Night of the Werewolves XXV: Border of Life

That does not really explain why you are evil-neutral,you know...

mayhapes cause I punched a priest?

(OOC: I TRULY DO NOT KNOW!)

Noon Eleven​

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Voting picked up early in the day, for once, and most of the mob came out against the Blacksmith. No one else received a vote for execution, and the Key to the Kennel remained unclaimed.

Beggar Methos (Male, Human) thomas.berubeg
8 Blacksmith thomas.berubeg (Male, Dwarven)
Cook Ekolite (Female, Elven) thomas.berubeg
Gardener Backwards Logic (Female, Elven)

Groundskeeper Renata (Male, Human) thomas.berubeg
Harpsichordist Ozbenno (Male, Human)
Historian Nictel (Male, Elven) thomas.berubeg
Lord Winston Hughes (Male, Elven) thomas.berubeg

Miller ZPV (Female, Human) thomas.berubeg
Paladin PrinceScamp (Male, Human) thomas.berubeg
Seamstress Seon (Female, Human) thomas.berubeg
Soldier Stuck in Pi (Male, Human)

Some people have told Methos everything. Others have not. The latter will die tonight, unless they correct their omission in the next few hours.

i've told everything.

methos can attest to that.

I told everything, I think.

@T.B.: I don't think it will matter

Which be a huge mistake on yer part

OOC: I have no reliable internet right now, my roomate seems to think that just because I am moving out I don't need it. Essentially he is a douche and needs to be thrown off the balcony. Anyways, I'll try to check if I can.

If nobody wants the Key to the Kennel, I will take it back. Dogs need feeding.

Evening Eleven​

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The Blacksmith pleaded throughout the day, but the survivors remained stoic, and none changed their votes. The mob brought him to the greenhouse shortly after noon, and he stayed there 'till sunset. At any given time, one or two of the innocents would be out of the greenhouse, whether grabbing some food or just grabbing some fresh air.

The Miller, ZPV was the last to return to the greenhouse as the sun set. With no warning, she abruptly began coughing, then fell to the ground, dead, with blood trickling from her mouth. It was the same cause of death that had claimed the Mechanic.Undeterred, the mob turned to the dwarven Blacksmith. Yet, now that the time had come to die, he didn't look quite so pitiful. There was a menacing air about him, and his gaze challenged any among the mob to come and make him go to his death.

The Groundskeeper accepted that challenge. Even as the mob shrunk back from the Blacksmith, the Groundskeeper walked forward, his left hand extended. When he was at arm's length, there was a sudden flurry of movement, a flash of silver. The Blacksmith's arm swung through empty space, and the Groundskeeper lept back to avoid it - leaving behind a silver knife buried in the Blacksmith's neck. No one was quite sure who had struck first, but one thing was certain: no one should be able to survive a knife in the neck.

Yet the Blacksmith hardly seemed to notice it. He bared his teeth, and let out a low growl. Suddenly, he seemed... bigger. His limbs flushed and his muscles bulged. His hands clenched and unclenched. The mob shrunk back further, and the Groundskeeper pulled out two silver knives, one for each hand. The Blacksmith and the Groundskeeper rushed at each other, the Blacksmith with a battlecry full of rage, the Groundskeeper in deadly silence.

The silver knives flashed through the air. One left a deep cut across the Blacksmith's chest, and the other was stuck in his gut. He hardly flinched, and his clenched fist flew out to catch the Groundskeeper in the chest, knocking him into the air. The Groundskeeper landed on his feet and stumbled backwards, trying to keep from falling down. The Blacksmith rushed forward and grabbed the Groundskeeper by the throat, lifting him off the ground. The mob gasped, and some took a step forward as if to help, but it wasn't necessary.

The Groundskeeper stabbed a knife into the Blacksmith's forearm, and this time, he felt it. The Groundskeeper, released from the Blacksmith's grip, tumbled to the ground, another knife in his hands. But he hadn't drawn this one from his belt - he had grabbed it from the Blacksmith's neck, and now the hole in the dwarf's neck had nothing to plug it. The Blacksmith stumbled backwards, hands around his throat, as blood sprayed out at high pressure. When the blood hit the ground, it boiled and steamed.

