge on the Dead is a poor idea, Pwenet, as you know not what may come of such a rash vow..

[Jontom Xire]

Uh yeah, like we may all decide to lynch you AGAIN just to protect ourselves :)

[Pwenet]

As he bangs against the door of Vuurmeester, Pwenet looks over at the others who he has awaken, and catches glimpse of a mirror.

What looks back is a horrific sight. A eye that is clearly not the one he was born with. Scar tissue covering his face, a nose that is misshapen and twisted, lips that are uneven, hair that has gone gray if not gone. Seeing the ruined features of his face, Pwenet collapses to the ground, and starts to cry.

"By the lord, what has happened to me?"

As he cries, he thinks about his rash statement, and he sniffles loudly, running a torn sleeve over his nose.

"Mayhap you all are right. My mind, is not my own right now, filled with rage and despair it is. Those that killed me, have acted out of fear. And while I have been punished for their transgressions, now may be the time to let cooler heads prevail."

Looking at the damaged door, Pwenet pulls himself up and wanders towards the bar rack. Grabbing a bottle of fine whiskey, he pours himself a glass and swallows it quickly.

((Retracts the point made against Vuurmeester.))

[Haruki-kun]

Haruki-kun walks into the room.

Don't let your guard down just yet. There is still evil loose.

[PirateMonk]

A man clad in priest robes enters. "I must apologize for my extended absence, I had duties to attend to. Is there anything I can assist with?"

[Lord Fullbladder, Master of Goblins]

Having been convinced, given circumstances, that journeying through the night to his mechanical garage might not be such a good idea, Fullbladder had stayed long enough in the current manor to hear the commotion, and just now enters the room.

"Good lord, man!"

He hastily turns and looks away, so as to regain his mental bearings after this initial shock.

[Andre Fairchilde]

"Pwenet, you are now an Abomination! Only a man with a horrible, evil lifestyle can resurrect on his own as a revenant. Therefore there MUST be a Necromancer at work in this village. I cannot rest until this evil is excised from this village!

NOBODY expects the Inquisition! Our chief weapon is surprise...surprise and fear...fear and surprise.... Our two weapons are fear and surprise...and ruthless efficiency.... Our *three* weapons are fear, surprise, and ruthless efficiency...and an almost fanatical devotion to the Pope.... Our *four*...no... *Amongst* our weapons.... Amongst our weaponry...are such elements as fear, surprise."

Goes off to set fire to some homes and a tavern.


Post idea stolen in broad daylight from Curly's character idea for WW Classic V. Thanks Curly!

[Ichneumon]

NOBODY expects the Inquisition! Our chief weapon is surprise...surprise and fear...fear and surprise.... Our two weapons are fear and surprise...and ruthless efficiency.... Our *three* weapons are fear, surprise, and ruthless efficiency...and an almost fanatical devotion to the Pope.... Our *four*...no... *Amongst* our weapons.... Amongst our weaponry...are such elements as fear, surprise."


I love that episode....

Ichneumon watches the rest and offers everybody a glass of... wine...

[CurlyKitGirl]

Returning from a fox hunt Lady Clara trots past Godalming Manor and sees a frightful state of affairs. "Oh my. What a strange spectacle. And what is that man talking about? The inquisition? What a peculiar man." Waving on the rest of the party she trots over to Andre. "What are you talking about sir?" She leans over in her saddle.

((indicates ZRS OOC))

[Andre Fairchilde]

Templar Fairchilde removes his hat.

"Plague m'lady. There is a plague of Abominations, Witches, and the Undead. To solve the plague, I may have to remove some of their cover by burning various builidings they may be hiding in.

Much like it is easier to hunt the fox on the plain or a tilled field than in the forest. In this case as I am hunting Vampires and Witches, I will remove any buildings that may offer cover in the hopes that eventually I will uncover the loathsome sons of Satan."

Sets fire to an outhouse.

Sets fire to a shed.

"See, they're not hiding in either of those two buildings now."

Andre removes a ledger from a pocket, and carefully notes the two new buildings he's immolated.

"If neccessary, I will burn London one shanty and outhouse at a time to find these loathsome beasts of evil."

[CurlyKitGirl]

Clara gasps in shock. "How did you know I was on a fox hunt Templar Andre? And are you sure the Unholy are desecrating our city? I mean it's a bit smelly but it is the centre of the world. Oh, it would make a bit of sense then." she says fatuosly. She fans herslef with her fan and looks a litltle faint. "Are you able to rid our country of the devils good sir?" she inquires anxiously. "Mama and Papa will be so distraught at this incident."

[Andre Fairchilde]

"Mi'lady, can you show me the way to Evnafets home? I have a package to deliver to him."

[banjo1985]

Old man Jenkins comes out of his room, clearly wearing the same clothes as the day before, it's also obvious he's slept in them. He almost jumps out of his skin when he sees the revived Pwenet.

Good lord! What kind of strange magic is this?! Is nothing sacred anymore?

Looking round for someone to train his anger on, he points at Ichneumon.

You smiled when that poor guy got thrown to the dogs. Are you some kinda sicko? Explain yourself stranger.

[Ichneumon]

Ichneumon looks at his glass full of wine. The words of Banjo angered him and he throws the glass at the floor. It breaks into a million pieces. Explain? , he yells, You want me to explain? What do you know? You do not know me! You do not understand what I am going though. It is hard.

The voices in his head are screaming. His headache is huge and the alcohol doesn't help. His vision is blurred.

He is enraged. He walks to Banjo, ready to kill. He points and runs into Banjo and starts hitting him.

[banjo1985]

Old Man Jenkins sees the strange man coming at him, and stands his ground. The blows rain in on him, but he seems surprisingly unaffected. He raises his hands, palms out, in a calming gesture.

"Hey now, easy fella. easy. I been around long enough to know when someones having a hard time of it, so I won't take that there attack personally. But you gotta admit, you're the one thats acting suspiciuous over anyone else around here. That is except for that walking corpse over there...."

[PirateMonk]

The priest quietly retcons his speech color to something more unique, then heads over to the Templar. "Abominations? Interesting. I will do my best to help you in your aims."

[Andre Fairchilde]

The Templar is laying tinder outside of an orphanage.

"Excellent! Do you have any papers or wood shaving? I appear to be running out."

[PirateMonk]

"Why yes, as a matter of fact I do." The priest hands over a sheaf of documents.

[Vuurmeester]

Pwenet killed and resurrected.
One of the people staying at the house of lord Renfield was killed by an angry mob sending him out to the demon wolves, only to return to life the next morning.

Professor Steve Thomas Upid believes this is all a "Foul ploy to make people believe the supernatural exists, instead of the creation of the human mind it really is." He further claims "These tricks should be banned by law and be punishable by death."
By our reporter at location, John Burns

[hr]

---- Hummingbird's fine oaken stakes, now 50% off, still the same high quality.

---- Smith's silver crosses, marvelously preventing the undead from touching you.

[hr]

Elditch knight slain by vampires
Eldritch knight was visiting the manor of lord Renfield, and was caught in a vampire attack. He is the third victim, just after mr. Hadow and mr. Graf. The police claims that "Mob lynchings are the best way to get rid of attacks of supernatural creatures" they further advise the people staying at the manor to "be vigilant and get rid of those vampires".
By our reporter at location, John Burns

[hr]

---- mcGonnagals Garlic, best to prevent vampire attacks.

John Burns spreads these newspapers, standing near Andre Fairchilde. What would be your business in this town, mr. Fairchilde?

[Andre Fairchilde]

"My business in this city is the eradication of the servants of the devil. My business is burning witches, slaying abominations, defeating unlicensed mages, saving damsels in distress, and most importantly, dispatching the vile undead - namely VAMPIRES."

[Lord Fullbladder, Master of Goblins]

"Mister Burns raises a good point, Fairechilde. What conspiracy of circumstance would bring you to this city, just when we needed someone who could flush out Vampires and whatnot? To my unrefined sensibilities, that seems mighty suspicious, good sir.

Fullbladder looks accusingly at Templar Andre.

