Mynx

"No!" Augustine was sure he'd cried out to Sue, certain he'd lunged forward to stop or disarm her, but he couldn't for the life of him recall opening his mouth or moving from where he was. He'd been frozen, more by horror than fear, and paid sorely for it. Although he was finally spurred into motion when Sue collapsed, he knew it was hopeless - he had none of the tools on hand that might possibly stay her death, none of the Healing magic which could help. He caught her body before it struck the floor, pressed a hand to the wound, but that was all he managed to do before the life faded from her eyes. Closing his own, Augustine fought an urge to weep with the helplessness that took him. Even if they found the wolf at this point, it seemed like the damage had already been done. After too long had passed, the Cleric gently released his hold on Sue's body and got up to see if he could speak clarity to the couple's mother.

Care to cast a vote before you go? ?

Worked for me!

Players: - Peredhil - Abercrombe, the sheep and goat herder a spirit - Tanuchan - Tennison, daughter of the local innkeeper a spirit - Patrick - John, a young man a spirit - Lord Panther - Curtis, the town drunk a spirit - Venefyxatu - Graham, the town idiot/drunk - Azuran - Lord Bartholomew, a shop owner with delusions of grandeur Day phase!

It might have been poetic to say that Augustine had a sleepless night, but the fact was that he passed out no sooner than his head had hit the pillow. Having said that, his sleep was once again far from sound or peaceful, his dreams punctuated by visages of the fallen villagers and inhuman sounds. The apparitions surrounded him, some pleading him to help while others only condemned or accused him of being the true cause of all the recent misery. And then there was a wolf before him, mouth red and dripping, fangs white and gleaming. All-too-human eyes focused on him, before the wolf lifted its head and howled a single, chilling note that chased Augustine awake. At first he thought it was his dream somehow echoing in his mind when he woke up. Then he realized that the scream he could hear even through his closed windows was entirely too human, and could only mean one thing. The Cleric closed his eyes and buried his face in his hands when he realized the mourning he could hear was John's wife. OOC: So much for the inbreeding theory? The wolf has claimed John/Patrick! Day phase has begun - vote for your villager to lynch or your spirit to banish!

Players: - Peredhil - Abercrombe, the sheep and goat herder a spirit - Tanuchan - Tennison, daughter of the local innkeeper a spirit - Patrick - John, a young man - Lord Panther - Curtis, the town drunk a spirit - Venefyxatu - Graham, the town idiot/drunk - Azuran - Lord Bartholomew, a shop owner with delusions of grandeur Night phase!

Augustine missed the warning signs this time - something he'd likely berate himself over til the end of his days. He'd gone for a walk to try and calm down, to get some form of clarity in his mind before addressing the matter again. The walk had taken him on the outskirts of Derulian, the wind coming from the forest and preventing him from hearing any commotion in the city. When he got back, the gallows had already been built, a rope around the current accusee's neck - in this case it was Tennison, though Augustine felt it could have been anyone in her place at this point. The villagers didn't care about the who, only that they extract some sort of revenge, however deserving the victim might be. "Not again!" The Cleric yelled as he hurried into the throng. "Please, all of you stop this madness!" "It's only madness if it doesn't work!" Someone snapped back at him, strong arms catching and restraining. "And you are so confident it's her?" "Confident enough." Augustine didn't see who said that, couldn't even tell if it was a man or woman's voice. He wasn't paying any attention to that, all of his focus on the gallows as the lever was pulled, the floor dropping out from beneath Tennison's feet... And just like that, another grave in need of digging. OOC: Night Phase! Specials, get in touch.

Augustine didn't answer John for a long time, partly due to the fact that he was trying not to let his surprise show at the sudden cordiality. Pushing aside his amazement with some effort, the Cleric sighed and frowned down at the earth. "We can only do so much, if the attacks continue," he said unhappily. "Placating words and reason only carry so far when there is a monster at the door." Crouching down and picking up a loose handful of earth, Augustine let it trickle through his fingers over Curtis' grave while he said a silent prayer that the spirits remain at peace. "Even the dead have a way of lingering when such a beast makes its presence known." His expression shadowed. "Sometimes, they can be just as harmful as the wolf." Shaking his head to chase away the gloomy thoughts, Augustine dusted his hands off and straightened back up, looking at John. "What do you suggest we do?"

Just to reiterate - during lynching phases now you have the option to either vote for who you think the wolf is, or to banish a spirit. Doing so may work against you though as there is a chance both of our spirits are helpful. Or everything could be trying to kill you. Who knows?