The Blacksmith swayed, then fell to the ground. He writhed there for a few moments, and then died. The spell he had tried to use to save himself was one known only to servants of Aeron, God of Rage.The Groundskeeper stood and gruffly assured everyone that he was okay, then grabbed the Key to the Kennel that no one seemed to want, and departed with it. With that, the day's tasks were complete. The denizens of the castle returned to their beds as night fell.It is Night Eleven!
Those with night actions, send them to me!
Public posting is closed!
Day breaks in 24 hours!

OOC: Bloody hell. So close to winning, too.

Well, drat. I slept in, and now I don't have time to do the writeup. I'll try to have it up in ten and a half hours. So much for going back to the old schedule.

Morning Twelve​

It was early twilight when the mob gathered again in the greenhouse. No one's sleep the previous night had been restful. The strange energy from the previous day was even more intense now, and the night had been filled with faint murmurs just beyond the edge of hearing, as if the voices of the dead were conversing.

It took only a moment to confirm that everyone who had gone to bed the previous night had returned. No one had died. Somehow, the fact failed to cheer the survivors. The energy pervading the castle was being worked to some purpose, and it was closer to completion now than it had been the day before. It felt as though something was about to give way. There couldn't be much time left to decide this struggle, one way or another.

The Miller had owned the Astrologer's Key to the Observatory at the time of her death. The Blacksmith had held the Mithril Plate armor voted to him. Both would need to find new owners.

It is Day Twelve!
Players, place your votes!
Votes for the Key to the Observatory are Brown!
Votes for the Mithril Plate are Silver!
Public posting is open!
Night falls in 48 hours!

It would appear we have one ghost left and of the remaining players, PrinceScamp is known to be a ghost. I don't like chancing letting PrinceScamp live when it appears his team is about to destroy us all. So I say we lynch the ghost PrinceScamp!

I too have wondered for some time whether or not PrinceScamp has been working for us or against us. With what I know, he's the only suspect that keeps cropping up because he is in fact a ghost and no one has any idea of his claim to be good and want to destroy evil is true or not. With the days dwindling, there's only one way to really find out.

"Because he is a ghost" is not a very good reason, and indeed a rather racist one. Yes as we have throughily discussed I am a ghost, but I am not going to kill you, if I was I would have killed Methos a long time ago. You are not going to find anything out by killing me. Don't forget we still have the werewolf Lord Winston. If you kill me you WILL lose, I have a VERY high strength, it's probably all that keeps you from being eaten by wolves and ghosts.

As I have said my motivation is to defend the good and kill the evil, [GM please confirm?].

PrinceScamp said:

As I have said my motivation is to defend the good and kill the evil, [GM please confirm?].

Click to expand...

I can't publicly confirm player motivations any more than I can publicly confirm victory conditions.

Princescamp, you are a ghost, and as we know that ghosts have been killing us it would be stupid to let you live, your story may be true we must take the risk and kill you for the good of the castle.

"Hmmm, the historian thinks. He knows chances are low that people would listen to him. Some say that there is still one more priest around. If this is the case then this person would be Ozbenno. Since there evil aura is still around.

As for Princescamp? A nice ghost he is then, voting his fellow ghosts to death. You are all wasting your time on this futile ghost hunt. I hope that after this you'll go for the real evil ghost Stuck in Pi.

The Key to the Observatory can go to the Beggar, that he may see the truth. The Mithril Plate can go to myself, may it protect me until we are safe."

The historian fears that if we do not act right now we might all be death or worse tomorrow morning.

The historian walks back to the crowd once more.

"Oh and though some of you will see this as evidence against our dear Paladin. Our late ghost butler protected him on day 5. The day after we vanquished the healer. Why? So that if Princescamp died the butler would be seen as more innocent. Luckily that didn't work."