Werewolf Game - The Game is Done!

The Werewolf Game - A Blizzard in the Village of Arcanum

After I confirm that the following people are the people who wish to play, I will post an introduction, assign your roles via PM, and you can all start voting.

NOTE: If you are a lurker in the distant future, skip this post and read through the entire thread for a fairly decent thriller. Who will win? Oh noes!!!

1) Xiao_Caity - Dead - Eaten by the Wolves
2) Charonte
3) Wolfsbane - Dead - Throat cut by Elfsson during day trial.
4) Rain_Dog
5) Muro - Dead - Throat cut by Xiao during day trial
6) Wobbler - Dead - Stabbed in throat by Xiao during day trial
7) Zanza - Dead - Throat cut by Elfsson during day trial
8) Dark Elf - Dead - Brutally murdered by some wolves while out patrolling
9) TheDavisChanger - Dead - Stabbed to death by the wolves
10) Papa Dog - Dead - Shot self after being attacked by werehumans

 

I wanna know what role I am already! Although seeing my name at the top of the list is a serious ego-boost.

 

Confirmed. I'll make a deliberate effort to participate and contribute regularly.

 

As shall I.

 

Yeah I might make the effort

 

The village of Arcanum was nestled somewhere in the forgotten corners of the world. The legend of this village leaves it uncertain where exactly Arcanum lay, though it is certain that it was nestled in the valley of a mountain, in a place where kingdoms were fables and life was simple. The village consisted of 88 people. There was one barber, one priest (and his son), one mayor, one baker, one butcher, one town sheriff, one shoemaker, one bartending innkeeper, one carpenter, one hunter, one blacksmith, one grocer, one banker, twenty-four farmers, two drunks, twelve children, and thirty-six housewives in this tiny village. Life was idyllic and peaceful. Sure, one individual among the eighty-eight was secretly practicing witchcraft, and Sheriff Grakelin had taken it upon himself to secretly train several other villagers in swordplay (for a reason completely unknown and unquestioned by the populace, who considered his job to be rather useless anyways), but other than that, everything was pretty swell.

That was until Winter's Eve. Nobody is really sure how the Curse began. Some say it started when young Jarinor Dawson was bitten by the local bartender's dog. The bartender, affectionately known as Papa Dog because of his love of hounds, vehemently opposed this idea to the end of his days. Another theory goes that it was a result of bad meat, but Charonte the butcher disagreed. One idea, conceived by the drunken Wobbler Goldsmith a few days after the Curse began, was that Wolfsbane the hunter had lured the Curse into the village with his arrogance.

Whatever the reason, on Winter's Eve, bad things started happening. Mayor Derek Elfsson (colloquially known as Dark Elf by the younger crowd) had been conferring with Xiao Caity the grocer about whether or not there would be enough rutabagas for this years Festival, when the first murder occurred. Nobody believed Rain Dog Johnson the shoemaker when he came running down the hill yelling that somebody's dead child had just turned up in his kitchen. Everybody knew he was a bit off because of his parents' strange inclination when it came to naming their kids (Sun Cat, Cloudy Hamster, and Snow Canary did not survive the first wave, unfortunately). However, Elfsson was finally forced to investigate. Father Muro was notified within five minutes of Elfsson's arriving at Rain Dog's house.

Father Muro, and his son Lou, quickly ran to the scene to give the Eternal Blessing to the dead child. Lou was upset. He had known the boy. He did not get much time to cry. Before the ceremony was finished and the boy's spirit could be sent off to the next life (everybody knew this was crap anyway, but it helped alleviate the mood a bit whenever somebody died), another child had turned up dead. Muro and Lou spent the rest of the day giving every child in Arcanum the Eternal Blessing. When sunset came, everything took a turn for the worst.

Snow Canary Johnson was the first to turn. Next was Rroyo the carpenter. One by one, people began turning into horrible beasts, large monsters with vicious teeth and too much body hair. Not since the famed Boy Mathmetician had fallen down the well had anybody seen such an awful sight. The creatures, numbering about eight in total, ran through the village, murdering villagers as they tried to hide in their homes. Grakelin and his militia quickly assembled to fight the beasts, but their weapons had no effect on the werewolves, who simply regenerated the wounds dealt to them.

Not until Xz the Banker broke into the Church did the villagers figure out how to defeat the beasts. Before Muro's eyes, Xz tore the priest's son to shreds. Then, the beast jumped on the minister, throwing him down on the stairs. As Xz closed in for the kill, Muro took the holy symbol around his neck, made of silver, and drove it into Xz eye. The beast bellowed, and steam ran from its face. Muro escaped the Church and reported to the Sheriff. The call was made to Zanza the Blacksmith immediately.

