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It was a red dawn that the villagers awoke to in the morning. Most of them took little note of this – “how pretty,” thought one, and, “what a nice sunny day,” thought another – though perhaps they should have. No, most of them were simply relieved that their premonitions of the previous night had seemingly come to naught. After all, what bad could ever happen in a village with a name like Loveland, anyway?
And so, the villagers began to go about their business for the day. It was not until mid-morning that someone realized that everything was not all right. “Has anyone seen Firefoot yet this morning?”
No one had, and Firefoot was not the type to simply turn up missing. Fear reawakened in the hearts of the villagers as they hurried down the street to Firefoot’s house.
“There’s smoke coming from the chimney,” noted one villager in relief. “Maybe she’s just sick or something…”
“Let’s knock,” stated another, more skeptical villager. The chap at the front of the troop rapped on the door; this soon turned into a pounding after getting no answer. “Something’s wrong. We’ll have to break down the door,” he commented, trying the door knob without luck. The pair at the back exchanged looks. Breaking down the door was extreme… and Firefoot would be none too happy if her door was destroyed. One of them ventured, “Maybe if someone could slip through a window and unlock the door…? Firefoot always leaves her windows open.” This was true, and the smallest villager was hoisted in through the window.
Shortly they were all standing inside the door. “Something smells in here,” commented someone, "like something's burning." The scent grew stronger as they came to the back of the house. Gagging could be heard from at least one villager. Finally, they entered the last room and a horrible sight greeted them.
Firefoot had been drowned; her body lay face up in a tub full of water. Her facial features were twisted in pain, for the tub had been pushed up against the stove, and her feet, which had been stuck into the stove, were even now burning – though most of the flesh was gone by now. Something had been burning all right - Firefoot's feet.
“Who could do such a thing?” cried one of the villagers. One of the more stolid souls stepped closer to the body and noticed that Firefoot’s stiffened hand held a sheet of paper. He gently pried it loose and saw that it had at one point held a great deal more writing than could now be read. What was still legible, however, made him blanch.
“Well? What does it say?” demanded a villager.
“Most of the ink has been blurred from the water…” he muttered. “But part of it is clear enough.” He held up the damp parchment for all to see. Though blurry, there could be no doubt: 3 werewolves.
“We must kill them or die trying!” swore one villager. The ominous words seemed to echo in the suddenly still room as they all turned to stare at the unfortunate villager. “Er… maybe we should step outside, where the air is fresher and we can think clearer?” he suggested weakly. Nevertheless, the proposition was followed, though all the while the villagers were shooting uneasy, suspicious looks at their companions. 3 wolves…
~*~*~*~
Living:
Dancing Spawn
Durelin
Elf-warrior
Encai
Eomer
Feanor
Kath
Kitanna
Lhuna
LMP
Mormegil
Nilpaurion
Oddwen
Oromin
Saurreg
TGWBS
TORE
Wilwarin
Dead:
Firefoot – drowned and burned by werewolves on Night 1
Score:
Werewolves – 3
Villagers - 15
It is now Day 1. Day will end in 24 hours. Wolves, stop PM’ing. Shirriffs may start.
Remember: You should be on invisible mode. I can still see at least one of you.
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