Werewolf I - Game Thread

[Tanuchan]

Tennison rubbed her temples, willing her headache to go away; she had had a restless night, waking up almost hourly and wondering if it had been a howling she'd just heard around the inn. In the morning, Abercrombe's absence had been conspicuous, and she didn't need to hear the excited - and fearful - squealing of the barmaids to know whose life had been claimed during the night.

 

With a sigh, she surveyed the mess room, this time making sure that there was space enough among the tables to avoid unfortunate accidents... like someone breaking their neck on a chair. But what do we do, after all, if the curse pursues this village at this time? Still shaking her head, Tennison went back to the kitchen. What is the use of accusing each other blindly... but how do we find who is to blame? Would maybe Augustine know something - a way to lure a werewolf out from the shadows, or to bar its access to the village? Maybe she should talk to him.

 

Like half the village was doing, anyway.

 

And still, a small voice in her head still muttered old lessons. Lessons on breeding, and inbreeding. It was really a shame that the voice reminded her too much of the twit that had wanted to marry her.

 

But isn't that true... ? Bad family inheritance and all?

 

----

 

OOC: My braintwin says someone has to vote... so before she bites me, here it goes: again with John/Patrick (c'mon, give me some reason to not consider John has bad genes!!)

[Venefyxatu]

With a sigh, Graham headed towards the edge of the village. He was gone for a while, before the familiar sound of the goat-drawn cart approached the village once more. Only this time, it wasn't Abercrombe steering it. A very glum Graham made the rounds. He had liked Abercrombe and his animals.

 

When anyone asked, he shrugged and replied, "Piss pots have neither tails nor eyes in Stinkville."

 

He didn't pay that much attention to the contents of the buckets and pots, just going through the same motions he had seen Abercrombe perform countless times. While it looked easy enough, it was harder than he had imagined, and he occasionally found himself swearing as he realized he made a mistake.

 

He couldn't help but move a little bit faster as he went past Lord Bartholomew M. Persius the Third's house... all those names still gave him the shivers.

 

It took him a lot longer than it had Abercrombe, but eventually he got everything where it was supposed to be, and even managed to get the sheep and goats fed. He briefly thought he caught a glimpse of one of the dogs, but upon closer inspection didn't see them. He still let out some food for them as well, just in case. With everything done, he made his way back to the tavern.

 

OOC: still voting for Lord Bartholomew M. Persius the Third / Azuran. At least something about Graham is consistent then

[Mynx]

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?"

[Peredhil]

Abercrombe was frustrated. He was present, but not really. He could walk through people, and they would get goosebumps and a frisson of chills, but they didn't see him.

 

Oddly, the dogs could sense his presence in a way, but it was cats who watched him. Every one of the cats was able to see him. And they just as obviously didn't care in the least.

 

He was grateful to Graham, in a rather dispassionate way. Things were much milder, emotionally, without a body to provide the juices of life. It was all so... bland. He was much more perceptive of some things, however, without the distractions of feelings and self.

 

He spent quite a bit of time listening to the people of the town talk. It was a bit frustrating in a way - he couldn't go into anyone's homes, although the common areas, such as the inn, caused no barriers at all.

 

Listening, and thinking...

 

Methinks the lady doth protest too much wide-eyed innocence. I vote for Tennison/Tanny.

[Azuran]

Lord Bartholomew had not visited any of the fresh graves yet, preferring to instead publically offer Augustine a very large looking purse, heavy with coin that Augustine might use for aiding the families of those who had died--no, who had been murdered, one way or another. Bartholomew knew the priest would roll his eyes when he discovered that the bulk of the weight was just small iron pennies, but he also knew that the man wouldn’t complain--any aid was still better than none and while Bartholomew didn’t like to admit it, he suspected the cleric had some understanding that his wealth was not all he publically flouted it to be.

Besides, what good is wealth when you or everyone around you is dead?

Bartholomew was a little surprised to learn that most of the other villagers' chamber pots had been attended to, despite the absence of Abercrombe. Apparently Graham had stepped in--a little surprising, but the work did seem fitting for one of his...mind. A noble having to deal with his own piss pot, however, was shameful to say the least, and it was becoming difficult to ignore Graham’s repeated accusations. The man was clearly crazy and had always been difficult to understand, but perhaps there was a deeper madness lurking inside him now as well?

OOC: Voting for Graham/Venefyxatu

[Patrick]

John kept working, his shovel strokes regular and did not talk. He stayed silent for so long that even the priest's patience wore out and he left.

 

When he was sure that the man was out of earshot, John sighed and shook his head.

 

"Something you wouldn't agree with old man..."