Only with the greatest of wills could the wolves be held off long enough for Zanza to quickly coat a sword with silver. Once this was done, however, the tides quickly turned. Though the night had gone badly, the villagers smote the wolves and survived until sunrise, when the final beast, Rroyo, shriveled back to his human form.

Forty-five people had died during the night. The surviving twenty-three gathered around as Rroyo was brought forward. Derek Elfsson was saddened by what he had to decree, but part of him knew that Rroyo's pleas that his humanity could be maintained so long as he was restrained at night were falsehoods. Instead, he decided it best to end Rroyo's life right here. Sheriff Grakelin declared that Rroyo should be a test subject, in case any other wolves entered the village.

He requested a razor from Davis Changer, the barber. After ensuring that no silver had been used in the forming of this razor, he approached the carpenter. Elfsson stopped him. The two had been friends all their life, and he thought it best if he did it. As he pulled back Rroyo's head, the kindly carpenter suddenly let out a sputtering shriek and declared that all in the village would die. His Curse would live on forever, and the pathetic village of Arcanum would only be the first to fall. The Mayor ended his ramblings with the flick of a wrist. The innocence of everybody in the village died that night.

The Sheriff was concerned with these results. Since any weapon could kill the werewolf while in human form, it would seem that one could only truly be certain that they were a wolf at night time. But when faced with a wolf, a lightly armed villager would stand no chance (though the grocer may have been able to hide behind a cabinet or something). If the Curse ever returned, as Rroyo claimed, the wolves would have to be exterminated during the day.

The Curse did return. The very next night, in fact. The Sheriff paid dearly for his constant pondering over the werewolf epidemic. He, along with his remaining four militiamen, were found the next morning in his cellar. Grakelin's throat had been torn out, one of his men was in two pieces, and two others had their limbs sewn together in a variety of deeply disturbing (if creative) ways. Not only was the Curse still prevalent, but the wolves were far more sophisticated.

The last militiaman, Vorak, lay across the floor, his stomach torn open. He was still alive, which was unsurprising due to the powerfully stubborn nature he had always held in life. He died in Elfsson's arms after informing him that Grakelin had trained an apprentice, a warrior as skilled with the blade as he (it remains uncertain to this day if Vorak meant Grakelin or himself). This apprentice was the key to victory.

At noon, with ominous clouds overhead, the village was divided. Some villagers wanted to leave forever and never look back. Others refused to leave their homes. Others still wanted to leave, but were well aware of the coming storm, as well as the risks of traveling in a group which might include a horrible monster. Finally, nine villagers, nearly half of the final nineteen survivors, hiked out into the mountains, led by Blinky the second drunk, who was used to the cold. By two o'clock, the blizzard struck, and the final ten villagers huddled into the Church. It was clear that the Wolf had to be removed before night fell. The only question was the identity of the monster - or monsters. Elfsson looked at the razor he had used to kill his old friend Rroyo as he explained this to his remaining constituents. He was prepared to end another life today. He would have to do whatever it took.

Coin flip landed on day time, so we start with a vote. You have five days to choose who you will lynch first. You can choose from the list on the first page. Good luck to all of you!

EDIT: Just PM'd the roles to you all. If you did not get a PM from me, that means you are an ordinary human. If you have questions, please ask them in a private message to avoid giving away your identity.

EDIT2: You have until Thursday, by the way. And please bold the name of the one you vote for so I can see it easily.

 

Father Muro was visibly shaken by Darek Elfsson’s words. For a moment he look angered and was even about to shout at him (which must be said, would quite an unusual sight, given that the priest was always known to be the calmest person in Arcanum, never to be seen even raising his voice), but he stopped in the last moment. In seconds his facial expression changed from anger to misery and he eventually decided to say nothing. He was woeful. If asked, most of the remaining villagers would agree that it was now very noticeable that he looked at least ten years older than last week. He was a wreck of his former self.

As the uneasy silence caused by Derek’s Elfsson’s words was elongating, father Muro decided to interrupt it and take voice after all.
"My..." - he started, his voice shaking - "...children. My dear beloved children. We are facing a very hard time. A time when we can not trust even those who we have known for all of our lives. We can only trust the Lord, and faith in Him is the only thing that can save us now.
Children, let us pray.
Let us pray for those of our beloved ones, who had their lives horribly ended during the last days. Let their souls find peace by the Lord’s side.
Let us pray for those of our friends and relatives who left the village of Arcanum in hope of finding safety and peace on this plane of existence. Let the Lord protect them and help them achieve their goal.
Let us pray for the..." - he pauses involuntarily - "...changed ones, if they are still among us or our close ones who have hiked out into the mountains. Let us pray that they will seek aid in the Lord and that with His help they will find the strength to maintain their human nature and not harm any of their beloved ones ever again. Let us pray that they will cause no more death."

