Werewolf Game - The Game is Done!

I would agree.

 

Thirded, motion carried.

 

I was using Eastern Standard Time when I set the deadline. I'm going to say that you have until 6:00 PM my time on Thursday the 17th of December (tomorrow) to lock in your votes. It is 9:40 PM on Wednesday for me right now, so in Central Europe it is 3:40 AM. So when it is 6:00 PM my time, it will be 12:00 AM in Central Europe Time.

So yeah. Europeans note: You actually still have 26 hours left. I don't know about the Tasmanians. I think you have until your Friday morning at 8:00 or 9:00 AM.

 

Having barbered and shaved--yes, even the fair grocer, but for whom precisely Davis had never wrestled out of Xiao Caity--every citizen of his quaint village, Mr. Changer had spent hours talking with each of his neighbors. This much banter with his clients had made Davis privy to many intimate details of his friends' lives. Suffice it to say that Davis felt he knew each of his neighbors almost as well as he knew himself, and now was the perfect time to apply this knowledge.
Looking around the crowd huddled together for safety, he first saw Papa Dog patting his prized dog to keep himself from fidgeting. Davis knew Papa to be too simple and genuine a soul to be carrying this wretched Curse.
It didn't take long for Davis to notice the many suspicious eyes pressed against Wolfsbane and found himself wondering if Wolfsbane's call to hunting was a symptom of the Curse itself. Perhaps, but perhaps not. As the only remaining hunter, Davis thought he could wait to find out; it may be wise to keep a protector around for a while.
The gift of the hunt may not be the mark of an animal, but what about the fondness for fresh meat? Davis liked a warm steak as much if not more than the next fellow, but to seek it as a means of supporting oneself would take a particular fondness for the flesh. How particular, Davis could not admit to himself, but if being rid of any one person would make Davis feel any more at ease, it would have to be the butcher Charonte.

 

Final Vote Tally:
Wolfsbane 3
Xiao 2
Charonte 1

Only six of the ten villagers worked up the gumption to vote. The Mayor, the Priest, the Drunk, and the Innkeeper all abstained. What resulted was the death of the town Hunter.

Wolfsbane was brought forward, dragged forward by Caity, Charonte, and Rain Dog. Elfsson picked up the razor, looking at the hunter in solemn dismay. Elfsson hesitated a moment as he looked at Wolfsbane's face. Could he kill another friend?

Wolfsbane took this split second's opportunity. He reached for his flintlock pistol. The three villagers flanking him jumped forward to stop him as fast as their reflexes would allow. Wolfbane's arm swung around and the pistol clubbed Caity in the face, knocking her back into the pews. An elbow smashed into Rain Dog's nose, bringing forth a torrent of blood. Charonte fell back and grabbed a silver candlestick.

"You are all making a big mistake!" Wolfsbane cried, leveling the pistol at Caity's head.

All at once, blood gushed from Wolfsbane's neck, splattering onto Muro's robes and Caity's face. Wolfsbane fell to his knees, emitted one final gurgle, and then died. Elfsson dropped the razor and wiped his brow.

"It is time we adjourned for today," he said. "We will know if we were successful in the morning."

Night time ends on Sunday, we'll say at 6:00 PM my time again (so 42 hours from this post), or when all votes are in. Send in your night requests wolf(s), Seer, and GA.

 

The sun rose. Two howls rang out into the night sky. One of the villagers was outside tonight. He had a bad feeling about the death of Wolfsbane. An inkling about him he'd always had. Crawling through the hunter's window, he suddenly remembered why.

Wolfsbane was a seer! A diviner! A caster of arcane spells! Damn it all, they had sent their greatest chance of salvation to his death! He had to warn the other villagers. He ran to the front door to head outside.

The door smashed open from the other side, exploding into thousands of small splinters. The wolfbeast flew through and pushed him to the ground. Spittle flew from its mouth, covering the villager's face. As the beast drew back its claw to end the battle, a slash of silver zipped across its body. Blood gushed out, covering the Guardian Angel as they gave the wolf a kick to the groin and a slash across the face. The Guardian Angel knew of the dangers of their duty. They wore a hood and a cape. It could have been anybody!

The second wolf crashed through a window. The Angel did a pirouette and struck it in the chest, sending it back into the garden. The villager quickly stood up and ran. The first wolf stood up to make chase, and the Angel jumped on the hulking beast's back and drove the silver sword into its shoulder. The beast howled, grabbed the Angel, and tossed the swordsman through a wall. When the Angel looked up again, the wolves were gone.

The next morning, it became clear that the wolves had gotten tougher. There was a lot of blood in Wolfsbane's home, none of it coming from the man who was still hung from his feet from a rafter in Grakelin's militia barrack. Elfsson called a team meeting once more.

"It appears the wolves are still at large. They attacked Wolfsbane's home last night. As you all know, the reason for this has become clear. Wolfsbane was not a werewolf. He was, instead, a powerful mage, with the ability to divine the identity of the wolves. Now it is up to us commoners to solve this mystery on our own. I only help the spirit of Wolfsbane forgives us when our time comes.

"Until then, we need to find another one of these wolves. It will be important to consider everything about the events of the past 24 hours. They may or may not lead us to the wolves' true identities."

Night time has ended. The Guardian Angel successfully defended a villager from the Wolves. I will not say who the villager was. Except via PM. So the almost-victim knows who he is, but anybody saying so here might be lying.

Also, Wolfsbane was the seer.

You have until Saturday at the time I posted this (3:00 PM) to vote.