[PirateMonk]

"Vampires, eh? Well, the living dead are not my specialty, I admit, but as I said, I will do what I can to help."

[evnafets]

A man in an old brown hunting coat encounters the Templar Fairchilde outside the orphanage. While not overly tall, he is well built. His long black hair is tied back in a ponytail, and his beard while long is neat.

I understand you are asking about me? I don't normally go in with your type. You speak against the evil all too easily. I prefer to judge by actions, and all too often the actions of your temple are hard to distinguish from evil. However we are not enemies unless you wish it. We have a common cause. We both know that the "Princes of the Night" are abroad. We both wish to put a stop to them. You for your beliefs. Me for me brothers who he has enslaved in his purpose

evnafets points at Malmagor Andrigal

(no real reason - just pointing to avoid autolynch at this point)

[Korias]

Korias sits in one of the many corners of the food hall, polishing a single shot flintlock pistol. Selecting his ammo carefully, he loads the shot and pockets the weapon. Putting his powderkeg away, he stands up and meanders outside. Breathing in the cold night air, he thinks of the mystery of what happened last night. Pwenet was ressurected: As shown by his cracked skull and eye-bandage. But the myster of this ancient magic eludes him. He needs to think: to act rationaly, to observe, and to reach a logical conclusion. Suddenly, he laughs. Logical? Bah, your a PIRATE. Since when did you ever care about rationality and logic? Returning inside, he pours himself some ale (Point at Self) and sits down, his long coat dragging on the ground. With his mug filled to the brim, he mutters a tune... I used to be a farmer and I made a living fine..

[Madmal]

A couple of soft knocks are heard at the House's front door. and then again, and again....getting harder and louder by time, but still in a seemingly educated way.

[Andre Fairchilde]

Templar Fairchilde bows to all who approach. "Thank you all for the intrest in the cause. Today, I am seeking a young man named Khaldan. He hasn't been seen in town for a while, and I'm concerned for his safety, and his soul.

And, Sir Evfanets, I have here a package for you, brought from Denmark. (It is a small gold cross.)

(Khaldan was just autolynched in Camp, and am not sure how much he's participating. If Vampire is like Camp, he may autolynch here too. And, I don't really suspect Evfanets.)

[Vonriel]

Vonriel, asleep in a chair, wakes up with a start. "Myes, bally good show, what ho and all that! Let's kill us some vampires! ...What? Night again already? Well, you can say what you want of me, but I'm not stupid enough to go out after dark hunting vampires. Huh, as if..." He stands up, stretches out, and gestures to Khaldan. "Be a good sport and fetch me my gun and silver bullets. ... What's that you say? Silver is only good against lycans? Nonsense. All mythical creatures fear silver." Vonriel continues muttering about the nerve of the fellow, interrupting him to tell him something useless.

[Traveling_Angel]

Points at Raiser B1ade and waits for leads.


((Note: I have no suspicions of Raiser, just wanted to point to stay well clear of an auto.))

[Skippy]

Lord Skippy just keeps silent, observing all that's happening around him.

"You, sire, are a bit strange."

*Points at Khaldan*

[Traveling_Angel]

Strange shouldn't be the reason to question someone, suspicious, however...

[Skippy]

((I'm a bit busy right now to try and RP more than that... Just take it as my point, without any smoke and mirrors))

[Haruki-kun]

Well, I do admit that Zombie Rock Star and Andre are a bit suspicious........ what do you think, huh, Travelling Angel?

((I'm sorry, but I HAVE to get over this Bandwagoning thing..........))

[Jontom Xire]

Points at Raiser B1ade and waits for leads.


((Note: I have no suspicions of Raiser, just wanted to point to stay well clear of an auto.))

I always find disclaimers such as this very suspicious, so I point at Travelling Angel.

[Shadow]

Night 2 begins and will end in 48 hoursJust a heads up. That's scheduled to happen right as I'll be getting home after a long day of football and cocktails. If I'm.... unable.... to write something appropriate at that time, the night may possibly be extended until Monday morning. Thanks in advance for understanding if that actually happens.

--your friendly neighborhood narrators.

[Jeggred Von]

Lucian puts his violin away and sheathes his bow. Rosin still on his fingers, he draws out a small pocket knife and begins to clean his nails. His large stolen hat on his head bobs up and down slightly as he cleans his cuticles and hums a somber ballad he was just playing earlier. He tilts his head up and looks around the room, smelling death and blood in the room. Judging everyone but a select few, he sweeps his eyes from person to person.

He keeps his gaze on Khaldan and smirks.

"Looks like yer a bit 'late' fer the party. might'n ye be heading outside soon."

[Raeden]

"Vampires? That's nonsense. It's just that the lord let in so many villagers there has to be at least one lunatic who likes to murder people in here. Then the hunter notices a lot of people looking and poitning at Khaldan. Raeden looks at the man too, and wonders why he doesn't respond to all the attention.

[Fleeing Coward]

An unknown shadow in the corner points at him/herself because he/she is obviously a vampire trying to avoid the autolynch :smallsmile:

[Pwenet]

Seeing everyone preparing to lynch Khaldan, Pwenet looks over at him as he works on another drink. Sadly the alcohol does little to dull his pain, or the few memories he has of his past..

"Soon you will meet Death. Tell her I said hello."

With a casual wave of his hand holding a powerful drink, Pwenet gestures towards Khaldan before taking another sip.

[PirateMonk]

"Well, Templar, since everyone seems to think he's worth talking to, I will help you find this 'Khaldan' fellow."

[Alarra]

Alarra sees that there is sense in the witchhunter's reasoning and points at Khaldan.

(Having no idea who is a vampire, killing those that are likely to be autolynched seems a good way to insure that we don't accidentally kill someone important.)

[Freshmeat]

Frederic Mearingdor raises an eyebrow at all of the commotion. Apparently the man they had thrown to the wolves was back amongst the living. And in more recent news, it looked like the silent Khaldan would be the second victim of the mob's ire.

Frederic decides against joining the angry guests, what with the results of the previous day.
In a very accusatory manner, he heads back to his own room.

(OOC: point at self, possibly dodging a future autolynch)

[Zar Peter]

Zar Peter points at Khaldan, who is lying under the table.

Waiter! Could you please remove this guest? I think he already got enough wine!

[Castaras]

*points at Curly because a + b = c*

[Traveling_Angel]

((but you would have pointed at me if I had pointed at Myself...))

[Atreyu the Masked LLama]

(slight headache, too much walking in hot sun today, tired llama...points at Khaldan. I agree with lynching those who will die at the start of the game.)

[Helgraf]

((but you would have pointed at me if I had pointed at Myself...))

((Yes, welcome to the 'nobody wins' aspect of these games, TA. If someone's determined to suspect you, they'll find a reason regardless of whom you do or do not vote for.))

[Raiser Blade]

*Point at self

[Ink]

((Ah, ok. If he's gonna be autolynched anyway. Ink points at Khaldan))

[Joosbawx]

(( ooc point because I've not had time to get a character for this one sorted out: Joosbawx points to Khaldan. ))

[Almighty Salmon]

*Points at Khaldan*

[HyramGraff]

I say, that CurlyKitGirl lass seems a mite suspicious to me.

[Korias]

Korias, finishing his cup of mead, suddenly realizes that he has forgotten something. He rushes out, and about half an hour later you see him carrying a small cannon with powder kegs and some cannonballs into the Mansion. Dropping a cannonball, it rolls towards Khaldan and Korias rushes over to pick it up. Eventually reaching the top of the mansion, he positions the cannon and aims it, just incase he must defend the mansion from the skies.

((Retracting My point, and repointing at Khaldan))

[Vonriel]

Vonriel follows Korias up to the roof. Skies? My good man, think big! Think blasting big holes in vampires! Point those things at the gates, and the next time the blackguards try to come in, we can blow their heads clean off! I'd like to see them try sucking my blood without fangs. Hah! He tries to take command of the cannon and angle it downward, towards the gate, oblivious to the possible downsides of creating a downward-angling slope on which the cannonball rests.

