Tol-in-Gaurhoth XXXVI Game Thread

[Feanor of the Peredhil]

The handsome man, tall, dashing, debonair, reaches across the slim gap between their mounts and takes his lady's hand in the cool evening air. She smiles happily up to him, absently wondering when they'll reach the small town to which they travel. He is a scholar, an old master of lost lore, and word has come to them of a forest village that carries a taint of uncertainty, some curse or superstition. Desiring to learn, he packed his belongings and bribed his beloved with soft kisses and sweet promises of a happily ever after. They had ridden with the break of dawn each day for many long days. Now they travel onward, just a few more miles from their destination.

He thinks of their last stop, a roadside establishment many miles behind them. He thinks of the grizzled old man and the grey haired woman by the fire.

"So sweet in these times of trouble to see young love..." the old woman cooed through her toothless gums. The young woman had smiled, feeling her husband's hand in hers, his fingers intertwined, keeping dangers of every sort far from her. She thanked the old woman quietly and sat to gossip quietly while her husband spoke with the old man.

From across the room she'd heard the old man's cry. "You cannot be meaning to take so fair and sweet a lass as yon to such a dark and feral land! It is no place for an innocent child such as her!"

"She is no child, grandfather." The man had replied. "Her mind is her own, and it is her choice to accompany me."

"Newfangled, that's what I call that." he had grumbled, mentioning his day and a time when women's minds were their husband's.

"We will continue onward." The man had said, smiling to his wife across the hall. Her brief concern had washed away with her husband's obvious happiness and certainty. She had turned her attention back to the old woman.

They had left some time later, well stocked and ready for the final hours of riding.

She leans across the space to kiss her husband and he tells her of her beauty and his undying love.

"What tale of these lands have we come to learn, my love?" she asks.

"Sorrow, mostly." he admits. "Beasts disguised as men, or men with beastly natures. I cannot be sure. But the rustic beliefs of the locals will surely be of interest."

"That they will, dearest."

The woods seem to close around them as the sun sets. From the trees they hear sounds. The man strings his bow and casually places an arrow on the taut string, letting his lady's hand fall.

"Show yourself!" he cries toward the trees. They hear laughter.

From between two elders comes a shape, human, though unidentifiable in the shadows.

"We seek a village. Can you help us?" he asks, placing himself between this dark stranger and his wife.

"You will not like our help."

From behind him, the man hears the scream of his beloved wife. While one werewolf distracted him, two had taken her. At the sound of her attack, he had turned; it was all the werewolf needed.

In bloody seconds it was over. Boromir88 and Fea lay side by side, clutching for each other's hands against the coming of dark cold pain. They knew this to be their end.

"I will meet you in our ever after, beloved..." he whispers to her, straining to brush away her tears. His blood pools faintly around him, dammed by the forest floor. Her flesh, though rent by claws and teeth, was still the most beautiful he had ever seen.

"Always, my dearest... I am always yours..." she coughs, before closing her eyes.

Watching from above them with wicked grins, the werewolves transform once more to humans, absently watching the life pour from the shells below them.

"Pity..." says one with no trace of pity audible, "It does look like we've ended young love so soon..."

"With love comes pain." says another sanctimoniously.

"We've saved them from their own nauseating story." laughs the third. "And to think... now ours truly begins."

---

The game runs as follows:

3 Wolves
1 Seer
# Ordos

23 hour Days and Nights, beginning at 10AM EST and ending at 9AM EST. Wolves and Seer should get their pick in by 9AM EST to give enough time to write a decent narration which will then be posted, unless interruptions arise, by 10AM EST. Any village votes posted after 9AM EST will be ignored.

No retractable votes. No edits for any reason, including to say you cross-posted or to fix spelling errors. If you need to say something else about your post, double post.

Basic rules about communication apply. If you're a wolf, you can only PM your fellow wolves at Night. Ordos can't chat amongst themselves excepting during Day times on the game thread. Anybody can PM the mods at all times.

Multiple lynchings are allowed.

All players are to remain invisible at all times during the duration of their game life. Once you're dead, you can turn back your visibility, but no ghost discussions with the living. Dead [wo]men tell no tales.

Players:

The Saucepan Man
Meneltarmacil
Lalwendë
the phantom
Brinniel
Holbytlass
Gil-Galad
Durelin
Shastanis Althreduin
Kath
Mithalwen
Legate of Amon Lanc
CaptainofDespair

[Feanor of the Peredhil]

The werewolves prowl the woods throughout the night, careful to wake no sleeping villagers. Around the town they place traps, wolf pits of their own cunning make, and snares, and nefarious things of natures too foul to speak. All to make sure any who would defect will meet a swift end. The villagers will belong to the werewolves whether they stand bravely to fight the unknown threat, or whether they run to save themselves. The tallest werewolf flexes muscles, admiring its long, retractable claws. No uncontrolled monsters, these; the evil that marked them gave them power over their transformation: they are always in their right mind, though the rightness of those thoughts is certainly arguable. In the night, the world belongs to them, to act in as they wish. They can stay as humans do... but it was with their natures that the curse had been placed. None of these creatures of darkness has yet chosen not to partake of sinister dealings in the safety of shadow; it is doubtful that they will abstain from evil. They transform at will, once the moon has risen, but though the nature of their transformation - be it merely claws, or fully into the form of a wolf - is uncertain, that they become monsters was not. Monsters who crave violence. Damned souls with an addiction to pain.