 

The village was tearing itself apart, it was not enough for him to dig a grave for the werewolf's latest victim, he had to dig one for the man who had been killed by the villagers themselves. To think that the village where his family had lived for generations had come to this.

 

It was becoming clear to him that staying out of things would inevitably achieve nothing. He had to act.

 

He gave no notice to his mother sleeping in her rocking chair as he stepped into his home. He took his dusty shirt off, cupped a handful of cool water from the washbasin and washed the grime off his face. As always, his wife had placed a fresh shirt for him next to the fireplace. He pulled it on, and headed out.

 

Tennison had been throwing a lot of accusations around lately, some of them even directed at John himself. She had to be stopped.

 

OOC: Voting for Tanny/Tennison (or is that Tannyson ? )

[Mynx]

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.

[Tanuchan]

Tennison blinked, sitting up. The silence was quite stunning, after the commotion that had followed her until she had the rope around her neck. She touched her fingers to her throat, trying to understand what had happened - she was quite sure that she had been hanged?

 

The way the world wavered slightly, some points at distance seeming to be blanketed in mist, pulled at her mind. And the fact that several people seemed to be staring at her, while others had their backs turned and muttered something angrily. She heard Augustine berating someone - or more than one, she wasn't sure - and then the cleric came into view. His expression was one of sadness mixed with anger, and he knelt by her.

 

Father Augustine? What happened - I'm alrigh-

 

But maybe she wasn't... at least if she recognized correctly the cleric's whispered words; a quiet prayer for those who had passed, wishing them a peaceful journey Beyond.

 

Tennison groaned, standing up and looking down at her body. Oh well... so apparently this isn't quite the Beyond of our beliefs? Maybe I should tell Augustine that his prayers aren't really helping any travel...

 

She stayed there for several minutes, part of her listening to Augustine's prayer, and another part studying her surroundings curiously. Not quite she had expected, really - she had thought more of a gray plain completely shrouded in mist... but she was actually there, in the village. Just without a body.

 

Shrugging, she stepped away from her body, tilting her head. On impulse, she jumped lightly - smiling when it sent her floating gently upwards. Well, this part seems right. What else can I do, I wonder?

[Mynx]

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!

[Patrick]

OOC: I probably should put a disclaimer here, that this post does contain some disturbing content...

 

It was a strange feeling, floating around on a wind that he couldn't even feel. With an inner smile John told himself that this was nothing like the afterlife Augustine had been preaching about. The priest had been wrong!

 

Sue was still crying over his rapidly cooling and quite brutally dismembered body. As John looked down at his remains, he couldn't even be sure that it was really him, that werewolf had certainly quite badly mutilated him. Strange thinking so dispassionately of what had for so many years carried him around in this world. But this, this was so much more...fun? He did a double somersault in the air, and executed a perfect landing, laughing with an almost childish glee. He could do so many things he couldn't while alive!

 

His joy was suddenly cut short by the appearance of Augustine, coming to comfort Sue and say whatever he had to say over the body. John stuck his tongue out at the priest, his rites were useless even if he did not know it!

 

A loud slap drew his attention away from the body and to Sue, who seemed to be going all out on the priest. Slaps, clawing fingers and even kicks flying at the old man.

 

"Finally got the courage to go after John, did you!" *slap* "You never made secret what you" *slap* "thought of us!" *kick* "Are you happy" *slap* *slap* "NOW?" *slap* *slap* *slap*

 

The priest didn't retaliate, trying only to defend himself from the blows.

 

Panting, Sue stepped back, turned and ran into their home. She came out seconds later, a long kitchen knife in her hands, the bare steel glinting in the morning sun.

 

"You made our lives hell in our own town you vile man!" The knife shook in her hands as she raised it. "Who's to say you're not the one killing people in the dark of the night?" Her voice started trembling as she took another uncertain step towards the priest. "Well I have had enough of you!" She made a last, final step towards the priest, turned the knife sideways and in a single, swift movement laid bare her own throat.

 

John smiled as her spirit lifted from her body. They were together again.

 

On the porch, their mother rocked back and forth in her rocking chair, oblivious to the world around her. Back and forth...

[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.

[Peredhil]

What to do, what to do?

 

I try but I cannot make myself heard to any but my beautiful dogs, and it just upsets them.

 

There are other spirits, now, but I do not know if they wish the living well or ill.

 

What to do? I am so lost, and the murder continues in most unnatural ways.

 

Lost...

 

(A vote for Graham/Vene is a strike for freedom! That's what the Eagle of Truthiness said. I think.)