(( You know, I know I've seen it in cartoons, but could a cannonball really roll out of a downward-angled cannon? ))

[zeratul]

Zeratul looks around and then stares at Khaldan.

[Korias]

Vonriel follows Korias up to the roof. Skies? My good man, think big! Think blasting big holes in vampires! Point those things at the gates, and the next time the blackguards try to come in, we can blow their heads clean off! I'd like to see them try sucking my blood without fangs. Hah! He tries to take command of the cannon and angle it downward, towards the gate, oblivious to the possible downsides of creating a downward-angling slope on which the cannonball rests.

(( You know, I know I've seen it in cartoons, but could a cannonball really roll out of a downward-angled cannon? ))


((Yes, a cannonball can roll out of a cannon. The only thing holding it in place is the fact that its either upward sloped or horizontal.))

Korias sees the man tamper with his cannon, before leaping in to stop him. Ach! Who be the cannon expert here, mate? ME! If ye want to hit something at the gate, all ye have to do is take some of the powder out to reduce the speed so it starts goin down earlier. I have a doctrate in Cannoneering. He says, before removing the cannonball and making some powder adjustments. Before you know it, the cannon is ready to fire, except its now aiming more at the cannon. Korias then spends the rest of the night dividing the powder so he has plenty of shots that are of equal distances. He may be good at cannoneering, but math isnt his strong suit. You. Vonriel, right? Help me make these damn shots. He says, pointing to the powder kegs. Keep pourin the powder like this, see? he demonstrates once, before returning to watch the gate for movement.

[Therarde]

I'll point at Khaldan to dodge an auto.

[HyramGraff]

Why are so many people trying to dodge automobiles in the middle of a mansion?

((People saying that they are pointing to avoid an auto-lynch is about to become a pet peeve of mine. There's just too much of it going on. :smallannoyed: ))

[Shadow]

Having stayed awake for nearly two whole days in fear of the horrors to come, Khaldan drifted off earlier in the evening and is awakened with a start as the many hands of his accusers pull him from dreams of bats and wolves in the night.

Deciding to test Korias' cannon for themselves, Andre and Stu drag Khaldan up to the top of the manor where the cannon was located and begin to load powder into the weapon.

Bats encircle overhead in the fading light as Khaldan is tied up and stationed in front of the cannon.

"Have you ever used one of these before?" Andre asks.
"No, but it shant be that dificult, I'd imagine. Just fill that chamber up with a bit more powder and light the fuse, I say." responds Stu.

Whimpering and sniveling, Khaldan's gagged mouth tries to dissuade the two with hopeless mumblings.

The sun rises in the east ever so sligtly and as Andre strikes a match as the first rays of sunlight crest the manor, sparks from the sulfur flying in all directions.

Khaldan bursts into flames with an anquished roar of pain and surprise.

Shocked and startled by the sudden explosion, the match falls from Andre's grasp as he's lighting the fuse onto a small pile of powder that Vonriel had portioned out, but left unattended.

The second small explosion rocks the tower as the gunpower ignites.

The two would be vampire slayers jump back from the cannon, unaware that the blocks used to hold the cannon in place have blown free of the wheels with the second small explosion.

Khaldan burns in agony.

A faint smile crosses Andre's lips as the fuse burns to it's end, for he is about to witness the first of the vampire deaths with his own eyes, of his own doing.

As the wick burns down, a third small explosion erupts, this one from within the cannon itself. With too much powder and no stabilizing blocks, the cannon rockets backward upon firing.

Stu is crushed between the cannon and the keep's wall for the briefest of moments before the wall gives way altogether, throwing him down to the courtyard below.
No screams are heard from either of the two men, and the tower falls silent, save for the whimpering of Andre at the horror of the scene that just befell his eyes.

Korias, upon hearing the explosions, rushes up to where his cannon was kept ready to find two small piles of burned powder, one of them littered with the smoldering clothes of Khaldan.

"What happened here, man?" Korias asks. Andre tells his story to the gathering crowd.
"It looks as if the fools placed him directly over one of your piles of powder here, Vonriel.
I told you to be more careful, damn it man. He would have burned to death regardless of whether they'd have attempted to shoot him or not. The fools."
"Wait!" Andre says. "Are you telling me that he didn't explode from the sunlight? Vampires can't survive the light of the sun, as everyone knows."
"Afraid not, my good man. This poor soul was burned to death by flashpowder, not by the rays of the sun.
"He iz correct, diz man.' Van Helsing chimes in. "Diz Khal-dahn vas no Wamypr. Come. Let us retire and rest. Ve shall need it tonight, I fear.


Khaldan was lynched.
Stu42 was auto lynched.

Day breaks and will end in approximately 24 hours
or whenever is convenient for Helgraf and I
Please send all daytime actions to both Helgraf and Shadow.

((OK, so PGCoD is still with us.
Apparently I was a little out of the loop on that one. Exactly the reason that BOTH Helgraf and I need to be informed of these things.))

[Korias]

MY CANNON! Korias leaps at Andre for messing with his device. I am the one with the cannoneering expertise! Not you, you damn crazy man! And you wasted my powder shots! Do you know what I had to do to get to my ship and back with these intact? Korias whips out his pistol which was loaded earlier, its buisness end pointed at the Templar's face. Locking the firing mechanism in place, You'd better have a damned good explination, Andre. A Pirate cannon is a very tempermental device. Three people died tonight. May there blood be on your hands, Andre. Unlocking the mechanism of his weapon, he sits down next to his cannon and starts to re-sort the powder shots into bags for easy placement into the cannon. Stupid people... messing with my damn cannon...

[Andre Fairchilde]

"Hey, mix fire, a templar, and a suspect vampire and there's bound to be some kind of reaction."

[Helgraf]

As it turns out, the death of PGCoD was premature. Through dint of lucky coincidence, the seventy-seven pieces of shrapnel all missed vital organs, veins and arteries. By greater fortune, the blast launched his body through an open window that latched shut behind him, keeping him from being outdoors with the horrid devil-wolves.

((OOC: PGCoD had already filed an away notice with me - I forgot to tell Shadow. Meep.))

[Jeggred Von]

OOC:((Aww...and that was such an inventive way to get rid of three people...and humorous too))

[Vonriel]

(( I dunno, I kinda like the way he was kept alive. 77 shrapnel pieces, coincidental landing in a safe zone.. Fun stuff, that. ))

[banjo1985]

((Heh very nice death scene there!))

Old Man Jenkins looks around suspiciously at the assembled survivors. Shaking his head, he sits down in the corner and begins to strum thoughtfully on his banjo.

[Jeggred Von]

*SNIP*((People saying that they are pointing to avoid an auto-lynch is about to become a pet peeve of mine. There's just too much of it going on. :smallannoyed: ))

((agreed. those who type it....just get pointed at next...))

[Traveling_Angel]

((Not nearly as bad as Oo, bandwagon, let's join!))

TA sells more stakes then bits of twine as the day drags on, each person hoping to fend of vampires.

[pingcode20]

*Points at Pingcode to invite lynch. :smallbiggrin:

((Not actually a point. It's daytime, after all.))

@V: Exactly. If it were night, I'd have followed up with an actual point.

[Andre Fairchilde]

(I agree with your post :smallbiggrin: but it's the wrong phase. Our night phase is actually a "day" phase.)

[Helgraf]

Dawn, a time of hope and renewal for most of the world, was slowly becoming a time of dread for the guests of Lord Godalming's manor and the villagers under its protection.


Unsettling noises seemed to come from the walls, the skittering of rats, low murmurs that never quite resolved into words. Eddies of cold wind with no easily definable source.But I know ... I know...


Add to this the madness of Renfield, who seemed to have the uncanny ability to be in one part of the keep, then entirely too soon at a location two floors down and a good distance away. You cannot keep it from me master... who hid it for you.