No one was sure if father Muro believed that last part to be possible. Not even the priest himself.

 

Is it to late to confirm?

 

Rain Dog looked around at the other villagers. They were all visibly moved by Father Muro's words. The father had his head bowed but the others were starting to glance around them. What if the wolves were still here? Who had had the most contact with wolves before the curse had arrived? Rain Dog looked up and saw Wolfsbane.

 

If you're on the list, you're in the game. Were you hoping to back out? If not, don't worry about it.

 

Caity, known semi-affectionately as 'Xiao' by the rest of Arcanum, listened to Father Muro's speech expressionlessly, fists clenched in a combination of fear, rage and frustration. She'd been fond of all the people of the little village, and now their number had been cut in half. What she wouldn't give to be able to find the wolves and kill them herself...

But she was the grocer, so she'd do the one thing she could do - she'd make sure there was enough food for the survivors to hold out until it was safe to send people to the outlying farms and to the towns to trade.

Her eyes settled on Wolfsbane and narrowed dangerously. His name was an omen, surely?

 

Wolfsbane, the hunter, shoots father Muro a tired glance. "Trust the Lord, eh?" he mumbles to himself, "I'd rather trust my gun and my wits than a God who lets creatures like that roam free..."

He then notices that he town grocer, Caity, is staring at him in a quite unfriendly manner. He chooses to ignore this for now, though; there are more pressing matters at hand, and he knows that someone sooner or later is going to have to say it out loud: One of them is going to have to go out there to find supplies. One of them is going to have to leave the safety of the house in order to search the remaining village for useful items.

He refuses to be the one to say it, though. At least for the moment.

(Misunderstood the voting system. Has edited the post now)

 

Zanza the Blacksmith did not like the idea of being huddled in a church with nine other survivors. He thought it would be best to be outside forging weapons with silver so that he would be able to defend himself and his friends. Zanza turned to look around the remaining villagers, his eyes set on Wolfsbane. Old Wolfsbane, the wolf in his name and his appetite for beef definitely made him a suspect. It was not until he noticed Caity the Grocer with a hollow expression on her face that Zanza realised she may not be who she claims.

 

Picking his nose idly, Charonte the butcher looked around at the melancholic populace of Arcanum. They all looked sad, he thought which probably wasn't all that surprising.

Switching from his nose to the back of his greasy head, Charonte still wasn't entirely sure what he was doing here. He figured that if these were the last lot of villagers, then by locking them in and making a run for it he could leave safely. Although being dangerously unfit and barefoot (and wearing nothing but his singlet and shorts) that might not be for long.

Besides, he did have his meat supplies to consider - and it probably wasn't a nice thing to do. After the good priest's touching speech, he noticed quite a few of the villagers singling out Wolfsbane, who in turn seemed to be glancing around at everyone. The butcher wasn't quite sure what sbane meant, but it still seemed like a good choice...

 

Papa Dog watched everyone with unease. It was just a matter of time before they all turned on him and his dog. His dog ain’t done nothing wrong. ‘Course the dog bit Jarinor. Jarinor deserved it. He’d been drunk all night and was starting to become a nuisance. PD had cut him off and told him to leave. Jarinor got belligerent and the dog came to PD defense.

Good dog. Pretty dog. Who’s a good boy, eh? Who’s a good boy?

This curse ain’t the fault of the dog. Nor any of the village dogs. PD knew dogs. This curse weren’t no dog thing. This was older. Maybe related to dogs. Maybe. Older than dogs. Before dogs became dogs. Only one person PD could think of that would have call to be near such things. Someone who went to the wild regular like. Yes, Papa Dog watched everyone with unease. He knew they would blame him and his dog. But he watched the Hunter with more than unease. He watched the Hunter with accusation.

 

One day left, lady and gentlemen. Please remember to make your votes very clear, so I can tell if you are voting for a person or just strongly suspecting of them. Right now, the vote tally (from what I can tell) sits at:

Wolfsbane: 3
Caity: 2

 

I'd suggest that bolding names should only be done when you're voting to have them lynched. Far too confusing otherwise.