Edited August 24, 2014 by Mynx
Vene plays Graham, not Patrick

[Mynx]

Anyone who looked at Augustine at this point would assume him to be a man who had just given up. He knew he should be doing more for Derulian - trying to at least keep some semblance of calm, or quash the persistent talk of accusations and lynchings. Instead, however, he sat in a corner of the inn and stared bleakly at his drink. He felt defeated. Tired. Nothing he said or tried to do was working or helping anyone. Damn it all, he'd come to Derulian to get away from this sort of thing! And what had it gotten him? Nothing but bloodshed, violence, and increasingly haunting dreams.

 

There was a commotion outside. Another lynching, Augustine surmised, taking a drink to try and chase away the lump in his throat. He couldn't even bring himself to go and see who had been chosen this time; it'd only depress him further to witness the death of yet another innocent. And even if they had found the wolf, how were they any better at this point? Murderers, all of them.

 

The door opened, and Augustine glanced up to see Lord Bartholomew. He wore a long, grey fur cloak, with a deep streak of auburn running down the middle, as he entered the tavern. His head was angled downwards, the brim of his soft leather hat folded up like ears on either side of his head, the front coming to a point--snout-like. He slowly flexed his fingers and several rings glinted like claws in the lamplight. Gold and pewter--Bartholomew never wore silver... Although his head barely moved, his eyes looked up, half hidden behind untamed eyebrows and the brim of his hat, and he slowly bared his teeth, grinning wolfishly.

 

Augustine froze in his seat, a sudden and certain dread washing over him as Lord Bartholomew approached, his movements reminiscent of a stalking beast. "I would have thought you'd been outside enjoying the festivities, Father," he said by way of greeting.

 

"What-" Augustine swallowed to wet his throat. "What did you do?" He asked.

 

"Me?" Lord Bartholomew raised his eyebrows innocently. "I just observed, this time. Given all the accusations that Graham has been throwing my way - if his nonsensical ramblings can truly be considered accusations - I thought it might come across as bad taste if I were too involved with his passing."

 

Augustine winced. So Graham had been the latest victim. But Lord Bartholomew... "It's you, isn't it?" The Cleric asked in a hushed voice. "It's been you all along."

 

"Guilty as charged," Lord Bartholomew laughed. "It's been quite a pleasant hunt, this moon. I must admit I was a tad worried at first that it might be a bad idea to hunt here - mixing business with pleasure, so to speak - but the way everyone was so eager to turn on themselves truly did help me. That, and most of the spirits are not exactly what you'd call friendly, I'm sure." He grinned again.

 

"And what do you think is going to happen now?" Augustine at last found the will to stand up and meet the werewolf's eyes. "What's to stop me from alerting everyone? Or from taking you down myself?"

 

"Will anyone believe you, given that the attacks are going to stop now that Graham is dead?" Lord Bartholomew asked. "And I'd be careful about the threats you throw my way, Father; as I said, many of the spirits here aren't going to do you any favours." He cocked his head thoughtfully. "Maybe it's time you moved on, old chap. You have always been a bit of an outsider here, after all. I'd hate for the focus to turn to you if these kills were to start up again."

 

He was right, Augustine realised. No one had been listening to his attempts to peacekeep all this time anyway, and it wouldn't take much to turn the villagers against him. He sagged. "You brought death to this town," he accused without any weight.

 

"Death is a part of life, Father. Surely you know that?" Bowing graciously, Lord Bartholomew turned and stalked back out of the tavern.

 

OOC: Game Over! Wolf Wins! See OOC thread for details. And special thanks to Azuran for his contributions to this post

[Venefyxatu]

The moment he saw his own body falling to the ground without him in it was the moment when Graham felt his mind clear for the first time in... he didn't exactly remember how long, but it was a long time. It was a little strange how he didn't even feel sorry about his final eviction, but he decided not to dwell on it, instead setting out for a float around town while the villagers were still busy cooling their anger on his now useless ex-body. He had just barely gotten used to this new way of moving around when he saw Tennison and Abercrombe. They were talking to each other and pointing, and Graham decided to join them.

 

"... over there; he's not taking part in the lynching, and he's looking rather... hairy, don't you think?"

 

Graham looked at where Tennison was pointing and saw Lord Bartholomew M. Persius the Third enter the tavern. The man was indeed looking a lot hairier than usual. He immediately realised what that meant and muttered, "I told them. But does anybody coffee-pot old Graham? Nooosir, the cupcakes are flying with the pigs, that's what!" The confused looks of both Tennison and Abercrombe told him that the shock was beginning to wear off, and he just sighed and shrugged. At least there were still certainties, even in the afterlife...