He slid down the barrister like a child playing a game, flipping over the gargoyle that stood watch at its base and landing with only a slight shifting of the wooden floor under the elegant rug. A slightly forward leaning hunching of the upper body as he loped, up stairs, down stairs, through thrice the observed archways, til he stood before a door bearing a formidable lock of hard cast iron. One hand tugged his forelock, and the other curled into a fist, driving stained nails into the base of his hand as retching noises ensued. Blood spattered the floor as a jagged key was expelled of his mouth from whence it had lain in his innards. This key was put to the lock. Frightening strength the crazed madman applied until at last it turned with an ominous click that echoed throughout the manor, a dull dreadful sound that disturbed even the sleepers in their rest a moment.


The madman paused briefly before the now unwarded door, then pushed it open. A flurry of rodents, winged and not, scurried from the room, running over the man's legs, caressing his face with their wings in passage. He nearly lost himself then, nearly lost the focus ... that single blood-red point that he had forged his mind down into. A single point of madness and clarity within which he could ... usually ... act of his own twisted will. Inside ... before the Master knows!


Inside then, he went. And from this place of secrets, something near as large as the lunatic's own chest, wrapped in black silk, stained with the blood and fluids best not lingered upon. Scarcely had he acquired it and tucked it away into the folds of his lunatic's garment then he felt a presence upon him. He quavered, fell to the floor, begging mercies. Pounding hands until they bled, louder he cried, harder he struck. And then it passed ... and he rose up from shaky knees, closing the door before him. Locking the great lock. Swallowing the jagged key once more.


Sedately now ... so different that one could hardly put the two of him side by side and consider them the same. He moved with eerie grace, even as the blood still seeped from his broken hands, marking the pretty floors with its spatter. His path, were it observed, would seem utterly random, yet he searched. Searched for something and someone specific.


One door among many ... nothing to mark it as significant. Here, no special key, but a bit of hair, stiffened by dried blood, and another, used to work the lock in silence. He slipped into the room, looking down upon the wretch within. Half a measure, half a mind. Something removed, and tucked between the man's feet, where it might not otherwise disturb his rest. Life for life, death for death. Blood as you taught ... master.

Then it was back outside, and the door relocked, a single soft click as the mechanism rearmed.


Meanwhile, another door is also being opened. The Master and his most trusted harlot and hounds glide in silently. She wakes the sleeper, cozens him, whispers softly in his ear ... drawing him up and close to her ... to heaven or to hell, he knows not, but it is pleasure. And it builds ... it is strong, stronger than anything he has ever felt ... seeming now to come from everywhere.


He dies before his body even realizes what has happened, is left a cold and bloodless husk.


Dusk falls...


Banjo was slain by something in the night.
Renfield has stolen something and left something behind.
Night begins and will end in 48 hours, or when Shadow can post the update.

[Korias]

Korias grumbles as he sits next to his remnants of his cannon. And that was his best cannon too. Watching the Sunset in the western horizon, he weighs two cannonballs in his hands, examining the metal spheres. This is hopeless... He mutters, before taking a swing of rum. Cannon and Powder wasnt all he brought back from the ship, he brought some Rum. Rum be a pirates best friend. As he takes a swig of the hard alcohol from the bottle, he ponders to himself on how he will go about his night. He has a gun, but that wont be enough. Can he return to his ship and retrive another cannon? The journey is too dangerous. Picking up a plate of metal from the blasted weapon, he polishes the nameplate. Redbird's Cannon: "Send me regards to those Imperialists!" a faint smile plays across his lips: He has a tradition on his ship, that he engraves a cannon with a trusted crewmen's name when that head to the locker. Pocketing the plate, he turns to Andre, This was your fault. You desecrated the memory of one of my best cannoneers, and now you dare call yourself a templar? Bah, Your nothing but a creature of darkness, garanteed to watch your own kind die if it saves your own pale skin.

[Andre Fairchilde]

A detached and solemn templar ignores the pirate while he squats to investigate the corpse.

"Ah, Banjo. We hardly knew you."

The templar thinks back to himself - "Banjo. Yes. He's the one that mentioned Ink."

(Ink deleted a post - which is very suspicious to me. Banjo brought it out to our attention, now he's gone...)

[Ink]

((For the record, I only deleted that post because Shadow asked me to.

Retalliatory point!))

Ink wanders around before bumping into Andre Fairchilde.

"Aha! You are a vampire hunter too, sir? I've found the perfect solution to our problem!" He shows Andre a page from Vampire Hunting for Dummies. "See here, it says that vampires cannot cross running water. So all we have to do is flood this whole estate and we'll be safe! Vampires can't get us, and we'll hunt them down, haha! I've drawn up the plans for diverting the nearby river into the manor. By the way sir knight, you seem to have forgotten to bathe in garlic oil this morning. Not to worry, I have my trusty garlic spray with me!" Ink takes a perfume bottle from his utility belt and spritzes Andre with the garlic-scented oil.

[Andre Fairchilde]

((For the record, I only deleted that post because Shadow asked me to.))

(Huh? What was the post then?)

"But... flooding makes it hard to burn buildings down. And - why can't they cross running water? It's not like they can't breathe - why don't they just go under the water? I found a whole bunch of zombies that way once. They just walk right though it and don't care about anything.

Thanks for the garlic, by the way. Garlic makes sense - it's good for the blood and that'll keep the dirty dirty vampires away I hope."

[Ink]

((It was just me whining because I hadn't received my role PM. Then the narrators sent it to me and Shadow asked me to delete it.))

"Hmm... I don't know why vampires don't like water. I think maybe they can't swim. But wow, you're the first person who likes my garlic spray, sir! Most people run away when I try and spray them. You know something, Honest Harry's Discount Shop is having a special on them. Buy two and get one free. I've bought a dozen bottles already!"

[Ichneumon]

Ichneumon watches the rest, while mumbling, walks to Korias. Do I know you from somewhere? Have I seen you before?

[Shadow]

((For the record, I only deleted that post because Shadow asked me to.He speaks the truth.
Once we realized that we'd forgotten to send him his Role PM, we solved the problem and asked that he delete the post, specifically so that this might be averted.
I have no problems with anyone pointing fingers at anyone here, but I felt the need to validate Ink's declaration on this matter.

That's a lot of PMs going out, as you'll soon find out with Mafia, Andre. If one gets lost in the mix....
It happens.
That's why we ask that you PM us instead of posting in the thread. So that our mistake doesn't become the basis for a point at someone.

Thank you.
That is all.


[edit]
That's not all....
Helgy....
You've outdone yourself here.
I'm pretty sure that I won't be able to keep up by any stretch of the imagination.... :smallredface:

[banjo1985]

((Aw poor old-man Jenkins, I bet it was the banjo playing that did for him! Oh well, more time for other games :smallsmile: ))

[Andre Fairchilde]

(I recommend editing posts or striking them out, not deleting them. Mistakes are made, that's fine, but deleting a post - Sorry Ink, I'm standing by my point. Shadow commenting doesn't help the argument. You may be innocent, but outright deleting a post is still suspicious.)

[Haruki-kun]

Gesturing towards Andre Fairchilde, Haruki-kun mutters something to the people next to him.

Most people listen to him closely, while the others just overhear his saying ".......is pretty suspicious to me........

[Fleeing Coward]

The stranger in the corner continues pointing at himself waiting for the foolish villagers to lynch him.

[Jontom Xire]

Jontom points at Fleeing Coward, who seems to be determined to get thrown tothe wolves (literally).

[Terumitsu]

((Roleplay in later... And one for Fleeing Coward))

[Vonriel]

Vonriel comes downstairs, rather shaken. "I... I.. I say, that fellow we took in the other night... He's not quite right, is he? Kept me up a good half the day with his banging around..." He shudders a bit. "So, the Coward is too cowardly to face the vampires, and would prefer death by wolf? So be it." He points at Fleeing Coward.

[Almighty Salmon]

*Points at Fleeing Coward*

[Freshmeat]

[Point at Fleeing Coward]

(an explanation for why're you're trying to get killed would be nice though, unless this is all part of some complex plot)

[Atreyu the Masked LLama]

(I"m sorry Andre, but I think pointing at someone simply for obeying the narrator is really odd behavior. Plus, Shadow admitted the error, which implies ot me that Ink is a villager because that is the easiest role to overlook.)