Players: - Peredhil - Abercrombe, the sheep and goat herder a spirit - Tanuchan - Tennison, daughter of the local innkeeper - Patrick - John, a young man - Lord Panther - Curtis, the town drunk a spirit - Venefyxatu - Graham, the town idiot/drunk - Azuran - Lord Bartholomew, a shop owner with delusions of grandeur Day Phase!

Augustine slept fitfully that night, unsure of whether the cries and howls he heard were in his dreams or taking place outside his window. His window which he kept shut for once, despite the clement weather. Not that it would really help me, he supposed when he woke up that morning, bleary and exhausted. His home was just as flimsy as the Widow Katt's had been, unless his nightly prayers truly did serve as wards against the evils of the world. Would that it could be that simple. The Cleric sat on the edge of his bed and scrubbed at his face, reluctant to go about his usual morning routine. He suspected he was going to have to face more than a few guilty souls who would try to apologise for their lynching behaviour or seek some form of redemption, and right now Augustine just didn't know if he had it in him to offer comfort. It was very quiet that morning. Oddly quiet, really. Usually by now he'd be able to hear the cheerful woofs of Abercrombe's dogs as he went about his morning duties... Oh. Oh, no. Standing up on legs that did not quite feel as though they were going to support him, Augustine pulled some clothes on and hurried out to confirm what a part of him already knew. OOC: Peredhil/Abercrombe was claimed by the Wolf! I wonder what his spirit thinks of this... Day Phase! Happy lynching!

Players: - Peredhil - Abercrombe, the sheep and goat herder - Tanuchan - Tennison, daughter of the local innkeeper - Patrick - John, a young man - Lord Panther - Curtis, the town drunk a spirit - Venefyxatu - Graham, the town idiot/drunk - Azuran - Lord Bartholomew, a shop owner with delusions of grandeur Night Phase!

Augustine waited until both John and his wife had left the grave before he approached it and made what blessings he could. He'd tried to do so earlier, but the vehemence with which John had chased him off was nothing to be ignored, and so Augustine had waited to conduct what few rites he still held. As he stood at the grave and prayed quietly, Augustine wondered what he was going to do. Already, the suspicion was building to dangerous levels, and he knew it was only a matter of time before someone was accused and lynched. Already, the sounds of raised voices were beginning to drift back to him, and the Cleric winced unconsciously as he made his way back to the Five Cats. He arrived to find the room unevenly divided, with most of the crowd facing the table where Graham and Curtis sat. Despite the fact that both men - equally drunk at this point - were effectively cornered, Augustine could tell that it was Curtis who was bearing the brunt of the ire. "Hey, now," Augustine tried to soothe. "What's going on here?" "He did it!" Someone - he didn't see who - insisted. "Going around drunk all the time, probably to drown the memories of what he is! Who else could it be?" "If you're going to base this accusation on drunkenness alone, that puts a number of the people in this room up for scrutiny," Augustine countered coolly. "Why not Graham, then?" "Oh, sure, a werewolf with a wooden leg," Someone else said derisively, drawing a nervous laugh from the crowd. "Woods need legs else how are they going to make it to the markets!" Graham offered cheerfully, apparently completely oblivious to the discussion taking place regarding his companion. "We don't need to go immediately to lynching!" Augustine protested. "If you suspect Curtis, that's fine, but there are better ways to go about this, people!" "You're right!" Again, Augustine didn't see who spoke. "Let's at least catch the bastard first!" The crowd lurched forward, pushing Augustine out of the way, and almost as a single entity lunged towards Curtis. Too late, he realised what was happening, and scrambled to get his feet under him. It might have been better if he'd stayed sitting; someone slammed into him while he was still rising from his chair, and he fell back onto it awkwardly. Curtis' neck hit the back of the chair with a loud crack, and the crowd paused uncertainly as he slipped bonelessly to the floor. Augustine was the first to move, and he had to fight an urge to throw punches of his own in his frustrated upset. Moving to Curtis' side, he tried to find a pulse. "Are you happy, now?!" He snapped at the villagers when he confirmed his fears. "An eye for an eye, is that really how we're going to play this game?" Not waiting for an answer, Augustine closed Curtis' eyes and rested a hand on the dead man's brow, silently praying for - among many things - reason to return to Derulian. OOC: Curtis is dead, though what is to become of his Spirit remains to be seen. Night Phase!

