The outlaws knew that this was their last chance to rid themselves of Sauron’s last shapeshifter. Either they would find it among their midst, or they will not live to see the next Day. It was a blessing that Gorlim appeared to them at dawn. He whispered in
Ghostlotte’s voice of the innocence of
Pitch and
Soriman, but counseled the Living that their fallen brothers can only help them so much. True men, worthy men, must write their own destinies.
Lommy and
Morsul stood face to face, as realization dawned upon them.
Morsul drew his sword first, and
Lommy followed swiftly after.
(Some have felt a vibration through the air, as if some dead eyebrows just twitched). But they both knew that neither would be able to defeat the other alone, they would need aid from the other outlaws.
Soriman lifted his sword and stood behind
Lommy, but
Pitch moved towards
Morsul. “
Ghostlotte speaks truly. We must all decide for ourselves, and my heart tells me that
Morsul is innocent.”
“But this makes our strength even,”
Lommy said. “We should leave it up to the dead to decide which of us two is to meet his forefathers today.”
(A keen person may have caught some words on the wind.
NO.
NO THEY DIDN’T.
Can they not make your own choices? We don’t want
to decide the game.
The wind died.)
“Really really good disguise, Sauron’s puppet whichever body you may possess!” were the shouts coming from both sides.
“What a good idea, to leave it to the justice of our fallen. I bet they are having a blast!” said
Morsul. “I bet they even have Oreos!”
“They have Beren and Barahir to guide them in their judgement,”
Pitch added.
(The heather rustled.
WE ARE NOT HAVING A BLAST.
AND WE DO NOT HAVE OREOS.
AND BEREN’S SPIRIT IS WITH THEM, USING GORLIM’S SHAPE.
Then silence fell.)
“Why does Gorlim not say anything more?” asked
Lommy. “The Dead should really give us more information, why are they being so obstinately unwilling to help us in this decision?”
(The water in the lake rippled.
We’ve cleared the names of two of the four survivors. Those living have to do something
for themselves.
Do they not realize that even in death, the world is not pure? We have evil spirits among us, who would darken our thoughts and beguile our senses and warp our meager words to you!
The Living are infuriating. They should both die.
They should all die. They’ve just abdicated responsibility for their fate to a bunch of corpses. I don’t know that anyone deserves to survive this.
And it was still again.)
There was a long silence, as the four survivors looked at each other.
(A pine needle fell.
Do they really deserve to be judged so harshly? Can they not trust us, even when death proved us clean?
But how, when we cannot trust ourselves?
A pine cone rolled.)
“Well, it’s out of our hands now,” said
Lommy, “I kind of enjoy it.”
(The earth trembled.
Well that does it. She’s in for it. I am getting hungry, and I am voting now, and just for this alone it deserves to be her!
Well, if it was me in their place, she is the one with the innocent behaviour.
Enough! Let us subject them to the trial of the Deadline Chicken!
There was a distant sound of thunder.)
Suddenly, both
Morsul and
Lommy stepped back, as a humongous chicken fell out of the sky and started thrashing about. It sent feathers flying into everyone’s eyes, and was cawing so loud it made ears pop.
Soriman tried to catch the chicken, but it flailed too much and slid out of his grasp. As it regained footing, its eye turned on
Pitch, and it immediately tried to peck his eyes out.
Pitch barely escaped the vicious animal but tripped over a tree root as he was scrambling back.
Morsul reached to help him up, but he underestimated the chicken. The animal was rabid and beyond all reason. As its evil eye landed on
Morsul, it clawed at him and pecked his head.
Morsul tried to defend himself, but to no avail - his arms were no match for the bird. Eventually, his arms went limp.
But at that moment the world itself seemed to have bokeh asunder. What must have been a hundred chickens fell out of the sky. And with them came the shades of the fallen, all the outlaws that once have sought refuge on the shores of Tarn Aeluin.
When the chickens were cleared and the feathers and the dust settled, the living could see clearly:
Morsul’s form lay dead in its human shape. And
Lommy too seemed human, very very human.
Everybody looked around in confusion.
“What, you thought I would be the werewolf?” asked
Lommy. “Well… I guess you’re right!” Within a moment she was no longer the outlaw that they knew, but a vicious beast. She charged - first at
Soriman, who did not raise his sword in time to defend himself, then at
Pitch, who fell backwards (again!) over the same tree root. His last cry of “I told you so!” was lost amid the din of the Ghosts.
Having feasted on the prey and the chickens,
Lommy licked her chops. She then changed her shape again, turning into a bat, and flew off into the twilight to report her success to the Dark Lord Sauron.
The Living
Lommy - The One True Werewolf
The Dead
Gorlim (NPC/Ghost)
Galadriel55 (Night 1)
BlindGuardian (Night 1)
Greenie (Day 1 - Ordo)
Formendacil (Night 2 - Ordo)
Hui (Day 2 - Ordo)
Loslote (Night 3 - Ranger)
Sally (Day 3 - Wolf)
Kath (Night 4 - Seer)
Legate (Day 4 - Wolf)
Boro (Night 5 - Ordo)
Morsul (Day 5 - Ordo)
Pitch & Soriman - killed in endgame
WOLVES WIN.
Everyone is now welcome to read the Dead Thread. For those who think it's too long, I would argue that it lacks the Wall of Text posts of the Living, and is generally a highly entertaining read.