*The llama points at Andre*

[Andre Fairchilde]

(Really? (Not sarcastic, really am surprised.)

See, that's not what I get out of a deleted post - any deleted post. It happened in Alien II when Helgraf deleted his post - and he was an Alien. And then there was the complete re-edit in Hogwarts just like one day phase ago.

You are probably right, but - I don't really know Ink is anything other than a villager.

All I know is that when someone dramatically changes a post, and especially deletes it makes me very suspicious. My thought is - why not just edit, instead of deleting.

You've been doing this *a lot* longer than I have, and you're seeing the same "evidence" as I am and have a completely different take on what it means.)

[Atreyu the Masked LLama]

(Shadow says that he asked Ink to delete it.)

[Jeggred Von]

Jeggred stands at the mantle, looking around and whispering to a few of his known friends. He stared hard at the Fleeing Coward, unsure who he was, but didn't like the cut of his jib.

[Alarra]

Alarra points at Fleeing Coward, confused as to why he's asking to be killed, but willing to grant his request.

[HyramGraff]

I say, are you all fools? Have you not heard of the vengefull one who can kill those who attack him? Let this Fleeing Coward chap run into the streets on his own and do not help him.

My suspicions lie firmly on that Andre Fairchilde fellow because of his insistence on pestering Ink.

[Andre Fairchilde]

"Although pointing at Ink has some merit, the ground is clearly very shaky. Therefore, Sir Fleeing Coward, I bid you good afternoon. Pray tell, have you seen any Vampires?"

[Captain van der Decken]

Decken stares at Andre Fairchilde and mutters to himself.

"S'right, Mister Push. Don't try the blarney gobble on me, juggins, I told 'em, I ain't slanging the genty."

[Zar Peter]

Zar Peter looks up from his desert.

Fleeing Coward, you will leave? But they say there are werewolves outside! Or something worse!
But Ok, while leaving could you please be so kind to tell the waiter I would like to have a glass of Cognac? Thank you very much.

[CurlyKitGirl]

Lady Clara pensively glides through the gardens of Lupe Manor, recalling the argument she had with her Mama, "It is certainly improper for a hyoung lady to go visiting without a chaperone."
"But Mama, I only wish to visit Lady Alarra. We have known each other for several months and we are the only ladies of uor age for a full ten leagues. Is it not better for us to enjoy light society together than to be cooped up?"
"I should never agreed with your father. We ertainly should not have had you educated. All that thinking will ruin your looks. And they are very important to a woman of our status. You are not to leave the grounds without a male chaperone."
She turns a corner and finds herself in a derelict part of the garden. "What a remarkable place." And her mood becomes much more clement when she discovers a hole in the hedge. "I may go calling after all." Noticing a Fleeing Coward running past the grounds she murmers to herself, "Perhaps that Templar was correct when he spoke of the despicable Vampires."

((EDIT: Oh, and due to confiement Lady Clara, as well as her OOC voice may not be posting as frequently. If her OOC voice can get past educational firewalls all should continue as normal.))

[Therarde]

Therarde looks around. Oh dear, is that Fleeing Coward person really asking to be thrown to the wolves? That's just madness.

[Captain van der Decken]

((I have to ask why people are pointing at someone who asks to be killed? Surely it's a waste of time as no wolf would do that?))

[Traveling_Angel]

Points at Andre

Really, self pointing isn't that bad. Paranoia is worse.

[Lord Fullbladder, Master of Goblins]

Well, I roleplayed the point last night cycle, but I still find Andre suspicious, so let's keep up the pressure on 'im, eh?

[Fleeing Coward]

((Not a vampire, just trimming a few games off my schedule before the exam period arrives. Rather play a few games where I'm paying full attention to what's going on than sit around without a clue like in camp))

@v I've never been autolynched and I don't intend to start now. I'll just be randomly pointing or joining bandwagons but I doubt I'll contribute anything useful to this game.

[Freshmeat]

Change point to Andre Fairchilde

isn't screaming 'kill me!'. Either FC has lynch immunity (and we'll waste a good lynch opportunity) - or he simply wants to get out of the game - at which point he might just as well allow himself to be autolynched, I'd say.

Ninja'd? Oh yes.]

[Andre Fairchilde]

(You know, the people pointing at me are vampires, right? But, if I have to take one for the village - then so be it.)

[pingcode20]

((Okay, I've figured out my identity))

After having fallen into a coma two days ago trying to drink himself to death in his room, Professor Jack Inland awoke groggily, stumbling out from his room with a bottle in hand.

Waking himself up completely with a dip in a full sink of cold water, he walked downstairs with a cherry red nose and a hot water bottle on the head.

"'Hoy Andrey? You sheen Quiche anywhere? Quiche Morrish, My beshtest buddy?" he drawls, clearly still somewhat under the influence of drink. Shaking off a little of the blearyness, he listens to the little voices in his head.

"Why didsh you point at Ink for? Ish the powersh above told yous that he wash innoshent, why ish he dangeroush?" he says in a funny sort of drunkard-anger as he pokes Andre in the chest accusingly.

[Alarra]

(You know, the people pointing at me are vampires, right? But, if I have to take one for the village - then so be it.)

(All 10 of them? That'd be a lot of vampires... Not to mention that it would be ridiculous for them to vote as a block like that. Not that they likely know each other by now, so that's hardly an issue. And what reason would the vampires have to all point at you anyway?....I mean, I believe you when you claim your villagerness, but I'm sorry sweetie, but that has to be the lamest defense ever. :smallsmile: )

[PirateMonk]

"Sir Templar, it appears that the Coward is suicidal, and thus your interests would be better serve investigating the one known as Malmagor."

[Pwenet]

Pwenet, the restored to life deadman, awakens feeling cold and stiff. Hearing the commotion, he does not feel like speaking, but instead raises a hand and points at Andre before working on a bottle of alcohol to dull the pain.

[Therarde]

Therarde looks around the room. Well, this is quite a conundrum. Personally, I trust this Andre fellow, so my apologies go to Ink.

[pingcode20]

Professor Jack Inland
"Pwenet, you... ish a mesh." says Jack, sitting down roughly beside him. Looking at the bottle in Pwenet's hand, he plonks down his own one on the table, taking a short drink from it.

"That sssshtuf won't help that. Here, try thish, ish 120 proof pure aqua vitae. Ish better." he says, passing the bottle over to Pwenet.

[Helgraf]

Renfield tumbles out of one of the passages, landing heavily on his left shoulder.

"All lies ... all true. All black and blue.
No white bats ... no black hats..."

He looked around at those gathered, then sort of shrunk up a bit, mad eyes glistening with moisture and the innocence of a child.

"A cat... I would," a slight pause, "loooove a cat."

[Skippy]

Lord Skippy just nods silently.

"Yes, you need to go."

*Point at Andre Fairchilde*

[ZombieRockStar]

Wandering around the ballroom. A smile mimicking the upward curve of the branch of a dead tree. Passing potential dance partner, spurning all of them, letting long black hair obscure the eyes so no one knows the true thoughts behind them. Smiling knowingly at anyone who tries, with lips red with the wine that was drunk earlier.

Stopping, letting the hair slide back, and gazing directly at Fleeing Coward.

[Atreyu the Masked LLama]

(if FC wants out, I'll be happy to help)

*The llama points at Fleeing Coward.)*

[Shadow]

9 hours (approximately) until dawn. A few people are threatened with auto-lynch.
Unfortunately I'm at work, so I can't remember who those dying souls are, as my notes are at home. I had a minute to look over the thread.
The following people will be auto lynched if they have not voted by end of "night."
Flying Elephant
Indurain
Malmagor
Neodan
PGCoD would be on this, but he's filed an away notice.

Be warned. I will not extend the night longer again today. Anyone threatenend with auto will indeed be auto-lynched unless you've voted by the time I post the scene.