Wishful thinking? We have a tie, and still one voter left. If I don't get a vote in by the end of tomorrow I'm flipping a coin

... It's like you guys *want* to make my life difficult or something...

You're just trying to stir trouble He accused with a sigh Well, obviously Came the reply But you're not even trying She turned back onto him Trouble follows you As if on a whim You might have a point He was forced to admit I always do, she said With a smile on her lips New line: The songs that must be sung

The worst thing was the fact that it had been his idea. Elrohir had been the one who'd come across them; cinematic retellings of the books that had been written about the Ring. They'd received quite the buzz in the realm they'd come from, apparently, and were lauded by the majority of the population. Peredhil had always been fond of the books, however mistaken the author might have been over some points. Mynx had even gone so far as to source an anniversary edition of the tale after she discovered how worn his copies were. It was a beautiful thing; gilded edges, hand-drawn maps, a hardback binding that should protect the book for a few decades at least. It wasn't exactly difficult to make her husband smile with a gift, but the way he'd cuddled the book to his chest and likely slept with it when she wasn't around told her she'd done particularly well with this one. Why wouldn't he like to watch the movies of such a beloved, if bittersweet, tale? Technology had come so far in this particular realm that nearly anything could be created for the viewer, and the books were nothing if not descriptive of the surroundings. Elrohir had even brought a few pictures with him of the country where they'd done most of the filming, and it was enough to make Peredhil decide that this is where he'd take Mynx on their next Honeymoon (he didn't believe in just one). What harm could there be in it? For her part, Mynx had never even heard of movies, but after having the concept explained to her was willing enough, and so Peredhil had Elrohir make the arrangements. Money was no issue, and so Elrohir went all out: booking a high class theatre usually reserved for exclusive premiers, sourced the extended editions of the films, ensured they were of the highest quality available... Elladan had agreed out of morbid curiosity, and Guido and Nuncio went where the Boss did, so it truly was a family affair as the six of them traveled to the realm. A family affair that would take the entire day, Mynx soon realised after Elrohir had informed her of each movie's length. But then he'd introduced her to popcorn, effectively distracting her as she spent half the time picking kernels out of her teeth. Mynx hadn't read the books herself - she'd tried once, but had gotten rather bored by the author's style. He'd describe everything, and she was sure she didn't need to know about how beautiful the sunrise was when there were more important things happening. The movies seems alright though, she decided fairly early in. They had better pacing at least, and - she'd snickered at this - pointy-eared Elves. Peredhil didn't make a sound until the Elves showed up, and Mynx was puzzling over why the one in charge seemed so grumpy when her husband made a small, offended sound. "What is it?" She whispered to him. "Someone you know?" His only response was mumbled under his breath, and it wasn't until Mynx heard the character addressed by name that she understood. Elrond. Elrond Peredhil. Unable to help herself, she'd started to giggle helplessly. That was just the start of it. The further into the story they went, the more wordless protests were uttered by Peredhil - occasionally derisive, often pained, and a few downright outraged. Somewhere through the second movie, though, Mynx could only assume that the story had really begun to deviate from the true plot, because Peredhil's jaw had clenched and his eyes had darkened to a hue that was close to mimicking Elladan. By the end of the second movie, he was clutching his book - the book, the one Mynx had given him - and positively grinding his teeth. Elrohir had been hesitant about starting up the third movie, but Peredhil had waved him on. It had been his idea, darn it. He'd see it through. No matter how painful. When the last movie had ended and the lights had come back on, his sons had both made hasty excuses about going to see about dinner for them all and disappeared, while Guido and Nuncio had mumbled something about checking that the room was still secure, leaving Mynx and Peredhil alone together. "Well..." Mynx began. "That was... interesting." Peredhil exhaled heavily through his nose, grip so tight on his book now that he was close to cracking the binding. "They... changed it." "Well, the books are pretty long," Mynx tried to reason. "I can see why they'd want to cut some of those songs and things out..." "No, not that. They- ugh!" Peredhil shook his head angrily, his eyes still stormy. "It's like they didn't even read the story!" "It was kind of long..." Mynx mumbled, giving her husband a sheepish grin when he turned a pained look on her. "So... were you really that grumpy back in the day?" "AUGH!" Yet again, Mynx couldn't help herself. She started to giggle, then laugh hysterically. It was just too funny, imagining her husband as the ill-tempered actor who'd portrayed him, stomping around and lecturing everyone in sight. She laughed until she couldn't breathe, until even Peredhil was forced to smile a little, and then chuckle himself - however reluctantly. By the time the boys had returned, it was to find their father's eyes were no longer black and his expression was more patient over his wife's hysterics rather than angry. He was even trying to explain some of his complaints over her attempts to laugh and breathe, not that it did much good. Next time, he decided, they'd pick something he didn't love quite so much.