One wolf, fairest of the lot, admires the glistening of moonlight on dew strewn leaves. The creature reaches out and slashes the living plant to mangled ribbons with a laugh.

As dawn approaches, they return to their beds with silent farewells, congratulating themselves on a night well spent surrounding the village, cutting off escape, keeping strangers away.

---

As the sun rises, the village meets by the well in what seems an almost ritualistic manner to the casual observer. Morning comes, and with it a need for water, fresh air, and gossip. The village had always met here, will always meet here. The wolves, human in form, smile. Perhaps not always.

One wolf speaks and the town listens, for this is a town of courtesy and turn-taking. When one speaks their words are heeded. The wolf says, "It has come to me in a dream that our village is in danger."

One amongst the many closes a pair of gifted eyes, wondering at the ability for two to dream of the same. This villager had spent a fitful night watching dreamt shadows close in.

The wolf continues. "I believe this dream to be prophetic. I believe there is a danger, an unseen danger. I believe the village must act, and swiftly."

With the concealed enemy's words, the village broke into paranoid whispers, eying each other with distrust.

One statement, one rumor passed by malicious silver tongue, and the village, so close, so trusting, became a den of activity. Nobody would lie to them, surely, therefore there must be a threat. There must be action.

They swiftly decided upon a course of action:

During the day, they would speak, they would present defenses and accusations. They would, in short, hold trials. Those found innocent would be spared (unless minds were subsequently changed). Those found guilty... would be killed.

And those suspected to weigh approximately the same amount as waterfowl would be unceremoniously tossed into the well, weighted and chained, for only a witch weighs so little.

---

Dawn has arrived. Day One begins. B88 and Fea have died on their way to learn the mysteries of this village. The wolves are cunning. The seer exists to help you. Ordinary villagers, luck be with you.

Begin!

[Holbytlass]

Most unfortunate for the heavyset because fat floats.

Has no one anything to say? We are here, some are lurking, something must be done.

I find suspicious at this time CaptainofDespair- anyone who delights in despair must be happy that we are in danger. Also, Legate of Amon Lanc -he has not embraced our village as he is always pointing out where he came from, no civil loyalty. Then there's Kath, I find anyone suspicious that won't give their full name. And of course, The Saucepan Man, for giving the whole village food poisoning!

[Legate of Amon Lanc]

Civil loyalty, Holbytlass? Well, I can ensure you that wherever I came from, my loyalty lies with this village, with its - innocent - inhabitants. Now where I agree with you about the one whose name signifies despair - we have no need of such folk - I won't be as suspecting the others. There's nothing strange on them on first sight, I shall wait for the second so to say, to see what their attitude is like.

I also may mention that if I am correct, there is some sort of phantom among us, which I also do not like. But let's wait and hear even him, maybe he is not as sneaky as he seems.

Hmm... what's the time? Well, quite good... let's not forget our sun sets, sort of, earlier than usual. Must be the northern region. Ah well, I know it will take hours before most of us have chance to speak their minds, so... au revoir.

[Mithalwen]

The cynic in me finds a certain ironic amusement in this antidote to the current glut of true romance in these parts but I hope we will be able to progress swiftly beyond the old first day pet tactics and theories...
Is anyone out there.....? Someone should declare they hate first days, another that they can be profitable. And in lieu of Nogrod someone should exhort us to talk ..well I guess that is me... now someone should suspect me for making a strange first post ..... I will leave it to Sauce to do a full checklist if he so wishes but reserve the right to suspect him, as per tradition, should it be necessary.....

[Mithalwen]

Well alas I must leave soon and I will not be able to return until fairly close to the deadline. I am sorry that this is the case today but I hope there will be plenty of activity for me to digest swiftly on my return. Choose wisely!

[Feanor of the Peredhil]

Day has ended. Consequently: shh.

[Feanor of the Peredhil]

"Am I really that evil looking?" asks Durelin sadly as the villagers lead her to the square. The deaths will occur one at a time, lest three werewolves have been captured and transform at the time of death. The village can protect itself from one attack at a time, but to have three attacking at once? And, of course... ladies first.

Legate and Menel are held bound within a home not far away. A pair of villagers guard them.

They hear the screams of Dury as she dies. They wonder if the village has caught a wolf; their deaths will not be in vain if they take the evil with them. They are willing to sacrifice their own blood, their own breath, for the sake of the many. Their guards lean forward and in their eyes, Legate sees cruelty.

"She was not a wolf, then, was she?" asks Menel.

"No." laughs the villager, grinning maliciously. "She was not."

"And I'm not..." whispers Legate.

"No." says the second guard. "You are not."

"We thank you." laughs the first guard. "You are giving your innocent lives for our cause. Nothing could have been orchestrated this beautifully, even if the village had tried."