To be honest, I think that PMing these people will only cause more individuals to 'just get by' by pointing at someone specifically so that they don't get auto'd. These people aren't paying any attention to the game it seems, and as such will recieve no sympathy from me.

When I get home this afternoon/evening I will post a list of possible autos in the thread, but I will not send PMs out.

Thank you.

[Ichneumon]

Enjoys the music, but no one seems to want to dance with him. "Why, oh why?", the anthropomorphic wasp asks.

A small cry.

He walks to this stunning girl in the beautiful dress. Her eyes are like a frozen pond. Her hair seems to be made of the purest gold. He likes her.

He's head is spinning. His vision is blurred. This is the moment.

"Will you dance with me?"

[Neodan282]

I point at Andre until I read everything over.

[Madmal]

*points at FC

((sorry, for laying low...you know...i don't get much pc time now.))

[Shadow]

((Renfield sits in a darkened corner with a large leather bound book.))

"Flip the pages. Flip the pages.
Master calls this Tome of Ages. I have found it Master.
He. Heh heh. Heeheeheeheeheeeeee. Just as you've requested.
Words. Words too strange. Words unknown.
I'll find the one Master. I'll find it."
I hate you. Why did you lie?"
((yelling below))

"Blast this infernal racket! How can I concentrate? All night downstairs they argue. Always argue, argue, argue. Soon enough you'll show them won't you, Master? Soon enough they'll know. You promised me immortality. Have you promised any of them the same? Will they see your lies for what they are, I wonder, or will they embrace you as I did? Ahh...."

((the dispute downstairs grows louder))

"O....
Oh....
Oooohhhh!....
Aaaaghghhh!
Get out of my HEAD! Why do you torment me Master?!"

((A loud *CRACK!* rings out from downstairs and Renfield's wild eyes dart around the room for a moment*))
((A scream echoes throughout the halls of the Manor))

"What have you done Master? What have you forced them to do now?"
Take me instead Master I beg you.
"Are they listening to you yet? Can they hear your call?
Will you betray them as you've betrayed me, Master?"

((with another loud *CRACK!* from below Renfield rises))
((another scream))
I have to help them. I must.
"No Master, I have to help them. I must. I must try to.... help...."

((Renfield stands and makes his way to the staircase.))

********************************************

There he is, you think to yourself. You had wondered where the madman had gotten off to moments before the chaos broke completely out of control. One minute there were a few individuals discussing Ink being a Vampire.
The next, there were people discussing Fleeing Coward's guilt.
A moment later Indurain and Flying Elephant attacked the self professed Knight's Templar Andre Fairchilde without warning or provocation.
Before you knew what was happening, the two lay dead at Andre's feet, barrel smoking. Mr Fairchilde had no time to reload before he was set upon by the others and thrown from the second story window to the wolves in the courtyard below. He was dead before the first of the growls reached him.

Eyes slipping closed a few moments before from exhaustion, they flew wide at the shots that rang out and the sound of Mr. Fairchilde's neck snapping on the cobblestones below.

And here now comes the deranged Renfield, you think to yourself, almost on cue.


Andre Fairchilde was lynched.
Indurain and Flying Elephant were auto-lynched.
Night 3 ends as dawn breaks and day begins.
You have aproximately 24 hours to send in any pertinent actions to Helgraf and Shadow.

[Andre Fairchilde]

(Too bad. Have a good game! :smallsmile: )

[PirateMonk]

The priest shakes his head distastefully at Fairchilde's demise. "Most unfortunate. I sincerely hope you will show more restraint in the future."

[Helgraf]

((Alright - due to the complexity of the night actions in this game, nightfall is being extended until midnight tomorrow Eastern time (Midnight when Sunday becomes Monday, that is). Anyone with a special role action who has not sent it in or given me orders for proxy use will forfeit their use for the day if I have not received their PM by that point.))

[Helgraf]

The sun's rays creep over the horizon, and are cut to crazy ribbons by the huge trees that surround the estate. What remains weakly bleeds against the dark stone walls, leaching colour from them halfheartedly, dejected as the souls of those within the walls. Troublesome dreams disturb those who sleep, weird disturbing images of eyeless faces and soundless screams...


Deep in the bowels of the keep, on the floor between two ruptured sacks full of cabbages, Renfield lies upon his back; his head tilted further to regard upside down a leathery tome upon the stones. His hands twitch and writhe, vision blurring a moment. "Yes ... here it is... "


He twists his to the left, and rolls a bit onto his right shoulder, then begins to rattle off a stream of nonsensical gibberish ... reaching into the sack on his left, he pulls out a cabbage and slams it into the ground, grinding the leafy vegetable into a greenish pulpy mass. He leans over suddenly and takes a huge bite, like a dog, worrying at it, flecks of green spittle oozing down his chin. "No ... no ... not now .. I'm ... so .. .closeee."


He reaches into the other sack, pulling out a mouse that had been quietly gnawing on one of the cabbage heads ... and before it could do more than squirm and squeak, stuffed it in his mouth, chewing and swallowing. Bits of fur and spots of blood joined the green foam upon his chin, dangling and dripping upon the floor and the book. Feverishly, he turns the leathery pages, then begins to make the unusual sounds once more. "One ... two ... three. I bind thee to a circle."


An ice-cold breeze slams against the keep, blowing open shutters and clawing its way inside, swirling through the guest chambers with a banshee wail. Oddly, the sound seems to bring a momentary lucidity to the madman, who quietly smiles, hiding the book under a flagstone and replacing it. He chortles even as another gobbet of fur and leaf splashes against his outfit, adding another stain to the growing library of odiousness. Touching a particular series of stones, he slips though into the space between the walls and like some sort of hybrid monkey-snake, half-climbs, half-slithers upward, toward the guest chambers. He slips into the room, carefully laying something down on the bedstand, then sits there for a quarter hour, watching the sleeper with an almost angelic expression of peace. "I remember..."


It is only a wolf's howl that echoes from the woods that snaps him out of this reverie and quickly he closes the passage, going through the door and closing it behind. "You are coming Master ... I feel it!"


But he is not alone in his wanderings, sadly no. Others wander the halls, too, and madness has taken its toll on more than just Renfield. The sleep of others, disturbed by dreams would have been a welcome relief to this wanderer, a respite from the voices that began to speak to him when the sun first touched over the horizon. He moves like a marionette, barely aware of his surroundings ... until he finds himself outside, by a mass grave. Here bodies have been placed, blessed by the local priest and anoited in oils in the hopes that they will not rise as more spawn of the undead.


Here, the madman's eyes roll into his head, and voices, hundreds of different voices, babble and speak through him, each murmuring a portion of an ancient dirge. The icy-cold winds whip up again, swirling around an emptiness in the night air ... that shimmers a moment, then reveals a phantasmal image of a terrible black gateway. The gateway strains terribly against the force of Legion, the sound building to a terrible cresendo ... and then, hinges squealing in protest, aching and wet, something barely human presses its way through, landing in a bloody pool. Bone and sinew, and muscle and organs rebuilt upon it, and skin slowly crawls outward until the body is properly sheathed again. The gate slams shut again and fades from view. The voices in the other's head fall to a murmur ... directing him back inside while the other man's body reknits itself.


And still yet, this is not the end of it. For within the castle, the minions of the Master rise again to seek their prey. Descending upon the room of their chosen victim, they howl with rage to find it empty; the door is slammed open and they drift out, feral red eyes seeking ... seeking ... seeking.


It is by some twisted balance that they come across the madman returning. Descending upon him, they shred his limbs, drink deeply of his essence, leaving behind a broken and hollow husk that they hang from the balcony overseeing the Great Hall. Satiated for a little while, they return to their chambers to await the nightfall.


Summary
PirateMonk was killed by blood loss and mutilation
Eldritch Knight was mysteriously restored to life
Renfield's madness is spreading... and he has left another item behind.

Dusk Falls and night will last for roughly 48 hours.

[Vonriel]

(( Helgraf, these narrations are just plain awesome. ))

[Jontom Xire]

((And one reason why I think you should be lynched in YOW :) So you can continue to produce such excellence.))