WINTER *cries in the heat* Who did you root for as a kid: Road Runner or Wile E. Coyote? Edit: As a kid or now...

I'm going to be keeping Day Phase running for at least another week probably, but just a reminder that we need votes to get the ball rolling

Savoury, I think. Guns or swords?

Sorry for not posting this earlier, but I guess I should make it clear: The Wolf has been informed that they are the Wolf, so if you did not receive a message from me it means you are a humble Villager for the time being Happy Lynching.

The day passed with very little variation in Augustine's routine. He was just busy enough to help the hours along, without being so busy that he felt at all harried or rushed. The work John was doing on the small church was going well, regardless of the constant attempts from the workman to find fault or vice in his actions. He got some interesting - if not particularly coherent - conversation out of Graham... Invariably, Augustine crossed paths with nearly every member of Derulian throughout the day to some degree, be it via idle conversation, a need for his skills, or an attempt to council. He ended the day as he often did; tired, but satisfied with his lot in life, and he retired to his bed in good spirits. The only change to his usual routine was a series of strange, haunting dreams throughout the night. Did he hear a scream at one point? Augustine awoke the next morning somewhat groggy, but otherwise no worse for wear, and set about to begin his routine anew. He didn't notice anything out of the ordinary until he passed by the Widow Katt's house, mentally doing a double-take when he saw that the front door had been smashed in. "Ms. Katt?" Augustine asked uncertainly, rapping his knuckles on the door frame lightly as he tried to assess the damage. The door wasn't the only thing that had been destroyed, and as he took in the smashed furniture he blanched at the smell of blood. Not just the smell, either. Something had walked in the blood that had been shed, leaving impossibly large wolf prints about the room. Werewolf prints. Rounding on his heels, Augustine sprinted off to raise the alarm. OOC: Night Phase happened while you weren't looking! The Wolf killed the hapless Widow Katt - but who will be next? Official Day Phase has begun!

Augustine barely stopped in time to prevent the tobacco from splattering his trousers, and tried not to sigh too audibly as John passed. He did not understand that family at all. Far be it from him to judge what was tradition in a family, however strange, but Augustine did have to admit to himself that he was relieved the trend of incest in Derulian did appear to be a dying one. He was far from a scholar, but he knew enough about breeding to be sure it came with its costs. Of course, if he tried to take John aside and explain that to him, he'd probably just be accused yet again of "revoking the gods' favours from the family." Truly, a strange family, and one that seemed under the opinion that he was far more opposed to them than he truly was. Ah well. There was always at least one or two oddities in any town, and no one was without their secrets. Even he, he supposed...

And we're off! The game thread has been posted here The dice will be cast and the Wolf informed of their violent duty shortly. Have fun Players: - Peredhil - Abercrombe, the sheep and goat herder - Tanuchan - Tennison, daughter of the local innkeeper - Patrick - John, a young man - Lord Panther - Curtis, the town drunk - Venefyxatu - Graham, the town idiot/drunk - Azuran - Lord Bartholomew, a shop owner with delusions of grandeur

Little town, what a quiet village. Every day like the one before. Little town, full of little people. Waking up to say... Nothing ever happened in Derulian. Nothing exciting, certainly. The sun rose and set each day, the seasons passed, the same people interacted with little variation barring the occasional traveler who must have lost their way from the main road. Some only used Derulian to pause and get their bearings before setting off again, others shrugged and settled down there if they thought they could find work for the season, but all in all nothing happened. Nothing changed. It was just the way Father Augustine liked it. He was one of the few who had stumbled upon Derulian rather than been born there, and after years of travel and seeing the costs of violence and war had been all too happy to put down roots in the isolated town. For their part, the population had been in dire need of someone to fill both the positions of Healer and Priest, and had welcomed him gladly. They even insisted on calling him Father - Augustine considered himself more of a Cleric than an out-and-out Priest, particularly given his contributions as a Healer - but if that was his only complaint about the town then he felt he could die happy. Stretching in the warm morning sun as he exited his modest home, Augustine considered his surroundings with a fond smile before he set off to go about his business, hand already lifting in a wave as he saw others beginning to emerge from their houses for the day. OOC: Non-lynching Day Phase! Get to know each other!