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Alcarillo · 12-08-2005, 06:02 PM

The stars appeared in the night sky, and Wilwa stayed up long into the night tuning her fiddle, and occasionally playing a quiet tune. She sat by the fireplace, where a fire was lit to warm her house. She knew she should sleep, but who could while werewolves prowled the village? She played a cheerful tune to try to create a more friendly mood for that evening, but the sheer darkness and silence of the night outside made her fiddle's voice seem small indeed. Not even the crickets were chirping. True, it was winter, but the winter by the sea was usually warm enough to have some crickets. Wilwa decided that she should at least try to sleep, whether or not it would help. After all, she couldn't fear werewolves while dreaming, could she? She lay her fiddle on the mantelpiece, and doused the flames with a bucket of water, reminding her of Rune's death just hours before. She shuddered for a moment at the thought that the werewolves were one villager closer to slaughtering the village.

And as she turned towards the doorway, where the door had swung open into the darkness of a hallway, one lonesome creak creaked. It was so sudden and seemed so loud that Wilwa jumped two inches into the air, only to realize it was her own foot stepping upon a loose floorboard. Foolish me, she thought, scared by my own house. She crept out into the hallway, towards a set of stairs, illuminated by moonlight through a nearby window. There was another creak as she walked. Just me again, she thought. But this time she was wrong.

* * * * *

The villagers awoke to a beautiful sunrise. After a headcount, they groaned to learn that Wilwa was dead. They all gathered at her house and noticed that Wilwa's garden had been trampled. The door was unlocked, too. They entered, and to their horror found that Wilwa had been tied to the floor with her fiddle-strings, like the mariner Lemûw-el Gûllivah in his voyages. The bruises around her neck showed that she had been suffocated, choked by a string that lay on the floor next to her. Such a horrific death! And her fiddle suffered equally: the villagers found the parlor strewn with bits of wood, smashed to bits and ripped to pieces. Both a fine musician and a fine musical instrument were lost that night to a terrible fate. The villagers tried gluing the fiddle back together, but it was no use, and they returned back to the docks to discuss what had happened and to lynch another villager.

* * * * *

Dead
Alcarillo – mod - impaled upon his own sword – NIGHT 1
dancing spawn of ungoliant – werewolf – pushed off the cliffs and into the sea – DAY 1
Jack – seer – toasted and roasted in forge – NIGHT 2
Rune son of Bjarne – ordinary – burnt at the stake – DAY 2
Gurthang – ordinary – slain in naval engagement – DAY 2
Wilwarin538 – ordinary – killed with fiddle-strings – NIGHT 3

Living
Aiwendil – retired tutor
Boromir88 – crab farmer
Fordim Hedgethistle – lithesome and non-unionized pearl diver
Formendacil – disgruntled office clerk
Holbytlass – butcher
Kath – bum
Lhunardawen – polite little shepherd girl
Mormegil - repairman specializing in ships and docks
The Saucepan Man - harbormaster
WaynetheGoblin – doctor

It is now DAY 3! Werewolves stop PMing, villagers talk and lynch one of your own.

12-08-2005, 06:02 PM	#154
Alcarillo Shadow of the Past Join Date: Jul 2005 Location: Minas Mor-go Posts: 1,007	Night 3 The stars appeared in the night sky, and Wilwa stayed up long into the night tuning her fiddle, and occasionally playing a quiet tune. She sat by the fireplace, where a fire was lit to warm her house. She knew she should sleep, but who could while werewolves prowled the village? She played a cheerful tune to try to create a more friendly mood for that evening, but the sheer darkness and silence of the night outside made her fiddle's voice seem small indeed. Not even the crickets were chirping. True, it was winter, but the winter by the sea was usually warm enough to have some crickets. Wilwa decided that she should at least try to sleep, whether or not it would help. After all, she couldn't fear werewolves while dreaming, could she? She lay her fiddle on the mantelpiece, and doused the flames with a bucket of water, reminding her of Rune's death just hours before. She shuddered for a moment at the thought that the werewolves were one villager closer to slaughtering the village. And as she turned towards the doorway, where the door had swung open into the darkness of a hallway, one lonesome creak creaked. It was so sudden and seemed so loud that Wilwa jumped two inches into the air, only to realize it was her own foot stepping upon a loose floorboard. Foolish me, she thought, scared by my own house. She crept out into the hallway, towards a set of stairs, illuminated by moonlight through a nearby window. There was another creak as she walked. Just me again, she thought. But this time she was wrong. * * * * * The villagers awoke to a beautiful sunrise. After a headcount, they groaned to learn that Wilwa was dead. They all gathered at her house and noticed that Wilwa's garden had been trampled. The door was unlocked, too. They entered, and to their horror found that Wilwa had been tied to the floor with her fiddle-strings, like the mariner Lemûw-el Gûllivah in his voyages. The bruises around her neck showed that she had been suffocated, choked by a string that lay on the floor next to her. Such a horrific death! And her fiddle suffered equally: the villagers found the parlor strewn with bits of wood, smashed to bits and ripped to pieces. Both a fine musician and a fine musical instrument were lost that night to a terrible fate. The villagers tried gluing the fiddle back together, but it was no use, and they returned back to the docks to discuss what had happened and to lynch another villager. * * * * * Dead Alcarillo – mod - impaled upon his own sword – NIGHT 1 dancing spawn of ungoliant – werewolf – pushed off the cliffs and into the sea – DAY 1 Jack – seer – toasted and roasted in forge – NIGHT 2 Rune son of Bjarne – ordinary – burnt at the stake – DAY 2 Gurthang – ordinary – slain in naval engagement – DAY 2 Wilwarin538 – ordinary – killed with fiddle-strings – NIGHT 3 Living Aiwendil – retired tutor Boromir88 – crab farmer Fordim Hedgethistle – lithesome and non-unionized pearl diver Formendacil – disgruntled office clerk Holbytlass – butcher Kath – bum Lhunardawen – polite little shepherd girl Mormegil - repairman specializing in ships and docks The Saucepan Man - harbormaster WaynetheGoblin – doctor It is now DAY 3! Werewolves stop PMing, villagers talk and lynch one of your own.