"None of us..."

"No. None. All innocents. Beautiful, is it not? Perfect. A work of art."

The two damned souls begin to scream for aid. The two hidden wolves slit their throats before words can be formed. When the village comes to investigate, they explain that the prisoners had attacked. They'd had no choice but to act swiftly.

"We thought they were transforming, their shrieks were so crazed." explains one guard.

"But they were innocent..." mourns one villager.

"And so was she..." whispers another.

"We've killed three of our own..."

---

Dead:

Night One: Boromir88 (scholar) and Fea (wife)
Day One: Legate (innocent), Durelin (innocent), Menel (innocent)

Alive:

Brinniel
CaptainofDespair
Gil-Galad
Holbytlass
Kath
Lalwendë
Mithalwen
Shastanis Althreduin
the phantom
The Saucepan Man

---

Seer, dream. Wolves, kill.

Village, hush, but one question (rhetorical)... How did you let that happen?

[Boromir88]

Every villager (except the three that is) went to bed with troubled hearts. They had just lynched three of their own and knew that another would be dead by morning.

The villagers all sauntered back to their beds, three of them had trouble hiding their glee over their days work. And they couldn't wait until they would be able to openly express their joy.

As night went on all the villagers slowly dozed off to a restless sleep. Yet, unbeknownst to all of them, there were three who met in secret.

'Wow what a day' exclaimed one who was quite pleased. 'I mean I would have given 5 dollars to make sure all three of us made it through the first day. I would have paid 30 dollars to lynch three pathetic ilks during the day. But having the pleasure of seeing Legate's face when I slit his throat...priceless.'

'It's amazing what a bunch of paranoid, clueless, and leaderless villagers will do to eachother.' laughed another.

But the one who was the most level-headed of the pack wanted to make sure the two companions didn't lose focus.

'Tonight was a great victory for us. We could not have asked for a better Day. But don't get too fat just yet. There is still strength amongst these villagers, they may not have shown it yesterday but if they are actually able to unite together we're doomed.'

'Oh stop being such a pessimistic-Peter.' the wolf laughed at its own alliteration.

But the level-headed wolf was not amused. 'I'm being serious. We have business tonight, we need to choose our victim. And we really need to get this Seer out of the picture before it gets too much information. So who's it going to be?'

------------------

Meanwhile a villager, who was not so ordinary, was stirring in sleep. The villager suddenly woke startled from the dream. The villager had just acquired new information that may be of help to the beleagered innocents. But the villager also couldn't help but to fear someone was watching. Someones...or somethings...were on the hunt. All went dark and the villager, who had a special dream, remembered nothing else that night.

-----------------

As the village began waking up and one-by-one all met at the town center. They knew their woes from yesterday would only get worse, and once they noticed one of them was missing, their hearts sank even more.

'Brinniel!' cried one villager bowing her head.

Another villager who always tried to remain optimistic said 'Well, maybe she just overslept. You know that happens.' But even he was not convinced by this.

The entire village made their way to Brinniel's house and were horrified, but not surprised, at what they found. Brinniel lie on her bed, her throat was cut, and a pillow laid over her head. She was innocent, and she never had the chance to put up a fight.

One brave villager walked up and removed the pillow. 'Dead.' He exclaimed.
There were some mutters of 'Thanks Captain Obvious.'

'Well at least she went out in her sleep, peacefully, not being tortured at the sight of her attackers.' said another villager.

And with that the village made their way back to the town center in hopes of putting the awful first day behind them, and turning their fortunes around starting now.

---------------------

Dead

Night One: Boromir88 (scholar) and Fea (wife)
Day One: Legate (innocent), Durelin (innocent), Menel (innocent)
Night Two: Brinniel (innocent)

Alive

CaptainofDespair
Gil-Galad
Holbytlass
Kath
Lalwendë
Mithalwen
Shastanis Althreduin
the phantom
The Saucepan Man

-----

Allright, Day 2 has begun. You all know what to do. And let's try to avoid a triple lynching this time.

[the phantom]

You've got to be kidding.

A triple lynching!!

So, what, everyone decided they wanted to spot the WWs two free days of work?

That's why I hate voting early- cause then I'm not around to control things at the end. I'm not doing that again. I'm going to wake up an hour earlier than usual just so I can vote at the end. I hope you're happy about making me lose sleep.

I wish I really was the Cobbler. Then I could just laugh about this.

Should we lynch Lal as a penalty for not voting and thus allowing the triple lynch? I was planning on letting Lal stick around in this game and defending her all the time just because I've never had the chance to play with her before, but I'm not sure I can hold to that resolve now.

Here is the voting from yesterday.

Durelin for Legate
Menel for Durelin
Holby for Menel
Shasta for Menel (2)
phantom for Durelin (2)
Legate for Durelin (3)
Kath for Mith
Brin for Menel (3)
Mith for Legate (2)
SPM for Legate (3)

[the phantom]

Hey, at least there is a silver lining, folks. If we do another triple lynch today we can go down in WW history as participants in the SHORTEST GAME EVER!!

Let's do it!