 

After Father Muro gave the eternal blessing to dead Wolfsbane, the priest stayed by the body and stared blankly at it, his thought running wild. Not only was there an innocent one killed, but he, the Lord's representative on Earth, was to be killed by the monsters this very night! Yet he was protected by a Guardian Angel, send down by the Lord himself.

Father Muro knew why the werewolves wanted to kill him. He didn't pose a threat to them and they knew it. They knew that a priest would sooner die than risk killing an innocent man. But they also knew that the priest was the only thing keeping the villagers from becoming mindless beasts themselves. By proclaiming the Lord's word and being a spiritual guide, he was able to keep everyone's humanity stable. And those monsters didn't like that. Not one bit.

"Without me, they will go berserk and start killing each other without a second thought until no one is left alive. If this happens, Satan's emissaries will win the battle for their eternal souls. This can not happen. I can not die, I must survive for them... And I must act." - He sighs. - "So it has come to this. We must kill in order to survive. Even I must kill in order to continue my holy mission and save my people..."

"...oh, for what sins, Father!" - He shouted, his voice echoing in the whole church. After recent events, the priest's outburst has proved to be a much smaller surprise to all the remaining villagers than one could expect.

The church was now uneasily silent, but the priest's thoughts refused to remain calm, still running like crazy through his skull.
"...if this is Your will, who am I to undermine it. I know that if I will not kill, I will doom them all. But I am not the one who should choose who dies. No. Only You decide upon life and death… I trust You…"

Father Muro's thoughts finally became silent as he started to pray. He knew a voice will eventually speak to him. It always does. He prayed for countless minutes, perhaps even hours, until the said voice in his head finally spoke to him. Only two words were said, no more, no less, yet how crucial were those two words. "Rain Dog". The priest always believed that voice to be the Lord himself speaking directly to his servant. He knew the voice could not be wrong.

 

The other eight of you should really consider voting within the next 24 hours.

 

Rain Dog looked up in horror when he heard his name. Why would the father accuse him? That wasn't fair. He began to tremble as he saw the others turn and look at him. He backed away.

"No, it isn't me. I wasn't anywhere near your house last night, please father, you have to believe me."

He looked around at the assembled villagers who were staring at him mistrustfully. He saw that Zanza in particular looked rather pleased with proceedings. Rain Dog pointed at him.

"Look at him! He's the wolf!"

 

I'd misjudged the calendar date. Time melts into itself when you're with family, You still have 3 days.

 

Father Muro was quite surprised. He wasn't aware that he spoke out loud what He told him until he saw Rain Dog reacting to those words.

"I wonder if I repeat out loud everything that the Lord says directly to me..." - he wondered and went pale. And blushed. And went pale once again.

 

Ah sorry, didn't read that post quite right. Well covered Muro, my bad.

 

On that note I think it should be given that by making a vote for another you are verbally making it known to others. Too damned hard for the player to offer a counter argument then...

 

Xiao watched the priest carefully. He seemed shaken, terrified. No, she doubted that Father Muro was a werewolf. Besides, she couldn't bring herself to codemn the kindly priest.

She laid a careful but heavy hand on Rain-Dog's shoulder. "Calm down," she told him. "I believe you."

((That's a vote for Zanza, in case you hadn't guessed.))

 

PD was sitting on the steps just outside giving his dog some attention when he heard Rain Dog’s outburst. He stood up and took a gander inside. It was an odd seen. The priest looked a bit ashen. Zanza looked smug. (this was probably a blacksmith trait. Every blacksmith PD had ever known looked smug. Probably had something to to with manhandling steel.) And there was Rain Dog pointing at Zanza, shaking, with little Xiao looking like she was trying to comfort him.

So someone accused Rain Dog and he accused Zanza. It couldn’t be Zanza. Smug bastard though he was, wasn’t it he who coated the weapons with silver? No, not Zanza. But Rain Dog? It was him who first raised the alarm, wasn’t it. Running through town screaming his fool head off about a dead child ‘mysteriously’ showing up in his house. Odd that. Almost as if it was an ‘oh shit’ moment. A ‘how am I going to explain this’ moment. He had to be trying to cover for himself. Yeah, PD would be keeping an eye on Rain Dog.

 

The butcher scratched his head, he wasn't quite sure why some were pointing at Rain Dog. If he understood what they meant, then it didn't make sense why he would be guilty. If he were, sounding the alarm would have done naught but scare off the villages he obviously needed. If he were one of those hideous monsters, then was his position not better served by keeping his mouth shut rather than alerting the town?

For this reason, Charonte was inclined to believe some of the others and looked disapointed as he pointed towards Zanza.

 

Zanza the Blacksmith held Rain Dog's stare, it was obvious he wanted his large blacksmithing tool in his hands.

 

Father Muro was disturbed. It wasn't normal for the day to last that long this time of year. He didn't know exactly how and why were they doing it, but what he did know was that those lupine devils were definitely up to something.

 

PD gave one last look at the gathered folk before returning his attention to his dog. He had to admit that his glance probably lingered a bit too long on Xiao. She was just too cute, in an incredibly feisty way. Plus she made a mean batch of chocolate chip cookies. PD loved it when she came into the bar wearing a low cut blouse stuffed with kitten. She always acted so distant though, like she was on another continent or something. Why was she defending him? Was there something to that?

PD reached down and grabbed Dog’s favorite toy, a plush koala, and gave it a toss. As Dog took off after it, PD stayed near the door. He wanted to hear the drama inside. He made a mental note to keep an eye on Rain Dog and to find some popcorn.