So does that mean that PirateMonk was the necromancer? It certainly seems to.

[Korias]

((And one reason why I think you should be lynched in YOW :) So you can continue to produce such excellence.))

So does that mean that PirateMonk was the necromancer? It certainly seems to.

((I dont think so. He was killed by vampires, it seems to infer.))

Korias is carrying a large barrel of Rum into the manor when you see him at dusk. He grasps his mug, and fills it to the brim with delicious alcohol. And now the rum isnt gone anymore! Yay!

[Castaras]

*points at Korias*

I think I'm up for autolynch, so random point.

Scrap that, I don't have enough time for this game. I've just read Shadow's post, and ask that you people lynch me/let me be autolynched.

Apologies for making you lot lose a mason and the heir. *bows and disappears from thread*

[CurlyKitGirl]

"Mama, I heard some rather strange noises last night. Do you think it might have been the Children of the Night?"
"Tell me girl, are you a child, addled out of your wits by nonsense and feary tales off the commoners?"
"No Mama, but -"
"You are not a goat girl. You are not to mix with those of inferior clas and status. And if you do I shall have Jeeves remove your books and all your tools of Learning. A young girl such as yourself - plain as you are - should not ruin even your feeble looks with Learning. It gives you wrinkles and detracts from ones beauty. We are having a Ball tonight and you will attend Clara. And you will be gracious and defer to the gentlemen and alwys agree with them. Do you understand Clara?"
"Yes Mama." Clara sighs and withdraws from the Breakfast Room, disconsolate she walks slowly to her 'tutors'' room. To learn deportment. As she enters the room she spares a thought to Lord Skippy, "I wonder if that braggart will bestow his unwanted presence upon us tonight."

((So yeah. Party at Lupe Manor now ish. ))

[Atreyu the Masked LLama]

The llama stirs from the bed it had slept on the night before, blinking in confusion, then realizing and rememberin what had happened and why it was in the house instead of its pen, it sighs and goes downstairs wanting to find something to munch on.

(Hmmmm....no clue and i don't want to take the time to look for evidence at work, so I reckon I'll have to point at someone who pointed at Andre without a reason. Mal, I point at you and I judge you at Wampyr!)

[purple gelatinous cube o' Doom]

points at self to avoid autolynch until I get my laptop back

[Eldritch Knight]

I live again! I do not know who among us was responsible for my demise, or my subsequent return to life. As a result, I feel it necessary to condemn one who might otherwise be innocent. Innocence, is of course the perfect disguise for Evil, as mortals can never look past original appearances. As such, I feel we must cast this supposedly cuddly Llama out into the dark.

[Traveling_Angel]

((Reading through archives, Atreyu has sometimes been a devil/wolf while playing Llama, sometimes not. ))

Points at Atreyu while waiting for better leads.

[Jeggred Von]

((Agrees with the thoughts...))


Pointing at Atreyu, smirking under his wide brimmed hat..

"Give the animal....to the animals."

[Atreyu the Masked LLama]

((Reading through archives, Atreyu has sometimes been a devil/wolf while playing Llama, sometimes not. ))

Points at Atreyu while waiting for better leads.

(Hmmm. Atreyu, the masked llama, plays llamas. Sometimes he's a werewolf when he's a llama and sometimes he's not. Outside of Fluffy, and the Star Wars R.A.F., when did I not play a llama? And yes, his statement is technically true. Since I've played as a llama in approx 97% of the games here as a llama, I am occassionally a werewolf as a llama. However, I think you are using bad logic to push a bandwagon along. It seems a little odd to me that all three of you would post so soon after each other, seemingly in agreement with each other, but really there was nothing to agree with OOC. In character, maybe, as EK posted in character.

The llama points at Jeggred Von

You point at me because you agree with a statement that has no merit? That seems mighty suspicious in my eyes, lad and I'd like to see your true colors come dawn.)

[Korias]

Korias, done with his rum, Draws his cutlass. There are Radicals in this world, and as a pirate, I am a radical. But there is a need for order. And you, Lord Skippy, Sow discord amongst the lands. Pointing the blade at Skippy's throat, And I will not stand for it. Ye be trying to put me out of buisness now, are ye?

[Haruki-kun]

Haruki-kun walks into a room with the other people. He slowly walks around the room keeping low, talking to the others, trying to find out more, until he comes to a certain corner of he room.

In this corner sits a purple gelatinous cube o' doom, who is simply there, talking to himself, pointing at himself.

How bizarre......... thought Haruki-kun. Why would anyone do this? Unless....... he wanted to avoid suspicion............ That's it! It's brilliant! He's up to something!

He walks away slowly, trying to figure out what to do next.

To be fair, he says in his next conversation, fighting a clever enemy is much better than fighting a dumb one. And something tells me these vampires are clever to boot........

((Alright! I'll do my best with this RP-ing!))

[Terumitsu]

((Sigh... I hear you Haruki..Fullbladder Cause nobody seems to vote for him.))

@V((It isn't that... just one of those mood sort of things... just wouldn't come out right))

[Helgraf]

((Hey, everyone has to start somewhere with RP. I should point out I've been doing RP for ... 25 years now, in one form or another, so I've had a helluva lot of practice. And practice helps. Don't worry about "how good it is" - you'll often end up a harsher critic of yourself than anyone else. Also, remember, RP is encouraged yes, but it is not strictly speaking required. The main point is to play and have fun within the framework of the rules (such as they are).))

[Shadow]

"Yes Master...." Renfield proclaims.
"I will try Master. I will try...."

[Traveling_Angel]

(Hmmm. Atreyu, the masked llama, plays llamas. Sometimes he's a werewolf when he's a llama and sometimes he's not. Outside of Fluffy, and the Star Wars R.A.F., when did I not play a llama? And yes, his statement is technically true. Since I've played as a llama in approx 97% of the games here as a llama, I am occassionally a werewolf as a llama. However, I think you are using bad logic to push a bandwagon along. It seems a little odd to me that all three of you would post so soon after each other, seemingly in agreement with each other, but really there was nothing to agree with OOC. In character, maybe, as EK posted in character.

((Sorry, I just was kinda prepping for the "but he's just a llama!" Defense. I apologize. ))

[Atreyu the Masked LLama]

(No worries, T-A. You caught me at a bit of a stressed time in RL only to turn and see 3 people bandwagoning on me for no real reason. I'm de-stressed now and I know you're newer at these, so you've probably not seen my reactions to being under attack before.)

[Ichneumon]

(Points at Curlykitgirl)

In shame he walks to her. Head down, watching his feet.

"You know, he says,"

His thoughts have never been so clear. He knows what he thinks, he knows what to do. He is ready.

"Because of all these dangers, I fear I will never have the chance to say this, but...."

He looks up, his face is solid. He becomes distracted by her brown hair and says:

"I personally think you should die your hair."

[Alarra]

Alarra, worried that the sweet and noble llama is being persecuted against, decides to point out that while there's no logic behind it, she feels a point at Purple Cube would be a better idea, she also somehow lost her rp character in the midst of a tedious collage and weaving, restarting WoW and a long paper. She'll try to find her tomorrow.

[Zar Peter]

This party is very confusing... we don't know anything about the people we are feeding the wolves so we can't get any information out of the vote patterns... every day we have to make a random vote.

I don't like to vote random so I point at Purple gelatinous cube o'doom! He hasn't eaten his desert and that's why the weather is bad today!

[Freshmeat]

Dear folks, shouldn't we cast our eyes on Alarra instead, truly a woman of doubtful allegiance, nay?

[Neodan282]

((Waitaminute! When PGCoD was 'autolynched' did it show ANYTHING of him being a vampire?))

Kuigi walked down the hallway, sometime walking backwords, when he WAS he bumped into the Llama. "G-gah!" Kuigi spun around and Pointed at him in fright.

((Edit: I know, But there are hints to what they are, and I saw no hints then.))

[HyramGraff]

I say, that Jeggred Von is a very odd fellow pointing at the llama and other such nonsense.

