(Sorry I'm putting this up so late. I fell asleep writing it last night so I had to finish it up this morning when I woke up. Also, as a note, there are NO hints in the narrations, and anything I write that may be taken as a clue toward someone's role isn't a clue, it's just how I chose to write the narration. Also, all gifteds will be referred to as guys and all were-ducks as girls. That is all. Enjoy!)
"Yes, duck poisons are my trade. I am a duck-killer. My name is Legate the Duck-Killer. I find, suspect, and vote for were-ducks."
--or--
"You only killed the village's most powerful voter, you know."
"Well, I didn't mean to."
"Didn't mean to? You put your pickles right through his head."
--or--
"Well, we'll not risk another frontal assault. That Gwath's dynamite."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Some of the villagers met early that first morning and gathered around
Sally's body.
“That,”
Nienna muttered, “is disgusting....”
“Nasty,”
Fea agreed.
“Well, it's only to be expected,”
Mira noted. “After all, she was wearing purple and, as you know....”
“As you know,”
Lari interrupted, “ducks hate purple. Especially were-ducks. I can see why they might have hated her,” she added, nodding toward
Mira. “Only crazy people wear purple. And really, only crazy people who hunt were-ducks.”
“It's no wonder they killed her,”
Brinn agreed, and they all looked down as they heard a groan from below them.
“Actually, I'm not quite dead yet....”
Durie walked up and poked
the moddess in the ribs with her toes. “You know, things are loud enough without the dead people talking too.”
“Really,”
Sally croaked, “I'm feeling much better....”
Wilwa rolled her eyes and facepalmed, and the banter continued.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
A few hours later
Lari wasn't enjoying herself anymore and
Durie....well,
Durie hadn't been in the first place. “Who can blame her?”
Nilp commented dryly. “This village sucks.”
“That's what she said,” said a ghostly voice from outside.
In the corner
Rikae and
Noggie were bickering.
“Die! Die! God in heaven, die!”
Rikae shouted at him.
Lommie walked in, looked at the pair of them, and sighed. “Shoot. Me. Now,” she mumbled.
“Tell me about it,” added
Mith. “Life is worthless without Phantom.”
A few of the refugees looked toward
Gwath maliciously, but before they could sign his death warrant
a giant Sally shaped face appeared in the mid-afternoon sky. All the villagers fell to the ground and before long a confused and slightly hacked off expression formed on
Sally's face.
“What are you doing now?”
Kath stood, keeping her gaze rooted to the ground. “Averting our eyes, oh moddess.”
Sally rolled her flipping enormous eyes.
“Well, don't. It's just like that miserable
Mith, always so depressing. Now knock it off! Just don't kill
Gwath and we'll all be cool, okay?”
The group pouted and began to disperse. From their midst
Gwath emerged.
“Oh! Had enough, eh? Come back and take what's coming to you, you blankity-blank werewolves! Come back here and take what's coming to you! I'll bite your legs off!”
“Dude,”
Lari put in, “we can always kill you toMorrow.”
“Well, crap.”
“For toDay though,”
Lari said slowly. “We could always....I dunno....kill
Durie.”
“Excellent!” chorused
Noggie and
Legate, and
Durie's head shook in protest.
“Oh no you don't!
Legate, you're going down for this!”
Before
Legate knew what was happening they'd cornered him and
Wilwa,
Nienna,
Brinn, and
Gwath were advancing on him with tubs of pickles.
“Better you than me, man,”
Gwath said with a shrug, and chucked a jar at poor Legate's head.
“But I'm here to help the village! It's
Durie you want! Kill
Durie, kill her! Not me!”
“Confess,”
Nienna yelled, “or we shall say
++LEGATE again to you!”
“No! Never!”
Legate cried. “Do your worst!”
Brinn and
Wilwa looked at each other. “Meh. He asked for it.”
When
Mnemo came out at sunset she saw
Sally's body over by the old church, and beside her was a large pile of pickles. “What the heck happened here?”
The pickles shifted, and from the end of the pile emerged
Legate's bruised and bloody face.
“I was attacked....” he responded. “I was attacked by Uuuugggghhhh....”
“Attacked by whom?”
Mnemo queried, feigning interest and surreptitiously taking a hungry glance at
Legate's toes, which were sticking out from under a large clump of dills.
“Uuuugggghhhh....”
Legate repeated, and
a voice from within the church mumbled, “That's what....”
“Oh shut up,”
Mnemo interrupted, then looked back down at
Legate. After a thorough examination she decided he wasn't much good to eat. After all, he was covered in some sort of foul smelling liquid. In the end, she just shoved one of the larger pickles down his throat and left him to die.
Sally (moddess, stabbed in a case of mistaken identity by a non-six-fingered Phantom on Night 0)
Phantom (narcissist, made into a very unhealthy breakfast on Night 0)
Legate (ordo, pickled on Day 1)