[Skippy]

The following players need to vote today before I update or be auto-lynched:

Castaras (I know....)
evnafets
Joosbawx
Raeden
Raiser B1ade
Vuurmeester
Zeratul

Luckily for you tonight is Game Night and I won't be at home, nor will I have the time to write (probably) so you'll have until tomorrow (probably).


((Who's playing?))

[Raiser Blade]

*Point at self

[Haruki-kun]

((Waitaminute! When PGCoD was 'autolynched' did it show ANYTHING of him being a vampire?))

((Dood, we don't get told what they are when they die........))

[Freshmeat]

We do if they're vampires though.


When a lynching happens, it is NOT revealed as to which role the person had unless said player was a Childe of the Night, or unless it becomes a necessity as in the case of the Lovers, Triole, etc..

There are several people (including myself) who have actually seen the original version where PGCoD died, as well as the appropriate death message, but I'm not sure if I'm allowed to reveal such OOC information.

Then again, figuring it out should be pretty easy...

[Alarra]

*changes point to Zar Peter

[evnafets]

The moon has been full and the curse has been on him. Not able to interact safely with humans, he has been hiding deep in the forest.
Now that the worst is over he emerges again, a little more worn, a little more tired, a little more hungry.

Passing by the stable, he catches the scent of warm flesh. Not human, but something much tastier. He has to exert a tremendous control to prevent himself from leaping to the attack immediately.

evnafets points at Atreyu

[pingcode20]

"...and then, he shaid 'they're not dollsh, they're 'ACSHON FIGURES. WITH REAL FIRE PUNCHING ACSHHHON!" laughs Professor Inland, relating a humourous story to the wall.

"Koriash! More rum!" he yells, throwing his empty bottle and hitting a Purple Gelatinous Cube.

"Huh. Garbage dishposhal."

[Korias]

Korias Laughs, before rolling a barrel towards Pingcode. It stops before it hits him, and it appears to be filled with rum. There ya go, matey!

[Atreyu the Masked LLama]

points at self to avoid autolynch until I get my laptop back

(Aren't we trying to cut down in this?)
The llama points at PGCoD

[Haruki-kun]

((Sorry, but I'm not gonna change my RP'd vote over OOC stuff. Besides, da Llama's right about that ^))

[Alarra]

(Aren't we trying to cut down in this?)
The llama points at PGCoD

Yes. We are. Points at Purple Cube again instead.

[ZombieRockStar]

Music. A quartet in the corner plays a low melody, the strains of the viola hold the tune, for the moment, as the cello pumps out the low 1-2-3 rhythm of a macabre waltz.

The wine glass is empty now. There are no servants nearby to refill. Glancing at PGCoD with a haughty, yet knowing smirk to see if he'll be so kind as to summon one.

[Skippy]

((Not sure about anything so far. I agree with the non-self pointing thing though))

Point at PGCoD

[Ink]

((Ah, alright, Purple Cube it is.))

[Traveling_Angel]

(Aren't we trying to cut down in this?)
The llama points at PGCoD

Oo, Oo! Let's lynch on the people with a actual life!

Points at PGCoD

[Raiser Blade]

Re-read and i am pointing at the cube guy

[Helgraf]

Renfield, seeing all the accusations going on, laughs, a horrible slightly weedling insane cackle. He hops up onto a table and begins gesturing.

"You Traveling Angel, and you Atreyu the Masked Llama, and you purple gelatinous cube o' Doom, and you Eldritch Knight, and you, Vuurmeester, and you, Joosbawx, and you, Jeggred Von, and you Neodan282, and you Raeden, and you Alarra, and you Pwenet, and you ZombieRockStar, and you Fleeing Coward, and you Captain van der Decken, and you Ink, and you Zeratul, and you Castaras, and you Almighty Salmon, and you Jontom Xire, and you Korias, and you Terumitsu, and you Hyramgraff, and you radikalskippy, and you Freshmeat_, and you Pingcode20, and you Ichneumon, and you Zar Peter, and you Haruki-kun, and you evnafets, and you Vonriel, and you Malmagor Andrigal, and you, Therarde, and you, Raiser B1ade, and you CurlyKitGirl, and even you, Lord Fullbladder, Master of Goblins, did it! Every one of you is a bloody handed murderer, wallowing in the blood of the dead and dying!"

[Vonriel]

"I say, could you quiet down? The insane mumblings are rather distracting. There's a good chap. Now, could someone pass me a book? Preferrably a big, heavy one. Maybe the "S" encyclopedia. Or a nice, big dictionary. Ahh, there's a good chap." He takes the book, grasps it firmly in both hands, and smashes it against his forehead in an attempt to knock himself out. After all, he hadn't been sleeping well with the insane ramblings of Renfield keeping him awake at all hours. With a *thud!* he falls to the ground, the weight of the book on top of his face. His hand, curiously enough, lands in the picture of a perfect point, right at Purple Gelatinous Cube o' Doom.

[Shadow]

The mob gathers around PGCoD with malice in their eyes. Hearts are as cold as the chill London air in the night.
Gathering Cube up and dragging him to the large table set in the dining room, they rope Cube's appendages to the table's legs to hold him steady. Castaras produces a slim dagger from the folds of her dress and prepares slice a long cut into Cube's cheek with a devilish grin.
"You enjoy the blood of innocents, do you? Let's see what the blood of a vampire looks like, shall we?"
In hands sweaty with anticipation, the blade slips from Cas' grasp for the briefest of moments, leaving a trail of blood from her finger to the floor.

The candles flicker as a slight breeze blows through the hall.

The scent of blood is in the air.

With a snarl, Vuurmeester lunges at Castaras, fangs growing long. The ravenous, blood-starved vampire drains Cas dry before anyone can even think to react. Standing in awe and terror, Joosbawx becomes Vuurme's next target, his throat torn open by the beast's feral claws in an instant.
Raeden, acting completely on impulse by this point, is the first to respond. Grasping a decorative axe from the wall, he promptly removes one of the table's legs from the base and tosses it to Zeratul.

If only he'd been a moment sooner.

Vurrme is upon Raeden in an instant, his pale, dry husk of a body falling to the floor in in a heap.
As Zeratul hacks another of the table's legs off, it falls to the floor from the missing supports, splitting the last two upon impact.

Broken planks and legs from the table scatter across the waxed floor in all directions, being scooped up by many of the guests as weapons or shields, whatever the pieces could be used for.
Zeratul is the next to fall victim to the ravaging, rampaging stalker in the night. AsAs Vuurme, taking more time now, feasts upon Zeratul's delicious nectar, someone from the crowd slams a shattered, pointed shard of what used to be a table through the Devil's back. Reeling around to remove this heinous mortal from existence, Vuurme finds himself surrounded by Englishmen all armed with dangerous sharpened wood as the light of dawn begins to fill the stained glass above. The abomination lifts from the ground, a bat appearing in it's place, to attempt to fly to safety, but instead explodes in the fury of the sun as the first rays pass over it.

Falling to the floor in a flaming, smoking mass of fur and leather, Vuurmeester leaves this world for the second time.

The final time.

When the commotion dies down, purple gelatinous cube o' Doom is nowhere to be found, having run for safety from the masses as soon as his arms and legs were free.


purple gelatinous cube o' Doom was lynched, but was miraculously, unexplainably spared.
Castaras, Joosbawx, Raeden, Vuurmeester (a vampire) and Zeratul were auto-lynched.

Day begins and will end in aproximately 48 hours.
or whenever Helgraf finds to be convenient

Please PM all relevant actions to both Shadow and Helgraf

[Skippy]

Uhm... Well, at least a vampire was at the Massacre...

[Vonriel]

(( Hey, at least it's better than an all-villager autolynch. ))

[Skippy]

((Any autolynch is a waste))

[Haruki-kun]

((But...... that IS the first Vampire we've caught, right? Things are looking up.))

[Captain van der Decken]

"Hooray for the spinster! The worm's on the other boot now, see if it ain't."

Decken wanders off in search of a drink, but not before checking the corpses for change.